A Lesson in Perspective from the Italian Countryside

By CultureRISE contributor, Nathalie Kent – It seems as though everyone is searching for a little perspective nowadays. Only one year into my twenties, I know how difficult this can be to find. But now, facing a major life intersection, it seems high time to find some for myself.

Although my life perspective is still developing, the sum of my experiences to date have already taught me a lot about myself. I’ve found this to be especially true in the past six months, since moving across the world and exchanging big city life in Toronto, Canada for a small, sleepy town in the Italian countryside to study food communication and marketing.

Passion comes to life

Just can’t get enough of the real thing

I have always been passionate about cooking and food. Some of my happiest childhood memories are set in the kitchen: flipping through recipe books and cooking with my mom. Or standing over the grill with my dad, patiently (on his part), waiting for the fish to be done.

Cooking was always my ‘thing’. While I considered myself to be just ‘good’ at academics and a handful of sports, experimenting in the kitchen remained an outlet to pour myself into. And usually with success. So after graduating from university last December, I followed this passion to Italy.

Knowing myself to be a homebody — not in the literal sense, but in being surrounded by familiar people and places — this was a pretty terrifying leap. Honestly, if I’d had more time to mull over the decision, I might have decided to stay home. I had my fair share of restless nights, anticipating all of the things that could go wrong. Every negative news story that came out of Italy just had to be a bad omen. Even at the airport, sobbing through goodbyes to my family, I can’t say that I was very confident about my decision.

But the looming doubt and insecurity I had about not taking this risk trumped any doubt I had about going. In the end, the prospect of studying food communication in Italy — the embodiment of food culture and gastronomy — seemed too valuable an experience to pass up.

New culture, new perspective

Truthfully, many of my fears did manifest themselves. January and February were dotted with teary nights. I questioned why anyone thought it was a good idea to spend time with an international group of people. Everyone just seemed so different from me.

In time I came to realize that focusing on these negatives was blinding me to all of the positive, unanticipated things that were occurring. I began to understand how special and rewarding this experience was could be. Through this experience I have made some of the fastest, strongest and most genuine friendships of my life.

The looming doubt and insecurity I had about not taking this risk trumped any doubt I had about going.

Being thrown together with a group of 25 people turned out to have its perks. The first time I stayed home sick, my phone overflowed with messages of love and concern from my classmates and friends.  One Italian girl offered to help me navigate the local pharmacy. My Taiwanese classmate recommended a ginger-fish soup recipe. And a German friend collected the class notes for me.

Today, after five months away from home and coming to the end of this experience, I think I can gain some additional perspective by looking forward. With only two decades to look back on, I’m choosing instead to speak to, and advise, my future foggy self.

Words of wisdom for my future (and present) self

My little slice of paradise in Italy to sit and reflect

First, I need to remind myself to take my time. A cliché no doubt, but relevant all the same. Being the youngest person in my program here, I’ve had a few classmates ask me why I am doing a Master’s degree at such a young age.  “Shouldn’t you be travelling?” they ask.

Maybe. But I am inherently a doer. I get restless easily and am happiest when busy and fully occupied. This isn’t necessarily a bad mindset in some respects. It certainly feels good to be moving forward and achieving goals. But I could also remember that it’s okay to take a break and slip up every once in a while.

I actually wish I had taken this advice sooner. I didn’t break after graduating from university. Instead, I immediately took a part-time job over Christmas holidays and then hopped on a plane to Italy for more study. It was such a whirlwind of endings, beginnings and changes that I didn’t take the time to reflect or adjust.

Slow down and enjoy the ride

While this initial whirlwind has died down, I’ve realized that periods of adjustment are always imminent. People here refer to the “Pollenzo bubble” (Pollenzo being the tiny ancient Roman town where my university is located). Casual in its use, this term holds a lot of weight. I feel safe and secluded here.

After taking the initial jump to come to Italy, I now rest on my decisions and fall into a pre-determined schedule and swing of life. It can be easy to forget that in a few short months, I will leave this place and be rudely placed back into the real world. Needing to figure things out all over again.

It’s okay to take a break and slip up every once in a while.

This can be pretty nerve wracking. The feelings of doubt and fear I had before moving to Italy are renewed, as I attempt to secure an internship and navigate my future. Having been in school for the past 18 years, it’s difficult to face a future so uncertain. But, remembering that life is a constant cycle between confidence and doubt would do me good to stay conscious of where I am and what might come next.

Most people my age are desperate to figure out their careers and lives. I am no exception. I would do anything to be able to sort everything out and have the assurance that I will find a good, stable job. And while telling yourself not to worry is akin to squirting a water gun on a forest fire, it’s something I want to remind myself all the same.

La dolce far niente

One piece of advice that I receive over and over again is: “Don’t worry too much. Everything will work out in the end”. Living in Italy has actually pushed me to accept this approach, as I’ve found it to be a widespread here. The Italian saying ‘la dolce far niente’ or ‘the joy of doing nothing’ speaks to this idea of not stressing the details too much. It is a good mantra to keep in the back of your mind when you don’t get that job. Or when you feel an inkling of regret about your decisions. Or when you wonder if you have been eating too much pasta and pizza…

There is a lot of truth to the saying that putting yourself in uncomfortable positions helps you grow as a person.

These past six months in Italy have also taught me a lot about patience. Knowing myself to be an occasionally impatient person, enrolling in a Master’s program as the only native English speaker has pushed me to change my ways. Conversations are slower. Translation blunders are constant. And my awkward Italian is always misunderstood. Even venturing out to the farmers’ market takes a new kind of courage to maneuver a foreign, unfamiliar place in which I am a minority.

Arancia anyone?

In the beginning, I would sit at my kitchen table and write a list of the produce I wanted to buy from the market, along with the Italian translations. This often backfired, as my Italian pronunciation was too butchered to be understood. While moments like these didn’t do much for my self-esteem, they forced me to adapt and learn in ways I never have before: void of the comforts and familiarities of my home.

There is a lot of truth to the saying that putting yourself in uncomfortable positions helps you grow as a person. If it hadn’t been necessary to figure things out on my own, I wouldn’t have taken risks or met so many new people.

I took a huge risk – maybe the biggest in my life – by moving to small-town Italy this year, knowing no one and very little about the place or school. Five months in, I can confidently say that I’m glad I took this leap. At this point, I could fill a book with stories and lessons from my experiences here – not to read to my future children or grandchildren but, in fact, as learning for myself.

In the end, all of the scary, uncomfortable and stressful moments were far overpowered by the exciting, heartwarming and rewarding ones. All of these moments, good and bad, will permanently shape my perspective – to value courage, learning and open-mindedness. And for the moment, while I may not be privy to the inner workings of the Italian language and culture, I am surrounded by good food, kind people and a warm, welcoming town. From this perspective, I think everything will be just fine.

Feature photo: Cristina Gottardi

All other images courtesy of Nathalie Kent