By Shannon Cartier
What is it about the way of life here that makes me a better person than at home? It is all I can do to drag myself out of bed in the morning whether I have to be somewhere or not. Here, I willingly set my alarm for 6am and head out on foot just to see if I can find a talked-about waterfall. The destination isn’t even certain but I am willing to try. The more I walk the more powerful I feel when I walk. Activity begets activity. I only have myself to take care of. I have no bills to pay, errands to run, appointments to make and keep. No kids to wake, no lunches to pack, no house to keep. If the toilet here needs to be scrubbed, I’m not sweating it. It’s as close as I can get to being devoid of responsibility. I dutifully wash my clothes with a tiny packet of Tide I bought at Walmart before I left home. No fabric softener, no dryer sheets, no lavender satchels...even laundry has been stripped of its ardor. I hang it along a simple metal rack and it eventually finds its way to dry or a form thereof. I have two small drawers containing clothing so choosing what to put on each day has lost its agony. Everything I brought with me fits...I don’t have to stare at a closet packed with jeans that I may one day be able to wear again, shoes that are waiting to come back into style, suit jackets that have no possible place to go any more. I have no pets scritch-scratching at the door, barking for dinner, a walk, a treat. Italian barking here seems quaint, not bothersome. There is a saying, “Give a busy person something to do and it will get done.” I am busy but with beauty, exploration, wonder. I can’t possibly find ten minutes to go to the store and get much-needed toilet paper but I do have hours to spend wandering the streets taking pictures. This is how you know Italy has arrived within you. It has been a good day if I’ve taken some passable photos, had a glass of wine and some pasta, and found a decent wifi signal. Home can wait.
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