Piano, piano..

Slowly, slowly.  We learn the things we need to learn, this is how life works.  And if we don't slow down enough to let the million little lessons in, then - we learn them again.  You know this.  I know this... and still. 

The last two weeks have been a lesson in slowing down. I thought I had conquered the idea of surrender during the 18 months of isolation during lockdown.  I thought that I understood patience.  

I had a lot to learn.  
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Part of this pleases me because I love experiencing things that also teach me.  Part of me, however is surprised about how much I still need to understand about going slow.  And about surrendering to what is.

Here's what I mean.  I'm a planner, and while I leave room ( or think I do) for the way that the road or the weather can change without warning, in Italy the entire culture abhors a plan.  There are two words one hears often. 

Asppeto.  (Wait)
and my least favourite....Domani. (Tomorrow) 


Come mai?  (Why?)..... here's the good news.  It's not some sense of being arbitrary.  It's not because people are lazy.  It's not because they don't like you or want to help.  It's because they want to do it right, and because of Covid, a lot of things that used to be quick ( the Italian definition of quick, mind you) now, the resources are less easy to locate, to transport, to process, etc.  Everything takes time.  And people learn not to mind. 

I'm getting there by reminding myself that I have time.  And I am not the most important person in anyone's day. 

After the entire country was locked down for almost a year, people's already small sense of urgency relaxed.  Instead they relished the time with family, if they were fortunate. They sang from balconies and were grateful for the little markets that stayed open and the food they could share.  And when vaccines finally eased the restrictions they SLOWLY moved back into some new kind of life and work. Piano, piano.   

If you've been in Italy on holiday, you know how the pace of life makes you feel instantly restful.  How the light fills you in a way like no other. You slow your pace.  You take 20 minutes to eat a gelato by whatever view is near.  You sit on benches and let the air soothe all the edges that other places carve into you.  'la dolce fa niente'- the sweetness of doing nothing.  It's not just a slogan for tourists.  It's a mantra. 

So, by now, if you're following this journey of mine, you'll know that I've gotten my Coda Fiscale ( sort of the Italian social security number), an Italian phone number, and an apartment up on a hill with amazing views.  I am so grateful for all the dominoes that fell into place to come this far.  And, to be honest, I thought that the hard part was pretty much done.  

Aspetto. (Wait)

I haven't written here for the last two weeks because it took me nearly every day to research, discuss, and finally agree to the terms of a mover to bring my former London household (furnishings and personal items) from my storage box in Milan the 75 kilometres to Bellano.  The number of companies that just failed to respond to their own request forms was mind boggling.  Somewhere around 40.  I had responses in German, French, Belgian and Dutch, though. And thanks to google translate, I did my best to consider their offers, except none of these were able to also provide an extra helper to lift the heavy pieces. Or a truck with a lift gate.  And while I'll admit that for more than a minute I considered just doing it myself, the reality of my age and strength these days is ever present in my bones.  I even had two personal referrals from the storage company, both of which told me they'd call me back and never did. 

And at that point I realised I had slowly started to hold my breath about 4 days into the search. And in my American 'get er' done' mindset, I was constantly wheedling, bartering, 'MacGyvering' the process that I could make work because I had a plan.  And a timeline.  And that plan.  And then I realised there was something the universe was trying to teach me.  AGAIN. 

Like many things in my life, it almost always comes down to 'letting go' of the plan.  I don't mean the goal, I mean the plan to get there.  When we stop being flexible and patient, and understanding that the universe does not exist simply for us,  or our plan, or the way we think it should go -things just automatically get easier.  So I reminded myself of that and decided to just look around some more, and fill out some more request forms, let go of any expectations and wait and see. 

The very next company I queried responded within a few minutes.  In English.  Over the course of 24 hours we discussed what I needed, and when, and came to an agreement.  I signed a contract and will meet the movers this weekend to transport 'the contents of my life" as my Italian friend likes to call them - to the new place. 

​As I write, I'm waiting for a response to confirm some timings but I'm also reminding myself that it's Italy, that things take time, and that everything will be fine.  As long as I relax into the slow and patient beauty of this new country that I have chosen to make my home.  As long as I  remember to stay in gratitude for all the things that have fallen into place and the people who helped me.

I know that at this point of my life, I truly have the luxury of so much time.  But here's the thing.  So do you.  You have time to relax into learning where and what and when you can slow down too.  When I was a single mother raising two busy kids, finding that slowness meant getting up earlier than anyone to sit in the  almost morning and think.  Or not think.  When I was a corporate executive traveling 80% of the year, slowness came in taking at least 20 minutes of the flight or taxi ride to just look out the window, or close my eyes and slow my breathing.  In lockdown, I kept myself busy to combat loneliness and fear, but I took a walk every day that I could to slow my mind. Here, when the sun sets, I take a slow stroll on the lido by the lake t to drink in the sky and the lights that dot the mountains.  

 Far away from the 'should's, and 'ought to's', I am learning that I have a choice to bend and flex, to surrender to what takes time,  and to embrace the joy of living slowly. 

Piano, piano.  Find yours. Thanks for coming along for the slow ride. xo

Tia