Real Italian Life: How Does It Taste?

You've watched the movies, read the books, dreamed of it... But would you actually move to Italy? Inspired by 11 phenomenal days of bike riding across Italy last summer with Ciclismo, I decided I should try my hand at Italian life, learn the language, and get to know some not-too-distant relatives here. And eat a lot of gelato.

For a quick background to put everything in perspective: I didn't know any Italian except for the common phrases 3 months ago, I'd been working the typical 8-5 job for a little over 10 years and I had never been to Italy or Europe prior to last summer.

When one is on vacation, particularly a bike riding vacation when everything is already organized, it's easy to be wooed into believing there is such a thing as the perfect life. That being said, I didn't come here with the expectation that life here would be the same as vacation. I hadn't visited the town I now reside in before and I didn't know a single person. I enrolled in part-time Italian class at the university and, literally, hit the big red RESET button on my life.

I've found most of my friends through bike riding in the past and I need my bike for mental and physical health (particularly in a land where good food is so plentiful). Therefore, I brought my bike and it has been the key to Italian life as I know it.

The roads extend from my home in Umbria 360 degrees in every direction. In a little over an hour, I can be in Tuscany at Lake Trasimeno, in any of the quaint and ancient hill towns, and it is typical on a ride to discover yet more new roads all with their own amazing vistas.

Two and a half months ago, I was pedaling to Assisi and found a new road to try. Enjoying the pleasant evening along this road, a couple of bike riders rolled up along side and said hello. Actually, they said ciao and I couldn't understand much more than that.

One of these two guys, I'll call him Damiano, quickly turned into my best friend here. It was fortunate that he rides for a team and he immediately put me on it. (Since I didn't understand a word he said without a lot of hand gestures, I didn't realize I was being put on the team until after I was a participating member).

Women on road bikes are nearly impossible to find in Umbria. (Yes, a huge surprise to me.) Five Gran Fondo races later (Gran Fondos are the equivalent of long, amateur road races in the U.S.), I am happy to report that riding and racing here as a woman is a great experience. I have received nothing but respect in the peloton and have found the racing to be hard and fast, yet the racers are a more mature group with professional bike-handling skills.

There have been countless dinners with Damiano and his mom, dinners with the team and  dinner parties put together by friends and family. The Italian warmth I've heard about is very much my experience here daily. Dinners are all multi-course affairs of plates filled with the freshest, most flavorful food. Meals start late and end much, much later. I have yet to be disappointed by a single meal prepared by someone else (my own cooking could use some improvement!)

But think about the situation for a moment: I'm surrounded by people who only speak Italian and have lived here their whole lives, a completely different existence than mine has been. Have you ever considered what it is like being the only person in a big group that doesn't speak the language or come from the same culture as the others? To not understand a single thing that is said and being equally incapable of responding back involves being okay with feeling like a 3-year old around your peers. Take a deep breath and enjoy the beauty of the conversation and try really hard to not be self-conscious.

One such situation was after a bike ride with the team. We all stopped in Spello for espresso, gelato and a couple of hours of talking about bikes. Spello is a very cool hilltown I first was introduced to last summer on the Ciclismo trip. I so badly wanted to tell everyone: "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You stop here after the ride to chat, while I and others in America dream our whole lives about being here!" Again, I smiled and sat back, drinking in the Italian banter flowing through the fresh air.

I have countless stories to share in future issues of this newsletter. And I'm learning much more about the reality of Italy as I can communicate more effectively. When I was preparing this (on a very long drive to the Dolomites), I asked Damiano to tell me how he summarizes his life here. He answered (in Italian), "It is a beautiful life here, but one cannot put it in words. Experience it!"