Just an Average Sunday Night in Italy - Bedlam, Chaos, Pure Unadulterated Joy

Wow. Italy won the World Cup last night. And How.

A 1-1 Tie with a brilliant, fading French team looking for last glories and an unexpectedly cohesive, earnest Italian team looking for redemption from a match fixing scandal that has shaken the hearts of the country. It came down to a penalty shoot-out, apparently a skill Italy is not known for, and the Italians pulled it off 5-3. It was quiet in my town for, oh I don’t know, about a second, and then everything erupted.

I must say that I am not a huge soccer fan. I don’t follow regular games and I don’t know the songs, but I do like the World Cup. Maybe it’s because it’s special – coming along only every four years and maybe because it illustrates the Europeans so well. Coming from Canada, I find the devotion foreign but then I think of hockey and I understand. It’s a need to be a part of something. As expats, sometimes we feel disconnected and foreign and alone. Being a part of something is not a bad thing.

So, we walked into town and felt like we were a part of it.
Everyone was headed for the central piazza singing and waving. Parents pushed sleeping babies in prams and led kids so excited you could see that they were vibrating under their red, white and green I-am-untouchable-and-will-remember-this-forever capes. Grandmothers with flags on their walkers. Everyone dancing. Pure Happiness. It doesn’t matter where it comes from or if it’s soccer or hockey and if you know the offside rule, or can sing the songs. What does matter is that it is contagious and sometimes in these days, much needed.
I didn’t sleep so well, what with the horns and the fireworks and the screaming and everything. But I really don't care - it was totally worth it.

It's not often you get to witness across-the-board, unadulterated joy.