I guess I am still amazed by the whole ritual. And by amazed, it's just that it seems so medieval- and so unsafe. As my neighbor explained, "It's tradition."
I am certain that rituals from my beloved country supply many a foreigner with these exact feelings. Maybe the first time they see the Fourth of July jubilee? That probably isn't a good example, though. Maybe a good old-fashioned pie eating contest? I haven't seen one, but I imagine that might be weird for someone not of the American heritage. Heck, my french family was surprised when we ate corn on the cob like pigs, so perhaps a simple picnic would provide shock material, who knows?
I had heard there are many bonfires to mark the epiphany. Each street has their own, here in the boonies. But, the word "bonfire" doesn't seem appropriate. As per bonfire, I was thinking, you know, the kind you stand around and roast weenies and marshmallows. Not so much.
It takes the men (I saw no women out there at all) several days and lots of heavy equipment to build this structure. If you look closely, my neighbor is on top of the pile.
There were 5-7 bales of hay on the bottom. Each day a little more brush was added and arranged accordingly. Finally, a very large branch was placed sticking out from the center of the structure.
It was covered in plastic while it was raining.
I am not sure how the fire was started. Once it was burning, we went back near our garage to have a look. That was close enough for me, but my neighbor saw us and had his 11-year-old daughter come over to the fence. She said, "Come."
We made our way through the dark muddy field to the fire. As our eyes were adjusting to the bright light from a truck parked next to the bonfire, we were greeted by Vanda. (She lives behind us.) She had a tray of cake she was serving to the revelers- it was a citrus cake of sorts. Then they gave us some hot mulled wine- filled with mushy chunks of indiscernible fruit. There, we mingled a little while watching this.
I didn't feel the need to get very close to the fire. It's not like you had to stand very close to feel the warmth. It's not that I was worried about the entire structure collapsing, but it had crossed my mind.
The neighborhood children were running around with sparklers and setting off fireworks. Some of the children seemed very young to have free reign with fireworks. In typical Italian parenting style, no one was watching the kids' antics. Occasionally they would light a firecracker, then throw it. When it didn't explode as expected, they would all run to where it landed on the ground. Then, they would lean over with their faces very close to the unexploded device to have a look and debate about what happened. I am sure I am sounding like a true parent here when I say I was nervous for their well-being.
I was so grateful that they didn't burn an effigy for ephiphany, especially not La Befana. My Italian teacher forewarned me!
I am certain that rituals from my beloved country supply many a foreigner with these exact feelings. Maybe the first time they see the Fourth of July jubilee? That probably isn't a good example, though. Maybe a good old-fashioned pie eating contest? I haven't seen one, but I imagine that might be weird for someone not of the American heritage. Heck, my french family was surprised when we ate corn on the cob like pigs, so perhaps a simple picnic would provide shock material, who knows?
I had heard there are many bonfires to mark the epiphany. Each street has their own, here in the boonies. But, the word "bonfire" doesn't seem appropriate. As per bonfire, I was thinking, you know, the kind you stand around and roast weenies and marshmallows. Not so much.
It takes the men (I saw no women out there at all) several days and lots of heavy equipment to build this structure. If you look closely, my neighbor is on top of the pile.
There were 5-7 bales of hay on the bottom. Each day a little more brush was added and arranged accordingly. Finally, a very large branch was placed sticking out from the center of the structure.
It was covered in plastic while it was raining.
I am not sure how the fire was started. Once it was burning, we went back near our garage to have a look. That was close enough for me, but my neighbor saw us and had his 11-year-old daughter come over to the fence. She said, "Come."
We made our way through the dark muddy field to the fire. As our eyes were adjusting to the bright light from a truck parked next to the bonfire, we were greeted by Vanda. (She lives behind us.) She had a tray of cake she was serving to the revelers- it was a citrus cake of sorts. Then they gave us some hot mulled wine- filled with mushy chunks of indiscernible fruit. There, we mingled a little while watching this.
I didn't feel the need to get very close to the fire. It's not like you had to stand very close to feel the warmth. It's not that I was worried about the entire structure collapsing, but it had crossed my mind.
The neighborhood children were running around with sparklers and setting off fireworks. Some of the children seemed very young to have free reign with fireworks. In typical Italian parenting style, no one was watching the kids' antics. Occasionally they would light a firecracker, then throw it. When it didn't explode as expected, they would all run to where it landed on the ground. Then, they would lean over with their faces very close to the unexploded device to have a look and debate about what happened. I am sure I am sounding like a true parent here when I say I was nervous for their well-being.
I was so grateful that they didn't burn an effigy for ephiphany, especially not La Befana. My Italian teacher forewarned me!
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