My ‘Roman Holiday’

This post is definitely overdue since Christmas was almost a month ago. But with figuring out how to wrap up my trip, traveling to Edinburgh, going back to the states and deciding what’s next, you might see why it was delayed.

This was the first year I spent the holidays away from home. If you know me, you know I’m very family-oriented and that I identify proudly as Venezuelan despite having only been born there. I don’t remember much since we moved to the United States when I was only two. Regardless, my mom made sure we were raised with the culture, including the Christmas traditions. Given my love for these traditions and being around family, missing out this Christmas was a struggle. Our Christmas goes like this…

We make the traditional Christmas dish, Hallacas, a couple days before Christmas. The family, and any intrigued friends who want to help, sit at the table with the prepared components: the dough, the meat (a cooked mixture of chicken, beef, and pork), any garnishes your family fancies (bell peppers, raisins, capers, olives, prunes), the leaves to wrap it up and the string to tie them. Everyone at the table has a job, depending on how many helpers there are, some have more duties. It’s a rather fun process with music playing, storytelling, and roaring laughter. It’s probably my favorite part of Christmas. These are then cooked in boiling water right before our Christmas Eve dinner. Along with these, our plate usually has the traditional bread (homemade), Pan de Jamon, Ensalada de Fiesta (the direct translation is “party salad,” but it’s basically a potato salad), and sliced ham. For dessert, there’s almost always a Quesillo, similar to flan, and Torta Negra, a type of fruit cake but not as dry and with much more wine.

On Christmas Eve, the family dresses up in new clothes we bought specifically to wear this night, even though we’re not going anywhere and even if no one but family comes over. Dinner is ready, and we eat after giving a quick thanks for the meal before us and the people around us. Then, we usually tell more stories, dance some salsa, and belt out love ballads hoping to wait until midnight to open gifts. But around 9:30/10, between my mom dozing off and my sister begging to open gifts (despite being older, she has always done this), we give up and start unwrapping presents. On Christmas Day, we start our movie marathon, staying in pajamas (also new) all day and eating leftovers from the previous night.

This year was completely different. On Christmas Eve, as a Work-away I had to house sit for the family, but they promised we would have plans together the next day. Instead of being upset at everything I was missing out on, I used my night alone to bake sugar cookies and a plain marble cake while listening to Christmas songs and watching Christmas movies. You know the ones. They’re unbelievably corny and usually have Santa sending a boyfriend or a mistletoe causing problems that could easily be avoided in real-life. Yeah, I’m a sucker for those. It turned out to be a very nice night in.

The next day my host woke me up for breakfast. I gave them the gift I had prepared a few days earlier. I bought a basket and filled it with tea, biscuits, and dates. These were just a few things I had noticed they liked from my time with them. They were very sweet to me and told me they felt I had become part of the family, which I’ll admit brought a tear to my eye. I’m telling you, I’m a mush ball when it comes to the holidays.

We then got ready for the day. I had bought a sweater a couple weeks before to make sure I had something new, so I would still be partaking in a family tradition. We headed into the city for Christmas mass at an Anglican church.

It was a great service that talked about hope for the new year. Later we went to a nearby hotel for coffee and snacks. It was a beautiful hotel, and my hosts kept me laughing while their sons kept feeling more and more like the brothers I never had.

Unfortunately, we got stuck in the city for about an hour because they shut down the metro (which we had taken to avoid the traffic bloc Rome had that day). We ended up having to take two separate taxis. It was a tad stressful for my hosts since they had guests coming over to eat. Luckily, the food just needed to be put in the oven.

 

First time I had pasta for Christmas, but I definitely wasn’t mad about it.

 

Pork with Roman artichokes

Despite missing my family and our traditions, it was a Christmas for the books. I ended up with a full stomach from the delicious food and with a full heart from being welcomed into this family for the holidays. I found myself hearing stories with my eyes wide and laughing until I cried. And that’s what I love about Christmas. It’s a time to get together to share food, laughs and love, no matter where you are or who is around.

I hope y’all had the very best holidays!