Gifts of the oriental kings

Have you ever wondered about how did the tradition of making gifts for Christmas started?

The story of the birth of Jesus says that when he was born, a comet appeared on the sky and three wise kings from the orient followed the comet to look for Jesus and they brought gifts for the new born baby. This event of gifts of oriental kings is remembered in the celebration of Epiphany on 6th January. Thus people used to make gifts for the children on 6 January.

In Italy, the festival of epiphany has been linked to an older Roman tradition, when it was believed that a witch riding on a broom brings gifts for the children. The image of the old witch called Befana was linked to the festival of Epiphany on 6th January. Similarly, northern European countries had the old tradition of an old man riding on a reindeer sledge, over time that was also linked to Christmas.

Old Italians tell that when they were young, they used to receive gifts brought by "Befana" only for epiphany on 6 January, but slowly over the last fifty years, the figure of Christmas father "Santa Claus" has become more popular and everyone has adopted the northern custom of gifts brought by Santa Claus on the Christmas day.

In Italy, 8th December is considered the start of Christmas celebration and families set up the Christmas tree and make the crib or the nativity scene in their homes and in the city squares. Epiphany marks the end of Christmas celebrations and on this day families will remove the Christmas trees, lights and the crib.

I like to go around to see the crib or the nativity scene representations. They remind me of the Janamashtami celebrations in India, when people make the representations of the story of birth of Krishna. Today I also want to present some of my best pictures of the nativity scenes.

The nativity scenes have 3 main characters - Joseph (the father) usually shown with a stick in his hand, Mary (the mother) and Jesu (the new born baby).

There are four other important characters of the nativity scene - an angle and the three kings who came from orient.

Frequently, to these, people add in their nativity scenes, some farm animals such as cows, sheep, donkeys, etc. Finally, some persons also try to show scenes of normal life around the nativity scenes, as you can see in the next pictures.

People also like to show their individuality by choosing different styles of clothes and statues. For example, in the next picture you can see that one of the oriental "kings" wearing a brown gown is a woman.

Here are some examples of some naitivity scenes that I liked from 2011:

So did you like my selection of best nativity scenes from 2011 from Italy? Which one do you like most? My personal favourite is crib in the last picture, it is simple with the angle holding the main characters of the story in her arm.

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This post was originally written in 2011

Travelling in the goblinland of Apulia

I love the strange looking conical roofs made of black Tufa stone in the south eastern tip of Italy, the Apulia region. I think that they are the ideal homes of goblins and fairies from my childhood fantasy books. The local people call these houses "trullo" (plural, Trulli) that has a nice tinkling sound, appropriate for the fantasy setting.

This weekend, I visited Alberobello, the land of Trulli, an area that has been declared a world heritage site by UNESCO. I stayed in Ostuni and travelled to Brindisi, Oria and Alberobello. This travel diary is about that trip.

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After the relentless snow of past two weeks in Bologna, the cool sea breeze at the port in Brindisi seemed like a dream.

This small and ancient city has seen almost all important leaders from the pre-second world war India, from Mahatma Gandhi to Subhash Chandra Bose, who travelled by sea to London and other cities of Europe and USA. They used to arrive here from India passing through Suez canal. From Brindisi they travelled northwards in trains through Italy and France to their destinations. It was a much faster way to travel to Europe compared to going around the cape of Good Hope at the southern tip of Africa.

It was at the port of Brindisi that Indian regiments had arrived in 1944 as part of the Allied forces during the second world war and so many of them had given their lives to the war against Nazi and Fascist rule in Europe.

Not far from the castle of Brindisi and the port is a monument commemorating the Italian soldiers from Brindisi who had died in the first world war. Hidden behind the monument, one level below, the inscription on a wall remembers the inauguration of the monument by Mussolini.

At the port the fishermen bring their catch from the sea. A cat sat patiently watching a fishermen's boat dock at the port and looked expectantly at them. One of the fishermen talked to the cat and finally threw a small fish to him.

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We were at the ancient city of Oria. The earliest inhabitants of the tiny city at the top of a hill in pre-Roman times had come from the Greek island of Creta, but there are also many traces of stone-age prehistoric people in this area.

It was evening when we arrived there. At the meeting we were expecting Nichi Vendola, the charismatic leader of a left party, who is also president of the Apulia region. For such a traditional and conservative area in far south of Italy, Vendola is a strange and unexpected public figure, because he is gay and has been open about his sexuality, as well as, been a strong fighter for rights of different groups of marginlized persons.

People of Pulia have voted overhelmingly for him and this makes me feel hopeful. Vendola has been able to promote development in his region with his progressive and humanistic policies. He is not just a local leader but has a national following and is often seen on national TV.

In his speech he spoke passionately about not following the neoliberal policies that Europe seems to be following these days. He did not talk in usual ideological terms that lfet leaders tend to use. At one point, he said, "What kind of cure for the crisis is that they are proposing to Greece? With cost of living higher than in Italy, a minimum pension of 150 Euro and an average salary of 450 Euro, how are people going to survive? And if people can't live, what kind of economy-cure is that?"

The meeting was about persons with disabilities and Vendola was very eloquent about his own personal experiences and views about exclusion and discrimination that disabled persons and other groups of persons have to face.

Compared to the tabloid culture in UK that thrives on juicy news of scandals and personal issues, in Italian newspapers there has hardly been any gossip about Vendola. Even when persons like Berlusconi made vulgar comments about Vendola's sexuality, he has always responded with maturity, refusing to play a victim.

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Our meeting was at the place run by a group of nuns in Ostuni, Santa Maria della Nova. It is a huge and imposing building, however only one wing of the building is being used by the nuns. In the other part of the building are other things including a gymn where you can hear the disco music that accompanies the exercise-routines. The nuns are very friendly and it is a good place to stay in Ostuni on a limited budget, though the nuns have restrictions about going in and out at late hours and for food you need to go out.

Ostuni is beautiful, a dense group of whitewashed medieval houses sitting at the top of a hill, that overlooks a valley full of ancient olive trees, a few kilometres from the sea.

Old and gnarled Olive trees have an almost sacred status in Mediterranean region and are supposed to live for hundreds or even a few thousand years. In Athens I had heard of Plato's olive groove, where olive trees were supposed to be 2400 years old. The olive grooves around Ostuni are wonderful.

Near the centre of Ostuni, I was at an apartment that belongs to Antonio and Caterina. The two hundred years old house on the first floor has very high ceilings with beautiful designs on the roof. It is affordable and convenient (in the peak season it costs more). The kitchen has a window that leads to steps and to another independent apartment one floor above. You can rent only the lower part or if you are in a bigger group, you can also rent the upper bedroom that is beautiful (in the picture below). I also loved the terrace from where you can see the sea and the roofs of the houses of Ostuni.

Antonio Marzio is a retired nurse from the Italian air force and the couple is very hospitable and affable. "We grew up in two parallel streets, see that house there, it is just 20 metres from here, I grew up there", Antonio explained to me on the terrace, "but I didn't meet her till I was thirty." They have two sons, both are studying at university in north Italy.

This house belonged to Caterina. Now both of them live in another apartment and rent out this one to tourists. If you are planning a visit to Ostuni and are looking for an apartment in the old part of the town, you can write to Antonio at: marzio.antonio_1953(at)libero.it

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On my last day in Apulia, I had a free morning. Antonio and Caterina accompanied me to Alberobello in their car. The journey took about 45 minutes. Without their help it would have been impossible for me to visit Alberobello because the there are no direct trains or buses from Ostuni or Brindisi to Alberobello, and thus, one way journey by public transport needs three hours.

The old part of Alberobello with the characteristic trulli houses along winding streets on a hill is increadibly beautiful. Some trulli have small shops with beautiful local handicrafts and friendly women running them. At the top of the hill is a trulli-church dedicated to St Anthony.

In front of one of the old houses we met Sebastiano. He looked to be in his eighties. He was friendly and welcomed us in his trulli home. The conical roofs of trulli are made of tufa stone that is placed one above another in such a way that without using any cement or mortar, it is stable and waterproof. An alcove separated by a curtain had his bed and a small corridor led to a kitchen. He had made a wooden platform beneath the conical roof, that he used as a store room.

Along the street we also met an old lady sitting in the sun on the pavement in front of her house, who was knitting a sweater, which is increasingly a rare sight today as nowadays almost all wollens are made in factories. Antonio asked her about her age and she smiled and shook her head saying, "You never ask a woman her age!"

I bought some fried beans and typical ring like bread called taralli from a shop.

In another shop of incredibly colourful terracotta statues, whistles and art-works, I met feisty and talkative Maria Caporaso. She told us that after she separated from her husband, she wanted to see the world so she has travelled in so many countries including China and India. From her India travel she remembered the chaos outside the Delhi airport and seemed a little disappointed when I told her about the new airport that does not have much chaos.

It seems that her handicrafts are very famous in Japan where she has been many times to exhibitions and TV shows. She showed us some news cuttings from Japanese newspapers and magazines. She herself does traditional embroidery work while the terracotta handicrafts in her shop are by other local artists.

On our way back from Alberobello we stopped shortly at another small town called Cisternina to admire the beautiful and verdant Itria valley dotted here and there with some trulli houses amidist more modern houses.

It was a beautiful and unfortgetable visit to Pulia. The highlight of the visit for me was Alberobello.

After the visit to Alberobello, Antonio and Caterina accompanied me to the airport in Brindisi in time for my flight.

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Back in Bologna it is still snowing almost nonstop. Looking out of the window at the falling snowflakes, I think of the goblin-houses of the trulliland in Alberobello. It seems like a dream.

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This post was originally written in 2012

Spring came softly

During the night the temperatures still go down to 2-3 degrees centigrade but I can already hear the birds chirp outside my window. They are few and their chirping is blunted by the blinds drawn close and the windows shut tight to keep out the cold. But they are there in the morning, the male birds, testing their songs, doing riyaaz for the mating games that should start any day now. I can imagine their future mates listening to them, shaking their heads with the bemused smiles, waiting for the fun times to begin.

In another 2-3 weeks, their nests will be ready, filled with eggs. By end of March, the hard rock concerts will start, as the baby birds will wake up and start screaming for their breakfast. Just outside my window there are three plane trees. They are one of the favourite places for these birds, and at their peak, their noise matches the cacophony of Chandni Chowk any day.

I don't know why, but noisy birds make me somehow think about the Mangeshkar family. Lata, Asha, Usha and Hriday. I can imagine them as kids, all together at home, chatting, laughing and making noise, chirping and twirling.

Our house is at the corner of our apartment block, surrounded by trees on three sides, all of them taller than our second floor windows. On one side, the window looks out at a row of tall poplar trees, behind which you can see a few lime and pine trees. The living room window opens to a group of maple trees with a lone, tall silver lime in the middle. Yet the birds prefer only the plane trees close to my bedroom, there are no nests on poplars, lime and maple trees.

After the big snowfalls in Bologna in the beginning of February that lasted more than two weeks, over past few weeks, bright sun had come out. But it was still cold and the snow took almost three weeks to melt. Then finally last week, the temperatures improved to a balmy 13-14 degrees centigrades.

Suddenly you can feel that spring is coming. Like a shy bride, her head still covered with a veil, peeking out surreptitiously, touching the water in the puddle with her toe to see if it is too cold. Nude thin branches of dark trees, like fakirs doing penance, have tiny gems that can be easily missed if you don't look for them. In another week, they will open into tiny tender green leaves. Roses in the garden in front of our front door have a couple of newly born red coloured leaves at the tip.

The evergreens don't need to wait for the new leaves to come out, they are already getting ready with their flowers. Among the trees in our park that had lost all their leaves during winter, there is just one tree, that has no leaves but is already full of flowers. They are simple looking flowers, without any bright colour or perfume. I think that it is a beech tree but I am not sure.

Why did this tree not come out first with leaves, like the other trees, I wonder. May be it wants to take advantage of this time, when it does not have to compete with other more beautiful flowers, so that birds and insects can help in its pollination?

In the park, there not many children, perhaps because it is still cold. There are just a father and son duo, doing martial arts practice with a stick. The man moves the stick. It twirls in his hands in fluid dancing motions, as it cuts the wind above his head. The child looks at the father and tries to copy him. The man repeates the movements, doing it more slowly this time, showing the boy where to put the feet and how to turn at the waist. Watching them is so beautiful.

Brando, my dog keeps me company in the park. He is completely deaf and can hardly see because of cataract in both eyes. He waits for me patiently, while I click pictures. Till a couple of years ago, it was difficult to go out with him on photography trips because he was full of testosterone and fought with all the male dogs that we encountered. Now he is quiet as lamb, happy for any chance of sitting down and resting.

A man with his dog passes close but Brando does not look up at that dog. Earlier they used to get into barking matches, refusing to stop. "He has become deaf?" the man asks me, shaking his head.

"Also blind", I tell him.

"Oh, he won't last very long now. Remember my other dog, the white one? He became like that, couldn't hear or see and within one month he was gone. This one will also go quickly", he says mournfully, shaking his head.

"As long as he does not suffer", I murmur as we walk away, not telling him that Brando has already been deaf and blind for more than a year.

On the tree there is a robin, the bright red patch on its chest contrasting with its dull brown plumage. However, as I lift my camera to click its picture it flies away. A little while later, I see a jay bird, its bright blue back with black and white stripes at the edges, beautiful as it flies away. I don't even try to click its picture.

At the other end of the park, where sunlight falls for the whole afternoon, there are already some flowers. Tiny white margheritas with yellow circles in their centre. Tiny purple coloured flowers are also there that the Italians call "occhi della madonna" (Madona's eyes). I can also see a few small white flowers and a couple of shining yellow star like flowers.

By next week, there will be hundreds of these flowers. In 2-3 weeks, there will be hundreds of thousands of tiny flowers, covering every inch of the park, along with cherry, jasmine and horse chestnut flowers on the trees. And the spring would have forgotten its veil, admiring herself in the mirror, laughing with abandon. And early in the morning, I will wake up with the cacophony of the chirping birds.


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