If you have ever traveled in Italia, you know that a key part of every city or town are the central piazzas. If you want to experience an Italian city’s people, sit on a bench in one of the hundreds of piazzas scattered in this beautiful country. Watch how life and shift happens in the piazza.
“What all Italian piazzas have in common is their civic and symbolic importance: They’re the physical center of the community and also its prime outdoor theater; home to the most important political buildings, the main cathedral, cafes, restaurants, and sometimes monuments or fountains. There’s no better place to people watch in Italy than in a piazza.”
walksofitaly.com
https://www.walksofitaly.com/blog/all-around-italy/italian-piazzas
As fall leans into winter, the holiday season approaching and my sister’s visit last month, I also leased my first apartment in Italia. It’s a milestone in that I hope this will be my last move for at least the next 18 months. Since I arrived in Italia, I have moved six times in the last nine months. Me and my three suitcases of “American stuff” moved by planes, trains, taxis, and buses. We rolled across thousands of cobblestones in the streets.
I look at my suitcases now, and think, “Wow, they could tell some stories.” They are definitely showing the wear and tear of moving as much as I am. A few of them may never see the cargo hold of an airplane again.
If you know me well, you’ll understand how disruptive all of this moving was to me. I am a nester. My home was my refuge, and I have always appreciated the stability of having a place to retreat. However, in hindsight, I believe I needed the disruption of all of that moving. If I was going to change my life, I had to shift my thinking of the past. Those past beliefs were how I defined my life–the size and splendor of a house, the conveniences it offered and the need to be in the center of entertaining friends and family. Life has its own way of beating humility into you, whether you want to face it or not. Six moves in nine months will certainly help you along the way.
After several weeks of searching rental listings and practicing Italiano with the real estate agents, I found my apartment online. I could see from the photos it was bright, with adequate space for living and occasional entertaining. Even though my friends and family visitors are few now, I’m working under the Field of Dreams assumption, “If you build it, they will come.”
The best part is the view and the light. I have six large French doors that overlook a piazza. I have a park in front of my building full of people walking their dogs and lunching on sunny afternoons. Yes, there’s noise from cars and activity, but there is comfort in hearing life happen outside your window. Just last week they opened a Christmas market in the park and installed a temporary skating rink for the holidays. If the need arises, I can go downstairs for a cioccolata calda, Siciliano pastry or focaccia. I think that need will surface often in the coming weeks.
From my windows, I can see the tops of the snow-covered peaks of the Alps. In the morning and evening they glow pink with the alba e tramonto (sunrise and sunset). It’s remarkable that a year ago from my bedroom I looked out at palm trees and sand-covered mountains in Southern California, and now I see Alpine snow. Shift happens in the piazza.
But can I gloat for a moment? The most unexpected surprise is that I actually have the word “piazza” in my address! Ok, if you’re not a lover of all things Italiano, you may not understand the magic in that. I have always known my first address in Italia would sound foreign, romantic and wonderful to pronounce. I never expected it would start with piazza! Every city around the world has squares, parks, and plazas, but only Italia can claim the coveted label of “piazza”.
If anything makes the last few months of life’s transformation and change worth it, it’s recognizing that I have started to create some sense of permanence in an impermanent world. Everything leading up to this moment was necessary. These last several weeks have built confidence in my new life and my language skills. They have also strengthened my relationship with the Italiano.
Oh, and not to forget, I finally have the courage to answer my Italian cell phone when it rings. For the first six months, I never answered it. I just froze in fear. I knew I wasn’t ready for a telephone conversation in Italiano. Once the move began, I had to get over that fear. When you’re scheduling appointments for utilities and deliveries, you’ll get nothing done if you don’t answer the phone. Now I pick up the phone and with just a wee bit of anxiety say, “Sì, pronto!” It’s the small things that count, and I take the wins when I can get them. Shift happens in the piazza.
I am grateful for my sister. She was here to help me start in this new place. I couldn’t have done it without her. She volunteered to be in the middle of the chaos as dozens of boxes, furniture and people arrived. We unwrapped, unpacked, unboxed and underestimated the amount of work to pull this together. We laughed at our language barriers, enjoyed meeting the new people in the building, and when the day was done, we drank Aperol spritzes and ate pizzas.
I am also thankful to my Italiano for his support through all of this. He has been my sherpa. After our first seven months together, I was starting to feel like a cultural sandbag. He never complained about my dependency, but I needed to try these things on my own. I can now celebrate with him that I actually did it, and I think he likes the way this makes me feel. He recently described our two lives like blending La Dolce Vita and Hollywood. Every day we learn something new and different about our backgrounds and how they have shaped us into who we are now. He tempers my insatiable American appetite for 24/7 satisfaction, while I push his boundaries on what convenience looks like.
When I decided to make Torino my permanent home, there were many factors that went into that decision. Primarily it was because I found love here, love for another person, love for the city of Torino and its people. Most importantly, I found love for myself. In the whirlwind of my first year in Italia, life was always preparing me for this moment. I can now look at 2020 as a year to grow more deeply into this corner of Italia and Europe. There is a change in the energy around me. I feel the desire to enjoy the efforts now, and fewer feelings of restlessness and anxiety.
I’m happy that life has led me here to this piazza in the middle of Torino, and I know that over time, shift happens in the piazza.
Thank you for reading The Spaghetti Diaries. As the holidays approach and a new year begins, no matter what corner of the world you call home, please be kind to yourself and be kind to others this season. It can be a difficult world, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wonderful.
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