My not-so-quiet New Year's Eve.

It was supposed to be a quiet New Year's Eve. At least that was our plan. And in many ways it was. Until after midnight. It was my first coming of a new year in Italy. In Sardinia. The two of us. At home. With Italian fare. And Sardinian wine. But in the city of Carbonia, there's no such thing as an entirely quiet New Year's Eve. Fireworks. Fire crackers. Many of 'em illegal. Going off all over town. Lighting the nighttime sky. And the reverberating noise keeps one awake. At the bars and night clubs, Sardinians celebrate with music, much of it live, and often to the beat of pounding drums. Sounding like a war dance. This lasts well into the New Year's morning. One can't escape it. Even in bed. Louder, I suspect, even than an American July 4 th celebration or Bastille Day in France. But then, it seems to me that Italians were born to celebrate. Yes, an excessive number of holidays. Many of 'em church-related. I have suggested that Italians are religious primarily because that gives them reason to celebrate more holidays. For this and that saint. For instance, each city has its own patron saint. In Carbonia, it's some martyr named Ponziano. I never heard of the guy. And maybe that goes for some Carbonians, too. But that doesn't stop 'em from setting off fireworks and taking to the streets in a festive mood every summer. For the memory of dear St. Ponziano. I kiddingly tell my Italian acquaintances that it's easier listing dates without holidays than the ones with. The onslaught of almost continuous holidaying is on. Evidenced by the New Year's celebration that has lasted into the day. And I won't be surprised if it goes on for another day or two or three. Maybe a week. --Jim Broede