I have lived 48 of my 49 years in England. The one year away was in Rural midwestern USA when I was 18-19. Now I have ‘lived’ in Italy for exactly one week, so this is more of a holiday than actually living here, but it is a taste of what is to come.
It is impossible to compare life in England with life in Italy by comparing life among seven million people in London, with living among the two thousand residents of our new home town. Comparing here with Rome would throw up the same differences. It’s small town rural versus big city urban rather than English versus Italian, though of course there are cultural and language differences. Many things we have found this week are similar to my recollections of the 1970s and early 80s suburban-midlands upbringing, which I enjoyed.
First, shopping. We have a small supermarket which sells many things but it is in no way a one-stop-shop for everything. If I need a stamp, I go to the post office; for cigarettes, the tabac; newspapers from the newsagent; tablets from the pharmacy; none of these things are available from the supermarket. They do sell some meat, cheese, eggs and vegetables but, so far, we are getting all of our meat and eggs from the butcher, our veg from the greengrocer, fish from the fishmonger. Each day’s shopping expedition is a tour around three, four or maybe half a dozen different shops, speaking to half a dozen different shopkeepers, and many other customers and more shoppers who are all out and about between 8 and 11, before it gets too hot.
On language, English is spoken very little here, other than a few basic words so, already, my Italian is improving, by necessity. Everyone says hello to everyone. Many times, in a restaurant, café, or just taking a rest on a bench in the street; people have introduced themselves and struck up conversation. Probably partly through a genuine welcoming spirit, and partly through curiosity: Who are these new people in town? Are they on holiday? Where are they from? How long are they staying?
It is a town where “Tutti conoscono tutti.” Everyone knows everyone, which is nice. However, along with that often comes “Tutti sanno tutto di tutti.” Everyone knows everything about everyone, which is less appealing. Living in London, or any big city, it is possible to be almost completely anonymous, and many people like it that way. Here that is not possible. The word has gone round town of our arrival, people know which house on which street we have bought, probably for how much, where we are from, what we like to eat and drink, and that our dogs are friendly and well behaved (admittedly with a penchant for chasing our neighbour’s cat). I don’t have any problem with this, so far.
Problems can arise, in small communities like this, if people are perceived to have strayed from the received norms. I hope that differences are respected. I am sure that there will be some LGB people in town. It is majority white but there are some darker skinned people, more who are from outside this region, or like us from outside Italy altogether, or have worked abroad.
So far it seems that the town is quite diverse and cosmopolitan in many ways. Most people we have met speak a second language quite well. It’s just that it is rarely English. We have met many French, German and Spanish speakers.
I know from election results that there is the normal range of political viewpoints and, while I don’t think class is as big a thing as in England, there are obvious differences in the wealth of families here and almost certainly some economic snobbery.
It is much easier to be, for instance, one of thousands of gay people in London than to be “the only gay in the village” here. We have already fallen into some of the norms here. Early breakfast, late dinner, afternoon nap, being open and friendly by saying Buon giorno, buona sera, or just ciao to everyone we meet. The pace of life is slower and less rushed than in a city. There is always time to stop and chat, linger over coffee in the morning or drinks in the evening and we rarely have a particular appointment at a particular time. We shop locally for almost everything even though it would be cheaper and less time consuming to stock up weekly at a big supermarket in the city. We will fit in here, to a great extent, but not so much that the whole community is homogeneous.
We have our differences which we cannot change. Neither M nor I can change the fact of the countries we were born in and where we have lived in our lives so far. We will become very good at, hopefully fluent, in Italian in time but will always speak with a different accent which will mark us out as different, outsiders.
It is swings and roundabouts. Enjoying being part of a close-knit local community with all the social and practical benefits that brings, on the one hand; and the possibility of that closeness becoming stultifying, oppressive or overly intrusive, and therefore alienating.
We hope to enjoy all of the former, and avoid the latter. I don’t think this is a specifically Italian thing. I experienced similar in small town rural America in my youth. I am sure that smaller, rural communities in England and all over the world have similar challenges.
I am still, probably more after a week here, very confident that after thirteen years living in the flat in Colliers Wood, when I leave there next year and move here permanently, we will enjoy a similarly long, and enjoyable life here. This might become our forever home where we spend the rest of our lives.
I hope so.
Lucky you!
I lived in a small town inLiguria in 70's- i was in my 20s. The sense of community and prioritisation of the small important things in life helped me become who i am.
Word of warning: never treat your neighbours to an innovative pasta dish of fusion ingredients- they will not forget nor forgive it and will laugh about it with their friends.