#149 A Strange Week
Hello friend,
Yeah, it’s been a weird week here in small town Sicily. It began with the final days of Carnevale here in Italy, which has always been strange to me.
I never grew up with these unusual dress-up holidays. When I was growing up in Australia in the late 80s and 90s, Halloween wasn’t a big thing. And in the heat of late February or early March, no one was interested in dressing up unless it was for Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, which is a very different celebration from Carnevale, which happens on the same day.
Looking at the word Mardi Gras, it does reflect the Italian celebration, Mardi as in Martedi (Tuesday) and Gras or Grasso (fat), which is the last day of Carnevale ‘known as Fat Tuesday (Martedi Grasso) or in the UK Shrove Tuesday (pancake Day), the final day before Ash Wednesday which marks the beginning a period of Lent which is traditionally 40 days of fasting and prayer in the Catholic calendar that reflect the time Jesus wandered the desert being tempted by the devil.
The Italian celebration Carnevale is a giant excuse for a dress-up party right in the middle of winter, where they exorcise their appetites before a more sombre part of the year leading up to the springtime celebration of Easter. Even the name Carnevale is literally ‘carne’ (meat) ‘vale’ (from andare, or go/leave), in that Lent people used to fast and give up meat as a form of sacrifice for the preparations for Easter.
These days, to be honest, there is very little fasting or monastic preparation for Jesus's death and resurrection; the focus is more on the party.
Carnevale in Italy has become a tourist attraction as many major cities invest money in preparing the most lavish floats, costumes and events. The period of Carnevale means places like Venice, Viareggio, Acireale, and Sciacca, which are filled with tourists observing the dancing, costumes, music, lights, and spectacles.
While each small town organises parades with themed homemade floats, children organise groups, and all dress up the same. Sometimes, it can be the Simpsons, the Smurfs, pirates, or anything random that comes to mind.
There is always plenty of wine drinking, panini consumption, and fried sweets, all made and provided by those who organise the different groups. In the larger cities, the local government has a budget, but people usually pay a small amount to contribute to the cost, and any work is done by volunteers.
What made this week so strange was that the children actually got a few days off from school to celebrate the last few days of Carnevale. So, this week was kind of a semi-holiday, which fragmented the working week and put our routine off kilter.
When my son was younger, he enjoyed getting dressed up (usually as a superhero) and gathering in the local piazza to play with his classmates, throwing confetti or coriandoli shredded pieces of paper and occasionally spraying one another with those little spray cans of crazy or silly string. You know those brightly coloured plastic strings propelled from the aerosol cans? And as soon as he got tired of that, he would have to grab a pizza or arancino in the local cafe or bar (as they call cafes here).
But now that I have a moody teenager, he finds all such nonsense too embarrassing. He isn’t like some of his contemporaries who like to spend time with scantily clad teenage girls dressed as sexy police women or gape at the usual array of short skirt-wearing fishnet stocking women who are too drunk to stand up. Or like others still who have suddenly discovered alcohol.
It’s times like these when I actually don’t mind having a moody teenager. The good-natured traditions of Carnevale have well and truly gone. And these days, it’s actually a bit dangerous. You see the potential for many young people to get hurt.
I recall my grandparents' stories about the Carnevale of their time, which sounded like tremendous fun. It was filled with organised dance parties, spending time with friends, food and drink, and occasional cross-dressing and costume-making, all in good fun and in the spirit of light fun, joking, and laughter suited to Carnevale.
Even my husband wistfully recalls the Carnevale of his youth, when he and his friends would organise and make costumes, floats, and dances. It was a celebration that went from house to house in all of the different neighbourhoods in these small countryside towns, where everyone just wanted to have a little fun, drink some wine, eat, and be merry in the once very bleak wintertime.
The last time my husband organised a dance for Carnevale, some uninvited drunk, rowdy and violent guests turned up, and the carabinieri had to be called. The police suggested that they avoid any more events to avoid the arrival of unsavoury types interfering with the fun. This loss of innocence also corresponded with someone breaking into the dance hall and stealing the DJ equipment and expensive speakers, which put a definitive end to any future festivities.
I feel this loss of innocence has occurred all over the world over the decades. As times have changed, things seem to get more complicated. Even in the Australia of my youth, in the 90s, it was always easy to organise or attend a house party without much trouble. These days are well and truly gone.
And now suddenly I feel so very old and sad.
Sorry to finish this week on such a low note.
Stay well, be kind to everyone, including yourself, and we’ll speak again soon.
Rochelle
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