Dream, dare, do: on the way to Italy – part 4

'Do you really think life is more fun in Italy?'

You read that right: I was again critically questioned by my fellow human beings. After I got my Italian Admission Test achieved, I could run on a lot of - 'oh but that doesn't say anything about living in Italy, you know'.

My teeth are very critical, but one thing is now certain: Italy before and Italy after. If there is another bear in our way right now, I hereby ask him to clear the way for our Italian dream.

Anyway go

The circumstances while writing this column are unlike any other: it is 10 am on a Saturday morning and my vacation has just started. Normally I always imagine myself in the Boot for a while during the writing process, but pouring a glass of wine at 10 in the morning is even beyond me.

Create a All espresso brewing methods at your own bar. For a moment it feels like I live in Italy again. There, every morning before my Papíto left for work, I had an espresso with him at the local bar. We went through the day, I got an assignment to do that day and off we went.

He left for work, which he complained about when he got home. I went to Italian class or whistled until the children came home from school, after which I often found myself next to the football field like a real soccer mother.

Anyway, back to reality. It took a while to find today's music theme. I was looking for the voice of Italy. For some it will be Pavarotti, for others it might be Laura Pausini.

Fun fact: Laura (I may say Laura) taught me my first Italian phrases. Through the first month La Solitude translating to the bone and singing together in class day in and day out really fueled my classmates and me with a love for the Italian language.

But: today we go for the vote. Alessandra Amoroso. If I like that music, and especially the cracker Anyway go you know, I imagine myself right back in my Mamíta's car where the CDs were played almost literally gray.

The oh-yes-that-will-be mentality

Good; As the title suggests, I've been put to the test again last month. The holiday season has arrived and comments such as: 'You want to live in Italy, why don't you go on holiday now?' are the rule rather than the exception.

I think I've said it in almost every column so far, but it seems as if, since I've expressed my dream, I also have to do everything with my nose towards Italy. I'm actually surprised that I haven't dyed my hair brown yet and brought my alter ego Martina out of the water.

Criticisms make you cynical and if you have to justify your 'oh so big dreams' on a daily basis, they also become quite normal and almost laughable at a certain point. Last week I caught myself thinking: '5 years is way too long.'

And I notice that in myself. A preparation time of 5 years is usually quite normal, I have already found that out, but 5 years is really quite a long time in a human life. It makes me think every day: 'Oh well, that will come.'

Want to delve into locations? "Ah well, that will come." And that whole oh-yes-it-will-be mentality just pisses me off. 

Thinking in another language

With my procrastination mentality I have been achieving great success for years: for example, final exams at secondary school. But anyway: everything goes better with a little time pressure and I can tell you that I don't really feel that pressure with a five-year plan yet.

Italy is calling me and I am crying out for Italy. I hear myself talking about it as if I already live there. When I drink my cup of coffee in the morning, I think back to the bar on the corner and give myself another assignment.

Often that is: read something Italian or immerse yourself in a new part of the country. What surprised me the most: I sometimes think in Italian. Last month my big sister was finally back in the Netherlands after 2 years (we all know why).

She has lived in faraway places for as long as I can remember. She is a real blonde latina with a lovely accent. I asked her if she thinks in Spanish or in Dutch. It depended on who she spoke to, but mostly in Spanish.

Except, and I thought that was very special, when she has to count. She still does that in Dutch and it turns out that that's the last thing you copy in your new language. Well, counting isn't my strong point anyway, so I expect that to remain a mishmash forever.

But, nowadays, when someone wrongly overtakes me on the bike, I hear myself thinking temperamental swear words. Even when I am cooking or developing a recipe, I write down everything in Italian.

I think that's a very good sign; my alter ego Martina is already back in my head. Although I have to make sure that it stays with my thoughts with that temperamental insult.

More, more, more is not necessary… more

Do I really think that life in Italy is more fun? I am amazed at this question I often get. Sure, life (for me) is more fun in Italy, otherwise I might as well stay here.

It may not be better than in the Netherlands or everything is just as well organized, but it doesn't always have to be more, more, more. Italy is wonderfully chaotic, everything is a little less serious and rushed than here and I haven't even started about the fantastic temperament.

Even yesterday someone asked me if I think life is really more fun there. And yes: day in day out, life seems more fun there than in the Netherlands. Life seems more challenging to me than here in the Netherlands and it seems especially wonderful to live there and start from scratch.

You don't see it, you don't hear it, but for a few weeks now I seem to have a tingling in my eyes when I talk about 'my' Italy. And I certainly believe that. I am more sure than ever that I must and will go to Italy.

And as Alessandra says: community andare. Go anyway. And so it is. My rebelliousness has also taken me to very nice places for years.

Dutch and Flemish in Italy; is life really more fun in Italy? I'd love to talk to you about it. Send me an email at martinevangroenigen@gmail.com or comment on this column and we'll talk soon.