Tag Archives: Humor

European Adventure Episode 4 –Italian Santa is Enshrined in a Random Church in Italy and I’m Not Sure I’ll Ever Recover

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                Our adventures didn’t end once we were off the ship. We had a couple of days in Rome before heading back home, so we were determined to make the most of them. Fully healed and recovered from my previous traumas, we stepped off the train in Rome and were instantly overwhelmed by traffic, noise, and people. Or at least I was overwhelmed. Not sure about the others. I could say who gives a shit if they were overwhelmed, it’s all me here, but I’m a much a better friend than that. Kinda.

                On that note, we got to the hotel, dumped our luggage, and started walking. I was a mere monkey on a string and followed the well-heeled travelers among us who assured me we were on our way to the Colosseum. The walk to the famed ragged stony structure was adventurous. The sun was beaming, the crowds were streaming, and we were sweating. All signs of a good walk to a major landmark in Rome. I was awed by the buildings and wanted to snap pics along the way, but the determination to strike one landmark off our list before lunch was strong. We walked and walked and when I thought we were finished, we walked some more. And then as quick as turning a corner, there it was in all it’s glory. Just standing there waiting for us. “It’s about time you guys showed up. It’s hot out here. I was wilting under this hot sun, you know. What took you so long? You stopped for pictures along the way, didn’t you? Rookie tourist mistake.” Only, all of that was in Italian and strongly telling me off with some spicy words thrown in for good measure.

The Colosseum in all it’s snarky hot glory

                We stood in awe, snapped a ton of pics, moved along to another part of the grounds and on our return walk realized The Boss had been in town the night before doing an outdoor concert. The stage was just coming down and we walked around the barriers and could imagine what it must have been like to attend a Bruce Springsteen concert in Rome under the stars with the Colosseum as a backdrop. There were rumoured sightings of him at a hotel which we staked out with the rest of the crowd because you know, when in Rome and all. But he was in hiding or simply wasn’t there and we moved on. We had stuff to see!

                The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, Vatican Square, eating Gelato in the middle of an alley were all part of our treks; destinations we had planned to see and went searching for.

The Pantheon
The Trevi Fountain

But sometimes it’s the things you aren’t looking for, the things that present themselves in unusual ways, that are the most interesting and entertaining. And memorable. Like falling off a train or getting lost in a city or near misses from buses that make you appreciate the unusual, the inane and the unique. I think I bring that to the table most times. But not always. Things pop up or you stumble upon an interesting building or an old, abandoned arena or an apparent arbitrary church with no real tourist attraction other than it’s a beautiful church. And an Italian Santa happened to be ensconced in its walls in statue form, lying in state in some sort of weird shrine to Christmas. I guess they felt the nativity scene had been overdone and why not include Santa in our little church of wayward angels. I think it was a church dedicated to all the angels who weren’t as cool as Gabriel or Michael. Those whose jobs were a little less on the monumental-save-humanity scale, and more on the making-sure-the-trees-leaf-this-year scale.

An outside view of the church
Entrance to the church

                When walking into the church, there were crowds sauntering around, the doors wide open to welcome visitors. Frescos adorned the ceilings and statues along the walls. We followed the crowd, thinking this was a famous church with amazing architecture and stained glass. It was and as we descended deeper into it, there were what appeared to be altars at different areas of the church, all with the angels standing guard barely dressed and looking at their feet, or gazing skyward in a winsome I-wish-was-as-cool-as-the-angel-of-saving-the-universe. We couldn’t figure out what the name of the church was, but we did find a plaque on the outside of it.

The beautiful ceiling

               

One altar within the church we happened upon had a statue lying as if in a coffin, dressed in red with a white beard and elf-like shoes. SANTA! Could it be?! But why would a statue of Santa be here in some random church in Italy? An Italian Santa!

Affectionately named Santa Antonio

                Perhaps an artist decided that there were enough Baby Jesus statues adorning all the churches across Italy and he wanted to dedicate his Italian Santa statue as an homage to Christmas, or, to warn Christians the evil of Christmas.  I mean, what better way to honour Jesus and Christmas at the same time than a statue of the big guy honouring THE BIG GUY. Happy Birthday Jesus and Merry Christmas Heathens, here’s Santa Antonio. His last wish was to be dressed in red and immortalized in this church to remind you Christmas is hedonistic. And apparently, very dead. Enjoy yourselves, but remember Santa Antonio is here waiting for you to kneel at his statue and repent for all the presents you didn’t give your mother. Now, go over to the other side of the church and visit the Baby Jesus statue and wish him a Happy Birthday.

                We had difficulty recuperating following our discovery of Santa, but we decided to look around a bit more before we just up and left without so much as a Merry Christmas.

                *In truth, it appeared to be a beloved Cardinal, who must have dedicated his life to the religious teachings to his community. This was their way of honouring his memory. But I still love the Santa angle.

After doing a bit of searching, this translates to, “I will be favorable to you at Rome.” Meaning, When St. Ignatius had a vision of Jesus carrying the cross and saying this to him. He then started the Jesuits.

                See? Sometimes it’s the usual things that pop up in a trip that make it memorable. And despite our obvious delight at seeing Santa immortalized in a church, we remained as respectful as we could muster. The shoes, though!  We snapped some other pictures and said, “Ciao,” to Santa Antonio and took our leave.

                We were unable to get in to tour the Sistine Chapel or the Vatican, but I hear it is phenomenal. And, based on my assessment of the previous church, it may be better I go with a guide or someone more schooled in religious figures lest I twist a beloved Cardinal or Bishop or Pope into some strange version of a Christmas Elf or the Easter Bunny.

Tread Lightly and Carrie Underwood A Big Bat

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I’m finally feeling like I’m getting back to myself. For over a year, I was hobbling around with a cane. Existing with pain. Having to measure distances for walking and wondering if I would make it to my destination without ending up on a random sidewalk clamouring around on my hands and knees, destitute and begging for help. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”  

The day I was able to ditch my cane and walk unaided felt like a triumphant return from the abyss of dependence into which I was drowning. I needed someone to grocery shop with me since I couldn’t push the cart. I needed help getting shit off the shelves because it was either too heavy or I couldn’t stand and pull with one hand. I lumbered along slowly so if anyone was with me, we usually took double the time to do anything. Do you know how low toilet seats are? Yeah. They’re too low. Just sayin’.  I hated it. The only good thing was the return of chivalrous behaviour. Sometimes.

We old timers like a door opened for us every now and again, not slammed in our faces as we reach the doorway. Thanks. Not that the door was opened for me EVERY time, but more so than usual. I suppose looking like an old lady with a cane does make people a little more aware of how accessible things aren’t. Are not.  Nice try, though.  Ramps are few, automatic doors get broken and forget to be fixed, elevators are creepy as hell, (Hello. The Shining), and don’t get me started on the accessible parking spaces. I’ve wanted to butt those asshats out of the spots with the front of my car when I don’t see a permit. I think I shook my cane at an old guy in a truck who was taking a space waiting for wifey to get out of the store. Fuckhead.  Flashes of Carrie Underwood with a bat came barreling through my mind…

Me approaching the elevator from hell…

Walking from the car to the store, or to the mall was a chore.  I measured the distance to each store and if I had enough pain killers in me to make the trek. We take for granted the privilege of movement. We absent-mindedly walk around without thinking how we are getting there. How big is the doorway? How low are the chairs? How steep are the stairs? How many stairs? Is there a handrail? Are there icy conditions? Considerations most of us don’t have to think about. You get up and walk down the hall. You come back and sit down, or walk to another part of the house, mall, office.  You’re not planning your distances or measuring your pain levels.  You’re thinking the best way of getting from point A to point B.  So was I but with more variables.

I’m happy to say that’s behind me now. One hip replacement later, and I’m almost back to my pre-cane self. Fuck the chivalry, I can open my own door. Elevators still creep me out, so I take the stairs. People parking in accessible spots without permits still piss me off. I’m hoping Karma takes good care of them. I’m grateful I have a choice between elevators and stairs, parking spaces far away from the entrance, moving without having to consider how much it will hurt me; it’s a privilege many don’t have. I won’t complain about a distance I have to walk, or another push up I have to do in Bootcamp class. I’ll revel in my newfound freedom and independence.

And remain grateful for every step.  

Got a permit for that spot?!

Better Days

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I’m still waiting for the fateful call to have the ever-anticipated hip replacement, but until that blissful day arrives, I languish in renovations and baby-ness. Two totally opposite ends of the spectrum. Kitchen renos are in full swing and have been frustrating and exciting, baffling and exhausting. It’s a roller-coaster ride fit for the amusement park from hell, but we have endless amounts of hope and anticipation of a clean functional space. We also yearn for meals where we don’t have to worry about running the microwave and electric skillet at the same time without blowing a fuse. Which usually happens. It also conks out if the toaster and kettle are running.  Better days, people. Better. Days.

Our skittishness with becoming overly excited with an impending birth in the family is well-founded, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to stem. Everyday the news is better, we hope for a healthy and happy baby girl by Christmas. A little Christmas Elf. Aww. We continue to hope for the best and try not to default to the negative Nelly tugging on our elbows. It’s hard to remain nonchalant about a life-altering event, but here we are. Going about our day-to-day, trying not to buy every baby-gadget on the market or every little fluffy pink tutu out there. Yeah. Sure. I’m calm. Trying not to ask D1 every day how she’s feeling, did the baby kick today, are you eating enough…Nana needs answers! Negative Nelly whispers in my ear every now and then.

 Bitch, fly!

The ‘hood continues to regale us with unending episodes of wayward pirate cats shitting on patios and meowing until dawn. I fucking love it. The peeps are not impressed with the stray cat strut happening and decide to post every incident of feline rebellion they witness. It’s a little over-the-top but makes for great fodder. I choose not to comment, but it takes immense restraint not to. I’m still holding out for the nicky-nine door extravaganza, but the summer came and went with no such news of the heathens out to wake the ‘hood. At least the hoodlums managed to keep their pants on in front of grandma…which, could be me next year. Watch out, youngins’ I’ll walk very fast after you! Or I’ll whip out my phone and get a pic! Hubby says I’m not allowed to plaster that on FB, but I wonder if printing out the photo and pasting them around the ‘hood would be, ok? Hmmmm….

Nana is on it!

Fall is knocking louder at the door and I’m anxious to let her in with all the pumpkin spiciness I can muster. Get a sweater it’s chilly out there. Apple cider candles, the warmth of a fire, cozy blankets and oh, the fall Hallmark movies that will drip with cheesy romantic flannel shirts. Bring. It. On.

There is so much to look forward to! Survival is key here. I’ll need wine and chocolate…and a pirate cat to keep me entertained. Now if the power will just stay on so I can heat up my chicken fingers and toast some bread…

Snowmageddon 2020

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The Blizzard of the Century.  The storm to end all storms.  We’ve never seen anything like this.  The mountains and walls of snow that enveloped the city are as tall as small houses.  The banks overflow into the streets.  Plows and snow-blowing machines are having a difficult time trying to keep up.  A state of emergency has been put in place and remains for seven straight days.  People are getting impatient and want out.  Grocery store lines are arduous and people have to endure long waits just to get inside.  No Tim Horton’s coffee?  What??  No restaurants nor bars are open.  Small businesses are suffering.  People are trapped in their homes.  The military arrives to shovel folks out and to give some reassurances that we will be okay.  Power outages were rampant at the onset of the storm, but have since been restored.  If people haven’t begun wondering why they live on an Island seemingly so destitute and removed from the rest of the world, this storm will certainly have them thinking, what are we doing here?  The downtown area was buried in a mass of snow but is seeing some restoration.  The narrow streets and hills were impassible, dangerous and overwhelmed with snow.  A snowboarder’s paradise that has now begun to look more pedestrian-friendly, dare I say?

Based on everything that has happened over the past week, one would think complaints would be widespread; that people would be sick and tired of the state of emergency to the point of protests and rioting; that there would be more looting of businesses and crime would be on the upswing.  Boredom breeds malevolence, bad-temperament, and unbridled nastiness; the urge to remain aloof and uncaring; the inclination for ego-centric acts of ‘every person for him/herself’.  I’ve not witnessed any of this. 

Downtown St. John’s, NL

The stories that have emerged over Facebook tell tales of acts of selflessness.  People helping to buy groceries for those who can’t.  Neighbours shoveling out neighbours and digging out buried vehicles.  Others creating tunneled paths to lead from a door to the street.  Food being bartered and shared.  Snow forts being erected and decorated with lights and bonfires being lit.  A drink here, a barbeque there.  Everyone making the best of an almost impossible situation.  And then, the sun arrived.

The end of our street

I strolled my neighbourhood a couple of days after the storm.  The sun came out for three straight days.  People were out walking their dogs, taking sleds and pulling their children along the streets, digging out the snowshoes and traversing the trails.  Having a laugh at the big bad storm that tried to break the spirit of a province that couldn’t be broken.  It’s been a rough week but we survived it all in Newfoundland style.  We made light of the monstrous snowbanks and decorated them with snarky phrases instead of cursing their existence.  We posted signs and made snow-people instead of complaining we would never see our lawns.  We assured the downtowners we would visit when they opened, that their pleas have not fallen on deaf ears.  Who doesn’t want a beer and a meal after all of that shoveling? 

In a country where winter defines us, we have set an example for other provinces and other cities that will no doubt be faced with its own version of Snowmageddon.  The world stood still and watched as people treated others with humanity and compassion.  People offered food, strained muscles, worked tireless hours without complaint, offered free rides, gave without the expectation of anything in return all in the name of helping each other endure an impossible circumstance.  Not only did we survive, but we also demonstrated what a lot of heart, an indelible sense of humour and a few helping hands from our military can do when faced with ‘a bit of snow’.   

There is a house out there…somewhere.

If another snowstorm the size and ferociousness of this blizzard happens to darken our doorway again, I imagine we would react much the same.  “Get out the shovels, b’ys she’s blowin’ a gale.  Youngsters, put your hoods up, we goes.” 

And we will.   

Son, after shoveling our front step. He’s 5’10”

The Sound A Clock Makes

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Like anything worth doing, it’s worth doing well.  And doing something ‘well’ is quite relative a term.  And I hate starting sentences with ‘and’.  Ugh.    

As I’m feverishly writing my next entry into the anthology of ‘Books People Will Read After I’m Dead’ I’ve been missing events and goings on to which I really should have been paying more attention.   As I was downing my glass of wine the other night, someone mentioned something about Tik Tok.  I’m thinking Nanny’s noisy clock that is currently hanging in her kitchen and dings every BLESSED HOUR ON THE HOUR, but no.  Tik Tok is an app for lip-syncing and karaoke-gone-awry.   It’s a social media app that lets a person download a video of someone singing badly to N’Sync or the Backstreet Boys or maybe amore current musician like the Biebs.  I’m thinking of doing ‘Bye-Bye’ ala JT with the curls and the baggy jeans and the fancy-dancy moves. 

 

I could join Tik Tok and connect with the peeps who are jammin’ to NKOTB and IT’S BRITTANY, BITCH.  Maybe somebody singin’ some Alanis…Yeah.  “Isn’t it Ironic?  Don’t ya think?”  I could so NOT do that.  Well.  Not well.  At all.  

 Maybe I’ll do a video of Mags when she borks at the ‘hood dogs.  She could be the next big thing!  Add some music and BAM she’s the four-legged Madonna of the doggo-world.  Maybe she could do a whole rap-thing. Instead of ‘Lose Yourself’ she could do ‘Poo Yo’self’.    EPIC.  

I’ll keep brain-storming some ideas whilst desperately trying to stay on-trend.  Do we still say ‘whilst’?   Ugh.