A story about how important it is to respond to, and seek out, human connection
One of the major differences between life in the U.S. and life in Italy is my proactivity versus my reactivity when it comes to shopping. In the States, I was always thinking ahead of what I would need in the future. From adding two tubes of toothpaste to my cart at Target to borderline hoarding hair products, I was very much in the mindset of buying things because I would need them "someday." Now, let me clarify: I use the word "was" as though the habit has been completely cured; however, I should probably say "am" because there is, in fact, a storage unit full of possessions I haven't accessed in two years back in Nashville. So, in a way, I am still burdened by the concept of stuff.
What can I say? It's a process. We're evolving...we're growing. ;)
In Italy, I have become much more accustomed to living in my version of "minimalist." I have one bottle each of body wash, shampoo and face wash in the shower. No backstock, no buying things in triplicate, no "someday." It's all about the now.
That's especially true of household products, too. I purchase paper towels when I notice they are running low and we're on our last roll. We were almost out of dishwasher tabs, dishwashing soap and toilet paper the other day, so I added those to my grocery list.
It might sound silly, but it's something that has made me happy throughout this nearly two-year adventure. It's a life that feels well-lived rather than overwhelmed. Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, I don't have too little, I don't have too much...my amount of stuff is just right.
Or so I thought.
Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night to the constant buzzing of a mosquito, who was not only in my room, he was buzzing around my face.
I swung the covers off my body and turned the light on. I'm a talented huntress of those little suckers, no matter the hour. I can clap my hands and stop them right in their tracks. Because mosquitos love me, I usually have multiple anti-mosquito gimmicks working together to ward them off. Not so--I had just run out.
The long and short of it is: I didn't find him. The minute I flipped the switch, there was a terrifying and unfamiliar "pop."
Yep, both light bulbs in my overhead light fixture went out at the exact same time.
Shoot. I had lived in this apartment for almost a year and those lightbulbs had lasted the entire time (thanks, LEDs!). I had never bought light bulbs in Italy before and honestly, started to panic.
What kind of light bulbs would I need? Where do I buy them? (Italy is famous for having specific stores for things, whereas in America we can go to a one-stop-shop for everything from makeup to tires, guns, shoes, and nonprescription medication. Each of those things has its own store here.) Do they use watts like us? How do you even say "light bulb"? I can say with complete confidence, I had never used that word before in my life.
I figured I would wake up the next morning and figure it out.
My roommate, who is slightly less height-challenged than I, removed one of the bulbs. At least I had something to take to the store. And, it turns out that they sell light bulbs at the grocery store. Thank goodness for the easy button.
I walk to Conad with a game plan: light bulbs and anti-mosquito paraphernalia.
When I got to the store, I had to meander up and down the aisles a bit because it's not my regular Conad. It's a nice store, I just feel a little turned around.
I found the light bulbs on an end cap and discovered that Italy exclusively sells LEDs. When I pulled the light bulb from my bag, I discovered that all of the coding and all of the numbers were different. There were As and Ks that weren't on the Conad bulbs, so it was difficult to know if I was holding the right replacement product in my hands.
All of a sudden, I hear a voice. "Mi scusi, Signora, sa dove sono i succhi di frutta?"
I say 10 times per month that I have to be concentrating when I speak Italian. Although I occasionally challenge myself to think in Italian, talk to myself in Italian, or go through grammar questions when I'm by myself, my brain is running on standard English fuel. I'd have to make the conscious choice to switch over to Italian mode, you know? When you speak a second language, it's not like you're always focusing on everything around you. You have enough going on in your head.
I snapped back to reality and the fact that some very well dressed Italian woman was asking me a question. I asked her to repeat herself and clarify what she was searching for, "Mi scusi, che cosa sta cercando? Non ho sentito."
"I succhi di frutta." Fruit juices. Oh, man! I literally just saw those but couldn't remember where they were. I responded by proposing she look by the bottled water and other beverages. She agreed and walked away.
Except, I always have my dad's voice in my head: "If you have the chance to help someone, you take it." I gave myself a new project: Find the fruit juice. Turns out, it was right around the corner from where we were standing. Except, I didn't see the lady there.
I looked down the corridor toward the check-out. Maybe she found it and had already left? I didn't think that much time had passed. But, I walked around and found her back by the cookies and bakery section.
I informed her that I had found the fruit juices (it turns out, were close a few minutes before!) and walked with her to show her. She thanked me profusely and for a minute, I felt a bit of a bounce in my step. I did it.
Not only did I feel victorious because of the interaction and helping her find what she needed, but she didn't treat me like the kind of "stereotypical" person I can be perceived to be sometimes: The kind of person people see and immediately speak English. No, she saw me as me--and without judgment or maybe even too much thought, spoke to me in the language I love the most. Because she had no reason to think otherwise.
Now off course from my original mission, I decided to stop wishing that the words "THIS IS THE RIGHT LIGHT BULB, STEFANIE" would jump off the cardboard box I had held in my hand for at least 10 minutes. It wasn't going to magically start speaking to me.
So, I did what the lady did to me. I found someone to ask for help.
A store worker was sweeping the floor, and as much as I believe that women and men are equal in so many ways, I was pulled to ask him simply because of his gender. I looked up how to say "watt" in Italian on Google Translate before starting the conversation--turns out, it's just "watt," but pronounced with a v instead of a w--and we were off. He examined the light bulb and told me that although the watts were higher, it should be exactly what I was looking for (when I got home, it was! Yay!).
Thankfully, the mosquito plug-ins were right by where we were standing, so I stocked up on those before I went to the check-out. I threw an eye makeup remover in my basket, too, because that's another product I was just about to run out of.
These interactions, as small and as inconsequential as they might seem, always seem to illustrate how life's moments, lessons and interactions build on each other. Even though not every day living abroad is some happy jaunt down a cobblestone street with gelato and sightseeing, followed by a big bowl of pasta from the local trattoria (if only!), they are still memorable, enjoyable, and represent what I consider the Italian experience. The biggest lesson I have learned and internalized from my time abroad is that there is truly so much beauty in the seemingly mundane--the ability to share conversations, ask for help, and feel connected.
A true light bulb moment.
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