Perhaps it’s the impact of all those differences, but the Italians are much better at acting independently than playing as a team—no matter what they’re doing. And yet they have deep family bonds. They may lash out at one another quite intensely at times, but somehow, even as they complain, they still manage to strike a balance.
The Italian peninsula stretches a long way north to south, so the differences are most apparent along this axis. They’re driven partially by climate, with marked variations in customs and ways of thinking. To paint a very general picture, the people of Southern Italy tend take it easy, enjoying their beautiful natural environment and wonderful cuisine. Those in Northern Italy share borders with multiple countries, so they tend to go about their work diligently with unruffled expressions.
Milan is considered to be the heart of Northern Italy. But even the Milanese, who work hard all year in their “little big city,” always take time for summer vacation. Summer holidays are one of the most important events of the year, and it seems that a surprising number of people will go as far as taking out high-interest loans just to go on lavish vacations. It’s a pretty shocking attitude towards money.
This summer, I got in the car and headed out of Milan towards Venice, and then on to Grado, a seaside town of about 8,000 people on the border with neighboring Slovenia. It’s a tourist town known for its lagoons and hot springs. Grado was an isolated island until it is barely linked to the mainland by a long, five- or six-kilometer bridge. I went to the shore on the mainland side in the hopes of getting some beach time in while enjoying views of the town in the distance. I couldn’t even imagine swimming in ocean lagoons that carried the smell of hot springs, so I figured it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I should try.
Turns out that once in a lifetime was plenty.
It looked like just an average beach, but when I walked through the sand down to the ocean and into the water, cold mud started bubbling up out of nowhere and trapping my feet, creating the creepy feeling that I was being pulled down into the bottomless mud. I’m the kind of person who likes scary things, so I trudged forward, screeching with each step—yet the ocean only got shallower, not deeper. I wondered which was better—keep getting sucked into the bottomless swamp as I walked, or try to float in the water, which was too shallow to buoy me up? The place gives you a weird set of choices.
Grado has another unique characteristic in addition to the lagoons—strange people. Besides the inconvenience due to a lack of services, and high prices, the people here have a mean way of responding to you. Even the Milanese, who are used to the offhanded responses of Italians in general, consider the people in Grado to be downright unpleasant. My observation after going there is that all the tourism here has made them averse to visitors. The town itself is orderly and neat, and it seemed like the people there would be perfectly satisfied with their lives without any need to rely on tourism. Perhaps they avoid strangers in the hopes of just getting on with their peaceful lives.
