Back in October, my parents asked me if I wanted to come home for Christmas. That's a pretty loaded question. I've never spent Christmas away from home and the thought of my mom's monster cinnamon rolls and all the peanut butter I could ever ask for sounded perfect. On the other hand, I was finally adjusting to my Italian lifestyle. I was worried that going home would just re-trigger all sorts of nostalgia and homesickness. So instead of booking that 12-hour plane ticket back, I decided that my boyfriend could come early to spend Christmas with me in Europe. (He starts a study abroad program in January in Florence).
It would be perfect. We would take some cheap RyanAir flights to the Grecian Islands or maybe Morocco and spend Christmas traveling together. Little did I know, though winter is off-season for these places, actually
traveling during Christmas is ridiculously expensive. And according to Rick Steves, Greece in the winter just really isn't worth it.
Our back-up plan was to head to Northern Italy for the world famous "mercantini" or Christmas Markets. Centered in the Dolomite region of Italy, the markets mix together a vibrant Italian and German culture of festive fun.
The region used to be a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, so German and Italian are both official languages. You can walk down the street and pass an old Italian couple jabbering on about their grandchildren and then a German-speaking family yelling at their little blond nightmares. It was a bit unsettling. But, the mix of the two cultures seems to bring out the best kinds of holiday spirit.
Here, we have the Bolzano Christmas market. Christmas lights, manger scenes, jolly laughs and plenty of spiced wine. If you live in the Alps apparently Christmas markets are the place to be if you're looking for merry times with family and friends.
It was all beautiful. And it made me miss home even more.
Christmas day was worse. As I am still in my crappy apartment, I have not taken the time to decorate anything. There's no Christmas tree, no lights, I can't even cook anything right. Christmas eve, I tried to make my mom's famous monster cinnamon rolls, but it's pretty hard when you have no measuring utensils and they don't sell any of the right ingredients. I guess I didn't get the yeast to activate because we were left with tiny little cinnamon buds that had cane sugar inside instead of brown (I have now learned that that is definitely not the same thing)
Christmas morning we opened presents. I have to say, I was ecstatic with the giant jars of peanut butter and jelly I received from home. As well as a big bag of butterfingers. (This country has not yet discovered the beauty of mixing chocolate with peanut butter.) But, after present time, we kind of just sat around with ourselves, missing the company of family from home.
Around 6:00pm, I decided I was sick of moping around. We were going to take a walk and at least we could look at the Christmas lights.
But something was different.
The first thing I noticed was the traffic. I had never seen so many cars out on a Sunday night. Usually, the city shuts down on Sunday. Not to mention Thursday afternoons, and then some random hours throughout the middle of the day.
We continued walking down Via Santo Stefano, passing fruit vendors that were open with lines of people buying wine from their shelves. Further down the street, we came across la Cremeria Santa Stefano, one of my favorite gelato places, which was also still open! By the time we got to Piazza Maggiore (the main piazza of Bologna) we were having to dodge through crowds of people filling the porticoes and spilling into the streets.
Who knew! Bologna was alive on Christmas!
In Piazza Maggiore, people swarmed around street musicians or huddled together to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree. Nearby bars served wine and warm drinks to bundled up couples. Even Pizza Altero (my go-to pizza place) was open!
Coming from a culture where Christmas time means huddling the family around food and a fire, I was shocked to see the entire community of Bologna take the streets. My family barely leaves our house on Christmas day, and if we do, it's just to walk the dog, not to go to the completely closed Plaza of downtown KC. But here, everyone celebrates Christmas together, out-and-about. In the communal space of the city.
As we headed toward the ice-skating rink, I heard someone call my name. I turned around to a giant hug from Astrid, the Belgian girl who does translations at the archeological museum with me. She was with her brother, who was visiting for Christmas.
"It's so dead!" she shouted. "Why is everything closed?"
I stared open mouthed and her and laughed. The city was
definitely not dead. And I explained to her that in the States literally
nothing is open on Christmas because people don't go out.
"Well, that's weird," she said. "What in the world do you do then?"
I still don't think I have an answer to that question. I'll leave you instead with some pictures of a very wonderful, and lively, Christmas in Bologna.
