I am Italian. I was born and raised in the pizza country, my heritage is Italian, my first language is Italian and so is my passport. Do I look Italian? Not sure about that anymore.
Yes, I lived aboard for the past 10 years and I probably lost or forgot some Italian habits (and words, I admit this). I am not all about fashion, makeup, I don’t wear Nike Air Force, I don’t care about Prada or Gucci bags, I don’t have a dog, I don’t eat pasta every day and my favourite food is curry. I don’t go to church, I don’t drive like an asshole and I don’t smoke 20 cigarettes per day. I don’t drink coffee, I dislike Nutella and Aperol Spritz is not my thing, but still! I am Italian. Maybe I’m just different or a weird, I get that, but I still consider myself Italian.
But you know what? After spending few months in Italy now, I think the place where you belong is not the place where you were born or where your heritage is from or whatever says on your passport. Because I recognise I have less and less to do with these people even if they’re my people!
I used to be an early bird and now that I’m back in Italy I actually enjoy my time in bed in the morning and no more alarms at 4.30am or body clock at 6am. I don’t go for long runs in the morning by the ocean and I enjoy naps. Specially after lunch. Lunch didn’t use to be a thing for me, I was more a dinner person due to my lifestyle. Now I’m back to have a proper lunch but I still don’t eat pasta every day and even if I love pasta, I’m still not a big fan.
I look at these people on the train with me, men, women, girls, boys, no matter, they’re all dressed up. All female passengers wear make up, have sunnies on (it’s raining btw), have expensive bags and have at least one Pandora on. Expensive shoes, plastic water bottle, a newspaper or a book here and there but mainly phones. They all talk lauder than you can imagine but they still need some privacy.
I’m wearing a pair of leggings from Kmart, no make up, no sunglasses, my bag is from SHEIN and I have a 700ml water bottle. I have a book that I’m actually reading. My headphones are with no cables (didn’t even know they were still a thing) and my music is not laud and so is my tone if I have to talk or pic up a call.
I have no much to do with these people. And I felt this way for the past months I’ve been spending here.
I forgot how good it was taking a bidet but I still don’t mind skipping that part and this doesn’t make me a dirty person, no shame in saying what I’m saying. I shower every day, I have forgotten about “lavarsi a pezzi” and I don’t use an hairdryer after washing my hair. And believe it or not, this doesn’t give me the cold and (surprise!) I don’t suffer from “cervicale”.
The train is the best place, I guess, to make all these observation. No one has a case, all handling phones with no cases and not even a screen protector, I’m shook.
What’s most important and frustrating is their water bottle: they all have a plastic water bottle and have no clue, I bet, that water bottles that you can refill are a thing.
None of these traveller have a keep cup, they don’t even have a take away drink like tea or coffees. This train is something else. I feel more like I’m the tourist in my own country and I am seeing this for the first time!
I am a mix of feelings and emotions and I had the need of writing this down and sharing it because I don’t want to forget this and because I am sure I’m not the only one. It can’t be. But even if I am the only one noticing this, feeling weird and not feeling in the right place like I thought I’d feel, it’s ok, I still wanted to share my story. My story of the day, I guess.
The thing that surprised me most, in this journey with trains in Italy, is that I had all scheduled. I had my timer on to have a proper meal with no rush, I had another timer to remind me to hurry up and don’t be late for catching my connection and my friend, who was with me and he’s Italian who lived in Italy is entire life, was so calm, so chill, enjoyed his beer and had no rush at all. Not even for one second. Not even considering the fact he didn’t even know which train I was catching and from which platform!
I thought it was because he’s from Rome and he knew the train station so well that he had all timing calculated in his mind. Nope. Not even close! He’s used to trains deleted or cancelled and he was just cool with it, cool like a cucumber.
In fact, as soon as we reached the platforms, on the board, my train was deleted. 5 minutes at first. Then 10. Then 2 minutes before it was too late, platform got announced. So I had to run to the platform and caught the train literally just before they closed the door. Train was delayed 10min but still closed the door after 5min delay and that’s it. And while on the train, when I thought I was only 10min late for the weeding, they announced the train would have taken a conventional road so a delay of 30min was announced. I was shocked and kind of annoyed, but everyone else was absolutely fine, they are so used to this that it was so normal for them! Like, seriously?!? Why is no one minding this? Don’t they have plans? Are they not going to complain? Am I the only one on heart here who’s pissed?
This train, this journey, is very, extremely important to me, because it made me realise that as much as I’d love to enjoy and stay in my own country, I don’t feel this is gonna work out for me. I am struggling to adapt and I am scared that I won’t fit with these people, these habits, this fucking trains constantly late!
I am seriously considering the idea that the country I left 10 years ago it’s not the country where I belong and as much as I’d love the idea of living my happy life close to my people, enjoying the best food in the word and drinking the best wine, this is not my place. And there’s nothing wrong with it, I just need to accept that the world, the travelling, the people I met, the experience I had and the country I lived in, changed me so much that I don’t fit with a country that never changed, never improved and it doesn’t look like it will.
I used to say that Italians in Italy deserve the country they’re in. Never been more proud of this thought and I’m sorry for hurting some people feelings, but, sadly, this is the “nuda e cruda verità” and I hope you can understand I’m not trying to be rude or offend anyone, I’m just saying what I think. And if it hurts, well… La verità fa male.
