Archive for 2007
Pasqua (Easter) in Calabria: Sabato Santo Photos
And so here we are at Pasquetta (Easter Monday).
Many people down here take the day to spend with friends, relax, eat, and whatnot, but since I’m a dedicated blogger, I’ve been going through the hundreds of photos I took this past weekend. Don’t worry, I’ve also made time to relax and eat too.
For a fuller description of events, check out my previous Easter post here.
Some quick background. I had, essentially, an all access pass to the behind-the-scenes events because of P. You see, he’s been involved in this forever and directs traffic so to speak at various parts. He kept telling people I was covering the whole thing for the BBC, so you can thank him for giving me the courage to get in the way of Jesus and co.
Ahem. The photos.
Starting at about noon on Saturday, the soldiers got their gear ready.
P and I headed down to where Jesus and the other two that would be crucified were getting ready. This happened inside a cantina while the soldiers and the penitent got in position outside. I thought the grated window would be a cool shot, and just as I snapped, a soldier walked by.
Here is one of the two to be crucified alongside Jesus waiting to exit the cantina.
And here are the sinners waiting to self-flagellate.
The two to be crucified and Jesus are being led down to one of the village’s thirteen churches, from where the procession will begin.
Jesus rounding the corner to go down the path to the church.
The path to the church.
The area behind the church where Jesus is tied to the tree and beaten.
A brief pause in the festivities to give you an idea of how many people participate.
One of those people is P’s nephew Vincenzo.
After Jesus is given his cross down there, the procession moves through the village and up to another church, formerly part of a monastery. This photo is taken from my balcony and is hazy because my neighbor decided to heat his house (read: smoke got in our eyes).
From here, the procession arrives at another small church in one of the tiny vicoli, and some of the major players hand off their robes to different participants.
From there, the procession moves to yet another church, where we await the arrival of the Madonna, but not before some further punishment of Jesus.
I don’t have a photo of the arrival of the Madonna as I took it all on video, which I haven’t been able to upload. Boo.
From that church, the procession goes all the way back down to the church where everything started, and we wait for the next day’s events.
FYI, the procession of Sabato Santo takes between 8 and 9 hours.
Then on Sunday morning we have A Cumprunta where the risen Jesus is met by the Madonna. Again, I have this all on video, but here’s a shot of the two statues together.
And one of the a guy dancing while balancing his church’s flag in his mouth.
And that’s all from this pretend BBC correspondent for today.
deno’s easter eggs
For decades, *the* place to be in my hometown sat at the corner of Third and Oak Streets. We’re talking wooden booths carved with names from my dad’s crew, vanilla milkshakes with bits of bean still visible served up in the metal shaker, and the best–I mean *the best*–cheeseburgers I’ve ever had in my life.
The entrance was angled on the corner so that when you walked in, you were greeted by the sight of two things nearly simultaneously. To the left was a long diner counter, red bar stools in front of it and behind it, a waitress wearing a pink dress covered by a white apron and a little nurses’-type hat. This was in the early 1990s, by the way, but I’m guessing it wasn’t too different when my dad hung out there in the 60s.
To the right was heaven, at least to a chocoholic, because this establishment also made candy and to-die-for chocolate year-round.
Deno, the owner, was one mean candy machine.
My mom used to buy his Easter eggs for my brother (coconut) and me (peanut butter) every year. If you’re envisioning those tiny, poor excuses for candy made by Reese’s or Cadbury’s, think again. These babies were the size of my hand–my adult hand, not my five-year-old one. And the best part was that the top was hand-decorated with flowers and swirls and *sigh* my name.
In pink!
In cursive!
So, every Easter morning after the excitement had died down from our indoor egg hunt (plastic, bright, filled with coins, and marked with our names), it was time for that first bite into the M of Michelle (good thing the eggs were so darn big!). I’d curl up with the dog, fill my mouth with tooth-achingly sweet peanut butter goodness, and dream about being that proverbial kid in the candy store.
Not surprisingly, Easter was always accompanied by an overwhelming urge to watch Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.
The building of the old diner is still there, but you’d never recognize it. Last I heard, Deno was still making candy and selling it out of another locally famous establishment. But even when Deno has made his last egg, his place will still exist in my and many minds exactly as it was for decades.
And isn’t that what’s great about the recesses of our minds? I remember every detail right down to Deno’s welcoming smile and the greasy grill smell as if I just scooted into a booth yesterday–but all I really did was reminisce about seeing my name in pink (in cursive).
Can Easter, or life, get any sweeter?
Buona Pasqua a tutti–photos of Calabrian festivities coming soon!
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[tags]chocolate eggs, diners, homemade chocolate, easter, easter eggs[/tags]
love thursday: lending a hand
A paw will work too.
Photo inspired by the story of Toby, a dog that saved his owner with the Heimlich.
Happy Love Thursday!
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[tags]love thursday, helping hands, dogs, paws[/tags]
What’s Cooking Wednesday: Spaghetti Aglio Olio e Peperoncino
OK, I’m kind of wimping out here as this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday is probably the simplest pasta dish ever invented.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not good.
And it also doesn’t mean I haven’t seen it on Italian restaurant menus pretending like it’s all fancy and frou frou when really, every Italian has probably eaten this thousands of times when there was nothing else in Mother Hubbard’s cupboard (or, you know, when they were drunk and/or hungover).
I’m just sayin’.
Spaghetti aglio olio e peperoncino
(Spaghetti with garlic, olive oil, and hot pepper)
*serves 2
Put on the water to boil.
Peel 3 cloves of garlic, crush slightly. Set aside.
Chop up one hot pepper (or don’t if you’ll use hot pepper flakes instead), and set aside.
Once the water is boiling, add salt and pasta; remove when al dente and let sit in strainer.
Now heat a generous amount of oil, about 5 tablespoons, on medium heat, and then add the garlic, hot pepper (to your taste), and a bit of salt. Just let the garlic get a little brown, but be careful so it doesn’t burn.
Remove the garlic, add the pasta to the pan, and toss well together, leaving it all over the heat for about a minute as you mix.
And that’s it.
So seriously, please don’t ever spend money on this in a restaurant. I don’t ask much of you around here, so per piacere?
Other additions to this dish to make it more special include parsley, grated cheese, and even bread crumbs, but this is your basic Spaghetti aglio olio peperoncino, and it’s truly delicious as is.
Buon appetito!
P.S. Weather watch for Pasqua photos: it’s *extremely* windy and rainy right now, but I’m hoping that means it’ll clear up for the weekend–can’t stay like this forever, right?
Pasqua / Easter in Calabria
Many people who haven’t visited Italy often think that Christmas is the big holiday here–Catholicism equals Jesus equals Christmas, right? Well, Jesus’ birth is most definitely celebrated (amazing presepi are everywhere), but in fact, Easter, the day Jesus rose from the dead after being crucified, is hands down the most important holiday in Italy.
I’m not religious (although I was brought up Catholic), but it’s easy to get caught up in the emotions of the Pasqua (Easter) season, particularly in this village.
The festivities begin on Palm Sunday with the blessing of the palms; see Cherrye for more about this tradition. Since I don’t participate, my neighbor makes sure I’m not a complete heathen and always brings me some; this time she also brought me a Calabrian cake traditional for Easter called “cuzzupa.” They are kind of crumbly with a slight lemony flavor, not too sweet and perfect with espresso.
If you’ve been around Italian neighborhoods, perhaps you’ve seen such cuzzupe twisted and shaped into baskets and cradling hard-boiled eggs, but here where I am, they simply make small, glazed cakes usually with rainbow sprinkles.
And, yes, they are delicious. I’ll post a recipe later this week.
Then from Monday through Friday, every morning there is a small procession through the village with a drummer and a small group of male church members dressed in the robes of their brotherhood; each of the village’s 13 churches has a corresponding brotherhood, or organization that keeps its name and activities going. The groups change each morning, and the songs are in a mix of Italian, Calabrese, and Latin–which means I understand precisely nothing.
But you don’t need to understand the words. It’s enough to hear the wails of mourning that their Savior is about to be murdered, martyred. They stop in front of several churches to sing, and are accompanied by a steady, slow drumbeat as they walk through the village.
All of this leads up to grand procession of Sabato Santo (Holy Saturday), which lasts for approximately nine hours, starting at one in the afternoon and ending when the last mass is said in the main church sometime around 10 p.m. People come from all over the area to take part in this special tradition as this village is one of the few around here that still does it.
Participants dress in costumes representing the major and minor players of Christ’s crucifixion, including Christ himself, who is given his cross at one of the lowest points in the hilly village and carries it on his shoulders for the rest of the procession. There are soldiers, penitent sinners, the other two who were crucified with Jesus, the Madonna, and so many more–and then there are the regular folk who are welcome to walk along the path, which touches most of the villages churches, including one on the site of a former monastery.
Then on Sunday is the “Cumprunta,” which is the meeting between the risen Christ and the Madonna on a small incline leading up to one of the churches. Onlookers line the street for a glimpse of the reunion as between them younger boys from the congregations run up and down the hill, accompanied by frantic drumbeats as back and forth, back and forth, they wave their churches’ flags–which are at least five times the size of them.
The statues of the Madonna (dressed in black) and Jesus are on separate platforms carried by groups of men from oppositely situated churches. As the statues get closer and closer, the men run faster and faster so that the statues meet, and at that exact moment, the Madonna’s black clothes are stripped to reveal a beautiful white, celebratory dress–her son has risen.
It is beautiful and moving and wonderful and *sigh.*
I think it’s my favorite moment of every year.
Afterwards there is spontaneous dancing in the street as the drumbeats continue, and the strongest men balance the wooden poles of the enormous flags in their mouths, holding the strings of the flags with their outstretched arms to keep everything in check. And so they dance, looking up at these flags now as high as the houses for as long as they can stand until passing it to the next willing taker.
The other day in the piazza, I saw a little boy practicing with a push broomstick in his mouth, preparing for his future day in the sun. Oh, why hadn’t I brought my camera?!
I give you these tidbits now, but if all goes well with the weather, there will be more information (i.e., photos) to follow later this week. So let’s pray for good weather, shall we?
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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