Sep 112023
 

The thing about being an expat is that there are cycles of culture shock that are forgotten about when living abroad for so long. We start to take think that just because we are experienced at the way of life we are exempt from the ups and downs of culture shock. Well, a rude awakening has come with a rather unexpected dip lately.ย 

Not having a grasp of the language, and therefore, the culture, makes it hard to reconcile the frustrations felt around time, commitments, and expectations.ย Recently, this has become more an “issue” than before, though I know it is not that anything in our surroundings that have changed – it really us not them. ๐Ÿคช

M is especially struggling as he lacks patience in many ways with many things. Sometimes he can be very very patient, but not when it comes to agreements that involve business or monetary transactions. ๐Ÿ˜ฌ

So, it seems the Italian way is to charm you into agreeing to do a deal with them whether it is renovations for a kitchen, work on a car, or get permissions for structural changes on your property. The initial steps are very active so that one gets lulled into thinking action will be swift.

Then, happily everyone agrees with a statement, naively taken as a promise, of timeframes and what to expect. Hands are shaken. Smiles are shown. Friendly exchange considered to be a sign of satisfaction.

Yet… the time comes and goes… reality sinks in. The phrase “It’s Italy” with a ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ shrug of the shoulders is expressed as a way to soften the blow – it’s gonna require patience and more time than said out loud. ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ

The cycle repeats itself with EVERY. SINGLE. THING.

We booked our kitchen to be installed this month back in April or May. We have yet to hear anything. Even our so-called friendly lawyer who introduced us to a new company has yet to follow through. We spend some days waiting around for an answer or update to no avail. Our cars have been in and out of the mechanics for a week or three weeks when it is a day-job at most.

It’s true, some of these things we could do ourselves, but we choose not to. Most we cannot. It’s also true that we accept and acknowledge that there is a “foreigner tax” on prices and even dealings/negotiations that require patience in the learning curve. However, the main fact is that Italians just work when it is convenient for them to do so regardless of who the client might be. The plus is that we realize we should not take it personally, but that doesn’t make it better time-wise when we want to get things done.

So, we wait. M makes calls, leaves messages, threatens to take business elsewhere and repeats his own cycle of frustration and angst. I wait. I ask unhelpful questions ๐Ÿ˜œ and nag because I can.

Probably, all of it will get done in time – just on Italian time. ๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ˜…

~T ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ‰โ™‹๏ธ

Jun 192023
 

A rather unappreciated and misunderstood (in my opinion) dish in the Italian cuisine is gnocchi – pronounced “nio-key” or “no-key” as the “g” is silent. It is a perfect combination of potato and pasta with whatever kind of sauce you like. This one was a duck ragu that was yummy, though I was helping M finish it as I devoured my own of saffron and sausage.

There are many hidden aspects of local culture here that are easy to miss as an expat. We discovered one of them last night – The Gnocchi Festival of Santa Maria di Monteleone d’Orvieto (Laย Sagraย degliย Gnocchiย diย Santa Mariaย diย Monteleone di Orvieto) – one of many throughout the summer in the region. This one is explained below as a translated version of one site.

More amazing than the gnocchi and turnout even amongst locals was the dancing. We didn’t know until we were leaving that there was actually two live bands playing – the latter targeted more for the youth. The one we listened to, observed, joined in on was a kind of traditional genre that allowed for the dancing!

When I say dancing, I mean partner dance, line dance, and combinations of other more formalized dancing. It was incredible to see people know so many variations of dances and joining in! There wasn’t a shyness really, if they knew it and could move, they were on the dance floor. It was so great.

I’m now keen to learn some of the line dances and even get someone to take me on as a partner for the ones that look something similar to a Texas two-step.

It was a ton of fun and I’m looking forward to experiencing more of these cultural moments!

~T ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ‰โ™‹๏ธ

Jul 142021
 

One of the images that I have always had of the Provence area has been of lavender.

Somehow, though, I had completely forgotten about the season and so when my social media started showing pics from others of their forays into the fields to get that quintessential shot, I determined we needed to make a visit to try our hand at our own picturesque moments.

Apparently, there are two types of lavender and only one is actually used for the lavender products that we find for sale. You can Google about it if youโ€™re interested in details. More importantly, I learned that blooming season is rather long from the end of June into August. (If you want to get the sunflowers ๐ŸŒป as well, then sometime in July is recommended.)

My research found that while there are a number of fields, Valensole is the most popular and it was closest to where we were staying.

It was well worth the trip and we did catch the sunflowers as you can see. Iโ€™ll do another post on Sunflower Season as we caught fields of them in Italy as well. ๐Ÿ˜€

Although we may not have gotten the glamour shot, we enjoyed experiencing the fields and see with our own eyes what the fuss is about. โ˜€๏ธ

~T ๐Ÿ˜€

Aug 302019
 

There is a thing called personal space.

The amount required depends on the person, culture, etc. I have gotten used to having less of it through living in Japan ๐Ÿ‘ฅ where this concept is a luxury even if on a person to person basis people would like more of it.

The other day, I knew that I had grown in my tolerance for close proximities to strangers when I only momentarily paused as someone stepped on the back of my flip-flop as I got off the train.๐Ÿšƒ

This was again tested, the second time that someone stepped on my shoe on the same day.

Although my inner voice was screaming, โ€œBack the F*@K offโ€, ๐Ÿ—ฃ my more โ€œmatureโ€ voice took in a deep breath, smiled, waited for the foot to come off of my shoe and continued on. ๐Ÿง˜๐Ÿฝโ€โ™€๏ธ

Of course, there are multiple perspectives on this. One, โ˜๐ŸฝI should/could choose to wear different shoes that might be less likely to get stepped on. Two, โœŒ๐ŸฝI could push back or give dirty looks at the offender to make them feel momentarily bad or confuse them as to the problem – either way creating a negative exchange. Three, ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿฝ I can accept it for what it is and delay contemplation.

Obviously, I have chosen the latter of these options.

My contemplation ๐Ÿค” is, what makes it necessary to be so close to someone that you can actually step on the back of their shoe? Or, is it the make of the shoe in that the delay of the flip and flop is just that slow in that it unbalances the rhythm of steps for everyone? ๐Ÿ˜ณ

Whatever the case, I thought I would bore you with this anecdote, but interested in other theories and thoughts too because I canโ€™t quite figure it out. In the meantime, I am wearing thicker soled shoes to thicken my patience. ๐Ÿ˜‰

~T ๐Ÿ˜€


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