The next stop was back to post. I ran into a lovely lady Jessi, and her lovely daughter and our babysitter Patience, at the PX. I don't know where the commas go in that sentence. We consumed hot beverages while we talked about our party dishes for the evening. They mentioned spinach dip and I was sold. Then the commissary was out of everything. I don't understand (and David and I talked about this today) why they don't plan ahead for holidays. I mean, people are going to consume large amounts of dip during the festivities. So why do they not have extra extra stock of sour cream? A dollop of Daisy! Hello! Who can I talk to about this? We headed home with a sad little jar of not-so-delicious Tostitos dip (obviously not sponsored) and Kings Hawaiian rolls. Thanks Jess!
I sat in the disaster that was our living room. Remnants of wrapping paper, slime and candy wrappers lay all over the floors... a sign of some good times. As the hours went on, I suggested to David that we head up to Monte Berico for fireworks. It was only 9ish at that time. We hadn't eaten substantial food since the tacos earlier that day and the dip just wasn't cutting it. I remembered a recommendation for a Pizza place near post that supposedly had the best Napoli style pizza. David was sweet and made the call to check their hours. Yay! Open till 11:30. We watched a coupla episodes of Turn (have you seen it? So good) and got kids ready and jumped in the car. On the way, David called again and got real frustrated because when he called, they left him on the line while they seemingly took care of other customers. He turned to me and said something about how he didn't know what was happening. They got back on the phone and he sort of finished our order although it was 2 pizzas short. Meh.
Once we arrived at the pizza place, all was well. Apparently their owner calls them every night and pranks them in English. So they thought David was their boss. lolz! They made our two ordered pizzas and the two other ones David didn't (couldn't) convey on the phone. Marinara is not said like it is in American English. It's Mah-ree-nah-ruh. Not Mare-ih-nare-uh. hahah. I'm not good at phonetics or whatever that's called.
Then we went to Monte Berico where it was insanity! So many cars and people. We stuffed ourselves into a spot that wasn't a spot because it was so close to midnight. Allora! We all hopped out and on to the top of the car. I sat on the bonnet of the car (because I'm British). As I was prepping for the show, a man came to the back of his car, rummaging in what looked like a bag with cables in it. He was having a rough time seeing in the dark so I shined my flashlight onto his bag so he could see it. He pulled out a pair of pliers and made the gesture of turning it like a screwdriver. He needed it to open his beverage for the celebration!
Soon after, it began! It never ceases to amaze me how many fireworks go off and the length of time they go for as well. It is unreal. I feel like I'm in a movie or in some strange world. It's so beautiful though!
As it started to die down and people were only setting off lanterns, my friend from before came over to offer us some Prosecco in a plastic wine glass. We took it, thankful for the gesture. He then gave us the bottle! It's a 2015 something Prosecco which is a white wine native to this area. I'm keeping the bottle because the entire experience of this night was really magical and I love momentos. And despite not speaking a common language, we totally got each other with hardly any words. I freaking love that about living abroad.
Most of our life is pretty regular except for well, living in Italy but I mean, we do mostly regular things. I think I might be tired of not owning what my life is right now and that is ordinary-but-with-sometimes-magical-events. This was one of them. Just the whole eating of Italian pizza on a car roof near a beautiful church on a hilltop where a nice Italian guy gave us some white wine after watching the most amazing fireworks show. *long sigh*
What did you do celebrate? What's your favorite New Years tradition?
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