Now, as I go about my day, I am warmly greeted by shopkeepers and restaurant owners who have become accustomed to seeing Libby and I make our way through the streets of Florence. At first I was taken back by the italian way. My experience is that italians exude warmth and I didn't quite know what to make of it when I first arrived. In Canada I was accustomed to getting from point A to point B as quick as possible with really very little interaction with those that I met along the way. Can you imagine going into a big chain grocery store in Canada and greeting your vegetable man with a hug and a kiss and taking the time to talk about your week? Before you even got to the kiss security would be called. In Canada you get your coffee at the local drive through Tim Hortons. Here you stop and take the time to enjoy your expresso while you visit with the local cafe owner. There is no drive through anything here, and I am thinking that is a good thing because it forces social interaction. Yes it takes twice as long to do errands, but after getting through your list you have a smile on your face and feel happy, rather than aggravated. Somehow every shopkeeper, or cafe owner, just has a way of making you feel special and always manages to put a smile on your face. In a world that is full of so much anger and fear it is a shame that more people don't take the time to put a smile on someone's face. It truly is a gift.
I now have my favourite restaurants that I love to go to. I love these restaurants not so much because of the food, although the food is always amazing, but because of the experience. Lunch with a friend can take hours because of the social atmosphere that the owner of the restaurant creates. Some of those owners have now become my friends. What is not to love about being greeted with a glass of Prosecco and a hug and a kiss. Oh, how italians love to kiss. Often we are presented with some treats from the kitchen as gifts. These are always delightfully yummy.
My visits to my favourite shops and restaurants are becoming more challenging though. I am hearing more and more, "Elisabetta, you have been here a long time now. You must now only speak italian". Learning italian continues to be a challenge. I am convinced that as one gets older your brain just does not soak up knowledge like it use to. I read that middle aged women actually go through what was referred to as "menopausal fog", because of the chemical changes in one's body, and this fog affects your memory. The good news is I was starting to worry about having early Alzheimer's so I took comfort in learning this; the bad news is I can't believe that I am old enough to be experiencing this menopausal fog. I think my menopausal fog has taken over the language part of my brain and it is thicker than the fog in San Francisco. I try though, and my italian friends are patiently trying to teach me their beautiful language. I don't think my tongue will ever be able to do that sexy rolling of the letter "R" that italians do with ease, but trying has been the source of much laughter. It is a good thing that I have good self- esteem and don't mind being the source of this laughter.
My visits to my favourite shops and restaurants are becoming more challenging though. I am hearing more and more, "Elisabetta, you have been here a long time now. You must now only speak italian". Learning italian continues to be a challenge. I am convinced that as one gets older your brain just does not soak up knowledge like it use to. I read that middle aged women actually go through what was referred to as "menopausal fog", because of the chemical changes in one's body, and this fog affects your memory. The good news is I was starting to worry about having early Alzheimer's so I took comfort in learning this; the bad news is I can't believe that I am old enough to be experiencing this menopausal fog. I think my menopausal fog has taken over the language part of my brain and it is thicker than the fog in San Francisco. I try though, and my italian friends are patiently trying to teach me their beautiful language. I don't think my tongue will ever be able to do that sexy rolling of the letter "R" that italians do with ease, but trying has been the source of much laughter. It is a good thing that I have good self- esteem and don't mind being the source of this laughter.
My italian friends and I try not to let the difference in our language come between us. I try hard to find the right italian words and they try hard to find the right english words, both trying to adequately to express our thoughts or feelings......sometimes desperately trying. Of course sometimes neither of us can find the right words; which often leads to laughter. I am doing a lot of laughing here in Florence.
I received a little love note from a friend the other night who owns a restaurant. Libby was out for dinner with a friend and I and my very handsome restaurant owner friend sent over a gift of a little turkey for Libby to snack on. I was touched by this little gift, but could not help but break out into laughter when I saw the note. I was reminded of when a friend of mine in Canada, who was studying french, thought that she would be brave and practice her french. What happened though is instead of ordering what she intended to order she mistakenly asked for a hooker. In the case of my love note actions spoke much louder than the words....the very wrong, but terribly funny words. I was reminded that words are just that....words.....no matter what the language. Sometimes it is more important to focus on actions, rather than words, because actions are a clearer window to what is really in one's heart.
I received a little love note from a friend the other night who owns a restaurant. Libby was out for dinner with a friend and I and my very handsome restaurant owner friend sent over a gift of a little turkey for Libby to snack on. I was touched by this little gift, but could not help but break out into laughter when I saw the note. I was reminded of when a friend of mine in Canada, who was studying french, thought that she would be brave and practice her french. What happened though is instead of ordering what she intended to order she mistakenly asked for a hooker. In the case of my love note actions spoke much louder than the words....the very wrong, but terribly funny words. I was reminded that words are just that....words.....no matter what the language. Sometimes it is more important to focus on actions, rather than words, because actions are a clearer window to what is really in one's heart.
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