Traveling internationally is a wonderfully expansive experience. People are always interesting, and different cultures embody lessons and entertainment to no end. Some of these differences, however, can be annoying.
When I first began spending time in Italy, I found the concept of "siesta" or "la pausa" charming, one of those cultural differences you look for and appreciate. In a world of international franchise brands and the leveling effect which seems to be obliterating regional uniquenesses, finding something truly different from your own culture is a little like kicking up a gold coin in the back yard. It's rare and almost immediately appreciated. However, unlike the gold coin, the southern Mediterranean region's habit of siesta quickly lost its lustre for me. As a spoiled American used to speed and service, efficiency and pace, I quickly became enemies with siesta. It seemed that just as I was ready to head into town, I would remember that it was siesta and all the shops were closed. I began to find myself planning my days around the fact that huge swaths of the productive daylight hours were unavailable for public commerce. What a pain.
Until this trip, that is. For some reason this week, as we've returned to the scene of so many happy memories for our family, I think I am finally getting it.
As usual, the summer heat in Tuscany is pervasive. As I write this it's not yet July or August, when the heat descends in oppressive blankets that seem intent on smothering you to a sweaty death, but it has still been hot. The sun, especially, rides herd with a merciless ferocity over those who dare expose themselves to it for any length of time. I find myself longing for the cooler mornings filled with birdsong, and the evenings of reprieve when the sun finally moves across the sky in search of other subservients to beat with its rays. These mornings and evenings are nothing shy of delightful. You want to stay up and enjoy it as darkness descends. Additionally, you find yourself promising to awake early and get active before the heat arrives. "If only I could sleep less hours at night," you think, "because I am wasting these nice, cool hours of evening and morning." And then it dawns on you (notice how I've switched to the second person, in effect putting the blame for this on "you" instead of "me?"), "I'll just sleep during the heat of the day, and therefore will need less sleep during the cooler, more luxuriant hours!" you think. And voila! Siesta is not such a bad thing, after all, eh, you foreigner?
Okay, I confess. These Mediterranean people are really onto something with this siesta thing. Who knew? Once again, the "Art of Vacation" comes to the rescue of ignorance through the activity of actually "being in" a country and not merely "traveling through" it.
And now, I lay me down to sleep . . . .
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