“What exhibit is this?”

“Fuori,” I tell the man who has suddenly sprung up next to me in front of Rome’s Palazzo delle Esposizioni. Fuori is the Italian word for “outside”.

“Si ma che cos’è?” Yeah, but what is it about?

I didn’t really know what to tell him—even if I had all of the vocabulary to explain it. The truth is that I ran by the building earlier that morning and just saw the sign announcing a new exposition. I was intrigued enough that I went home, took a shower and then made my way back to stand in line. And now I had an Italian guy looking at me from behind a mask and awaiting a better answer. 

“Boh!” I finally answered him. This sound is Italian for “I don’t know” but it’s also this foreigner’s go-to word when I want to linguistically take the easy way out.

“It’s contemporary art,” the lady in front of me piped in after hearing our exchange. And this was all she gave in terms of information. And perhaps like me, that was all she knew about it too. No matter though— this cursory description was apparently enough for the newcomer. He hopped in line behind me and like us waited his turn to see whatever was at the top of the Palazzo’s steps. 

Italians are by nature very curious people. Without any pretentiousness or forced interest, they’ve got this ingrained love for artistry that is reflected everywhere. You hear it in the music, the architecture (with the exception of the residences and administrative buildings built the fascist era which are largely reviled). You sense it when they talk about the food in season (a ripe persimmon or a skillet full of chestnuts), you hear it when they speak about Maradona’s veritable ballet on the pitch even if that World Cup goal was questionable. All of these things are simply experiences to be admired.

So Italians don’t queue up for a random art exhibit simply because they think others will approve. They do it because they are genuinely interested.

It’s an in interesting contrast to behold after moving from London. For certain, each city has its finer points, but in London there’s an almost reverential regard for pre-booking and queue-formation. I found this to be really annoying when before I understood this—afterwards, I found it incredibly tranquil. In Rome, it’s a city where the inhabitants consistently place themselves at odds with the elements because they like their own chances for winning. 

Even at the Fuori art exhibit, the sign said that everyone must reserve a spot online in order to achieve a contactless engagement between the pubic and the staff….and the exhibit was of course completely booked. But what’s comical about these factors is that the folks who are without a ticket will still nearly always find a way. Just as that curious guy was being turned away because he had no ticket, he was quickly chased down by the ticket checker because someone else had an extra ticket and wanted to offer it to him. Life is thus. It’s worth it to take a chance.

Since Thanksgiving is now behind us and the city stores already have their Christmas decorations up, I’m feeling a little sad about the reduced number of exhibits and activities that are on offer for the holidays. I say this because two days after the Fuori exhibit opened, a new decree was put in an effect because the COVID cases were on the rise. All museums were closed—the exhibit was suspended—sospesa.  Lots of other things are closed too—basically anything that brings with it gatherings of human beings.  I don’t have to tell you about this because I know that your town is most likely operating under the same parameters.

So I won’t lie, Thanksgiving was extra weird this year.  I didn’t enjoy it—and now that it’s behind me I have a rekindled desire to make Christmastime feel somehow special even considering the restrictions that will undoubtedly remain in place. Even if I can’t take the train to Naples to watch The Nutcracker at the iconic San Carlo theatre or check out the amazing collections of presepi or nativity scenes. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do in this world of social distancing, but I am trying to do as the Italians and get curious. Because the world—this one here in Italy and literally everywhere else—I am truly interested in learning about.  

Throughout this year I have gone through many wickets of “re-realization” that life is different than it was last year. With each month and the modification of usual activities I experience a whole “oh yeah, we can’t do this right now” feeling. With everything at more than arm’s reach, it is kinda sad. The holidays only magnify this—but I am resolved to try and discover the positive aspects. Each day this takes effort…and in this season it will take a bit more I suspect.

I just googled “things to do in Rome at Christmas” and I was basically presented with sites that were published in 2019. All useless. But I did smile when I saw that a tree would still be coming to St. Peter’s Square. I have fond memories of wandering the square a few years with my brother on New Year’s eve as we took in the lights and nativity scene. It felt magical. But then I read that Rome’s infamous Spelacchio tree might not be coming this year because no sponsors have stepped up to pay for it. The economic realities of COVID are pretty real. It would appear that we have much to complain about—but also much to be grateful for. Balancing the two is a daily task. 

Eventually the museums will open again as will the commercial shopping centers on the weekend. Until then, I’m still planning to be out in the open—the real meaning of fuori—so that I can continue to experience as much as possible. I’m surrounded by a bunch of role models here in Italy who teach me every day that it is not only acceptable to overtake my car from the breakdown lane on the right—but also that I should continually poke my head out there and see what I can find. This holiday season, that’s what I am hoping that I can do for myself each day until things get more normal.