Living in the DC metro area, urgency feels like a way of life. Here, being “busy” is almost a badge of honor, a marker of value, productivity—and, often, a subtle claim to being more overwhelmed than the next person. Saying you’re busy doesn’t just describe your day; it implies a level of importance, a suggestion that you’re juggling more than those around you. As a Type A list-maker who thrives on checking things off, I find this constant “go-go-go” culture both energizing and exhausting. There’s no finish line, just one task after the next.
Life is different in Lucca.
People linger over their morning cappuccino, conversations spill over into afternoon hours, and shops close for a midday pause. A glass of wine with lunch isn’t shocking nor cause for worry; it’s simply part of the meal. Wine is viewed as a complement to food, meant to be savored. Meals aren’t rushed, and the focus is on enjoyment and balance rather than restriction.
It strikes me that I’ve never seen anyone in Virginia walking down the street alone, thoroughly enjoying an ice cream cone. In Lucca, however, it's a daily occurrence. People of all ages, without hesitation or guilt, stroll through the piazza savoring their gelato, taking the time to relish the moment. Maybe it’s a reflection of a deeper cultural appreciation for food, or maybe it’s just a reminder of the simple pleasures in life that we often overlook in the rush of daily tasks. In a culture that celebrates food as an experience rather than something to ration or rush through, this small indulgence feels like a joyful, effortless part of everyday life.
There’s a rhythm here that doesn’t revolve around productivity but rather around enjoying each day. In Lucca, it doesn’t matter how much you accomplish in a day; what matters is that you enjoy it. It’s refreshing, even restorative, but for someone used to efficiency and instant gratification, this slower pace is a double-edged sword. I found myself savoring the calm in Lucca, but I sometimes still have to fight my instinct to check things off lists, to get things done now.
What Do You Do?
The difference in priorities here becomes even clearer when I realize that nobody in Lucca has ever asked us what we do for a living—not even once. In a culture where status and career aren’t central to identity, people seem more interested in who you are than in what you do. There’s an unspoken invitation to step back from the need to define ourselves by productivity and just be.
In Lucca, things operate at a pace that might feel foreign to those of us accustomed to the urgency of life in a busy metro area. There’s a trust in the process here—a quiet confidence that everything will get done without the need for constant follow-up or pressure. Contractors aren’t in a rush to be paid immediately, and restaurant servers won’t bring the check to your table until you ask, allowing you to enjoy your meal at leisure.
Adjusting to this pace takes a bit of patience, but we were prepared for it when we first bought our place. To our surprise, however, everything fell into place more smoothly than we’d expected. During our marathon move-in week, painters arrived right on schedule, the electrician showed up exactly when he said he would, and even furniture deliveries went off without a hitch. It was a reminder that while things may unfold more slowly in Lucca, there’s a reliability and respect for time here that made everything work out perfectly in the end.
It's Not a Race
It’s become a running joke between Dario and me that, despite being an avid marathoner and even completing an Ironman, he walks at a pace that could be described as leisurely at best. Meanwhile, I tend to speed-walk everywhere. Sometimes, Dario will even hold my hand to “put on the brakes,” a subtle reminder to slow down. I once read that narcissists often walk ahead, always in a rush—so it’s something I’ve been working on, trying to be more present and mindful of the pace around me.
An Unexpected Reminder to Slow Down
After embracing Lucca’s relaxed pace, we returned to Virginia recently—only to break my foot within hours of being back. Now I’m post-surgery and non weight bearing and forced to slow down in a way I hadn’t planned. Being sidelined has tested my patience and my instincts to keep moving, doing, and checking things off my endless list. The irony isn’t lost on me; just as I’m getting back to the urgency of life in Virginia, I’m hit with a reality check that makes me wonder if this is the universe’s way of telling me to take Lucca’s lesson to heart.
Suddenly, those habits I picked up in Lucca are more relevant than ever. I can’t race through my day anymore. Each task takes more time, more thought, and I’m reminded of the Italian approach—piano, piano, or “slowly, slowly.” It’s been humbling to recognize that, even without a full to-do list, life is still moving forward.
Balancing Two Paces of Life
This has underscored just how valuable it is to find balance between the urgency of our home in Northern Virginia and the calm of Lucca. In Virginia, I’ve always valued productivity, but now I’m beginning to see the beauty in embracing a slower, more intentional approach—even if it’s forced upon me. I still love a good list and a productive day, but I’m learning to savor quiet, unhurried moments too.
In the end, this experience has shown me that both mindsets—DC’s drive and Lucca’s calm—have their place. Our time in Lucca teaches me to live in the moment, and my recent injury has reminded me that sometimes, slowing down isn’t a choice but a necessity. Moving between these two worlds has given me perspective: I can embrace productivity without losing sight of the beauty in simply being.
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