writing assignment...I know it is long, but the events in the ending are good!
I awoke before my alarm buzzer went off. The turquoise blue sky beamed through the solitary square window in my Italian apartment. The anticipation of the day ahead made me feel like a kid again. It felt extra special to know the pilgrims, the Mayflower, all-day football and pumpkin pie belonged completely and unequivocally to us. My emotions were prickly as I wondered what kind of day my fellow study abroad students and I would have as we celebrated Thanksgiving in Viterbo, the medieval Italian city that most of us had grown to love.
From talking to students over the previous few days, I could tell there was a mix of emotions swirling through the close-knit group. For many, this was their first holiday away from family and friends. The reality of the three months spent away from our home country was like a sucker punch as we longed for an All-American Thanksgiving in a country that spoke little of our native tongue, had rarely heard of pumpkin pie, and where finding any type of international food was as rare as winning the lottery. Frankly, there was a mixture of melancholy, anxiety, happiness, curiosity and anticipation. Subconsciously, I think we also knew this day was a marker. In America, Thanksgiving traditionally ushers in the holiday season. Conversations were now hesitantly turning to our departure plans. Our study abroad experience would be over in just four short weeks. This One Day was bringing a monumental strange surreal culture shock back to us on a silver platter.
Of course, in Italy, we still had classes on Thanksgiving. That made most of us somewhat disagreeable. Knowing I couldn’t skip, I hurried to get dressed. I was looking forward to meeting friends for a pumpkin pie breakfast at our favorite local café, San Sisto. I had implored Ricardo, the owner, and his Mamma to bake some pumpkin pies for the Americanos. They had laughed in surprise when they heard we wanted zucca (pumpkin) “in a what?” But bless the cook, for she figured out how to make a perfectly baked, sweet crust filled with a mouth-watering smooth zucca filling. Every ingredient tasted like home and warmed our hearts and stomachs. I heard later that her five pumpkin pies were sold by noon.
Soon, our morning buongiornos turned to talk of the day ahead. Two of my friends were welcoming all 54 students to a celebration at their 3 room apartment. Since finding a whole traditional turkey is impossible in our little part of the world, they had sought advice and a recipe from the Italian Cuisine teacher. They had purchased 8 kilograms of turkey breast and were marinating them in a bucket back at their apartment. The four of us had never realized the red piston on a Butterball turkey was ever something we would lust after. We headed to our Italian language class feeling like children on Christmas Eve.
While my two friends experienced their first hostess celebration anxiety over turkey cooking times, the miniature size of their typical Italian oven, the number of people that would fit into their apartment and the amount of food being prepared, I reassured them everything was going to be “perfetto.” Our life was feeling a little like a sitcom drama: Minute by minute, we were furiously reading and responding to the growing list of RSVPs and comments on Facebook.
I was surprised by the excitement and tradition-bartering visible in black and white on my computer screen each day. As the menu list grew, I was struck by what food writer Molly Wizenberg says: “We bring fathers and mothers and kitchen tables and every other meal we have ever eaten” to the kitchen. “Food is never just about food. It’s a way of getting at something else: who we are, who we have been, and who we want to be.” Unfolding before my eyes, was a tidal wave of emotions, tradition, love, and hope that each American student was bringing with their green beans, sweet potato casserole and mashed potatoes. This evening was more than just a meal.
When I arrived at the Thanksgiving party, the festivities were well under way. Laughter and welcome shouts greeted my arrival. The homemade, hand-colored turkey centerpiece cheerfully wished Happy Thanksgiving! The corner buffet table was filled with a surprising American smorgasbord. And the feast did not disappoint. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for eating three helpings of delectable sweet potatoes topped with real marshmallows or my two servings of perfect cinnamon- topped pumpkin pie and turkey. Everyone chipped in a few euros to help pay for food, and picture-taking, hugs, non-stop laughter and full stomachs filled the rooms for the next 3 hours.
But the real jewel shimmered brightly that night and left a poignant and wonderful memory. We were experiencing what the Italians feel so deeply in their cultural souls that they even have a special name for it – bella figura. It’s the reason Italian cuisine is a subculture of its very own. I have now found a new understanding of what a new Italian friend had once shared with me over an evening meal: ”If you do not prepare a meal with love, you cannot enjoy what comes after.”
On Thanksgiving night, we 35 Americans in that apartment were blessed and lucky to enjoy our own ”bella figura.” We were sharing a unique and wonderful bond that not only crossed state cultures and age demographics, but had crossed the thousands of miles from North America to Italy as well. With wisdom beyond their years, our two hostesses had asked each of us to write on a slip of paper what we were thankful for. As the gold- glittered bag was passed around to each student sitting on couches and chairs, on each other’s laps, and spilling comfortably onto the floor, we each drew out one slip of paper and read aloud what was written on the red and yellow post-it-notes: “I am thankful for my new family in Italy,”” I am thankful for good friends, my wonderful family and cheap Italian wine,” “ I am thankful for a year of cultural diversity,” “Holidays are made better by the people you share them with and damn y’all can cook!” “Hey, America, you’re so fine…you blow my mind!” and “Thank you for my crazy, fun USAC family, the opportunity to be in Italia, and LifeJ.”
Wow…Thanksgiving in Italy…Even better than I hoped… La dolce Vita.
