On Beach Days, Olive Oil, and Science

Yesterday afternoon while sitting on the beach I couldn't decide what I wanted to write about. But I did decide that if (ahem….when) I write a book, I will dedicate at least half to Italian rituals at the beach. Chapters may include but are not limited to:

What to Wear: Less is More
What to Eat: A Place-Based Investigation
Personal Space: A Philosophic Treaty on the Implementation of a Rare Concept
Public vs. Private Beaches: What to Expect When You’re Expecting Instagram Photos
The Art of Tanning
Public Grooming: A Well-Plucked Guide to Public Displays of Affection

The beach for me is that place. What hugging a tree or climbing a mountain is to some, lying on the beach is to me. Swimming in the saltwater is my absolution. I’m freed from every worry, care, fear, or no-good-terrible-bad day when I can soak up the sun and dive in the sea. I can celebrate simply and calm myself thoroughly, regardless of what has happened or what is to come. It's where I go to just be.

Last week I found myself up against the universe. You know that feeling when you're being charged too much for strawberries, your landlord is ripping you off and kicking you out, and the old ladies want to cut in line at the grocery store because you look foreign and not in a hurry? (Oh, you don't know that feeling? Come visit me then. I'll give you a tour.) I felt exhausted and taken advantage of by simple interactions.

To add insult to injury, even the five-liter jug of olive oil I bought mocked me with its superior strength and impossible-to-open cap. It took an Ikea toolkit, a funnel, both feet, and 12 minutes of doubt that I was in fact a strong independent woman to resolve our differences (and by that I mean open the can of olive oil and pour it into a more manageable bottle.)

Now that we have the back story, let me get to the science. I'm no scientist and physics was my lowest grade in high school. To be honest, I'm not even sure this is deemed physics, but I do have a vague childhood recollection of watching a Rube Goldberg Machine and learning the elementary phrase: "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." I did a minimal amount of research and found NASA's children's website to confirm that Newton's third law does in fact state something along these lines.

So what I say next, just remember, has scientific roots.

When you come up against resistance in the form of greedy real estate agents and hostile women of a certain age, just remember, there's an equal and opposite reaction on its way to you.

My equal and opposite reaction showed up to me in the kindness of strangers yesterday. It was the waiter at my favorite coffee bar welcoming me back and remembering my morning breakfast order after over a month of being closed. It was the absolute miracle of a post office worker who used his personal cell phone to "make me an appointment" in order to complete my requested transaction after I had already waited in line and was standing in front of him. It was also finding five euros in a summer jacket that I hadn't used in a while.

And lastly, it showed up at the beach, where I went regroup. It showed up in a conversation with a fellow swimmer who turned out to be from the tiny town across the valley to where I spent the past three years in Sicily. It showed up in his gentle and genuine willingness to share his life and ask about mine, in his forward assertation that his fiancee was getting fitted for her wedding dress while he took a couple of hours at the beach, letting me know from the start what kind of conversation he was striking up. It was a chat grounded in curiosity, based on mutual trust since we both knew the same small place on one big island and solidified by the fact that we were each living as foreigners away from home. (He lives and works in central Italy).

What stuck with me was what he said as I brushed sand from my legs and folded up my towel. He told me he hopes I find a house, that work picks up, and he wished me "tante belle cose." A simple and common expression that literally means, "I wish you many beautiful things" or "I hope for you the very best." But right then, those words held a whole realm of possibility. Like the sea, they washed away the resistance I was feeling from fellow humans and brought back some balance to my worldview.

This is all to say that everything I need to know, I did in fact learn in elementary school physics. When you feel resistance, what will you do to stay calm and grounded while you wait for Newton's third law? How can you stay more open to an equal and opposite reaction? What changes if we agree that "what goes up, must come down"? (Is that science too? I honestly don't know...I haven't checked NASA's website yet.)

Finally, I wish each of you "tante belle cose" and more. I wish you unexpected adventure, continual kindness, and faith in your local postal workers.

Sending sunshine,

Henna

PS: As always, you can find my past love letters here and if you want to spend 45 minutes together chatting about all the beautiful things you wish for, I'm here.