Escaping Urgency Culture: More Lessons from Lucca

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.

In Italy, daily life is guided by presence and connection—but that doesn’t mean it’s always slow-paced. You’ll often see someone quickly downing an espresso at the bar, chatting briefly with the barista before heading on their way. Efficiency has its place.

At the same time, there’s a cultural appreciation for slowing down when it matters. People may linger over a cappuccino, and they’ll readily stop in the street to greet a friend or neighbor—because face-to-face conversation is valued over rushing past one another.

Shops often close for a midday pause to maintain balance between work and personal life. A glass of wine with lunch on a workday isn’t unusual or frowned upon—it’s simply part of the meal, meant to be enjoyed alongside good food. Meals are about flavor, connection, and enjoyment—not restriction or speed.

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 isn’t about rushing to be productive, but about truly savoring each day. In Lucca, it didn’t feel like what you accomplish matters as much as how you enjoy the moment. For me, that was both refreshing and restorative.

I want to be clear—I’m not trying to make broad generalizations about Italians or the culture. Everyone’s experience is unique, and what I noticed is simply what stands out to me during our time in Lucca in contrast to life back in Virginia.

Coming from a background where efficiency and instant results are the norm, I sometimes found it challenging to fully let go. I loved the calm and slower pace, but I still caught myself wanting to check things off my to-do list and move quickly. It’s been a helpful reminder that different rhythms can coexist—and that slowing down can be its own kind of productivity.

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.

When Dario holds my hand, it’s part sweet gesture, part tactical maneuver to slow me down to his walking pace.

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.