The Way Things Were (Fruit and Veggie Truck, 6)

An Italian roach coach---hold the fat.

It's the closest thing we have to a roach coach. The fruit and veggie truck comes to the corner every Wednesday morning.  It's kind of like meeting at the fountain in a small village in Africa (which they did here until not all that long ago!)  I don't buy a lot from the truck, but the fruit guy always honks when he passes me biking in  nearby towns and when I had a dislocated shoulder he even tied my running shoes.  

Gemma has been featured in several posts throughout the years. She brings me fresh eggs and homemade-handmade pasta and I help her dig up edible weeds.  When I find lumache (slimy snails in English, escargot in French) near my flower pots I holler and she comes over to get them. I don't deliver.  

 

The Beginning of The Way Things Were
Call me what you will, but I call myself an emigrant....an emigrant who should stop talking about her homeland every day.  (Expat has too many rich, white person connotations and immigrant is what my Italian friends call me.)  Many years ago, my foreign (expat) friends in Chicago continually pointed out the differences between life in their countries and life in Chicago.  I might be mistaken, but their use of the word 'different' often sounded a bit like 'better'. 

Not long after moving to Italy (about three hours) I started doing the same thing.  It has finally dawned on me that if my friends in Italy think like I used to think (if it's better in your country why don't you go home?) it might be wise to keep my American mouth shut in Italy and share my thoughts with the other side of the world.  Hereafter, when I notice something different, be it better or just different, I'll (try to) hold my tongue and add it to my list of The Way Things Were.

My goal is to keep it simple with a few words and a photo,  giving the readers the choice of better...or just different.   With more reflection I'll probably realize that some of the "betters" are here and some of the "betters" are there.  In the end maybe they really are just "differences."