Taking it Slow

 

Things go at their own pace here in Italy, and it is generally much slower than I would want them to. Italy keeps chiding me to slow down.

For example, Tuesday last week I arrived in the little town of Torgiano at 12:30, hoping to visit the wine museum they are known for (it's really the only thing they are known for). I had hardly walked in when I was ushered out by the receptionist, because it it was time for siesta. I had two hours to kill before the museum opened again. When I asked the receptionist che cosa c'è da fare mentre aspetto (what is there to do while I wait), she gave me a funny look. "Go to the bar, the restaurant... have a gelato" she told me in Italian, but I had a hard time thinking of passing two hours sitting down. Instead, I filled the time first by going to the supermarket and wandering down the aisles (15 minutes), then I walked around the town (15 minutes–yes, only), then I took a nap on a bench in the sun (20 minutes), then I asked around and found out when and where to take the bus back to Perugia (10 minutes). Finally, I resigned myself to sit down at a bar (the only bar – at their only table) to spend the maximum of the remaining hour.

 

The point is, I am so used to fixed schedules, precise due dates and running against the clock that sometimes it's hard to take it slow. But here, it doesn't seem to matter if a shop opens an hour later than it's scheduled time (like the lavanderia I had wanted to use that morning), and time takes a full break between one and three in the afternoon. Rushing is simply not part of the Italian vocabulary (unless you're on the road – but that's a whole other story).

I suppose for a North American, this will be one of the hardest things to get used to. The language – I am making progress every day; the food – is so delicious that I don't particularly miss the stuff I buy at home, but taking things slow goes against everything I have been taught.

*Pictures are from my day-trips to Torgiano and Assisi.

Me in front of the Basilica of San Francesco in Assisi.

Odd pusscake? Odd indeed...