The idea of spending Easter Sunday
with an Italian family began the Wednesday just before, and it went something
like this:
My Italian literature class
(consisting of five students when everyone shows up) and I were making our way
back to the school building after taking a field trip to a museum nearby and my
professor proceeded to ask us where we were going over spring break (which was
to start the next day and go for ten days). The others gave her various answers
of places in and outside of Italy, but no one was staying in Milan except me.
When I replied with this, she turned to me and asked about what I was doing
over Easter, and I, jokingly though retaining shades of truth, responded that I
would be sleeping in my apartment alone. She gave me a look bordering somewhere
between pity and horror and immediately told me I should come out and have
Easter with her and her family. At first I thought it was one of this
invitations where they mention the idea, but they don't actually mean for you
to say yes. She was completely serious. So I told her I’d think about it. She said
she would email me the details as soon as she got home.
Not too much later, an email from
her flew into my inbox, excitedly telling me it would only cost a few euro for
a train ticket and that she'd really love having me there.
Well, I said yes. Why not take
the opportunity to experience a real Italian Easter while in Italy?
So Sunday morning, I woke up early,
hopped on a train headed northwest, and nearly two hours later, I was on the
border between Italy and Switzerland. It was beautiful, with all the mountains
on the lake, some topped with white, and dotted with colorful houses.
I was picked up from the station by
my professor's (Laura's) cousin and I rode in a little car up tiny windy roads
to a quaint village carved into the mountainside.
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Laura welcomed me into her home and
introduced me to her whole family - kids, husband, cousins, parents, aunts and
uncles (…and cats). Some of them spoke English, so Laura wouldn't be stuck
having to talk to me all the time.
Over the four-course meal, her
cousin and I taught each other how to say some things in our respective native
tongues. He told me that "aya" is the way Italians say “ow” or “ouch.”
I was able to help him with some phrases, like “just pulling your leg,” for
example.
The food was fantastic, of course -
all home-cooked Italian food. The first course was appetizers of various breads
and dips, salami, and a chilled sort of vegetable salad with peas and carrots.
The second course was pasta, hand made by Laura's husband, with some herbs,
cheese, and prosciutto bits. The third course consisted of main dishes, which
were a mayonnaise and tuna fish slathered piece of thinly sliced beef and
another thinly sliced meat marinated in soy sauce and other things I can't
remember (shame, shame). The final course was dessert, a cake called pastiera, a
Neapolitan dessert that resembled cheesecake but wasn't quite, chocolate (from
chocolate eggs, for Easter), and a sort of fruitcake in the shape of a dove
sprinkled with almonds and sugar. Following all the food, there was the option
to partake in having some espresso, which is how they finish meals here. It's a
very concentrated drink, as I'm sure you can imagine, and they serve it in shot
glass sized cups, sometimes with a little sugar added and sometimes not.
After the meal was done and the
many, many plates were taken up, we all banded together and took a walk through
the neighborhood. The weather was beautiful and the mountains could be clearly
seen across the lake and into Switzerland.
Laura took us up to see her donkeys
and the view from the pasture where they were kept was beautiful.
Two other kids joined us, about the
same age as Laura's kids, ranging from approximately 6-10 years old, and they
began to throw around a football. Now, I don't know near as much Italian as I
wish I did, and this was made obvious sitting around a table with an Italian
family, but when these kids approached me and spoke to me in their mother
tongue and I didn't understand the words, it was still obvious they wanted me
to play with them. They tugged on my hands and grinned at me, giggling. And so
we played. That was a marvelous thing I had somehow forgotten about my time in
Peru with all those kids - I didn't always understand what they were saying,
but once we started playing a game, it didn't matter anymore. Throwing around a
football and chasing and tickling each other to get it back required no
language. I thoroughly enjoyed and wore myself out, and also made a new friend.
Laura's daughter began gravitating toward me and when we were leaving to go
back home, she sidled up next to me to hold my hand. Her mother just smiled and
told me "she really likes you."
Later the little girl asked
excitedly if I was going to spend the night. Laura had offered this up to me as
an option in her email; initially I was going to politely decline, but once
things began winding down it was really too late to try and catch a train in
the impending darkness. So I told her daughter Lucia yes, I would. She liked
this very much(1).
Everyone parted to go their
separate ways after giving their goodbyes, leaving me with Laura's family. We
gathered in the living room to watch a movie, which ended up being Frozen in Italian. Lucia sat close next
to me on the cushioned chair for most of it before lying on her mom on the
couch.
Since I hadn't planned to stay the
night, I hadn't brought a packed bag, so I didn't have any pajamas unless I
wanted to sleep in skinny jeans. (Nope.) Laura without hesitation let me borrow
a pair of pajama pants and shirt for the night and quickly prepared the guest
room for me.
We had done a lot of walking up and
down the mountainside that day, so I was tuckered out by 11. I slept quite well
considering I was in a different bed. I recall waking up only once, confused
for a second on where I was.
That next morning I awoke, had some
tea for breakfast, and the family and I drove out to the edge of the lake
despite the dreary rain. I could see Switzerland clearly from where I
stood.
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On the way home we stopped at a
12th century church and visited the Holland Village where all the houses looked
like those from fairy tales.
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At around one we had lunch at
Laura's father's house, which was basically just leftovers from the day before
(like thanksgiving is for us - we eat turkey sandwiches for weeks
afterward).
For the next few hours I sat and
talked with Laura on a number of topics, and then it was time for me to go. We
managed to plan it out so I could hitch a ride back to Milan with Laura's
husband instead of paying for a train ticket, and now I'm home.
It was a beautiful experience to
spend Easter with Italians and I made sure Laura knew I was thankful for her
invitation. It was a blast!
1 – Later, Laura would tell me that
Lucia said to her, “I’m a little embarrassed, but I really like her hair!” in
reference to me. Oh man she was so cute. She even drew me a picture, and it was
of me! I have it on my fridge now to see every time I’m in the kitchen (which admittedly
is quite a lot).
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