Italians have their priorities straight. I had the privilege to be in Rome for a week with my sister. It’s her favorite city and I see why. (Also huge thanks to her for arranging our entire trip and for taking this photo of St. Peter’s through Rome’s Aventine Keyhole with a line of ornery, inpatient teenagers behind her!) It was so fun to see dear friends, Julie and Brian, who were also in Rome. And Julie was one of the people who encouraged me to take this whole trip!
Rome is a thriving, livable city. It feels comfortable and easy. Forgiving. It takes its time because it knows it has time. Weathering thousands of years of history, often brutal and bloody, gives Romans perspective. People don’t rush in a place that’s eternal. They go out late. They linger. They rest.
Art is everywhere. Everything is art – a statue, the way the water runs through a fountain, a twirl of spaghetti, the language, the winding of a road, a sculpted scoop of gelato, a swirl of rich balsamic vinegar in green-tinted, earthy olive oil. A Roman life is a masterpiece that goes on and on.
Only take what you need. Just enough food. Just enough water. Your salad doesn’t need to drown in dressing. Your house doesn’t need to make a statement. Your tiny car is parked sideways to make room for more people traveling via different modes of transport. Take what you need and leave the rest for others. It’s a minimalist life, not a maximalist one, that offers a greater reward – freedom from the weight of physical things and knowing that neighbors have what they need because you didn’t overindulge.
Walk the streets at any time and be entertained, be joyful, be at ease. It’s not about spectacle. It’s just about living every simple, singular moment. That’s all there is. That’s all there needs to be.
There’s fresh spring water from fountains available to everyone all over the city. More hydration, less plastic bottle trash. Laughter and live music provide the soundtrack for the streets. On these days of simple microjoys, I wanted for nothing. Everything I needed was here. In a city of abundance, I found it made me want less because I wasn’t worried about having enough. What a gift.
Now back home in America, I’m going to keep Roman living top of mind and close to my heart. It has much to teach us about living well and sustainably, thriving in hard times, and caring for our neighbors.
On Saturday morning, I went snorkeling in the ocean inlet by my hotel in Puerto Rico. Clad in slightly too-big flippers, a suction mask, and breathing tube, I proceeded to slightly hyperventilate. I didn’t learn to swim until I was 30, and the open water is still a scary, albeit magical, place for me. It’s initially disconcerting not to be able to breathe through my nose. After standing and breathing with my mask for a few minutes, I was able to calm down and get used to the altered breathing pattern. Then I was able to happily kick and float along the water’s surface in search of tropical fish and and coral tucked among the flowing sea grass.
Christa Avampato 