Last Thoughts

Plane delayed two hours, but we are still at the spa hotel and now get to enjoy another world class Italian breakfast in a bucolic setting.

That we are 7 minutes from the airport, and are in this most enchanting spot is amazing. The hotel is located within a nature park which was a former Ancient Roman port. The buildings were were part of a Tenuta (farm) established in the 1850’s. The photos of before and after are amazing. Four broken down farm buildings were totally reimagined into this indoor outdoor spa with 75 gorgeous rooms.

The Italians have a style and culture of beauty that is unparalleled. When they do things well, there is nothing better. It is not all like this, though. Normal day to day living for most people is sub par by American standards. There is a quiet acceptance of things, a rhythm to their days, a joy of small things, the knowledge that things don’t change much. It’s good and bad. Americans are a culture of improvement. Italians revere the past. When Italians improve the past, you get this place.

I love it here — in the improved past of Italy — but I’m not sure I could live here, unless it was in this fairy tale part. The day to day frustrations would break me. I don’t shrug well. And for all the socialist tendencies of the Italian populace to make things right for everyone, there is a lot of prejudice. There is still an unspoken class system that is almost impossible to break. The migrant farm workers are treated like slaves, and there are almost 350,000 of them that come in for harvest. The poor people have almost no hope of ever being rich people, it is not like America where that is possible.

Yet, I am drawn here. The physical beauty, the grace, the culture, the food! My God, the reverence for food. Every piece of fruit, every cheese, the way it is served — all of it. An interesting note, Italians do not drink half of what Americans drink. They savor 5 ounces of good wine. We drink 2 8-ounce glasses to get drunk. Big difference. A small cocktail, not 3 large. Things are done with the pace of slow enjoyment here. They are not in a hurry to get to the end.

Could I spend a month, maybe two? Yes, for sure. Could I live here? Absolutely not. I am an American through and through. I love the ability to chose my destiny and work as hard or as little to become what I want. I can emulate the lifestyle of Italy in America, but I’m not sure I could emulate American lifestyle here. But boy, do I love it here.

As we waited in the airport I noticed that there were many black Americans traveling. By virtue of traveling to Europe, they were clearly middle class or better. The only black people we saw in Italy (if we saw any) were dirt poor. As much as we need to continue to fight for equal rights, it is clearly better in America. We tend to romanticize Europe, but truth is truth. Italy tries to take care of their citizens, but so much so that the drive to work is stunted. There is a balance, and I think Massachusetts has it – thriving economy, great public schools, universal healthcare, and by and large a just police force. We are lucky to live there.

I will begin dreaming of and romanticizing Italy again tomorrow morning when I wake up in my own house on the 4th of July. I will also be grateful that I live in the best country in the world. As sad as I am about current events, I do know that our activists and journalists and citizens can change things. That is what makes us great. We take the best of everything and eventually make it our own.