When Americans visit Italy and witness the Italian way of life—more specifically, the Italian sense of time—we often can’t believe how slowly it moves.
To our eyes, it seems like everything proceeds at an absurdly leisurely pace: Stores close in the middle of the day for an afternoon break; meeting times seem to have a half-hour of flexibility built in; and almost every voyage is punctuated by stops at a bar for coffee or drinks.
There’s a good bit of truth to these stereotypes. I often chuckle when I encounter the gap between my sense of urgency and Italians’ total lack thereof.
It was all fun and games until, one night recently, I found myself on the verge of tears, my chronological distress bursting to the surface.
I was trying to arrange a date with my boyfriend1 when my idea of a reasonable schedule came to blows with his.
It was mostly my fault: I knew his habits well, and suggested a meeting time without considering his needs at all. When he pointed this out, I felt a deep well of frustration—maybe even anger—rising up within me.
Before I responded to his message, I took a beat. I pulled up the trusty feelings wheel, and I tried to think about why I was suddenly so emotional. Was it really about the nuances of scheduling this particular date?
It was not. At least not entirely. I think I was feeling, instead, the culmination of many frustrations I’ve felt at the hands of “Italian time” since I moved here.
For my entire life, I’ve been a morning person, even by American standards. Call me crazy, but I prefer to wake up around 7:00, eat dinner at 5:30 and be in bed by 10:30. (I know, I know).
This schedule was fine, if a bit odd, in America. But in Italy, it has become almost impossible to maintain.
I’m still in charge of my own time as a freelancer, but everything around me insists on a different way of operating. Hardly anyone leaves their house before 9 a.m. Afternoon, I’ve learned, does not start at 12:01, but more like 3. Restaurants don’t start serving dinner until 7, and a simple meal often takes two hours, minimum.
When I hang out with friends, I always end up staying out longer than I anticipate. To spend time with Italians, it often feels, is to relinquish complete control of my schedule.
My anxiety absolutely hates this. When I watch the clock ticking later and later, my mind jumps ten steps ahead, projecting all the worst-case consequences of less sleep or a slightly-altered calendar.
This also breeds resentment. I start to feel annoyed by the (usually quite lovely) Italians that I perceive to be holding me hostage. I try to be chill (reader: I have no chill) but often end up stewing internally until I can escape, usually to my bed, usually past my bedtime.
So imagine how I felt, after two weeks of holiday break that has thrown me even farther off my routines, when my boyfriend suggested we meet up a little later than I wanted. A totally, completely reasonable request—and yet one that felt, to me, infuriating.
I’m glad I took a minute before I responded to him, and avoided unleashing this unfiltered frustration onto his undeserving shoulders. When I did respond, I shared how I was feeling and we settled the matter of our next date.
But I’m still not sure what, exactly, I should do differently in the future. My boyfriend presented a range of choices for approaching this Italian sense of time: adjusting, understanding, resisting.
So far, consciously or not, I’ve mostly been resisting. Sure, I’ve adjusted a bit, but I’m still trying to pull the Italians in my direction. And, well, there is little success to report.
I can hope all I want that, suddenly, all my friends will start eating dinner earlier, or start moving through their days more quickly. But this is extremely unlikely to happen.
Understanding (and a bit more adjusting) might be a better path to try. Maybe (probably) there’s some wisdom to be found in this unhurried approach to life. I still don’t think you’ll ever see my normal bedtime stretch past midnight, but I think it’s safe to say I still have more ground to give up.
📸 Finocchio Foto
When my parents came to visit last week, we toured the roof of the Duomo, which was extremely cool. Absolutely worth doing if you’re ever in Milan!
