Notizie Dal Mio Cuore - 43
I’ve said I didn’t come to Italy for romance. I also must admit I didn’t come to Italy to live “la bella vita” either…. Not in the sense that many expatriates would define it or search for it. Or even in the sense that most people who don’t have the privilege of living in Tuscany would envision it.
In fact, even the term “expatriate” I had believed to be someone else. It was a far-off distant word referring to people in books and newspaper articles. It was someone who chose to leave their home country and make a place for themselves elsewhere because the landscape – be it hillside or governmental – was better suited for them or held a higher ideal. I had no deep problems with my country. I’ve certainly learned to appreciate it even more since I left it. I don’t, however, miss it.
That’s not to say that I don’t miss friends and family – which I do terribly. It’s not to say that I don’t miss many aspects of “USA” as the Italians call her (pronounced as one word – ooohzah). Of course I do. However this is where I live at the moment. Where I am ….. growing.
Italy has many lessons for everyone who opens themselves to her. They are not easy lessons; although occasionally they are gently offered. But, unless you are sleeping through life, in all Italy’s marvelous textures, she won’t let you escape the essential questions. Even the ones you didn’t know you came here to ask.
I now know – clearly and without doubt – that money is one of the issues I have come to this city of rebirth to finally confront. I did write a play called “Net Worth” after all, as well as a series of articles and conducted workshops on the subject. But did I learn anything in all those years? Making a living in Florence is an extremely difficult thing to do. Here, where a residual check will no longer come and “save” me or a guest starring gig at the last second, I have been forced in a sense to confront this.
For now – I’m going to start my lesson by telling you the truth. I’ve never been this close to broke. And, yet, I am not afraid. (Most days anyway) I came to find out…. who I am meant to be in this life and from there I have to believe I’ll know what to do. It hasn’t been easy as you all know. But, after almost two years here, I trust Italy now. I know she’ll help me find my way.
Which is a strange belief with this particular subject because I have noticed that many Italians I know have no problem talking about money…… “non ho soldi,” “non abbiamo soldi abbastanza” (I don’t have money, we don’t have enough money)………….. for anything - for programming for children, for fixing streets, for getting the graffiti off the stones of Florence, for not living with their parents at 39. Yet they live their lives, somehow they function and get by. I don’t strive to “get by.” I realize I’ve done that all my life. However……
Here, figs grow in great and delicious quantity in August and blood orange season is almost upon us. Life continues to give to those of us in Florence a sense of continuance and abundance. Even those of us who count our monete (change) to buy a cappuccino for breakfast. The pace of the city slows you down to appreciate the skill of the barista as he makes the thickest, most delicious schiuma (foam) seemingly just for you….
I don’t know what will happen to me…. What will come of this choice I have made. But, as I approach my two year anniversary….. I regret nothing I have done and appreciate everything I have.
I guess, in some way, it’s possible I have begun to learn my lesson.
Ciao Ragazzi…..
Bari
