December 31, 1994 – The Best New Year’s Eve of my Life.
I had been living in Rome for one year and I was five months pregnant with my first child, a boy. For New Year’s Eve Gustavo and I were invited to a dinner with a group of friends in the Monti neighborhood of Rome on a small street called the “Salita del Grillo” which overlooks the ancient ruins of the Roman Forum.
A little aside here on Italian New Year’s Eve traditions. Italians believe in a massive fireworks display at midnight to blast in the New Year, or perhaps blast away the past one. In Naples, people toss used appliances and old belongings out the window. Get rid of the old, and bring in the new. Needless to say, it is risky being on the streets of Naples on New Year’s Eve, people are always getting injured from fireworks and gunshots, and you wouldn’t want to get someone’s old dishwasher bonking you on the head.
In Rome one must wear red underwear, considered to bring good luck and eat lentils, considered to bring money. The fireworks in Rome are always impressive. So duly dressed in red underwear and bearing champagne bottles we made our way to the party.
Gustavo and I had been debating names for our soon-to-be-born-son. We were trying to find names that worked in English and Italian and had come down to an impasse over a name starting with Nic. I wanted Nicholas (American version) he wanted Nicola (Italian version). Gustavo did not like the “s” at the end of the American version (for reasons too complicated to explain here) and I did not like the “a” at the end of the Italian version (for the simple reason that I thought it sounded like a girl’s name in English).
Our dinner companions included some friends from Tuscany. Tuscans think – perhaps with some reason – that they are the best in Italy. They believe their food is the best, their use of the Italian language is the most correct, their wine and olive oil are better than anyone else’s, and their countryside and towns are the most beautiful. They believe their artists (Michelangelo, Botticelli, Leonardo Da Vinci), writers (Dante), musicians (Puccini), and philosophers (Machiavelli) are simply better than any others in the world. They may have a point. So halfway through dinner our friend from Siena, Lorenzo Pecchi, said, “I have the perfect solution for the name — Niccolo’ – just like Niccolo’ Machiavelli– one of the greatest Tuscan thinkers.”
As we chatted over our traditional Italian New Year’s Eve meal – cotechino (a big sausage) and lentils, I began to contemplate the name Niccolo’. I had an initial doubt because it was linked to Machiavelli so has a bit of a negative connotation for Americans, but less so in Italy– where Machiavellian politics is the norm, if not an art form. I started thinking that Niccolo’ had a nice ring to it, and I even liked it shortened to Nico.
As midnight approached, champagne glasses in hand, we made our way up to the roof-top with its magnificent view over the Roman Forum. Throughout the evening the explosions of fireworks had been a steady crescendo and as we made our way upstairs we could hear the intensifed bursts. As I stepped out on the roof my heart stopped, the blasts were continuous. I felt as though I was standing in the middle of a war-zone. I had to resist the temptation to duck with every blast or throw myself flat onto the roof, but the view was too stunning to be missed — in one direction the fireworks were exploding over St. Peter’s Basilica, in the other over the Coliseum and directly in front of us over the Roman Forum.
The continuous firing, bursts, blasts, and eruptions made it impossible to talk. I hugged Gustavo tightly in the cold night air as the sparks of colors burst over our heads. After a bit he whispered in my ear, “so we are agreed, it’s Niccolo’?” I nodded my consent and we sealed the deal with a passionate kiss as the night sky exploded with streaks of bright light overhead.
Happy New Year!
And what a wonderfully evocative post. I felt like I was right there. Funny, your mention of Tuscan superiority in all things, including Italian language, brought to mind my Italian professor at UCLA who so enjoyed intoning “Lingua Toscana in bocca Romana.” Sheesh! I Toscani, eh? Thanks for a wonderful introduction to the New Year. All the best to you!
Adri — The Tuscans really are funny. I can’t blame them because the are blessed with so many wonderful things….but sometimes I feel I need to tell them that there are other people and places worth seeing.
Wishing you the best for a wonderful 2012.
Ahhhhhhhh! Happy New Year Trish; for you and your family.
Yes Trisha, like your 1994 rooftop New Year in Monti, mine roof top in Monti occurred this year, 2011 after living here over seven years. After watching the incredible view that you saw and the feelings that you felt (well, except for the baby stuff) after all the ups and downs, the hard work required (as described in all your MM blogs) to survive here, all went out the window (or off the roof top). Like you mentioned, you felt you were in a war zone, my hostess mentioned Kabul, but I, at that moment felt like one of the luckiest people on earth! I didn’t have a beautiful child inside me but I did have love, friendship and gratitude for living in one of the most beautiful cities In the world.
Happy New Year!
Back to work tomorrow…..please don’t let the magic end.
Rick — I agree with you– It is magical being there on New Year’s Eve, and yes, I wish the magic would last this year. We need it!
My Dad’s birth certificate has his name as”Rudolfo Nicola Salemi.” He was born in NYC, but to recently immigrated (fromSicily) parents. I always thought the Nicola name was odd,but who am I to question customs of the “old country?”
Barbara — Nicola is not an odd name at all for a Southern Italian, in fact it is very common. However, as an American I did not want that name for my son because I was afraid Americans would think it was a girl’s name. Another one that causes confusion is Andrea. That is a girl’s name in English but in Italian it is the equivalent of our Andrew. I was so pleased to come up with a Tuscan compromise to solve my problem.
What a wonderful image you paint here, Trisha! A belated happy new year!
Wonderful post! And kissing with bubbly in hand and fireworks flying in Rome on New Years sounds sublime!
Indeed it was sublime!! I won’t bother telling you about all my New Year’s Eve’s since my children were born. Let’s just say it has been downhill slalom from sublime to stressful!
Aw!!! I can see how that could happen! I usually Wind up with a sleeping in the ax hair husband while I watch Absolutely Fabulous marathons and drink bolly! Very quiet and provincial!