Buona Pasqua

I know it is a bit late for an Easter blog, but the Interweb was wonky and well, you get the idea.

So, Easter is probably the biggest holiday for Italy; maybe Christmas is bigger but Easter is a big deal. Here it is celebrated with all sorts of church things, as well as an immensely huge feast on Easter Monday. So Sunday we had tons of work in the kitchen washing dishes and prepping food for 77 guests and family. Yikes. And that went fine: good food and a really great time in the kitchen with the Italian staff. We were blessed to sit at the family table and enjoyed the thoroughly Italian experience.

On Monday, the Italians, or Calabrians, as they are proud to announce down here, arrived for lunch. The whole morning was spent preparing food. Antipasta, two pasta courses, pork leg slow roasted in a wood oven and countless other tasks. We were to host 75 this time and only for lunch. They began to arrive around 1pm in their obviously expensive cars. Immediately their presence was felt as high fashion and arm charms guzzled wine and beer and loud chit chat was overheard from the heated kitchen.

The courses came rolling out just as promised, and were promptly devoured almost as they hit the table. There were a large amount of bambini crying about, big hair and gold everywhere. When the pork finally emerged from the oven everyone popped out cameras and started paparazzing. After two or three hours of eating and maybe 25 litres of wine, the guitar was born. All the luncheon party began to sing songs of the region, canciones Calabrese. Nice. It was fun to listen to as we washed and dried and put up hundreds of dishes.

One ominous fellow overheard me speaking English in the bowels of the kitchen and approached me with a stern Hello. He was curious what we as Americans were doing so far south here. I was curious about the huge half moon scar on his face. Needless to say my curiosity did not seek an answer.

Everyone all full up from wine and food spilled outside for more drinks and song. This lasted till around 5pm or so when everyone gave a hearty Ciao and lunged into their cars to speed off to God knows where. All except one poor fellow in a brilliant black Armani. He had the unfortunate religious experience of the technicolor yawn right there in the carpark. He was cool though; after paying his respects he promptly alerted andiamo, jumped into the driver's seat and sped off, sending the limestone flying. A colorful bunch those southerners.

We are looking forward to our last few days here at lovely PiraPora. And also ahead to AsvaNara, the horse farm near Arezzo. We will also spend a couple days in Rome and Florence. From there we will finally say goodbye to Europe, Asia and Africa and hello once again to... Jamacia! What!!! Yeah, we figured after such a grueling year away from home we should do ourselves a favor and lounge on the beach for a couple weeks.

Haters gonna hate.

Peaches and cream baby.

Love and Peace to all!

[Editor's Note: the picture was taken of a creche in a cave at the bottom of the rock wall holding up Tropea... leftover from Christmas and a real treat to see at the end of the 198 steps we walked down to reach the beach.]