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Still Celebrating: Pasquetta
Last we left off, I promised that I would make time to eat and relax on Pasquetta, as Easter Monday is called here. P and I ended up spending the day with some of his friends and their wives, and now I have photographic evidence.
There was eating:
There was drinking:
There was singing:
There was bocce:
Oh was there ever bocce.
And there was even playtime with Luna and my friend Helen:
Then today, I continued the Pasquetta celebration by turning an annoying work obligation into a fun time by meeting up with Cherrye in Catanzaro for some cappuccini with the stars (and she didn’t even mind her drink getting a little cold while I took a photo or ten):
And then, for the first time in a year, some McDonald’s, including a chocolate milkshake (woohoo!), with an Aussie friend who has a house in my village. Sometimes you just get cravings, you know?
*sigh*
La vita è bella.
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?
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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