la dolce vita

La dolce vita is an Italian saying meaning “the sweet life” in English, that has been popularized these past couple years, mostly as a good Instagram caption. But, it is a term that has been used worldwide which is actually a cultural mindset focusing on slowing down and finding the beauty of everyday moments, like savouring your coffee, the moments you share with a friend, or anything that is in the present moment, the now. Unfortunately, for us North Americans, this mindset is hard to work around due to the 9-5 Monday-Friday GO GO GO work schedule. But to Italians, and even Europeans in general, this is a popular mindset. This post is going to be more than just discussing the mindset, but about my love for Italy as well, the place where la dolce vita first emerged and gained its popularity. While so many parts of the country are beautiful, and it has been gaining recognition worldwide for it - the beauty, the food, the architecture; the love I experience for it is different. It is the love you feel for your culture - a love that can’t really be put into words, you just feel it.

While every culture has their traditions that they bring with them when they move to another country, that being their food, holidays, clothes, rituals, etc., it is not the same as simply being in the country and in the culture firsthand. You grow up in an environment where your culture is so quietly immersed into your everyday life, without you realizing it - but it came from somewhere. And living in a multicultural country, it is nice to see all the different cultures of countries all around the world and to keep them alive and passed down to future generations. I love to see people proud to wear their culture on their sleeve, since it truthfully is a part of our identities. However, there is always that miserable group of people online who love to shit on everyone else appreciating and proud of their cultures. I have noticed Italians get a lot of hate for it, with many videos making fun of it, but there’s worse things you can be proud of loving!

To be born in a country full of multiculturalism makes it easier to lose that touch of your culture since there are so many new traditions being formed here and many of the traditions of your true culture do, unfortunately, get lost with time. When I was growing up, my family was a part of a club called the Associazione di Penne (it's actually about 10x longer than that), who kept these traditions alive. We would go to a hall that was for Italians, that just had a bunch of our friends and family. We would come together for Christmas, or the Epiphany and the arrival of la Befana, festivals for saints, and a picnic in the summer with arrosticini, pasta, and lots of gingerale. Me and my cousins had the most fun at these events, doing all kinds of dumb stuff and poking around where we weren’t allowed to. While this was a celebration of our culture, to us it was a yearly event that we were simply used to, since it had been so immersed into our lives. But, this is the preservation of our culture into our childhood years. Unfortunately, we do not have these events anymore, since it appears that a lot of things gets lost with age, but they are memories from my childhood that I will hold in my heart forever.

To begin on my love letter, for those who do not know, all four of my grandparents were born in Italy and immigrated here in their teenage/young adult years, although most find it shocking when I say I am. I have gotten asked if I am German, French, Polish, Russian or any Slavic country to be honest more times than I can count on my hands, although I do find it to be the best compliment that everyone thinks I have that Slavic stare. Apparently, you have to have either dark hair or a schnoz for it to be a dead giveaway that you are an Italian. Anyway, they grew up there, in the Abruzzese countryside, a completely different life than the one I experienced. They were tending to fields and animals, while I was busy making my Ken doll kiss all my Barbies. Which is probably where the fascination came from, how the people who made my childhood experienced a completely different one.

Now, as for the actual country of Italy, where do I begin? I have spent many, many summers of my life in Italy, spending time with family, exploring the hometowns of my grandparents (I can probably walk the winding routes with my eyes closed), going to the beaches followed by shopping, driving into the mountains (and getting carsick every.single.time.) and my favourite, eating gelato at the best gelateria ever in my nonno’s birthtown. I have also visited Tuscany, Puglia, Sardegna, and all kinds of spots down the back of the heel and boot, many of them being when I was in my awkward stage, so I have no cool pics. Tuscany was definitely my favourite spot besides Abruzzo, the rustic countryside and sunsets forever embedded into my mind. It has this specific tint to it, like a filter on a camera lens, that just gives it this magical golden appeal. The cuisine is also just insane - fellow carnivores would love it (I’m kidding I just really love meat). Below is the view I got to see while eating dinner - a Ribeye steak, Caprese salad, and a good old Aperol spritz.

Italy has always felt like a second home to me, I guess I can thank the many summers of my life that I have spent there and also the fact that it technically is (dual-citizenship), but it’s where I feel my soul comes alive, as dramatic as that may be. To be able to visit the home in which my ancestors were born, where they walked and lived their lives day to day, is a blessing. To be able to connect with the culture in which your blood runs in. To be able to see the house in which my grandfather was born and walk among it as he once did. Italy is a culture that has been alive for thousands of years, as you can see by the architecture of the buildings, the preservation of rituals, all the stories, and a culture that I will be preserving until I die.

The lifestyle is also incredibly interesting to watch from an outside perspective because nothing about it is similar to how it is here in North America. For example, the streets past 9PM on a hot summer night in Canada? Dead. I’ve seen graveyards more lively. The streets in a small Italian town on a hot summer night? Full. With people of all ages. Old men and women out walking down the promenade, young teenagers in groups of friends, restaurants are full, music is winding down the streets, and gelato shops are screaming your name (I could cry just thinking about all the Kinder Bueno ice cream that I’m missing out on right now).

It is interesting to people watch too since it feels a bit unserious and so unconventional, which is why I love it, it would make a Karen gawk to see how people act there. It’s admirable how little so many of them care though. You walk down the street and there’s people chain smoking with tattoos that are absolutely crazy. A tattoo that has stuck with me since my last trip is this one guy I saw that had ‘fuck’ on one ankle and then ‘you’ on the other, and as dumb as that may be, its funny because you know he doesn’t care, that he probably thought about getting that tattoo in the moment instead of thinking about what it will look like when he’s 80 years old. When he’s 80 he will realize, ‘shit I have fuck you tattooed on my ankles, what was I thinking?’ But, like I said, the living in the moment is what makes it admirable in a way.

Every time I have travelled to Italy, I have learned something new. Especially from the majority of my family members who live there. Many Italians do not come from much; but they are some of the happiest people I have ever met. On my trips, I wake up early in the morning, get dressed up to go for coffee and a cornetto at a nearby cafe. Have a small lunch at noon, followed by the renowned ‘siesta’ on fresh cotton sheets that dried outside in the morning sun. My favourite time of day is being awake when everyone is in siesta mode. The dogs are running about and the heat is debilitating, but listening to the sounds of the cicadas is like listening to sound frequencies. Then, once you wake up after the nap, you relax a bit, work around the house, followed by a late dinner with family. Then sobremesa.

Sobremesa is a Spanish word meaning “over the table,” explaining the cultural tradition of lingering around the table after completing your meal with your family. Enjoying each other’s company into the late hours of the night, a ritual for many, but definitely for Italians. It’s the standard in my family. Although I cannot really speak Italian, just understand a little bit, I appreciate these moments very deeply. While my family all have conversations, I get to sit back and appreciate the moment since I cannot converse. To watch the joy and love shared around the table. Observing everything but still feeling the beautiful vibrations and energies being shared and all the emotions. A lot of my family says they feel bad because I have to sit there but I truly, truly enjoy it. Because one day, I won’t be able to sit at that table surrounded by my family.

Mia famiglia, 2011, sobremesa under a tree.

I believe the mindset which Italians have is what is so intriguing about them. It seems as if the things that haunt us North Americans is what drives them. We have worries of money, job security, and so much more so deeply embedded into our minds and systems, that even when you are okay in all the above, people still worry. Although I am aware these worries exist in Italy as well, the importance of it is placed much higher here. Living such an anxiety ridden lifestyle, go go go, what’s next, more more more, is the lifestyle I hope to leave behind me. To focus on everyday moments instead, to be happy to just be alive, not caring if the meal I am paying for that will buy me time with friends and family might get me close to my spending limit and cost me more time at work.

However, what people do not realize is how many Italians do not like the lifestyle there. Many of my own cousins wish their grandparents had migrated to Canada like my own. And while I say I wish my grandparents never did, there truly is downsides to everything. While our economy is not much better, Canada provides much more stability than Italy does. So, as much as the lifestyle in Italy is glamourized, reality is that it is not much better than life here, just with nicer views and better, cleaner food. And a better work-life balance that’s for sure. A stark difference is that us North American’s live to work, while many Europeans as a whole continent work to live. And many live off an amount of money that does not necessarily make them rich and just pays for their lifestyle, but that is satisfying enough for most. Truthfully, most people don’t genuinely enjoy the country where they reside, until you actually go somewhere else and realize it just isn’t as glamorous as you’d think there either.

However, they are incredibly prideful in their cultures, the traditions, the food, the land, not in the sense of ‘oh we are better than you’ but genuine proudness of their country. Which is what makes the rest of us so prideful, especially here in Canada. Seeing how much your ancestors love their people and their culture and carrying that along with you is the easiest way we can continue traditions. It’s about realizing that what came before you is worth remembering and keeping alive.

Sadly, I will not be touching down in the motherland this year, but I will be yearning for it like Noah from the Notebook until next summer. Which I guess in retrospect is okay since there’s currently a heat wave from the depths of hell and the heat there turns me into a literal demon during a normal summer. However, I have been finding myself reminiscing, going back in my camera roll to see the yellow hue on the night streets and listening to the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack quite frequently. Because no matter how much I try to push it down, I miss that country, clearly, based off how much I can write about it. But, luckily, we are blessed with the ability to recall all the best memories and use these memories to tell stories, to discuss at the dinner table, to look back on and bring people closer together. Many of my favourite memories belong to Italy. Memories I will never forget, that I can hopefully make more of with a family of my own.

From what I’ve gathered, WOW, I am so romantic over a damn country. But, if you go and take a drive through the mountains, the country, go to a beach, even just walk into a church, whether you’re religious or not, you’d understand the obsession. The rustic and ancient maximalistic beauty is what makes the country so beautiful, especially in a time when modern simplicity and minimalism are on the rise. Along with the culture, full of pride and love, placing importance upon things that matter most. La dolce vita is the lifestyle we were meant to live. To appreciate the beauty of slowness. No rushing, just living in the present moment and letting the future unravel itself in due time.

However, I will say it is definitely easier to live la dolce vita when you have the scenery that Italians have. No wonder it is hard here when everywhere is a concrete jungle with neon signs flashing, McDonalds, KFC, Burger King, etc. But, as hard as it is, we can try to adopt that mindset. Let all the things that we are told we need to worry about travel downstream and place importance on the things that actually matter most. Life is about making memories, family, friends, the sharing of love. I think the easiest way to realize how much these things matter is picturing yourself on your deathbed, as morbid as that may be. Are you going to think about the amount in your TFSA? How you worked all your life? No, you’re going to think about the people who matter, you are going to think of all the places you saw, the people you met, and the memories you made. How you went about life and made your life unequivocally yours. The littlest, most simple moments you should have appreciated and basked in more. That is la dolce vita.

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