Down to the Doorknobs

So many things work differently here, down to the doorknobs. Domestic doors have a key always resting in the lock. To lock or unlock a bedroom or bathroom door, you simply turn the key. And yes, the keys can be taken out.
The light switches look different too. They are black and have a switch you push in the center. I have to use an adapter to charge my electronic devices because even the outlets are different.

They have a clothes washer and dryer, but in the summer usually hang the clothes to dry outside. The first time I washed and hanged up my clothes, Francesco found me and started to chuckle. “I can see you are not very experienced at this,” he laughed.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?” I asked. Maria chastised her husband and told him not to boss me around, but I genuinely wanted the correction.
“If there is a better way to do something, I want to show you how to do it,” Francesco said, as he adjusted my clothes on the rack and demonstrated a more effective way of hanging clothes. It’s the little things.

And the windows. Every window on every house has shutters. Real, legitimate shutters- not just for show. At night you open the window or glass door, reach outside to pull the shutters in, and lock them closed. It blocks out the light completely. In the morning, the windows are opened again to open the wooden shutters and let the morning sunlight and songs of uccellini (little birds) in.
The music here is beautiful. My Faccioli teenagers don’t listen to the classic Italian stuff you’d imagine though. Have you ever heard of Italian-rap songs? Now you have. Rap isn’t really my thing, but I find great joy in introducing my Italian friends to country music. They actually listen to quite a bit of American songs(our pop-culture rapidly spreads in this digital age), but they tell me that country music doesn’t reach Europe. It genuinely brings me joy to turn on some of the goodies from Alan Jackson to Thomas Rhett to Tim McGraw to Brad Paisley while Carlo and I wash the dishes together, filling our lovely little European kitchen with south-western twang.
They aren’t big on high-fives here. The first time I tried giving Emma, the four-year-old, a high five, she just stared at me with a confused expression that seemed to say, “What is this crazy lady doing with her hand in front of my face?” But they are big on kisses, the kind on the cheek to greet each other no matter your gender or relationship.
While it is amusing and even exhilarating to discover differences in our cultures, there are also many wonderful similarities to appreciate. Across the board, laughter is a thing. So are hugs, songs, bedtimes stores to little ones, siblings teasing each other, crying and soothing toddlers, teens who like to push the boundaries, prayers, and love. Love is abundant wherever you go, especially in the homes of big families.

We tend to idealize foreign lands. I idealize Italy and its rich history and artistic culture and pure ingredients for unparalleled food. The Faccioli family idealizes America and it’s pop-culture, heroic figures, wide-open spaces and western mentality. Pietro, the 18 year old, wishes he was born American. He loves eating McDonalds and speaking English. I think he was kinda disappointed when I told him that I don’t like McDonalds. The grass is always greener. In a literal sense, the grass is undoubtedly greener here than any grass from my lovely Utah desert home.

But here is an unsolicited reality check: Utah and Trento both have mosquitos. The irresistible urge to scratch burning mosquito bites in bed when I should be sleeping is one of the few things that reminds me my plane landed in Milan, and not actually in the Celestial Kingdom.