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.
