Baliamo a Carnivale in Venazia!

     For the longest time I have dreamed of seeing Venice, Italy's Island City, in all its masquerade glory as it celebrates Carnivale. With elaborate costumes and mystery evoking masks, this celebration before Lent is world renown for its beauty and revelry in all things carnal. Stretching from the first to third weekends of February, Carnival is similar to Marti Gras in New Orleans and is synonymous with fun, excitement, and having a great time. I was fortunate enough to have the last weekend of Carnival off from work and had the opportunity to indulge in some Carnivale fun of my own. Traveling with a tour group made up mostly of college students, me and a friend of mine named Armand left early Saturday morning headed for "The Lagoon". We had the chance to get to make new friends on the 3 hour ride and were excited about traveling around this historic town seeing and enjoying all the sights of Venice. We decided to save the more rowdy and imbibed atmosphere of Piazza San Marco until later in the evening, and embarked by water bus to the islands of Murano and Burano on the outskirts of Venice.

    The first island, Murano, is world famous for glass making and is dotted with glass producing kilns and shops selling some of the most beautiful jewelry, ornate statuary, and other interesting pieces like wine stoppers and ornaments. For a small fee we were able to watch a live firing of a furnace and then saw the artisan create a glass oil bottle as well as a horse statue from the glowing molten glass he pulled from the red-hot furnace port. Afterwards, we were able to walk the island, peer into its boutique shops, and eventually decided to grab a bite to eat. As in every coastal town, Venice is well known for great seafood and I wanted to take this opportunity to try it for myself. An easy Italian dish, that most Americans can probably already pronounce with ease, is Calamari. This Italian word for squid caught my eye and was the seafood of choice for this fantastic relaxing afternoon lunch. Once lunch was finished and the sweet Lemoncello started to work is relaxing magic, we caught another water bus to head towards Burano and its famous brightly colored homes.

    The island of Burano is known for its strict laws that regulate the painting of ones home without expressed color approval from the local island council. For this reason the island has maintained a very traditional feel and the bright colors are retained to give the small town a quaint feel. Colors like bright sunset orange, and sky blue, mix with grape purple, lime green, and rose red to add a wonderful and happy sight throughout the town. Noticing that the sun was starting its decent towards the waters edge, we headed back to the main island and Piazza San Marco to officially begin our Carnivale experience.

    Throughout the day everyone had purchased their masks and were now ready to dawn them as we walked the narrow streets and tight allies that are dotted with tiny bridges throughout the main island. The subtle sound of a Gondolier's paddle rippling through the water and the smell of fresh seafood added to the ambiance of this great city. As we approached and grew ever closer to the main piazza, celebratory music could be heard bouncing from wall to wall, and our eyes eventually opened onto the huge piazza with its famous tower and arched colonnade. Brightly color costumes, embroidered with feathers, sequins, and glitter in huge drafts made this a sight to behold. Women (and some men) wore reproduction 17th century powdered wigs and were dressed in matching gowns each one more elaborate than the last. I cannot begin to explain how much fun this party, repeated every year since the Renaissance was more beautiful and mesmerizing than I ever could have imagined. Thoughts of Casanova and other famous Venetians of the past danced through my mind, as I wondered how this must have felt hundreds of years ago, and how I am now part of its everlasting story. I was walking along streets mentioned in fairytales and was enjoying every moment of it. I was very lucky to celebrate this time with some new friends that were equally amazed and equally ready for a fun night of dancing, singing, and revelry in a bit/bottle of wine and Bellini drinking. We walked the colonnade multiple times enjoying the sights, smells, and tastes of Venice while always ready to stop and pose with other more ornately dressed party goers. There was even the occasional super tourist, who wanted to pose with us and our more simple masks. Just to be a part of this grand party was an honor, and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to be a small part of its magical wonder and fantastic excitement. I believe that this celebration is enjoyed for its sense of mystery, romance, and the anything goes attitude towards life. I myself even had the chance to get a little naughty with a girl friend of mine who I think enjoyed the mystery behind a masked man (I think Casanova had it way to easy living in Venice). As for me, a beautifully dressed masked woman has its appeal as well. VIVA VENEZIA!



Buon Natale a tutti!

     So, I know I am over a month behind in blogs, but have been so busy with trips, holidays, and trying to figure things out with the family, that I have had scarce time to even think about writing. As soon as Christmas came, so too did dinners, parties, and then a few days in Berlin for New Years. I was looking forward to a break from work, and some time by myself here in Florence for sure. With enthusiasm I waited to see what Christmas would be like in Italy. I have to say that it was not as grandiose nor was it as spectacular as I had imagined in my mind. I thought that the center of the Christian, or at least Catholic world would surely know how to celebrate this most holy of days. They have had thousands of years to get it just right, but they seem to have lost or forgotten all the true joy and passion for this great holiday. Lights and candles sparkled throughout the city, hanging in every piazza and glowing down every alle, but their brightness however, seemed not to lite the lives of the people who put them up. Christmas trees and nativity scenes appeared a few weeks before the holiday, and as is Italian tradition, the baby Jesus was missing from his manger, waiting to magically appear on the 25th. It seemed to be the only the English speakers who seemed excited about all the decorations, and the camera flash bulbs of tourist lit up the sky along side twinkling lanterns and wreaths.

     As for me, I was very fortunate to have a few friends stay behind in Florence over the holidays, and was excited to share this holiday season with them. I was so blest to have the opportunity to attend Christmas eve midnight mass at the Duomo with my friend Amber who was new to town and excited about seeing the Cathedral for the first time that night. We met up around 10:30 and got a chance to talk about our homes and our family traditions. I of course had seen the inside of the Duomo before, but could not help but to catch Amber's excitement and joy about seeing it for her first time. I myself wanted to see how it would be decorated that night for the Christmas Mass. As we walked closer, we could hear the beautiful music resonating from inside its green and white marble encrusted facade. After passing through its heavy wood and bronze doors, we were immediately struck by the sheer size of the space as well as the vast number of people already inside. Add to that visual impact, the subtle sweet smell of the incense from the high alter, and you were taken by just how marvelous this time was going to be. Amber and I found our seats and joined in the singing (as best we could), and enjoyed the night together as we watch the procession of the bishop and the administering of holy communion. I will say that one of my most fond and enduring memories of my time here in Florence will forever be my communion taken at midnight under the elaborate paintings of the dome at Christmas Mass. As the service finished an alter boy walked towards the tiny manger now covered with a small white blanket to reveal the baby Jesus now in His manger completing the nativity and marking the arrival of our Savior as well as Christmas day. After the moving and breathtaking ceremony, Amber and I walked out, amazed at what we had just witnessed, and talking about what Christmas really means to each of us. As we separated to go back home we made plans for what to do Christmas day.

     I was also very grateful to be invited to a family style pot luck dinner on Christmas night with an Au Pair friend of mine, witch promised to be amazing. I had been looking for an occasion to pull out my mom's pecan pie recipe, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I think that many people now think Southerns must live solely on backed sweets, as it is the only thing I continue to make for every special occasion. As usual, the adventure in it all was where to find the ingredients for such a pie. I searched all over town, and then in frustration resorted to typing this into a Google search: "where to buy pecans in Florence Italy". Not sure why I though that that would work, but gave it a try none the less. And no surprise, not a thing appeared that seemed all that promising, except for a short mention of pecans and pie in an old blog. I clicked it just to satisfy my search, and low and behold, an answer. The blog post stated that pecans were "impossible" to find in most of Europe, but that the blogger had used hazelnuts as a substitute and had fantastic success. So with this knowledge I knew right where to go, the San Lorenzo Market.

     This market is like nothing I have ever seen before. It houses stalls containing everything from fresh seafood, to a whole spit roasted pig for that very special occasion, and also an assortment of varied wines, cheeses, vegetables, sweets, nuts, and a restaurant to eat it all in. I especially love and get a laugh out of passing the kosher stall that is buttoned up tightly behind closed doors and segregated far from any pig associated items. I will say it does seem rather clean and sanitary in comparison to the hanging, sometimes bleeding, ducks and wild caught rabbit around the corner. I was certain to find everything I needed here and it would also serve as a real world test of my budding Italian language skills. I was confident of most of the words I needed so I set off to do it right. While in the market I picked up some "zucca" for a pumpkin pie, some "vino dolce" for after dessert, and the "nocciole" I needed for substitution. I was able to almost flawlessly ask for each and every item, as well as greet each vendor and have a bit of small talk while they filled my order. With an "arrivederci" and "buona sera" I felt very confident with my days work. Now the only obstacle was translating all the amounts and temperatures into grams and Celsius and start baking my contribution to dinner. Amber and I had decided after Midnight Mass the day before that she wanted to come over and help me prepare the pies and to go with me to dinner as well since she was still a little confused on directions and street names in town. I was glad to have the help, and so, invited her over to help measure and bake for that night.

     We had a great day of mixing and measuring, a little bit of white wine drinking, and laughing about more fun Christmas memories we had of back home, and all the new ones we were creating. Once both pies were finished, we headed out on foot were we walked down the river and across the Ponte Vecchio to our friend's apartment. We continued to have a few laughs as we caught the bewildered stares of locals and tourists alike eyeing our freshly made pies and looking amazed and confused as to what we were doing. When we arrived to dinner, the cheerful Christmas banter continued over still more wine, as we helped set the table and added the finishing touches to the roast, grilled bread with patte, and fried polenta. As the last few guests arrived, we were told that an actual priest from Santa Maria del Fiore aka the Duomo was also coming over for dinner. He arrived dressed smartly in his black tunic and small white square collar carrying yet another bottle of great Italian wine. Everyone gathered at the table ready to enjoy what promised to be an amazing meal. Firstly though, everyone waited as the priest said a beautiful and very cheerful grace and blessing over the food, and the friends that were gathered together for a celebration of Christs birth. All of the food was delicious and in classic Italian fashion took several hours to finish. We stayed to chat and talk late into the night and were all so grateful for such a fantastic and memorable night.

     I was worried before Christmas that I might feel really homesick, and miss my family a great deal during the holidays. However, with friends and memories like these, I feel truly blest and know that God has blessed and continues to bless me with unseen gifts and is giving me memories that I can look back on later with such joy and thanksgiving. I will probably never spend another Christmas in Italy, but am so glad to have had such an amazing one to remember always.



Il Balletto Schiaccianoci

     It is finally cold her in Florence, and with this crisp fresh air, the feelings of Christmas are starting to fill everyday with joy, excitement, and hope for a great holiday season. I have, as one of my Christmas traditions, a trip with my mother to see the University of Georgia Orchestra perform their holiday concert every year. Since it is obvious that I will not be attending this years show, I decided to recreate this joyous experience here in Florence. Back home I secretly had my brother and his fiance accompany my mom to this years concert so that she could still enjoy this Christmas tradition with them just as she does me every year. For myself, I searched for a local orchestra or concert hall in Florence, and was pleasantly surprised to find the "Teatro Verde" which is Florence's answer to a great opera hall. I looked through their program and found that the famous "Nutcracker Ballet" was playing on the 21st of December and knew that it would be a wonderful show to see here in Italy. I did not want to attend by myself, so I invited a friend of mine that was also staying here in Florence for the holidays. Rachael was very excited about going with me, and I was equally excited about going with her. We both got dressed up, not quite knowing how serious the Italians might take the Ballet, and were glad we did. This occasion was quite formal and was just how you might imagine the Ballet to be. We both got a laugh out of one lady who chose to wear red from head to heals. Red glasses hung below a crimson cap and right above bright red lips, which were directly above a "Georgia Bulldogs" red dress and matching purse, gloves and shoes. As the lights began their preshow flicker, we went to find our seats, but were met with quite a challenge. Like most things in Italy it seems, the numbering system was not exactly what you would call straight forward, and took quite a bit of ingenuity to figuring out. Sadly we both lacked such a skill at the present moment and settled for just trying to get lucky. We later figured out that I had purchased two seats, that online appeared to be together, but were actually on two separate floors. We decided to just find two empty seats in a balcony box and hoped that we could remain together for the length of the performance. Maybe five minutes before the play was to start, the rightful owners of the box suite appeared and we had to play the classic "dumb Americans" excuse as we looked first looked confused and then slipped out appearing humiliated. Underneath however we were quite tickled as these expressions turned to laughter as we walked down the hallway. We found another booth with empty seats and a lovely Italian mother with her two girls who spoke English who offered us seats with them. We thanked her and her daughters and began to chit-chatted until the curtain began to rise and the lights went black. The opera house itself was quite beautiful, trimmed in ornate wooden carvings and moldings, dappled in warm candle light, covered with plush red velvet draperies and tapestries embellished with tassels of fine gold thread. The play or ballet itself contained no words so no language barrier hindered our enjoyment of the show. Throughout the ballet the old familiar songs like the Toy Soldier March and the Flight of the Sugarplum Fairies brought back memories of past orchestral performances back home at UGA. I was so glad to share this opportunity with a good friend, and to find a new way of celebrating a holiday tradition. Can't wait to get back to Athens and see my Dawgs play though!