A
Daniela and I are from two different planets.
Not only is she a woman as I am a man; but she’s also Italian, and I’m British.
We speak different languages in life as well as love and come from such different cultures.
As much as my parents are from India, I was born and raised in England, and if you ever met me and spent time with me…
I’m more British than I am anything else.
Or at least part of the ambitious Indian diaspora.
But what difference does any of that make to Daniela?
She’s from a part of Italy (the North; Turin) where the only Indians you see are the ones selling kids' toys on the streets, loitering outside of train stations selling gifts from time to time, and hidden away in the very few Indian restaurants that exist in Turin.
I think at a time or two we’ve stumbled upon the odd international Indian student - but were you to walk around the streets, not an Indian you would.
Her entire life until the age of 27 was in Italy, and nothing suggested that she would ultimately spend the next few years back and forth from Italy before finally residing in the UK.
Equally, looking back at it, there was nothing that suggested I would consider spending several years in Italy; as I consider it now, and as I have already spent living and travelling back and forth in Italy.
Her family are there as mine are here.
Ours was a whirlwind romance that has ultimately taken us across Europe from London to Malaga and Italy.
Within all of this, we’ve had to contend with distance, language, and the different love languages that I always used to think were a function of our cultural differences.
The focus was on that she was Italian and that I am British and therefore her cultural expectations were so skewed from mine.
Of course, as age, and my idiocy of my unawareness of my blind spots only grew deeper it became clear that our struggles that still exist in our relationship are nothing to do with where she’s from...but a rather simple biology. Or rather maybe just me?
Work, my career, and the musings I often share through these posts are what often occupy my mind; and the further I venture down the rabbit hole of work, the further removed I have become from our relationship.
And so quality time, unencumbered by thoughts of Pearl Lemon, Plant Sumo or whatever it may be becomes further away.
Just this weekend I took stock of the statistics:
Without even meaning to. You teach me.
Not only is she a woman as I am a man; but she’s also Italian, and I’m British.
We speak different languages in life as well as love and come from such different cultures.
As much as my parents are from India, I was born and raised in England, and if you ever met me and spent time with me…
I’m more British than I am anything else.
Or at least part of the ambitious Indian diaspora.
But what difference does any of that make to Daniela?
She’s from a part of Italy (the North; Turin) where the only Indians you see are the ones selling kids' toys on the streets, loitering outside of train stations selling gifts from time to time, and hidden away in the very few Indian restaurants that exist in Turin.
I think at a time or two we’ve stumbled upon the odd international Indian student - but were you to walk around the streets, not an Indian you would.
Her entire life until the age of 27 was in Italy, and nothing suggested that she would ultimately spend the next few years back and forth from Italy before finally residing in the UK.
Equally, looking back at it, there was nothing that suggested I would consider spending several years in Italy; as I consider it now, and as I have already spent living and travelling back and forth in Italy.
Her family are there as mine are here.
Ours was a whirlwind romance that has ultimately taken us across Europe from London to Malaga and Italy.
Within all of this, we’ve had to contend with distance, language, and the different love languages that I always used to think were a function of our cultural differences.
The focus was on that she was Italian and that I am British and therefore her cultural expectations were so skewed from mine.
Of course, as age, and my idiocy of my unawareness of my blind spots only grew deeper it became clear that our struggles that still exist in our relationship are nothing to do with where she’s from...but a rather simple biology. Or rather maybe just me?
Work, my career, and the musings I often share through these posts are what often occupy my mind; and the further I venture down the rabbit hole of work, the further removed I have become from our relationship.
And so quality time, unencumbered by thoughts of Pearl Lemon, Plant Sumo or whatever it may be becomes further away.
Just this weekend I took stock of the statistics:
- When was the last time I’d surprised Daniela with a gift?
- When was the last time I’d booked a new place for dinner?
- When was the last time I’d suggested we sit on the sofa and watch a movie together that I thought we might both like?
- When was the last time I noticed something she spoke about and then I bought it
Without even meaning to. You teach me.