Christmas time is coming

This week saw another milestone in our time here in Italy as Tuesday marked a year since we moved into La Casa dei Due Baffi. While there is still much that we want to do to the house, both downstairs and in the attic when time, funds and earthquakes allow, we are more than happy with what we’ve achieved so far and with our decision not only to move countries but also with the place we have chosen to put down our new roots.

This new country of ours is steadily gearing itself up for Christmas, and I don't just mean Hotel Pina breaking out their festive cappuccino cups. A key part of the preparations happened on Thursday with the annual public holiday to celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Coming towards the end of the week, as you should know by now, the holiday formed the usual bridge, stretching over Friday to the weekend, so I joined in the spirit by freeing myself of lessons for the duration.

Andrea, one of my Thursday students, had already changed his day to Wednesday for this week, as he had to work on the following day. He’s a sales assistant in the Nero Giardini outlet just up the road from us and the 8th is usually one of their few hectic days in December. Contrary to how things pan out in the UK, shops in Italy are busy at this time of year but nowhere near as mad as in Britain. There are, I think, a couple of reasons for this with one being that present giving is not on an endemic scale; gifts are just exchanged between close family and friends and children don’t feel aggrieved if parents fail to clock up hundreds of pounds of debt. As well, while you may find some shops discounting items, official sales aren’t allowed to start until January, so people are reluctant to lay out money on something that, if they wait till after Christmas, they can buy for a good deal less.

We took the opportunity offered by la festa della Concezione Immacolata to kick-start our own festive period. Stephen spent the morning putting up and decorating our Christmas tree as well as adding one or two decorative touches elsewhere in the house. With the upheaval of moving last year and not being sure where everything was in the myriad of unpacked boxes, we didn’t get around to decking our new halls so it was even more heartwarming to see our familiar decorations once more.

In the afternoon, as it was such a beautifully crisp, clear day, we went to Porto Recanati for a stroll along the promenade followed by another stroll along the main street, giving us, as they say, the best of both worlds. It was still light when we arrived in the late afternoon and walked by the beach, but it was turning to dusk as we made our way up the main drag. This had been closed to traffic so the many people out to check the Christmas windows and do a spot of shopping were able to wander freely, as were we as we weaved our way to the Caffè Giorgio. In an act of true self-sacrifice, I tried out their hot chocolate and apple cake on behalf of both of you, my devoted readers, and can say that should you ever find yourself in Porto Recanati on a December afternoon and decide to pop in there, you won’t be disappointed.

Neither was Stephen disappointed when we had our Friday night ritual of film and pizza. It seems to have become my responsibility to be the one to shoot up to Mascalzone Latino Pizzeria for our supper where we don’t now even have to say what we want, we have become so predictable in our choice. Not this time, though, as when I asked if he wanted his usual quattro stagioni, out of left field came his reply that he wanted me to surprise him with something wonderfully festive. The onus was weighing heavily on me, for I was pretty certain that turkey and cranberries were not something readily available in your average provincial pizzeria. However, summoning up my best Italian, I managed to communicate Stephen’s desire to the staff who suggested one topped with mushrooms, ham and fresh rocket called grande puffo, which means big Smurf in English. Fortunately, Stephen was very happy with his pizza, even if it wasn’t blue.

In my newfound role as hot chocolate taster we tried another venue on Saturday afternoon following a visit to a garden centre and a stroll round Porto San Giorgio. Stephen suggested the trip as he wanted to buy a new shrub for the outside pot and a poinsettia (called here stella di Natale/Christmas star) for inside. Whilst we were more than happy with our purchases, we were rather taken aback when we checked out the real Christmas trees: €135 for a modest sized specimen with a decided list seemed somewhat on the steep side. No wonder Italians prefer to hang their lights over a convenient bush. As for the hot chocolate, it was fine but not up to the high standard set in Porto Recanati, so my mission continues.

We finished the week with another festive jaunt this afternoon, this time to Fermo, which is taking Christmas very seriously. The Piazza del Popolo has the now obligatory ice rink as well as a large Christmas tree and mini-planetarium, both festooned with an abundance of lights. The ones on the planetarium remained a classic white while the Christmas tree faded in and out of a variety of shades in sympathy with the floodlights splashed onto the surrounding buildings. Should you wish, you can catch the Santa Express that will take you on a tour of the town, calling at the different Christmas hot spots.

In a spot of civic one-upmanship, Fermo’s illuminated train and carriages operated under its own steam, unlike the one we had seen a few days earlier in Porto Recanati. This one was a sort of low tech, locomotive Wendy house, where the young passengers walked along behind the ‘driver’ while simultaneously carrying the tent-like train facsimile. I have to say though, that the Porto Recanati travellers looked much cheerier than their Fermo counterparts, which maybe shows that where Christmas is concerned, you can’t beat the magic of imagination.

Being old people, however, we forwent the train, preferring to do a spot of window-shopping before checking out this year’s exhibition of presepi in the Roman cisterns. We had high hopes after last year and were rewarded with another very fine display. As well as the obvious ones, created from commercial sets, there was, again, one made from pasta and another with a setting made from coffee beans. There was a charming Holy Family crocheted in white as well as a politically controversial one with a seascape of refuge filled boats, so all viewpoints were catered for.

And then it was time for a little something, being aperitivo hour. Much to Stephen’s delight, we partook of a chilled glass of Verdicchio and a plate of light bites at Artasylum, the urban chic bar where we missed the Edgar Allen Poe reading the other week. Sunday evenings must be their regular time for hosting events, for while we were happily making our way through our comestibles, the two nice ladies on duty started moving the chairs into a loose semi-circle and forming a makeshift auditorium, with Stephen and me as the focal point. We tried to act nonchalantly, avoiding knocking back the wine in one gulp, but as the clock ticked slowly towards 6pm, the time the event (something to do with Radiohead) was scheduled to start we thought that discretion was much the better part of valour. Not being overfamiliar with the oeuvre of Oxfordshire’s premier alternative rock combo we made sure we’d settled our bill and left the building before anyone expected us do a mash up of their greatest hits. Christmas is, after all, a time for bringing peace and goodwill to all men, which precludes any attempt by Stephen to break out into song.