I’m really glad I haven’t suffered from culture shock. I read about it in every study abroad packet and prepared for the worst. I think I half expected it to be more of a physical jolt than minor lifestyle adjustments. Kind of like what happens to a goldfish if you change the water in the fish tank and accidentally forget to put the purifying liquid in—not that I’ve ever been such a negligent pet owner (R.I.P. Gloria the goldfish).
But alas, no jolt of Italian lightning has struck me and I’ve been drinking purified bottled water, so it seems I have avoided all of my ridiculous preconceived ideas of culture shock. But that’s not to say I haven’t had to make any adjustments. And I don’t mind making the adjustments; I wouldn’t have decided to live abroad for a semester if I didn’t want to immerse myself in another culture.
I figured I’d take a lesson from Chucky Darwin (that would be Charles Darwin for those that haven’t spent enough time in a science lab to have a nickname for the father of evolution) and learn to adapt. And if learning to have pastries and cappuccino every morning instead of egg white omelets is culture shock, I’ll take it. But some adjustments haven’t been as easy or albeit as enjoyable as nutella croissants from the pasticceria across the street.
For one, Italy brings a whole new meaning to bureaucracy. If you thought your local DMV was bad, try standing in a very long line of impatient Italians waiting to apply for a rail pass. It was almost as unpleasant as using an extended pillow case as a towel for a week because I can’t seem to find a Bed Bath & Beyond anywhere—but really, I can’t find a store that sells towels anywhere in Milan.
Some differences are small like different electrical outlets, eating pizza with a fork and a knife and using the symbol for “percent” instead of the word in the local newspaper (guess they don’t use the AP Stylebook). And some differences are a little bigger, like meal times.
The eating schedule has definitely been difficult to adapt to. After lunch, Italians don’t eat dinner until 7 or 8 p.m. and restaurants won’t even open for dinner until 7:05. That’s another thing, Italians really value their time. And so if that means they open their restaurant late, everyone will just have to wait. Their jobs can wait an extra 15 minutes too while they finish their cappuccino at the local café. I have to admit, it seemed crazy at first, I mean I’m a list-making New Yorker who always has too many things to do in one day and I cherish my travel coffee mug because I’m always on the go. But after a few days of trying it their way, I kind of like it. To be honest, it’s probably not something I’ll be able to sustain once I’m back in the city that doesn’t sleep, but while I’m a make-shift Italian girl for a few months, I’m going to take my time.
While discussing my trip a few months ago, a dear friend gave me some wise advice for living in Italy. It’s probably the best advice I received other than my mom telling me nothing good happens after 1 a.m. Instead of the usual, “wear comfortable shoes, don’t go anywhere alone, hold on to your purse,” she told me, “just remember, always choose wine over water.” She told me unlike in the U.S. where you can always count on a free glass of ice water, in Italy they will charge you. And she’s right! Sometimes, a glass of the house wine is actually cheaper than a glass of water. So, economically speaking of course, why wouldn’t I order a glass of wine instead of an expensive glass of water? And Italians love their red wine, so really I’m just adapting to Italian culture. Even if I’m parched from all of the walking and traveling I’ve done, I still get the wine. It’s just as well; they might serve me unpurified tap water. Then I’d really be in for a shock.
If you want to catch up on my journey, check out my first two posts:
Che Sara Sara
In the Land of George Clooney