That was the first time we discovered quite so emphatically how seriously Italians take what we casually call a siesta.
Our Italian neighbour — a delightful older gentleman, always smiling and warm — showed his more formidable side when we carelessly decided to drill a wall plug into the terrace wall during lunchtime. We only wanted to hang a flowerpot.
The problem is that we share a wall. More precisely, the boundary of our terrace is also the wall of our neighbour’s house. The arrangement itself says a great deal about the fairly relaxed approach to building in southern Italy. No one here finds such things particularly strange. Grandad, however, was most certainly surprised and irritated by the roar of the drill.
And that was when a question came back to me yet again:
How on earth is a country that seems to spend all its time resting, eating, drinking coffee or meeting the family the eighth-largest economy in the world?
It genuinely fascinates me!
I have been living in Italy part-time for four years and visiting regularly for almost twenty. I love Italians, but I also know that what enchants us on holiday can drive us to despair when something actually needs to be done.
For example, you arrange for a tradesman to come on Monday. He arrives on Thursday.
You ask:
— Where were you three days ago?
The answer is a disarming smile:
— Never mind. I am here now. Let’s go for coffee.
I once ordered a cooker. After several days of waiting in vain, I called the distributor and learned that apparently… I had refused to accept the delivery.
The problem was that no one had even tried to deliver it.
I have dozens of stories like this. These are the more difficult sides of life in Italy that visitors do not usually see. Not everyone is ready for them. The Italian way of life can test your patience severely.
And yet Italians always have time.
Family, friends, a shared meal and relationships come first. The rest of the world can wait a little. It is beautiful. And it is one of the reasons we love them.
Of course, the Italian economy has its problems. It grows slowly, the country is heavily indebted, and the differences between the wealthy north and the poorer south are enormous. Yet I have a feeling that, whatever happens, Italians will always land on their feet. They will straighten their jacket, order an espresso and continue making things the whole world wants to buy.
Perhaps they are not lazy at all? Perhaps they are simply better than we are at separating work from life?
And perhaps economic success does not always require constant rushing, overtime and treating every message like a matter of life and death? Maybe if we too eased off a little, we would not get any less far?
