Carolina Gamini arrives in LA tomorrow to begin rehearsals of ‘A Stubborn Woman’ for our upcoming event.  And it has led me to think somewhat about the differences she might notice having never been to the states before, let alone Los Angeles.

When we think of cultural differences there are always the obvious.  Language. . . that often separates us.  Then perspective.  Viewpoint.  Also humor.  Humor is a place of connection, but only if you truly understand what one thinks is funny.  For example, Florentines have a sense of humor that many others find offensive.  Because the thing that Florentines love to do more than anything…. is rip you to shreds for a laugh.  Push your buttons so hard that you have bruises where your sensitivity used to be.  All for a joke.  And ONLY when they truly have folded you into their trust and affection.

There is also food.  Food and our relationship to it could not be more different.  Here, in LA, we live in our cars, we rush through our lives.  In Florence, you stroll through life.  Most days.  And this has a much better effect on your digestive track.  Food is bought differently, sold differently, discussed, prepared and served with a much more …. complete…. relationship.  One that is sensual, and appreciative.  That celebrates the simplicity of spicy fresh new olive oil.  Year after year.  In Florence you know the seasons by the change in fruits and vegetables.  And this calms you a bit on a daily basis.  It brings you a quiet joy when you go to market.

But it also allows for the artist within you to also find calm.  To slow a bit and look away from achievement and more toward exploration.

Italians, from my limited experience, do tend to talk more about issues than Americans.  We are a doing nation.  Shoot first, ask questions later.  My Florentine colleagues discuss and examine.  Then become frustrated about the complications of manifesting their initiatives.

Which is an irony when you consider how we walk down the street.  Italians, from my experience, will stare at you and size you up with absolutely no shame in doing so as you pass them on the street.  But they will not greet you or smile as you cross paths.  Americans, for the most part, are shocked at this sort of straight-on ‘aggression’.  We look away from strangers and give space.  It would be rude to stare.  But we would say hello to a stranger more readily than an Italian.  Contradictions.  Beautiful aspects of cultural collective decisions displayed on a sidewalk.

I have only lived in two countries.  But I have come to understand there are real challenges in building bridges toward another culture.  And it isn’t because of the language.  It is far more subtle than that.  It is subtle as a look.  However, I also know that it is as powerful as a glance.  A courageous connection between human beings that holds within it the knowledge that ‘yes, I know you.’ 

I know you.  I don’t speak your language, I don’t understand your sense of humor, I view the world entirely differently and I can’t believe you eat what you eat and how you eat it.  But when my eyes are brave enough to look into yours….. the bridge is built.

This is why I know that Carolina will love Los Angeles.  Because there is a whole group of individuals waiting to embrace her and begin building something together.