“Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun. If you do not, the sun will soon set, and you with it.”
Marcus Aurelius, The Emperor’s Handbook
I woke up at 8:29 a.m. today, and this was my view.
The amazing cupola of the Basilica Maria Ausiliatrice in Torino lifting up into the sky, intersecting vertically through a horizontal line of the Italian Alps. After a few days of rain in Torino, I never imagined this was the gift behind the veil of clouds. A million other people will be looking at this scene today, at 8:29 a.m., and have a different reaction. They may appreciate it fully, or it may just resemble another cold April morning. The church could look foreboding to some, while others might spot graffiti on one of the buildings and find it unsightly. It reminds me of a comment posted recently on my blog from a friend, who used these powerful words of perspective, “Are you living a life fully in the “with” instead of “without?” I think I am, but I need to continue to work on that. It is hard to be constantly looking through a lens of appreciation and admiration, but I think it helps when you surround yourself with other people who live in the “with,” grateful for what they have and optimistic for what is to come.
Euro-sizing is an expression that I came up with to signify what living in Europe has done to my American perspective. When I think about my life in California for 30 years, it would be fair to say that in addition to having a loving relationship and close family and friends, I measured success based on a set of financial priorities: buying increasingly larger homes, climbing a financially rewarding career ladder, having an insatiable demand for material consumption, driving a series of German automobiles, and stocking a kitchen full of food that might never make it into somebody’s stomach. This is what “good enough” looked like to me, and many would agree, these were common proof points of a successful life in the United States. I think some people here in Italy would find that past life crazy–squandering so much time on accumulating temporary things. How many amazing 8:29 a.m. experiences did I miss?
I think about life in Italy and what matters most to me now: having a small easy-to-maintain apartment convenient to public transportation, living in a thriving neighborhood with cafes, restaurants and local food purveyors, and being close to a green space for my afternoon walks. I prefer a small variety of clothes that are easy to maintain and can be thrown into a suitcase when I want to travel. The durability of my carry-on luggage is far more important than the size of my wardrobe.
I’m interested in the conversations that are beginning to happen with the locals, as my Italian improves. I feel a difference in what people appreciate here. People are very curious and seem less hesitant to judge a stranger. In a larger city you have to adjust to strangers. Everybody you meet is a stranger at first. This week I moved to a new apartment and left Massimo, the building porter from my first apartment, behind. When I stopped to say goodbye to him, he told me I was “un uomo gentile” a kind man. It struck me that in the limited amount of time we had known each other that he came to that conclusion and offered that compliment. He was a stranger eight-weeks ago when we first met. That was a real feel-good moment. It reminded me that my life experience hasn’t hardened my heart beyond repair.
The number one question I have been asked by locals is, “Why would you ever leave the United States and move to Italy?” Americani (as we are called here) are blessed or cursed with a wealthy image fueled by all that is exported out to the world by our television, films, and brand names. Many people believe life is significantly better in the US by most standards. It’s a rather interesting question to answer, and I haven’t quite found the right words to explain my reasoning for moving without going into my whole story. On the flip side, I have had so many Americans reach out to me and tell me how they envy the ability to move to Italy. It is something that have always wanted to do. I guess both sides of the Atlantic are victims of the same expression in Italian, “L’erba del vicino è sempre più verde.” or, “The grass is always greener in your neighbor’s yard.”
After my first eight weeks in Italy, I expected that I would have had one of those cultural face-slam moments, similar to walking head on into a glass door because you simply can’t see it coming. Or worse, I would be homesick for the creature comforts of the United States, and be pining over the loss of 24-hour convenience, a car, familiarity with my surroundings, conversations in English, margaritas with Don Julio tequila, all sorts of “must-haves” from my former life. Thankfully, I haven’t experienced a sense of loss of any of those things.
What I have figured out about myself is that I like the unknown and unexpected. I crave the adventure of being dropped into a completely foreign place with strangers, and trying to figure it out on my own. Every new interaction begs the question, “How is this going to end?” I like being free from judging everything from a perspective of loss, and now I see an opportunity to gain. Euro-sizing isn’t about living a smaller life; it’s about living a deeper life.
Thank you for your comments and for following The Spaghetti Diaries. I also want to thank my friend Claudio for reminding introducing the phrase and reminding me to live with the perspective of life “with” instead of life “without.”