#5 Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be… (English)

One of the things that attracts me the most of the more southern style of life is the great amount of unpredictability life holds here. Every year I find myself buying an agenda again, with the intention to actually use it in the year to come. The truth is I’ve never used one after high school. Despite my sincere attempts to live life a little more scheduled, it rather makes me very rebellious. In my first blog, I describe how Rome felt like coming home from the very first time I set foot here and for a great part this is explained by that unpredictability of life. When you wake up in the morning anything can happen and plans never seem to be completely fixed: the ultimate feeling of freedom to me.

It’s nothing personal, and you should absolutely not interpret it that way, is one of the first life lessons you’ll learn in Italy

However, there are moments I still have to get used to this ‘looser’ style of living life. Because clearly, always having to considerate a ‘subject to change’ has its downside too. Quite often, the plans I’ve made with friends get cancelled because of some kind of unexpected circumstance. It’s nothing personal, and you should absolutely not interpret it that way, is one of the first life lessons you’ll learn in Italy. Nonetheless, when you’ve just moved to a new city in a different country and you still have to build up your social life for the biggest part, it’s simply not fun at all when your plans are blown off last-minute. Because there you are on a Saturday night, home alone whereas the whole of Italy is dining, drinking and laughing the night away with family and friends at endless dinner tables. Right? At times, that sweet cliché can be pretty far from the truth.

But then he finally messaged me while I was working again in ‘my’ osteria, apologizing for his disappearance and reassuring me we would definitely still work together. Because that’s what we had agreed on right?

Slightly comparable was what happened with the job I got myself in my first days in Rome. I would assist a business man with his book company and after our first, very interesting meeting, he would get back to me via e-mail with all the details. However, weeks went by and although I whatsapped and emailed him a couple of times to check if everything was okay, he never replied and I considered the opportunity already as a ‘good story’ but without follow-up unfortunately. But then he finally messaged me while I was working again in ‘my’ osteria, apologizing for his disappearance – which was due to a family affair – and reassuring me we would definitely still work together. Because that’s what we had agreed on right? Happy that I received news from Mister Books I walked back to the bus stop that night. Yet, it was literally pouring so I decided to pop into the first random shop I passed by to wait for the rain to be over and while I was shaking the raindrops off my umbrella, I literally bumped into someone. I looked up to apologize and guess what? It was the book man! Do you remember that thing I said about how coincidence doesn’t exist? Very spontaneously he invited me for lunch to further discuss the project the next day which was no problem of course since we both didn’t have impossible schedules to rearrange. 

Before I knew it, I sat at the back of the band van with blind windows while the manager drove us to the venue where we attended an amazing performance. Front-row!

And of course, this rather impulsive way of living life also has its upside, which for me weights much heavier. A couple of weeks ago I had the honour to perform in a promotion photoshoot for a food-and-wine-tour in Rome (as you can probably imagine, I didn’t have to think about it too long when they asked me). I only got to know the other five ‘models for a day’ that afternoon, but we clicked so well together that we spontaneously decided to go for another bottle of wine after our three-and-a-half-hour shoot. It was already passed seven when I was waiting for my bus and my friend, the osteria owner, asked me to come over. Since the place was only 200 meters away, I decided to turn around for what I thought would be a quick caffè. But while sipping my coffee at the bar I met Angelo, a very friendly Australian with Italian roots and we chatted until my friend, who also happens to be the singer in a band, announced to leave for a performance and spontaneously invited us to join him. Before I knew it, I sat at the back of the band van with blind windows while the manager drove us to the venue where we attended an amazing performance. Front-row! Back home in the Netherlands I would surely start worrying already how on earth I would get back home safe in the middle of the night but luckily, the wide spread rumour about Italians being true gentlemen is true for the part that I got a private ride home in the band van. 

Suddenly I start to hum that familiar melody and it’s stuck in my head for the rest of the night. Because what did that Doris Day sing again?

From my experience, the impulsive way of living is very contagious. Something you get infected with automatically when staying in Italy long enough. Of course I still feel bummed every now and then whenever my plans get cancelled again, because that girl who would face a Saturday night in all by herself because a party – that was supposed to be the event of the year – in a beach house for the occasion of the 30^th birthday of a friend of a friend got cancelled in the end (drama, drama)? Sì, that would have been me. But then I proofed to be right as this Italian, impulsive way of living had infected a dear French friend too indeed – we met four years ago in Rome when studying at the same university – because right after we had been texting last Wednesday about how we both had a bit of an ‘off-day’ and how we wished we could got out together to cheer each other up, he messaged again: BOOKED! Arriving tomorrow! And so I’ve been typing this blog now, Sunday night, with a big smile I can’t get off my face as I’m thinking back about the most fun and precious weekend we spent together. Suddenly I start to hum that familiar melody and it’s stuck in my head for the rest of the night. Because what did that Doris Day sing again? Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be…