It’s not easy transitioning from escape artists to those who live the sweet life. It does not come naturally to us. Give us an impassable road or broken door and we rise to the occasion. Tell us to relax and smell the roses, and we pick up a nervous twitch. The people of the Veneto region of Italy, home to all of the V’s; Venice, Vicenza, and Verona have none of our hyperactive behavior.
Stella’s Supermercati is a 5 minute walk from Ca’ d’Wright, past the BMX park, through the roundabout, into the parking lot on the edge of the town square. We go there everyday for bread, wine, or sweet treats – pane, vino, dolci. The employees know us now; they practice their English, offer to translate, teach us how to weigh and stamp our produce. Beyond Stella’s is the Piazza del Comune, aka the gathering place. On Saturday you can buy farm fresh produce, an outfit for the fall, a chicken off the spit, perhaps a collection of cheeses and cured ham for antipasti hour.
It’s one mile to the big road with the Aldi and the auto parts store, but if you want to live la dolce vita, you weave the one hardware store, handful of pharmacies, salons and textiles shops, plus a plethora of caffeterias, gelaterias and tabbacherias lining Viale Italia into the fabric of your life. And when you want to get away from it all, you take the 12/14 SVT bus to the big city of Vicenza, or walk the Sentiera Bastiana trail into the Creazzo hills and stumble upon old churches, kale farms and olive groves.
If it is starting to sound like we are simply plagiarizing passages from the romcom “Under the Tuscan Sun,” you understand our predicament. Is our life becoming a romantic cliche? Is it all a bit too twee, or are we the problem, it’s we? Where’s the controversy? The hardship? The constraints we invariably encounter when we leave the comforts of home for the big bad world? After a summer of eating dirt in a remote part of the world – a journey filled with setbacks and self-reliance – autumn is effortless. It feels wrong.
Not speaking the language is a minor setback if you’re trying to book an appointment in a local hair salon, haggle at a flea market or pre-order your stinco at the beer festival. But if you’re shopping, eating, drinking or touring, there’s usually at last one person who can get you what you need. We’re half-heartedly attempting to assimilate. Eric has learned his numbers to 11 to call the pickleball score.
But when we try to buy bus tickets – due bigliette della’autobus – the friendly cashier says in her best broken English … How are you today? Two tickets for the bus? We are regulars and she likes to practice her English. And when all else fails, and no one can or wants to try, there’s the download version Google Translate and a game of charades.
Not having internet is a minor setback if you haven’t done meticulous planning before leaving the WiFi behind. Bring the printed bus schedule. Screenshot maps of attractions you wish to see. Carry a notebook of alternatives with walking directions to them. Or throw caution to the wind and get your steps on. Walk where the cobblestone takes you. Of course you could always visit the local Megahertz store and get a short term Italian plan or pay Verizon $13 a day for unlimited access. But then where’s the puzzle to solve?
The Veneto region is about the size of New Jersey, and we can go anywhere we want within it every day without a car. The first Sunday of the month Verona flea is a popular place to stroll. Held in the large plaza at San Zeno, it was an all day affair for us. So was the urban market in the central plaza of the Vicenza historic district. If we leave empty handed from our shopping it is only because we do not collect vinyl, nor can we transport the gorgeous Italian furniture, or fit into the chic clothing. We have no problem taking a break from our marathon step counts in one of the countless cafes surrounding the plazas with a primo and vino.
What we are able to do is log record step counts day after day. As convenient as the bus and train system is, it is not as convenient as the Costco parking lot. Everything we do is a set of stairs, a cobbled street, a trip around a roundabout, a lot of steps. Bicycles are everywhere and if we were moving here we would have them too. We would pick a a Via Veneto with a supple, comfortable leather seat, stylish fenders, and a functional basket for that perfect combination of simplicity and style. If that’s not twee, what is? But we still want those bikes.
It is no mystery to us that the per capital GDP of Italy is about half of that in the United States. La Dolce Vita does not emphasize per capita GDP. It emphasizes a salon steps from your home surrounded in a neighborhood of townhomes. It’s the unbreakable riposa (afternoon break), and prioritizing work-life balance. It’s planting a vegetable garden in your front yard no matter how compact its size. Come to think of it, maybe the better question isn’t “can we learn to embrace la dolce vita,” but rather “why would we ever go back?”
