The Art of Nothingness

• By Johanna Nuding+
• Posted in Italy, Life, Personal Stories, Travel, Uncategorized
• On September 18, 2013
• 4 Comments.

I noticed today it’s been a month since my last update so I forced myself to sit down and write to you.  I’ve been doing a lot more living and a lot less writing this month; I know you’ll forgive me for that.

So… where to start?  How about my trip to Sicily where I spent eleven days and mastered the art of doing nothing.  (I literally cried when it was time to leave.)

Dumping the contents of my brain wasn’t the goal of my recent holiday to Sicily, but it was a welcomed side-effect.  The Italian culture, as the world is aware, is one of a slower pace (except when they’re behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle).  The experience is not to be compromised with over-thinking.  Planning is done loosely.  And everything is always subject to change.  I’ve come to appreciate and adopt this Italian way as my own.  (So, don’t get upset if we make plans and I cancel or ask to move things around.  Just go with the flow, alright?)

From the first morning upon arrival in Petrosino, I felt free.  Having a limited understanding of the language added to the lightness I felt.  (Nobody can force you into conversation when you have the vocabulary of a three-year-old.)  I was staying with Consuelo and Pippo in the Pipitone’s beautiful family home minutes from the Mediterranean Sea.  There were no set plans, but I personally intended on catching up on my writing.  That didn’t happen.  I planned on getting in some morning workouts.  Nope.  Not a single one.  The urge to do nothing was too strong and I was surrounded by experts in the field.  I gave in.

Within a few days I couldn’t think of anything to worry about or dwell on.  The running list of things I thought I needed to get done dwindled away with every breathtaking sunset.  Every day the sky was overwhelmed with a rich hue: pink, red, orange, gold.  Wondering what color the sky would be that evening became my most pressing daily thought.

I slept with the doors open to my third floor balcony every night and awoke to nature’s alarm clock.  The glow of the sun rising was a tranquil reminder I had nothing to do that day.  I was free to be.  After each morning meditation I would enjoy coffee in the Pipitone’s peaceful outdoor living space, looking out onto the beautifully landscaped flowers, olive trees and grapevines.

I had never eaten warm, sun-kissed grapes straight off of the vine before Sicily.  I watched Pippo’s mom dust the dirt off of the grape on her shirt and toss it in her mouth, so I did the same.  The perfectly juicy, ripe and tender grape literally “popped” in my mouth.  I’m spoiled and quite prefer that to cold grapes out of the fridge now.  I ate as many fresh grapes as I could stomach in that eleven days.  They were the perfect beach snack.

When we weren’t soaking in the Mediterranean sun or braving the icy cold water, I learned some excellent cooking tips from Pippo’s mom and his cousin.  I’ll dazzle you with my Italian culinary skills when I get home to Texas.  I was never a fan of melanzana (translate: eggplant) until Sicily.  And the pastries!!!  And the the famous brioche con gelato – it makes our American ice cream sandwiches laughable.  If I stayed in Sicily too much longer I would’ve been a candidate for The Biggest Loser.  I couldn’t help myself.

Sicily is famous for something called arancini (translate: little oranges), they are fried rice balls coated with breadcrumbs, said to have originated in Sicily in the 10th century.  They are filled with Sicilian ragu or prosciutto and mozzarella.  These tasty things cost one euro.  And, I could only eat one of them… a damn good thing considering I’d already had pastries for breakfast.

A day trip to the island of Favignana is one of my highlights.  We explored the island on scooters stopping at various beaches along the way for a dip and to bask in the sun.  I shared a scooter with our friend Ciaky from Bologna who joined us for a few days.  He’d ridden his motorcycle (aka crotch rocket) from northern Italy stopping to see friends along the way.  He informed me that his life’s motto is, “Slow sucks,” as we sped away from the scooter rental shop.

Our friend Monica flew in for a few days from Belgium to warm up and take her mind off of her pending thesis defense.  (NOTE: She knocked it out of the park yesterday, so she’ll now be referred to as Dr. V.  I’m so proud of her for so many reasons.  I love your guts, Dr. V!)  She was my roommate for a few days and we enjoyed late night girl talk and chats on the beach.  She was a fantastic dinner date when we joined Pippo and his cousins for a reunion dinner.  The two of us drank two bottles of wine as we waited…and waited…and waited for our pizzas to be served.  The food was served over TWO HOURS after we ordered.  The guys raised hell so the manager gave us a whopping 10 euro discount on a 110 euro bill.  <I’m still shaking my head>

I could tell you a hundred stories, but I’ll stop there.  We can catch up when I’m Stateside.  You can buy me a glass of wine or invite me over to sit on your porch with a cold beer and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.  You know I’ve got an open-book policy.

Speaking of… I return in three weeks with mixed emotions.  More on that soon.