When I have been in Italy strictly for vacation, I tend to do tourism-related activities, hike, beaches, etc. I don’t spend much time in a grocery store or just hanging out in the apartment or villa I’ve rented. Because my 2023 trip was different, I was able to see into the lives of Italians in an other way. I saw more of their everyday lives, the routine things, such as family care, grocery shopping, and taking kids to school.
As I created my own little Italian life, I spent time doing those routine things as well. This was part of the point of my exploratory trip. I wanted to see if I find Italian life pleasant when it is not just a vacation.
I read about the weekly, gigantic market held along the Arno in a park in Florence and had to check it out. It was literally at least a mile long with booths on both sides. They offered clothes, housewares, fruit, vegetables, flowers and plants, salumi, cheese, meals to eat while you’re shopping, art, and more.
It was busy and fun to observe all that was going on there. Since I was only in Florence for one month, many things were being sold that I could not purchase, so I bought local honey, basil plants, and sausage. As I walked with my porchetta sandwich, I saw a man walking with presumably his son who was around 20 years old. I immediately saw traits of autism in the young man. When you’re a part of the tribe, you pick it out immediately.
It always warms my heart to see a person with a disability be out and about, enjoying life like anyone else. The young man seemed happy to be strolling the market with his dad. It is good for all of us to get out of the house and experience real life! At that moment, I wished my language skills were advanced enough to stop them and say hello and let them know I see them.
On the way home from the market I took a tram to get back closer to my neighborhood because I was a bit pooped after walking to the tram and then walking the market in both directions! While standing on the tram, a young man was repeatedly making the sign of the cross on his chest, all with a big smile on his face. A few women near me were snickering and I assume this was out of discomfort with the man’s unexpected behavior. I decided to try not to make eye contact with him but he caught me and started speaking in Italian. I said, “Non parlo Italiano.” His response was to start speaking to me in English. Shoot! I thought that my minimal Italian language skills would give me the out.
He proceeded to tell me he is Jesus and I am God, all with a big smile on his face. I just smiled back and continued on my journey.
Another day I stopped at a bar to get breakfast and coffee with my friends. While we were there we observed a young man with Down’s Syndrome working as a busboy. He had a woman who interfaced with him here and there and she appeared to be coaching him. I love it! I hope my son has a job soon where he gets a little job coaching and encouragement to build his confidence.
After I left Florence, I moved to a small town in southern Tuscany called Montepulciano. It is a village of about 12,000 people and has a walled hilltop part of town as well as newer buildings outside the walls. I chose to stay just outside the walls in an apartment that was probably built in the 1980s. The building was an L-shape and faced a small garden area that seemed to be taken care of by the residents of the building. It was quite a lovely little garden where I enjoyed encounters with the neighbor’s sweet kitties.
Almost daily, I was hearing a man shouting loudly in Italian. I never did figure out anything he was saying but I kept hoping no one was in danger. Sometimes this man would come out in the garden and fiddle with something in the electric meter box while shouting and then go back inside.
After hearing this for a week, I asked the man I was renting from if he knew about this man. “Yes”, he said. “We call him ‘Chilometro’ because he used to walk around the neighborhood endlessly while he shouted.” My landlord, Elias, assured me all was safe and said he believed Chilometro had some kind of untreated mental illness. I wondered if it was Tourette’s Syndrome but Elias had not heard of this condition.
There was another man who was around 20 that lived in the building also. I saw him get picked up and dropped off each weekday by “Misericordia”, which is what was written on the side of the ambulances there. (Misericordia translates to ‘mercy’.) This man appeared to have cerebral palsy but could walk with assistance. His home was on the first floor but there were a few steps down into the garden to get to his front door so he needed assistance. I hope that he was attending school or some program for adults that was bringing light to his days and respite to his family.
Living in Italy with a physical disability is extremely difficult and limiting. They don’t appear to have anything like our ADA law so there are very few accommodations for wheelchairs. My friends and I all commented that it would be impossible to live in the Cinque Terre area if you were in a wheelchair or used a walker of some sort. There are just endless stairs and hills everywhere! Below is a short video showing what is required to get from the only parking garage in Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre, down to the apartment we rented.
The most interesting apartment dweller was living below me. They were on the first floor and instead of a terrace, they had a large garden area to themselves on two sides of their unit. It was a well-cared-for garden and even included a hammock. I regularly saw a boy swinging away in the hammock and their cats lounging in the sunny garden.
After I was there for about a week, I would hear sounds coming from their apartment or garden that were not words but they came from the boy. I quickly realized that Ricci has autism. I really wanted to talk to his mom and hoped she spoke English! Finally, I was outside at the same time as Veronica and we engaged in an Engl-ian conversation about her son. She speaks some English and I, a little Italian. I was able to decipher more of what she was saying in Italian because I knew the subject matter well. She was telling me a little about him and sort of explaining some quirk. I’m not sure if she wanted to share that he has autism or not. Once I shared that my son has autism she opened right up! She was sharing with me that he attends the local school and has two aides to support him. It sounded like she thought the specialized school for autism might be a better fit but that was 45 minutes away in Siena.
Veronica shared that Ricci plays the timpani and it really soothes and calms him. She also said he plays the keyboard. She believes the Italian educational system doesn’t do enough to support children like hers. She assumed that in America it is better and it probably is but I guess that depends on what school district your child attends. Most of the services that helped my son grow and adapt were therapies he attended outside of school. In a small town of 12,000, there is not an abundance of services nearby.
She invited Ricci out to meet me. He was engaging with me despite not saying anything. I never did ask if he is verbal at all. He seemed very tall for 12 years old, sweet, and social.
It was a sweet bonding moment that I wished had happened sooner so I could get to know her. I wanted her to meet Lucas but we were only there for another day and I didn’t get the chance to introduce them. I did get to share with her that he loves history and international travel. I need to get her email address through Elias and see if I can strike up a long-distance friendship.
Observing how disabled people fit into Italian society was interesting. I was delighted to see that so many people were integrated into their society. I definitely saw some similarities to how we work with disabled people here in America.