Takeaway 03: We Are the Weather

This post is not about today’s perfect Italian day. It is not about the 20 mile bike ride up the coast of Lago di Como. It is not about the delicious chocolate pistachio gelato. It is not about the adorable 13th century church we stumbled upon. It is not about the swim in the cool, clear lake or the unexpected fireworks that ended the evening, presumably celebrating us. It is about how this perfect day almost didn’t happen. 

If you are an American reading this, when you hear the word “breakfast” you likely have certain associations. What images arise: Eggs? Bacon? Toast? Cereal? Even if you personally don’t eat breakfast, you have an idea of what people eat. (If you’ve been to Western Europe before, you know where this is going.)

Years ago, on our first trip to Europe in a small town in France, we comically marched around for hours trying to find anything more than cigarettes and coffee before noon. It never happened. Yet come the morning of our soon-to-be perfect Italian day: a late start, an unreasonable quest for sustenance, and many many many steep cobblestone steps later, our bickering once again reached a breaking point: “Maybe we should just go our separate ways!” We weren’t quite Real Housewives level of hysteria, but we weren’t far behind.

To quote the earthquake-inducing Taylor Swift, it takes guts to admit when: “I’m the problem, it’s me.” After half an hour of intentional peace and silence, we ate what little we could find and moved on. 

Sometimes, it's you.

You're hangry. You're tired. You're escalating and not deescalating. Reacting and not thoughtfully responding. We salvaged our day, but only after doing some reflecting, taking a breather, and starting over: a lesson to bring back home when teaching, when parenting, when living life amongst others.

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