Christmas away from home: Part II

I hadn't heard a silence like that since I came to Italy. After a good hour in the car of weaving all around the winding mountain roads, breeze coming through the windows, sun shining, and the new Fountains of Wayne CD playing in a background, it was a beautiful start to the day up on the mountain. I thought about pinching myself. Am I really back in Sicily?

The previous days began actual Christmas vacation because school was over and I was on my own to do as I pleased around Rome. I spent the week doing shopping, baking some American-style sugar cookies, apple pie, rum cake and rolling up some buckeyes. My friend and I were preparing these for Christmas parties with her boyfriend's Italian families. Because our faces were a different element to their holiday dinners this year, we thought we might as well bring something different to the table. And it was definitely different.

Christmas eve in Italy is centered around a dinner consisting of only fish. I was assigned a seat in the center of the table among the other ten people. We were in the great top floor home of this building, in a dinning room surrounded by windows with an outdoor terrace to overlook the city lights. Inside, the sight of fish and some new acquaintances wasn't at all frightening to me. Madelaine and I placed our pitiful looking deviled eggs on the table next to silver trays of thinly sliced salmon, caviar, and bruschette con vongole (bread and clams, it just sounds better in Italian). Although I am not an avid seafood consumer, I fortunately liked most of it. From the mussels, to the grouper, to the seafood risotto, and even octopus, I tried everything - scary looking or not. My positioning at the table would have made it hard to hide my actions if I didn't like something. Instead, I sat across from the incredibly warming host herself in a dinner which lasted over three hours, expanding my tiny culinary mind.

"Quanto tempo hai preparato per stasera?" I asked in simple Italian to the intriguing chef. She shrugged her shoulders saying that she only spent part of the day putting everything together. Madelaine and I dropped our jaws. The dishes were all so intricate and seemed to be straight out of a diner's magazine. We sheepishly hid the fact it took us almost a whole week to make all of our preparations come together, as a team of two people, not just one. Italians will always be the best cooks! (and for some reason I only know how to talk about food! I think it's this country's fault). Of course, she was handling seafood and pasta - things which require to be made that day, but also recipes beyond our imagination. After the meal everyone certainly appreciated our attempt at providing sweets for the party, but opted for the traditional panettone - an Italian bread usually made with raisins, candied fruit peels, almonds, and brandy.

Nearing midnight on Christmas eve, everyone decided it was suddenly time to open presents. By the time I walked from the dining room to the tree, everyone had pretty much exchanged a present and began opening them at the same time! They didn't take turns opening, one after another. No, it was a room full of the sound of paper riping and flying through the air. After about one minute and 42 seconds of this madness it was over and I was fascinated at the comedy of it all. How cute that they still managed to voice how pleased they were with their gifts and gave kisses on the cheek throughout the ruckus. Shortly after, everyone had on their jackets and were ready for midnight mass at a nearby church.

Christmas day brought the arrival of Madelaine's family, a visit to St. Peter's square to see the pope, and then an another awesome family dinner (sorry, this food talk has got to stop). The day was relaxing as the weather was bright. Because I wasn't with the usual people, with our usual traditions on that day, it gave Christmas a completely different feel, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

It was two days later when I found myself in Sicily. After my first trip to Rome in 2006, I went back to spend a week in the South of Italy, only to verify my love for this new country. This time, it was just as I remembered it: sunny, small towns spotted in various valleys of the mountains, older Italians in which most have not left it's premises, and, of course, more of the best food of my life (sorry, I had to). We drove up into the mountains to see the old farming grounds of a family. Having hopped out of the car, we were immediately hit with the solitude of the place. We only heard a dogs bark after yelling aloud to find the man in control of the farm. Nothing. Silence fell from angle and the only noise was stones below our feet. This is the most peaceful life I thought.

Studying in Rome, in this bustling ancient city, is actually like a vacation of my much busier life in the States. My Christmas vacation in Rome is a vacation from school time in Rome. And my vacation in Sicily is a vacation from my vacation from my vacation! Sounds a bit ridiculous, but this ridiculousness is the beauty that defines Italy. I don't watch TV. I don't drive a car. I rarely use the phone. Pretty much most conveniences found at home had been thrown out the window when I stepped foot in this country. When I do work, I choose the hours. If I want connection with the rest of the world, I have to find an internet. Not trying to make Italy sound third world, it is just a complete change. And these changes entered into my life with little conviction. I used to have a car? More clothes?

They beauty of it all though goes beyond that. Author Alan Epstein has summed up the change of living in America to Rome the best. Having moved his family from San Francisco to Rome years ago, he wrote in his book As the Romans Do:

"In the end, the differences between Rome and San Francisco are precisely what make the expatriate adventure so exciting, what keeps us young and alive and fresh and never bored. I don't know whether it's better to run five miles a day, eat yogurt shakes, have no family within a thousand miles, and work eighty hours per week in a stressful environment year in and year out, with two weeks off (or less) for vacation, or eat shredded beef and bitter greens sauteed in olive oil, drink five or six little cups of caffe a day, smoke a few cigarettes, have your entire family and a community of friends within two miles of where you live, take at least four to six weeks of vacation and come back with a deep suntan, and recognize that what you do for a living is not ultimately going to make much difference in the world. Perhaps the fact that nervous breakdowns, heart disease, divorce, and suicide are so much lower here makes Romans think that we Americans are not really focusing on the things that matter. ..."

My American roots sometimes leave me feeling guilty about this much more relaxed lifestyle. Undoubtedly, this country has it's problems - starting with its government, certain attitudes, all the way down to the difficulties in finding things that simply work. But there is an air about this place that keeps me a student to life, something I cannot get enough of. From witnessing family traditions, to mountains, ancient ruins and thousand year old cities, to Mussolini buildings and scooter rides, my surroundings influence my many thoughts and are stepping in as some of my greatest teachers.

After three quiet days in Sicily, I found myself in London for the New year and now back in my noisy home, Rome. Returning from one vacation to another... how could I ever be stressed out?! Aside from a few commitments during the weeks, my time will be spent checking out new parts of the city, reading some books on the history I live in, studying the language, and finding the best way to cut a garlic clove. Arrivederci!