Wrinkles in Time

We all know those people that are late for everything. I tend to be a “five minutes late for everything” type, so I’m not guilt-free. However, the Italians make me feel completely organized and punctual. They’re on a completely different time system.

I should’ve realized it was this way when I first met Paolo. On our first date, we planned to meet in the central square in Nice at a certain time. I was still adjusting to walking everywhere,  so my timing was off, and I was 10 minutes late. I was already coming up with excuses in my head, but when I got there, Paolo was nowhere to be found. He showed up about 10 minutes later, leisurely strolling towards the fountain. It didn’t take me long to realize that he was late for everything. Not only that, but when he said he was “5 minutes away”, it usually meant 15. He’s always telling me that certain things are only a 10 minute walk, but somehow when I do the same walk, it’s around 25 minutes. I am a bit slower now, admittedly, but come on. But since being here, I’ve realized that he comes by it honestly.

No one here has any concept of time, or really, the concept of respecting others’ time. People arrange outings 20 minutes before the outing itself. Or if it’s planned earlier, the time is changed so many times that there’s no way to actually plan anything around it. For example, we were initially planning to go for dinner with a few friends Saturday night. This was eventually postponed for Sunday night at 7:30. We didn’t take a bus until 7:31, knowing that the others would be late, but then they called and said they wouldn’t be there until 8:30. Some still weren’t there when we left at 9:30. Once again, I understand lateness. But it’s slightly ridiculous that a whole country is operating on some completely different time.  Maybe I’m just not spontaneous enough. I like to have an idea of what’s coming, now more than ever, in order to plan my other tasks of the day. Even if it’s just menial things, like doing laundry, I want to get it done, and not get behind just because of buses running on an entirely different schedule than the one posted, or walking twice as long as expected.

Also, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but people here are quite insistent. You can’t say no to food offered; it’s extremely rude apparently. Even if you’re completely stuffed, you better try those cookies. But then they all have to offer an opinion on whether I’m gaining too much weight or not. If I am, I assure you that the cookies don’t help. Or for a while, there was a certain person that was asking us every night to watch movies or do anything with him, and it was almost easier to just do it than to say no, because saying no meant you better have a darn good excuse. As in, being hospitalized. And if neither of us answered our phones, then he came to the house. And knocked until I answered.  Fortunately, pregnancy provides me with fairly decent excuses in that situation, as I can just give some gross symptom that I’m experiencing, and no more questions. I’ve only ever faked sick for that one particular guy, but I can’t even feel guilty about it. Sometimes you just want a night to yourself.

It’s so strange to observe another culture so closely. It’s much different than travelling. When you travel, you get kind of a bird’s eye view of a place, and really just see the image that the country is trying to project. It’s even different now than when I was studying in Nice. I spent all my time there with international students, and really didn’t learn too much about the actual French people (although to be honest, from what I saw, this wasn’t a huge loss). But being here, I’m really among the Italians. I’m living in a non-touristy student town, where English speakers are few and far between. It’s really fascinating to observe how another culture lives, and how people interact with each other. Things that they don’t even notice are so strange to me, but the case is also true vice versa. I’m always being told that I make funny faces while speaking, but I guess it’s true that they aren’t quite as facially expressive here, and you certainly never see someone roll their eyes. But if I tied their hands together, they wouldn’t be able to speak. It’s these little observations that make my time here interesting. Annoying sometimes, but also interesting. Once you learn that 10 minutes= at least 20, and that all times are tentative, you learn to overlook these things. After all, the important thing is to enjoy the time, not to count it.

By the way, Paolo and I took a little trip to the Certosa di Pavia yesterday, which is Pavia's main (only) tourist attraction, and I took the opportunity to make him take some pictures. They don't really do any kind of professional photography here, so no maternity pictures for me. I'm ok with that, because I think people tend to take pictures for far too many occasions these days; I want the newborn photos more. But obviously, I won't be getting any of them. I'm going to try to learn more about how to take good photos, because I have a decent camera, I just don't know how to use all the features. But anyways, I too got the cheesy heart on the belly pic that is apparently required to have a baby these days, so here ya go.





Ciao for now,

Kathleen