Europe at Christmastime

Christmas day began early for me the year I spent it overseas. I was staying with my friend Giulia and her family at their apartment in Padua, in the north of Italy. Giulia had come to live with my family when I was sixteen, staying with us and going to school with me for a few weeks. I hadn't met her family before now, and I was so excited to see Giulia again. She picked me up from the train station with her boyfriend, Michèle, and we drove through the twisted, cobblestone streets back to her family's apartment. I was greeted by a small furry horse as I walked through the door. Pepe, the family's oversized dog (at least compared to my tiny pup back home) launched himself at me and I at once felt at home. Giulia's house was filled with interesting things. From a record player to the world's largest moka pot (coffee will never taste the same), I was captivated by the eclectic and individual lifestyle this family led. Luckily for me (my Italian wasn't exactly up to scratch), the family spoke English. We talked about books and home and how we don't relate to music where we can't identify the instruments. Giulia's brothers could have started their own comedy duo with their interesting takes on Australia ("Kangaroos are your pets, yes?"). Both adopted, they each reflected the kindness and generosity of Giulia's parents. I felt overwhelmed by that kindness. This family had taken me in, cared for me, entertained me, fed me, in a time when all families were struggling due to the financial woes of Europe. The cracks were easy to see, and easy to forget in the family's unfailing happiness at my visit. Christmas Eve we visited a small town on the outskirts of Padova to see a traditional nativity scene. Not religious themselves, the family described it as "a sight not to be missed". The same was said about the midnight mass at the local cathedral, which was celebrating it's 700th birthday. We visited it because, according to Giulia's father, the sight was very "intellectually interesting to behold". It was beautiful and once again I found myself thinking how I wished my family were this one. That I lived in a place so intellectually stimulating. That my parents held interests I could relate to more. We got back just after one and it was by myself in Giulia's bedroom that I felt guilty. As much as I loved my time in Italia, I would not trade my family for the world. Travel opens your eyes, but it also reminds you of what there is to love at home.