“The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.”

Kakuzo Okakura, The Book of Tea

Christmas in the U.S. with young children had them participating in school Christmas pageants, writing letters to Santa, visiting him for a photo-op at the mall, hanging stockings from our fireplace mantel, and leaving cookies and milk there for his descent through the chimney. There was often at least a dusting of snow to make Santa’s arrival by sleigh a possibility. It was also a time for heading from Massachusetts to New York and New Jersey for visits with grandparents and extended family.

That routine was temporarily changed when my husband’s job moved us to Southern Italy near Naples where we celebrated three Christmases with warm, sunny weather. That first year, we learned that some of our Christmas shopping had to be done earlier and mailed in November so our presents for relatives would arrive in the U.S. on time. When December rolled around, there were no sightings on street corners or in shops of Babbo Natale, the Italian name for Santa. Christmas displays were mostly in the narrow, cobblestoned, Neapolitan alley called San Gregorio Armeno. Artisan shops lined the area selling all manner of presepes (Christmas mangers) depicting the humble abode where Christ was born in Bethlehem. They ranged from the simple traditional Mary, Joseph, baby, and shepherds to elaborate scenarios that included Italian cultural figures. The shephards were Italian bagpipe-playing Zampognari, and the figures surrounding the manger mirrored the activity in Naples: fish and shellfish sellers, pizza and bread bakers, chicken and egg vendors, and cheese makers. Since we lived on a quiet hillside west of the city, Christmas shopping for me meant driving my tiny Seicento (Fiat 600) into the chaotic traffic of Naples, parking in the grand Piazza del Plebicito and paying the capo a small fee, then either climbing up to the shops and department stores on busy Via Toledo, or walking across to the higher-end shops on Via de Mille. Live Christmas trees were trucked down to Naples from the north. We bought one, and crossed our fingers that it would last in the warm temps.

Though my husband worked at an Italian company, he was there as a consultant for his American employer. Since the division that ran the Italian project had its headquarters in France, that year was our first Christmas-season trip to Paris for the company Christmas party in mid-December. The event was elaborate and friends provided a sitter for the kids during the party. Our whole family got to enjoy the festive city, especially the spectacular holiday street lighting on Boulevard Haussmann and the Christmas displays at Galleries Lafayette, Au Printemps, and the many wonderful smaller elegant shops. It was in Paris that I became acquainted with the delicious holiday cake called Buche de Noel. I learned to make it and still serve it for dessert every Christmas Eve.

On December 21, the kids had a Christmas party at their international school in Naples then we drove up to Rome for a weekend and some holiday shopping there. On Christmas Eve, we had the Neapolitan traditional meal of seven fishes. On Christmas Day, we opened presents, enjoyed eating out on our sunny patio, and called family in the States. During Christmas week, we made a long day trip to go skiing at Roccarasa in the Abruzzo region, one of the closest winter resorts in the mountains northeast of Naples.  

The final Christmas celebration happened on January 6. The kids put their shoes outside their bedroom doors before they went to sleep so Befana would fill them with little treats and gifts. The name Befana appeared historically for the first time in writing in a poem by Agnolo Firenzuola in 1549. She is portrayed as an old ugly woman, dressed in dark rags who during the night between 5th and 6th January flies over the houses riding her broom and entering through the chimneys (or in modern apartments through a keyhole).

The second Christmas in Italy was very much like the first, including the trip to Paris for a company party. That year it was held in a castle in the countryside and the waitstaff dressed in period costumes with powdered wigs. After the kids had their school Christmas party on the Friday before Christmas, we drove north to Val Gardena in the Alto Adige (South Tyrol), a section of the Alps called the Dolomites. The family enjoyed a week staying at the resort of Ortisei (Sankt Ulrich). (The area was originally part off the Austro-Hungarian Empire but was annexed to Italy after World War I. Many of the residents speak German and the towns are named in both languages.) The mountain towns there are picturesque with horse-drawn sleighs and lovely chalets. For our final day of skiing before heading home, we drove through the mountain passes piled high with snow to enjoy the slopes at Cortina d’Ampezzo. Upon our arrival home, we found our Christmas tree dry as a bone and devoid of needles. Luckily, the floor was tile and the mess was easy to sweep up.

During our third Christmas season in Italy, we were preparing to return to the States because the job assignment was finished. Before flying home, we got to enjoy one more elaborate party and visit to the magic that is Paris at the holidays. We flew home to Massachusetts via New York where we celebrated Christmas Eve and Day with family.

~*~

Five years after our return from Italy, my husband’s job assignment was in Munich Germany where we celebrated five Christmases. I learned to cook roast goose for Christmas dinner which was the local tradition, served Stollen for breakfast, and baked German cookies like hagebutter (rosehip) jam-filled Spitzbüble.

Marienplatz, a large square in the Old Town always had a festive Christmas market. Vendors sold warm Gluhwein to sip while strolling and shopping in the nippy, often snow-filled, air. Edible sweet treats for sale were decorated, heart-shaped, gingerbread cookies, soft, spicy Lebkuchen cookies, marzipan, Gebrannte Mandeln (roasted almonds) coated in a mixture of sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and much more. Other vendors sold wooden gift items like toys, nutcrackers, Räuchermänner (smoking men) which are male figures in which you can burn cone-shaped incense, Christmas pyramids which rotate under candle power, Christmas decorations, ornaments, and Nativity scenes. My holiday shopping was mostly done in the Old Town’s Fussgänger zone (pedestrian area) which was a mix of large department stores, smaller shops, and restaurants which I could reach by tram.

Since Munich is so close to the Alps, we would often ski at Christmastime. One year we spent the week in Val d’Isere, France. We decided to forego a tree in our Munich home and bought a small one for our holiday condo rental on the road leading up to the mountain village. The evergreen was about two feet tall and affixed to two crossed pieces of wood at the base. We placed it atop a wooden chair and decorated it with lights.  It was a cozy sight to return to after fun days on the snowy slopes. The condo gave us privileges to use a nearby health club. Neither my husband nor the kids were interested in using it, but one evening I went there to use the hot tub. Big mistake. I picked up some kind of bug and my last couple of days were feverish and spent in bed. Thankfully, the others stayed well.

Christmases are now spent in Florida but our decorations include things from both Italy and Germany and bring back wonderful memories.