One of my favourite things to do in Cremona was eat lunch next to Stradivari's tomb.
Is that creepy? It seems a little creepy now that I've actually written it.
It struck me as odd on my first day walking around the city center that so many people walk right by the tombstone without so much as a glance in its direction. This is the grave of one of the most influential people in the history of music, and I have never seen more than ONE other person stop to even look at it...
But then I look around the rest of the park. People walked right by the grave because it was familiar- nothing new to look at or experience. They found joy in the things that weren't there all the time. Some school children's artwork is tied to the gazebo. There are a few high school and college age kids clustered around benches, sometimes with a guitar or two in their company. Sure, there are the people just passing through the park on their way to work or a meeting, but they're looking up. Admiring the trees, or the way the falling leaves are blowing in the wind. Stopping to watch the young children running around, and taking a moment to laugh before continuing on their way. There's always the group of septuagenarian men playing dominoes on a bench next to the gazebo- every day, without fail. When it was raining, they just moved under the shelter of the gazebo. The group size was always different, but it was always there. One day I even saw a single gentleman there, with the dominoes laid out in front of him, reading the newspaper to pass the time until another showed up. I was very tempted to go over and ask him to teach me to play, but at the time I had absolutely no confidence in my spoken Italian, so I chickened out. Sitting next to the grave gave me the perfect vantage point to see all of these things occurring before me, and until the day I left, I could not help but think "this is all so... Italian!"
Plus, there's a gelato place right across the street, so... that's a nice bonus.
What did I learn in Italy? Looking back, it was a lot more than I had originally anticipated, or even understood at the time.
One of my first days, someone told me, "when you leave here, you will take with you the culture of wine." I didn't know what that meant at the time, so I took it at face value- I never liked wine before, so Italy is a good place to start, right?
Now, when I reflect on my months in Cremona, I think I understand what he was saying.
This "culture of wine" isn't about the drink. In fact, I don't think it necessarily has anything to do with the wine itself, though that certainly is a welcome bonus.
The culture of wine is time.
Taking the time during a meal to be with the people around you. No phones, no instagramming your plate (which is why I don't have an Italian food post for you), and all the friends you can find. Meals are meant to be enjoyed- food is delicious!
Taking the time while out of the house to notice the people around you- stopping to say hi to a friend and catch up on each others' lives instead of nodding at them from across the street and continuing on your way. Riding a bike or walking instead of driving, to be able to take in more of your surroundings.
Speed is stressful. Yes, sometimes it is necessary. But what have I missed in my life because I was so focused on efficiency and productivity? Have I missed a beautiful sunset, or the changing of leaves? Could I have seen a wonderful street musician perform when instead I ran by because of my desperation to accomplish an impossible amount in a short time? What time could I have spent among friends when I instead gave myself anxiety attacks by taking on more than I could handle?
I want to live my life in a way that I can appreciate the small happinesses around me. I want to recognize happiness in a strangers' eyes. I want to see people stare in wonder at something they have never seen before. I want to play dominoes in the park in the middle of the town (I should probably learn to play dominoes first, though...) I want to spend a whole day watching ducks swim around a pond, and I want to see children's eyes light up when the ducks eat the bread they are throwing.
I even want to see heartbreak and sadness. Just being able to recognize it on someone's face, even if there is nothing I can do about it. I want to be able to send positive energy their way, even for a moment.
Right before I left Italy, my host family asked why I hadn't taken more time to travel and go to Brescia, or Venice, or Florence, or other places that would have been only a train ride away. What I told them was the truth- I wanted to originally, but when I realized that I wasn't ready to go back to the US yet I started budgeting my money to last a long time, and I hoped that I would be lucky enough for my travels to bring me to these places in the future. That was the truth, but it isn't the whole truth.
The whole truth is that I feel as though I travelled thousands of miles without even leaving Cremona. Every day, I strove to learn something new. Sometimes it was a new Italian word, sometimes it was a new knitting stitch, sometimes it was a new face, sometimes it was a realization about myself and my life experiences. I didn't need to go back to Florence, even though I've been waiting my whole life to spend time in that town. I didn't need the tourist experience. I was able to find everything I needed with my host family, with their - and now my - friends, and within myself.
I am a completely different person coming out of my experience in Italy. And I have already changed from my short time in Turkey. I will continue to change.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid.
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