When you marry, you learn that your family's traditions are unique to your family and that other families have their very own traditions.

When you travel it is a similar experience: the North American traditions are just one of many even within the realm of "Western" culture. Living, instead of visiting, has really given us the chance to experience all these differences with all five senses. Easter in Italy is definitely one you can touch, taste, smell, see, and hear.

Easter in the Snider household was a secular day. We would wake to candy strewn, and hidden, throughout the house. We didn't do the plastic eggs, from my recollection, but candies were often ones that dad had collected from duty free shops across the world. I don't remember any specific incidents of being cajoled by Jody to trade my best chocolates for mediocre ones like at Halloween. I think that's because I love Easter candy: there are no mediocre ones! Or at least there wasn't when the Snider Easter bunny did the hiding (I still remember that giant egg that I found in the laundry basket! Maybe a foreshadow 30 years later in Italy!) As with all holidays, the night was a simple, but delicious meal, and hours and hours of playing Rummikub of which I'm certain Mom or Jody almost always won.

Cornwall Curling Club having some Easter fun. All the pictures of Easter at the FCC are pre digital!

I was obviously reflecting about Easter today and realized that some of my favourite Easter memories are from teenage and early adult years and I was wondering to myself if that would be sad for my dad. THEN he texts and specifically references the same memories I was thinking about! Great minds folks, great minds. Easter often fell over International Bonspiel weekend. While others spent Easter weekend lamenting Jesus's death and celebrating his resurrection in church, we spent it at the Curling Club where the gospel happened behind the glass and was much more colourful. Most vivid is the year that the parentals tried to embarrass Tommy and I with giant stuffed Easter bunnies at the Curling Club. And if we are doing Easter superlatives, the Easter-That-Never-Was-But-Still-Could-Be, is a zombie themed International to get our secular and faithfully devout curlers all on the same page for the weekend 🤷‍♀️ If you know, you know.

In Italy, 82% of the population is Catholic, and that's not including the other denominations of Christianity. So Easter is a big deal here. Brian is in Switzerland, volunteering at Men's Worlds, so we had a very cross cultural Easter across the Snider-Chacho families!

The week before Easter I learned how to make a traditional Easter bread called casatiello. My hands were covered in flour and lard most of the day so my pictures were limited! As with all Italian food, this is a hyper regionalized dish and is really only found in Napoli. The bread that we made had meats of prosciutto crudo, prosciutto cotto, mortadella, pork fat, and pancetta and fontina, provolone, emmental, parmesan, and pecorino cheeses. All of it. Traditionally this was one of the first things eaten to break the Lent fast so they made sure it was FULL of flavour! The egg, milk, and sheep's cheese also represent the manger animals. The symbolism is so important that many variations have full, hardboiled, shell still on, eggs on top that are then covered with crosses of dough. (A small detail I forgot to tell Brian when he took a hunk of leftovers to work the next day! *crunch!*) To be clear, I "helped" make this in a group class and in no means feel I could actually recreate it! And while I'm sure many families make their own, a friend witnessed mommas and nonni alike pushing and shoving at the most popular stall at the market to get their hands on some for Sunday.

Titti teaching us how to make Napoli casatiello. So many steps! Ultimately both Brian and I didn't love it, didn't hate it, but always fun to participate in local customs.

While at home, colourful Easter baskets filled with neon coloured fake grass, eggs shaped candies, hollow chocolate bunnies, and trinket toys are the norm, in Italy the star is the singular, yet large, chocolate easter egg. For the past few weeks the local markets have been filled with these eggs. At our two local supermercato they rearranged the entire stores to make room for a hundred choices of chocolate egg! They all have flamboyant cellophane wrapping with the egg inside: ranging in size from hand to face sized! The eggs are hollow and have something inside! Often marketed with a "sorpresa" inside there could be extra chocolate or kid plastic trinkets inside. It's funny to me that in the States there are plastic eggs with chocolate inside and in Italy there are chocolate eggs with plastic inside!

All week you could see people of all ages making their selections at the store or walking with an obnoxious amount of cellaphone peacocking out of grocery bags. I listened closely at the store - as this satisfies my language learning and my nosiness - to parents trying to decide if their bambina would like a bianca/white chocolate egg. I opted for higher end chocolate, but not artisan priced, with extra treats over plastic toys. You can also take your own gift to your local cioccolatiere and they'll create an egg around your own sorpresa (apparently engagement rings, plane tickets, and car keys are common practice for those that can afford it.)

I didn't see any egg dying materials at the store. I'm not sure that it is a tradition here. Most eggs here have brown shells anyway.

While Brian met the Easter bunny at the Arena and posed for pictures with Paetz and Tirinzoni, I made my way out to a winery for a Pasqua wine dinner. My invite was from teachers at the base high school and I spent the evening commiserating about #teacherproblems that are universal. It felt normal and foreign at the same time. Either way, it was welcomed. I was slightly amused that I got in the car with strangers who offered to pick me up, for an hour and a half drive, to the middle of rural Campania. Adding that to the list of things I wouldn't have done at home but feel second nature here! The day was lovely and full of food, friends, laughter, wine, and solidarity. While it wasn't a curling club Easter, nor was Rummikub involved, it was a memory maker in itself. While I had no room left, I still broke open my egg and munched on some Easter chocolate... in addition to the Cadbury mini eggs that Missler and Beks sent (which, of course, still reign supreme as the ultimate Easter candy!) Now if there was a giant Italian style chocolate egg filled with Cadbury mini eggs I might actually have to go to church to praise that miracle!

The Monday after Easter is also a holiday! "Pasquetta" literally means "Little Easter!" Pasquetta is a day to spend out of town - at the beach or in the mountains - with your family and your friends. There has been bumper to bumper traffic outside the house since early this morning and I can hear the neighbour's grandkids scampering and laughing downstairs. As for me, my Pasquetta included a walk around the lake, some chocolate snacks, watching curling, and a nap 🤗