FAQs - Part II
Challenges?
There are a few things in Italy that are less comfortable than Vegas, but I hesitate to call them challenges because being in Pavia isn’t hard. It’s not always easy, but it certainly isn’t hard. Regardless, here are a few of the things I’m learning to adapt to.
Green Pass – Italian citizens who have been vaccinated get issued a digital QR code known as a ‘green pass’ or Covid certificate. No green pass means no museums or indoor dining (I’ve tried) so I’ve rearranged some of my travel plans and will probably rearrange them some more in the next few weeks. I do love art and museums so not having the pass is unfortunate, but it’s okay, really. If I truly want to visit any indoor attractions, I think I can arrange to get a Covid test at a local farmacia, and my negative results will essentially buy me a 48-hour green pass. I will probably do just that, eventually, but I’m going to wait until things cool down a bit. Even museum-hopping will require a bit of walking and I’d rather cram in a full 2 days of sightseeing when it’s not so hot.
Lights out – Using the washer generally causes the power to go out in my appartamento at least once per load, if not more. Not a major inconvenience, but I do have to be diligent and make sure I only do laundry when I won’t need to dry my hair, charge electronics, or make myself tea with the espresso machine for the next few hours because it does take a few hours to run one load of laundry.
Buzz off! – My skin loves the Italian humidity. The bugs? Not so much. I have skeeter syndrome, which is another way of saying I’m allergic to mosquito bites. Along with the typical itching, the bites generally swell and feel hot for multiple days and then bruise. Lovely, no?
Missing
There are also a few things I miss, namely, peanut butter, my dryer, and all the Michaels.
I realize I shouldn’t even be thinking of peanut butter while I’m in Italy, the land of amazing food. I should be saying, “PB who?” But what can I say, it’s a tasty staple I’ve come to rely on that’s filling and easy to pair with food or eat straight from a spoon. Silly turista Americana.
I already knew I would be air-drying clothes in Italy. Air-drying is better for the environment and having stiff shirts and towels isn’t the end of the world, but I must admit, there’s nothing like pulling out soft and lovely smelling clothes fresh from the dryer or a wonderfully warm and fluffy towel.
And while I haven’t felt lonely even once while in Italy, I do miss Azure very much. I miss hearing about his day, strong opinions, and latest entrepreneurial plans over burritos or hummus bowls. I miss watching cheesy movies and Kobra Kai with him on the couch.
Delights
There are so many things to delight in, here are a few of my favorite at this moment.
I relish the newness of routine things I stopped thinking of long ago, like etiquette in a grocery store, how pharmacies operate, and washing clothes by hand. There’s something about this forced re-examination I find fascinating and delightful.
I enjoy the church bells ringing in the morning, the medieval buildings, the old brick walls, the cobblestone roads, and all the balconies with thriving greenery.
I enjoy looking at the regal statues, the well-preserved ones, and the ones made eerie by their slow oxidation. The patina effect on some of them makes me feel as if the statue is weeping or slowly melting, about to puddle onto the ground in front of me.
I smile when I see the well-dressed Italian gentlemen riding their bicycles early in the morning and the groups of elderly men sitting outside the cafés with their little cups of espresso yelling “Ciao!” to one another as if they didn’t have a care in the world, as if there was nothing more important than sipping coffee in the warm morning and catching up with one another. I enjoy seeing so many people enjoying themselves.
Most of all, I love strolling under beautiful giant trees on my way home from my long walks.
Whatever urge brought me to Italy sighs in relief during these moments. It hasn’t calmed completely, but it says, something along the lines of “yes, better, this is much closer to where you are supposed to be.” I have spent the last two years learning how to listen to that voice, learning to trust it. So I also sigh in relief when that sensation comes and I think maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea after all. Because if you’re anything like me, steadily employed since 15 with your default emotion set to fear, you don’t just quit your job, get rid of the majority of your possessions, rent your home and pack up for a country you’ve never been to that speaks a language you don’t know, without stopping to ask yourself, “What. Am. I. Doing???” Nevertheless, here I am. And I am so incredibly grateful.
