Eliminate expectations and let life surprise you.
Let's do some word association. When I say "Italy," what images come to mind?
Pasta? Pizza? Gondolas (or gondoliers)? The Colosseum? People on mopeds? Italian nonnas scoping out the local activity from the upper windows of their apartment buildings? (There's no better neighborhood watch in the world, in my opinion.)
One of the images that pops into my head when I think of Italy is laundry. I absolutely love seeing clothes on a clothesline drying in the breeze.
It's something I share with my mom. She, too, appreciates the more organic way of doing laundry...perhaps because she grew up with a clothesline in her backyard. In fact, I can still remember exactly where the white bucket of clothespins sat in my grandma's garage.
I occasionally miss not having a clothes dryer. But only occasionally--I've gotten used to it. They're just not that common here, and you would probably understand why if you saw the little-to-non-existent amount of space allotted for the "laundry room" in my apartment. Heck, the washing machine barely fits! In my first Florence apartment, I had a washer-dryer combo that lived in my bathroom, but the dryer never completely dried the clothes and only contributed to a higher utility bill. The concept of "warm and fluffy" towels coming out of the dryer doesn't exist here, which is a shame.
So, when I went outside to hang my whites on the clothesline this morning, I was shocked to notice a burst of yellow on the ground.
At first, I didn't know what I was looking at. They were flowers, of course, but they were so bright, perfect and vibrant that I thought they were fake. They stopped me in my tracks.
I had to bend down to get a closer look.
They were real. Somehow, they were growing out of a crack in the stone of our terrace. As someone with a very non-green thumb, my brain struggled to understand how it was possible. I went back to science class when you learned about how spores are carried by insects and the wind, and that's as far as I got.
Where were their roots growing? What circumstances allowed the flowers to grow in a place so unconventional--not to mention, thrive? It's not like someone planted them there and nurtured them into existence on purpose. People often spend a lot of time and effort to grow flowers like those in the right climate and soil conditions, constantly nurturing them in the hopes that they will turn into a thriving plant.
I stood outside for a few moments to appreciate my discovery. I wanted to tell the neighbors, but they weren't out on the terrace. I was grateful to start my day with a little bit of awe.
I went to grab a coffee and do some light work at one of my favorite local spots: Il Conventino. It's a converted convent that now houses a bookshop, store, library...and cafe. For anyone visiting Florence, they have really delicious food and pastries, and the place also has a cool vibe. Sort of like a hodge-podge collection of vintage furniture, dishware, and glassware. Think of Monica's apartment in Friends and you'll get it.
Sitting there with my cappuccino, I got to thinking about the flowers and had a thought: That surprise "growth" in an unexpected place is how I've described this adventure.
Last week, I passed a woman on the street who was wearing a cool tote bag. "Lasciati fiorire," it said, along with a drawing of a bouquet. Let yourself blossom.
That concept clicked into place seeing those flowers on the terrace this morning. Those flowers let themselves blossom. After all, there's the growth you plan...and the growth that happens unexpectedly. You don't need to plan everything down to the last detail to experience something amazing. Some things just...happen by chance. They unfold because they were meant to unfold that way. And your job is to be surprised and delighted by the gifts life gives you.
Coming to Florence nearly two years ago, I certainly had some expectations. I had the goal of obtaining a language certification and enjoying a chunk of time beyond what my passport would allow. I wasn't sure what else would unfold because of that decision regarding friendships, professional opportunities, or other relationships, but the only word that comes to mind now is "blossom."
Like those flowers, I often feel like I've burst out of my life of stone I was living in the U.S.--a life of structure and circumstances that weren't exactly right for me. Sure, I was making do, but I wasn't thriving before I came over here--in fact, a big motivation for the move was that I was in a creatively dull period and looking for a way to shake things up.
Nearly two years later, what I've found is another type of life entirely. I immersed myself in something strange, although there was a sense of familiarity from the years we lived here. I found different rhythms, different ways of thinking, different ways of relating to people, and I've created new goals. I've never been so socially active. I'm deeply fulfilled by my work and what I choose to take on from a freelance perspective. I've made wonderful friends from all over the world.
What started out as a 10-month experiment resulted in a completely different life. At first, it didn't look like anyone else's, and at times that felt lonely in addition to empowering, brave and exciting. But, with time I found other people who wanted the kind of life I did...and more. I found people who were creating their own rules as opposed to the way the world "told" them to live. Through them, I learned to become OK with the idea of living on the edge of a terrace, not surrounded by anything familiar.
When I got home, I swapped my towels and the inner layer of my duvet for other laundry I had to put on the line. I ran into my next-door neighbor, who was also hanging her laundry.
We exchanged some pleasantries and I asked her if she had seen the flowers. Yes, she said, and explained that they are called bocca di lupo (wolf's mouth) because of their shape and how they open and close.
I told her I didn't understand how they could be growing there.
It's the spores, she explained. The wind carries them and flowers sometimes grow.
Yes, right back to that science lesson. It's strange, though--just because I knew of the concept and the fact that it happens thousands of times per day, it didn't make it any less amazing to experience it in real life.
Over the past two years, I've marveled at quite a lot about Italy--the architecture, the art, the culture, and the overall way of living. But seeing some unexpected yellow flowers on the terrace put so much into perspective today, and they gave me a lesson I won't soon forget.
If you ever have the chance to do so, let yourself be carried by the wind and feel the awe and appreciation for where it takes you.
It just might be the best thing you ever do...blossom.
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