Holiday gatherings are more atypical when it comes to my family. Once I heard the word “Easter,” my immediate reaction was nothing more than a heavy sigh. The countless hours of wining and dining, loud gossiping Italians getting together for an even bigger feast of seasonal celebrations is not a pretty picture to see. Nevertheless, once a European always a European, meaning I’ve been well trained to put up with Europeaness. This year the family decided to break tradition and have Easter at my Aunt’s house in Vancouver, meaning me sitting in a rented Dodge Durango for four hours with five more than excited adults and a yappy shih tzu. Goody. So there I was sitting, knees to my chin in a tin can waiting for old fogies to get their wrinkly behinds in the car. If I tried to tell them to hurry up, they’d just reply “Eh! Whatz matta for you?” My hurry was to get this done and over with. Perhaps next time I’ll pack a time capsule or clone myself. I do have to give credit to the similar few like myself. Like my grandma; she knows when to make me feel better.
Grandma. “You loza weight?”
Grandpa. “You bline Bella!? Youz clean your glassez.”
Hmmh. No comment. I’m going to call this a little snap shot of my life. Humorous yet painful. So finally we were on the road. Everyone was tried and the pillows looked inviting. All was running quite smoothly until my bottle-glassed Uncle (and may I add an over zealous driver) decided to play a CD of his selection. Now usually I don’t mind Oldies playbacks but I wasn’t quite ready for Bobby Winters and Rob Orbison that yearly in the morning. And of course when one is familiar with a classic tune, one sings along. So everyone sang along.
“Bum, wah, wah, wah, wahhh, ahhh…Shoop, shoop, wee, oooooooo”
My head was pounding in sync with the c sharp bum wahs and shoop wees. Oh dear, I envisioned the Five O’clock News
“Breaking News: A family road trip gone horribly wrong. Accident or murder? Next: Interview with Mr. Easter Bunny and his family secret to laying a tasty chocolate egg. Find out after the commercial break.”
It was tempting but I held back. Instead I dug out my mp3 player that I luckily remembered to pack. Low battery. Hmmh. To be or not to be that is the question? I decided to hold off from the music until I was clawing for desperation. In the meant time my grandparents started a conversation regarding weather to call “Italy” or not.
Grandma. “Bello, Yous call Sardinia?”
Grandpa. “Noa.”
Grandma. “What’s a matter for you! They’s going to tell peoples we rude!”
* This argument was followed by a course line of “Love Hurts” and nauseating jerks my Uncle was produced from speeding and breaking around corners. *
Grandpa. “Nobody call me. I no call deems!”
Grandma. “So!”
Grandpa. “SO. So I havea no times for peoples who no love is me! Remember, when we went back anda they never came to see you. NO! NO CALLIN’!”
Grandma. “Dat was twent-ees ago Demi!
Grandpa. “NO CALLIN’!”
It’s hard not to laugh at arguing Italians because they never argue for any valid reason because to them life is a soap-op and everything is blown way out of proportion.
So as the outstretch drive continued everyone began to fall asleep. My Uncle put in a Coldplay CD which was accompanied by heavy snoring. While everyone was sleeping I was observing the passing waterfalls made buy melted snow and trying to keep my stare on one tree at a time, which began to make me feel motion sickness. So, I decided to check if everyone was actually asleep when I noticed my Uncles eyes where a bit red. He was crying! I think it was because of the Coldplay. Which brings me to my next tip on Italians: while being down to earth cooking and eating machines Italians are overly sensitive and tend to make sob fest speeches at their big feast celebrations. Also Italians never break tradition (unless they feel it’s necessary.) So, when Easter dinner comes I’ll be fully ready to hold back any laughs.
Stay tune for Easter 2008 Part Two: The Dinner
- feeling stuck
