Dear Readers:
I’m in Italy. I’ve been staying in a little apartment in a very small town on the Amalfi Coast for the last three weeks.
I promise not to subject you to a travelogue, because A) I don’t want to remind you of those dreadful slideshows you might have had to watch as a child…
… and B) Honestly, there are experiences — many experiences — that I chose to keep to myself. I am greedy in that way. I hoard some of my best memories and store them in my imaginary vintage Louis Vuitton suitcase.
I leave my hometown every February for three or four weeks. I’ve done this for many years, and February is to blame, because in our family — if you’re going to pass away, you’re going to do it in February.
Regular readers (you’re all regular readers, amirite?) know that I’ve had a bit of a time lately. Our family has experienced tough losses this winter. And yes, February is to blame.
And so I’ve left my snowbound and griefbound hometown to nurse my memories and my wounds elsewhere.
Over the years I’ve spent these February walkabout weeks in many different locations in the United States. But this is the first time I’ve traveled across the ocean for my walkabout, and I’ve chosen to spend this time in the sort of place I feel most comfortable in.
I like small places. The village where I’m staying is small and very quiet. It has that off-season vibe I remember from the off-season months I lived on an island, many years ago.
This a beautiful place. It’s a spectacularly beautiful place.
[The view from my little apartment, I kid you not.]
The people here are very nice. At least I think they’re very nice. They might simply be glad to see me because I am the only tourist in town. Plus, they mainly speak to me in Italian, so I have to make all sorts of assumptions about what they are saying.
One year I tried a strict Keto regimen (in New Orleans, and yes — what was I thinking?), and another year I remember committing to the Whole 30 Diet, also in New Orleans.
This only proves that I am a very slow learner.
Eventually, I realized that trying to retrain my eating habits while spending my time away, oftentimes in places that have wonderful food, was just stupid.
And so one year I taught myself to play the ukulele.
Last year I taught myself to do the “Running Man.”
Quirky, I know. But hey — this is my world, and I’m the only person who has to live in it.
This year I’ve spent an entire month climbing hundreds of stone stairs up to my mountainside apartment and back down again (more on that later). I’ve been wandering around, looking around, and — because I neither speak nor understand Italian — I’m more or less living in my head.
Italians do so many things well. And one thing they seem exceedingly good at, in my opinion, is how they spend their time.
Observing the pace of life here, I’m struck by how people behave in a way that just seems “natural.” Even the extremely hard-working shop keepers in the little grocery stores here close for three hours every day for a well-deserved midday break.
In the mornings, the nonnas stroll the main promenade, pushing their grand babies in strollers. The nonnos sit on benches looking out at the sea and visiting with each other.
[Daily conclave of nonnos]
After school lets out, parents pick up their young children and take them to the little playground overlooking the ocean.
[Cue “That’s Amore.” I mean, could they BE any cuter????]
I love observing these little daily rituals.
And so, while I’m observing life here, I’m also drinking a lot of coffee.
Mind you, I’m always drinking a lot of coffee, and my mornings at home always start with a trip through the drive-thru Dunkin in town.
[THIS JUST IN: I’ve just learned that Dunkin Donuts is rolling out a new product. Not a new product, really, but a new size of an old product.
They are offering something called a “Dunkin’ Bucket,” which is 48 ounces of iced coffee. It comes in an actual bucket-shaped container with an actual handle on it, because no cup-shaped object could possibly hold that much liquid.
I know. I didn’t believe this, either. But I saw a segment about it on the Today Show, and so it must be true.
If you want to read about this product, which is being tested in Massachusetts (of course …) …
For now, I’m drinking lots and lots of delicious espresso and cappuccino in this small Italian town on the southern coast.
Today when I stopped in to my favorite little cafe, the owner came out, looked at me, and said “… cappuccino?”
“Si, Grazia,” I told him, thus exhausting my Italian language vocabulary.
And then I told him, “In America, when you come into your favorite place and always order the same thing, they call it ‘the usual’. So yes, I’ll have the usual.”
He gave me that all-too-familiar look of “OK, lady. WhatEVER.”
It’s OK. I’m used to it.
For all of the beautiful sights I’ve seen while here, it occurs to me that there is something I have NEVER SEEN during my time in this place.
I have never, not once, seen anyone walking around carrying a beverage. Any beverage.
Coffee is served in small china cups. You SIT and oftentimes STAND and drink your espresso. You nurse it. You enjoy it. When you’re done, you leave your empty cup behind and carry on with your day.
[After-school coffee, cocktails, and candy!]
[You also have the option to enjoy a cocktail with or instead of your coffee, by the way. All of the little cafes and roadside stands offer alcohol.]
Here is what people here DON’T do:
As far as I know, in this place, “I’ll take mine to go” is NOT a concept.
Furthermore, come to think of it, I have never seen anyone walk around carrying bottles of water, or sucking the straw of those ubiquitous 24-ounce Stanley, Owala, Yeti or other stupidly expensive branded bottles that seem to be everywhere these days.
Below is one of the many fountains in town. I’ve watched as people approach with cups, fill them, and take a swig.
[So … I gave it a try.]
Surely — when people from other countries visit the States they must wonder what is wrong with Americans and why we are so obsessed with super-sized hydration.
I mean — since when does a person need to drink a gallon of water every day? Is this practice something that has been sold to us by Coca Cola? Perrier? Is this a deep-state Aquafina conspiracy?
In asking the Internet this question: “Why do Americans drink so much water?,” the Internet coughed up a story from Fortune, which explains the phenomenon.
(And our weird hydration obsession is explained using exactly all the dumb reasons you imagine.)
No more drive-thru meals and drinks.
No more eating and drinking in my car.
[Honestly, I’m not all that confident that I can keep this little promise to myself. After all, Keto went by the wayside, and I didn’t even last the whole 30 days of Whole 30.]
I will miss my time here. I will miss the sky, the sea, and the way the villages along the coastline climb up the sides of mountains.
I’m going to miss the local shopkeepers who beckon me in and who patiently exchange small talk.
But the only thing I’ll take “to go” are the memories.
Ciao!!
******
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