The best way I’ve been able to describe Italy is simply Sunday. It’s Sunday every day in Italy. Now of course it always feels like that when you’re on holidays but hear me out.
We’ve spoken intimately about coming from an Italian family on previous occasions. The Sunday lunches that end with Nonno having a sleep on the couch and waking up wondering where dinner is. We’ve spoken about stories that get told around said Sunday table, and then we go back to the daily grind for a week until we come together again next week.
It’s not like that in Italy. There is no weekly separation. Families enjoy each other every single day of the week. Not to say they don’t work. Oh they work harder than any Australian Gen Y will ever have to work, and it all starts so early. Like before dawn early so there’s a very good reason they have a siesta in the afternoon. They need it. They run on very little sleep because of their massive love for life and trying to squeeze as much out of it as they possibly can,
The Italians are up before day break to get their chores done, put on the sauce for lunch and get the day going. They might pop down to the local bakery or market to get some fresh bread and/or ricotta that’s still warm – and that’s breakfast. Have you ever had ricotta that is still wrapped in foil and warm? It is like angels frolicking along your tastebuds.
Most will go off to work doing whatever it is that they do, but come midday you better be seated at that family dining table or so help you!
A family lunch like Sunday lunch every single day, then a sleep for an hour or three. My Dad, just like his father before him still perform this ritual on a daily basis! It doesn’t matter where he is or what he’s doing, midday comes and it’s inside for a cooked lunch and a snooze before going back out to the paddock at around 2pm. You could set your watch by him, and for those of us that suffer insomnia it is a feat that is watched in awe. The ability to fall asleep on the couch within seconds of your head laying down and waking without an alarm an hour later. Luckily for me, I can say it’s genetic. The ability to sleep anywhere at anytime is a gift and I can thank my Italian heritage for.
When they rise from their peaceful slumber of the afternoon it is back to work for a few hours and come the evening, they put on their Sunday best and they head out to socialise. None of this sitting inside watching television and not talking to anyone rubbish. No. In Italy you go out to talk face to face with people, albeit with your hands a lot of the time, but not with a device. You see people and you want to be seen, and if someone hasn’t seen you for a few days you will be greeted like you have been on a year long overseas voyage the next time you meet.
Granted come the weekend for those who are lucky enough not to have to work on Sundays you will find them at the beach or the market in the morning and around the table in the afternoon.
Now doesn’t that sound like the perfect way to live your life. I think there’s a certain recipe for happiness in there somewhere.
Work and work hard for what you want, but only work to live, don’t live to work. Life is supposed to be enjoyed. Smile all the time, make the most of the things around you. Enjoy your family. Talk with them, argue with them, annoy each other but love each other like you can’t live without them. See and been seen, it’s good for the soul, just like olive oil, pasta, cheese and limoncello. Treat every day like it’s Sunday, because everyone smiles when they think of Sunday.
To experience exactly what I’m talking about, talk to us about one of our amazing tailored Italian packages.