During the long weekend that I guess was technically Thanksgiving, I called my loved ones in America to wish them a happy holiday. One relative asked what I was doing to celebrate in Italy—perhaps they were hoping that I’d do something social with someone else’s family. In truth I didn’t do anything for Thanksgiving, but to me that was okay. Instead, I explained how most of my workplace was still operating like it was a regular Thursday.

“Why was it a regular workday?” they asked.

“Because….most of my co-workers are Italian,” I answered.

“So?” 

“Thanksgiving,” I replied with confusion, “doesn’t…..exist…in Italy.”

Okay. So. Unless we are all Americans or Canadians, Thanksgiving does not spread its fingers wide around the globe. Of course the spirit of gratitudine should be celebrated everywhere, but in this specific case, there is no Roman version of Plimoth Plantation. I might think of Trajan’s Market as the original Home Depot—but apart from that, I draw no half-assed parallels to life in North America.

After I hung up the phone, I did give this mildly amusing phone conversation a kinder thought.  While Thanksgiving might not be a thing— you still find traces of the holiday in Italy. It’s just got nothing to do with turkeys, pilgrim hats or even the overdue recognition on the impact of the continent’s indigenous peoples. It’s something eye-rollingly worse: Italy has signed on to celebrating Black Friday.

When I first arrived in Rome a year ago, Italians told me that Black Friday now existed but it was more just a stunt to get people shopping. There weren’t the kind of sales that had people trampling over each other. Perhaps you saw only some extra publicity on the radio or in store signs.

Not so this year. Perhaps it’s because the country (and indeed the world) has taken such a hard economic hit, but signs of Black Friday are everywhere right now. This afternoon I walked a couple of blocks to buy some coffee and in my 18-minute walk, nearly every shop had a sign up for Black Friday. The famous Italian brand Bialetti (you know, the one who invented the moka coffee maker), had the entire store on sale. 

In store windows I saw Black Friday advertised as “Black Friday Days” and even “Black Weekend”. The extended observance makes it clear that retailers are more than keen to move stock. Where the “black” in Black Friday is supposed to connote major profits for retailers, this year the term feels a bit more ominous. They need to have more than just a banner Friday in order to remain solvent. The day after Thanksgiving 2020 is not a publicity stunt in Italy.

Today (AKA Cyber Monday in America), the government approved a fourth stimulus package to help all of the businesses and customer service workers who have been knocked down by COVID’s restrictive decrees. And right now, the Prime Minister is sitting down with Italy’s regional leaders to try and come up with a plan for the Christmas holidays. A plan to prevent another surge of the virus, a plan to keep the lifeblood of the country pumping. Everyone is tired of living like this, but there is no choice but to keep listening to the news.

I suspect that in America, COVID-19 restrictions made almost every holiday table feel decidedly underpopulated. And here in Rome, while I was on the couch for most of the day, I still received a number of texts from well-meaning Italians. They wished me a Happy Thanksgiving and hoped that I was having a wonderful celebration. My sarcastic inside voice response was “Oh yeah….just you wait and see how different the big holidays feel.” I didn’t think this with any sense of malice—it was just that the impact on the season was now hitting me. And with Christmas coming to town in no time at all, everyone here was going to share in my Thanksgiving weirdness.

In passing the Black Friday shops, I poked my head indoors and noted that most were devoid of shoppers. Maybe it was because it’s Monday and everyone is at work, or maybe it’s because most people in Italy take COVID protocols very seriously. The thought of sharing a confined space unless you absolutely have to just isn’t worth it the risk. And while nobody wants to see so many small businesses close down, the fear of contagion coupled with a hurting economy has people keeping out of the shops. Black Friday is real but there are no Italians queuing up before midnight like it’s Black Friday Eve at Walmart circa 2011.  Besides, curfew starts at 10pm so we’re all at home by that hour anyway.

If I can take anything away from the past week, it’s that I will go into December with at least a better sense for what the next big holiday will feel like. Black Friday is ridiculous and hardly a measuring stick for experiencing a shared Italian-American tradition. A can of Chef Boyardee would be more fitting.

So here in Rome, I will still on my couch this December but this time I plan to queue up some American Christmas movie classics. I’ll reflect on how none of the characters are wearing facemasks (and as such, no kid would ever have been triple dog dared to lick a pole). But I’ll also do my best to appreciate some Italian representations of Christmas from at least 2 meters away. It’s still gonna be weird, but at least for this holiday I’ll be surrounded by a lot more people who’ll be experiencing it alongside me.