La Befana

I used to be quite impressed by the fact that the Italians still have strength to keep partying on the 6th of January. (The only thing that happens in Estonia for the 6th of January is that people throw out their Christmas trees and stop calling the new year new.) It seemed to be another reminder of the main difference between Protestantism and Catholicism - the latter have more parties.

As the day has come and gone, I'm left wondering if it's really a festivity in itself or just a piece of Christmas gone astray.

Befana is an old woman, represented as a kind witch, who enters the houses through a chimney to bring the kids candy if they've been good, or a piece of coal if they've been bad (or a representative black rock-candy as on the photo). As the tradition is older than Christianity, Befana might have been a local version of Santa Claus and originally celebrated for the Winter Solstice, 21st of December. The fact that after delivering the candy Befana will be burned as a vaguely anthropomorphic wood statue placed in the central piazza, gives the whole event a slightly morbid feel. So what is it, a pagan tradition that couldn't have been discarded completely, has thus been postponed to the Epiphany instead and fitted with an Inquisition-style stamp to make it theologically correct? One of the explanations is that burning the figure of an old woman is a representation of leaving behind the old year and starting with the next. Fire seems to have a direct connection to the Sun that will start to gain strength again after the lowest extreme.

In Estonian terms this could be a combination of Santa's little helpers (päkapikud) that bring (or don't bring) candy to the slippers of the children all through December until Christmas and the bonfires of the Summer Solstice celebration (jaanipäev) and a generic a-reason-to-drink day as, say 30th of April, volbripäev (something similar to Halloween). But I can't think of any festivities that would actually include a witch or burning it.

The modern Befana-celebration bears the unmistakable marks of being a clearly non-Christian festivity. Rather than the last chance to take a look at the elaborate preseppe (nativity scene) in the local church, it seems to be a chance to take a day off work, meet everyone at the piazza, take a vin brulé (mulled wine) or a frittella (a type of thick pancake) off the street stands, discuss the past holidays, make plans to go skiing and warm your backside at the burning Befana.

As for the tradition of calling the holidays finished - our plastic pine is still firmly standing in the living room. After all, it's still allowed to wish people a happy 2007. There's no rush.

Natale

this is me spending the Christmas in Italy. it has come as a surprise to numerous friends all over Europe (especially the ones who are going home from abroad themselves), some work colleagues, my relatives and the guy from the fruit shop downstairs. as strange as it seems, it does make sense for me to take advantage of a chance to spend a completely different holiday this year, after 22 of them being properly with the family. after all, the celebration itself is not so special really, apart from the family itself. we eat until we can't eat any more. we make gingerbreads. we wear granny-made woolen socks and gloves, all of us. and usually there is at least some amount of snow outside. we stay in and do things that we usually don't have time for.

in Italy things are different. snow exists only in the mountains (not too far from here, but not close enough). no-one knows anything about gingerbreads or glögg. i didn't even get a chocolate christmas calendar this year because they were all finished from the shops. our Christmas tree is a pine instead of the traditional fir, or rather, it's a collection of green bottle-brushes. the decorations cover most of it up, but even thus it's not exactly the nicest tree around. not that we see it too much, as instead of obediently staying at home with the older generation, evenings are all for bars and seeing people who have come around for the holidays from far-away places. the midnight after the Christmas Eve is celebrated similarly to that of the New Year, if maybe on a smaller scale. the bars are alive, hot wine flowing, old rock-n-roll songs blasting from the speakers and the waiters dancing with the bottles of Prosecco.

along with the Christmas trees put up everywhere, and the same old cheesy christmas songs ('all i want for christmas is you'; 'last christmas', 'jingle bells' etc) all around (including our discovery of the month, the accuradio), there are a number of novelties to make up for the lack of snow and family. the first of them is undoubtedly the Panettone / Pandoro, the ultimate sweet-tandem of Italian Christmas. the main change on TV at the approaching holidays is the odd red hat here and there, and the endless flow of advertisements for Panettone (or its Veronese counterpart, the Pandoro). the TV spots usually start with something completely different - a family, children, Christmas tree, mountains, jewels, expensive cars, beautiful women, etc etc, until the Panettone comes along. in fact, as Panettone is synonymous to Christmas, then all these things are highly relevant. it's not only a Christmas cake with raisins and dried fruits that is being promoted. it is the whole idea of Christmas, and the celebration of the Italian way of life.

as I haven't been able to track down the most stupendous of all these commercials, a spot where someone burns himself while fixing the electricity cables and then a Panettone jump out of nowhere (obviously); here are some of the more mainstream ones offered by YouTube.

(Maina panettone 2006 - "go slow like Maina - we let our panettone ferment for two days")

(Pandoro Bauli - "good - just like you")



other than the Panettone and the time spent in the bar during Christmas, something completely new for someone coming from a mainly Protestant background are the nativity scenes, preseppi. there is one in front of the main church and one in every home with the slightest sense of tradition. basically it's just the set of figures of Maria, Joseph, the three kings, the shepherds, the sheep and, added at Christmas, the baby Jesus of course. as the plan was to have as typical a Christmas as possible, we were planning to make one too, though we didn't really want to spend a fortune on the plastic figurines. R assured me that making them of origami would definitely not be the most unorthodox way of making the preseppe. we got as far as making two extremely ugly Santas out of paper, and then slopping down to watch a movie instead.

my attempt to make gingerbreads from scratch hasn't gotten anywhere yet, as simple syrup (without the mint, lemon or apple taste) is nowhere to be found and I should spare a whole day to gather the courage to overcome the fear of creating another one of my post-cooking warfields in the kitchen. but thanks to all the mammas, we've been eating well enough. eating, drinking, breathing in. half of the Christmas day was spent sneezing, wheezing and sniffling, after D spilled a boxful of pepper on the floor. the rest was spent:
a) trying to find out if the presents were satisfactory to the others;
b) properly appreciating all one's own presents;
c) slopping down to watch a movie.


obviously the snow and family make a great difference for the celebrations. but I've had some of the next best people, and, of course, the Panettone.