There’s a specific kind of upheaval that comes with moving your entire life across countries and oceans. Obviously you leave behind friends and jobs and sometimes family, but there are also smaller, quiet things you grieve with each move. Your favorite coffee shop or bookstore, or hobbies you picked up in your last home that you may not be able to do in your new home. It’s always surprising to me how much of my personhood is wrapped up in where I live when I get to a new place and have to rethink most of it.

The first time we moved we stayed stateside. That made the adjustment easier, though going from Eternal Sunshine (Florida) to Twilight (Washington) was a bit of a shock to the system. I learned with that move, though, that hobbies aren’t always transferrable. More importantly I learned that it’s okay to not always be able to take hobbies to new places. I’m an avid scuba diver and kayaker and beach bum, and it took me a long time to accept that those things just weren’t going to be an option in Washington like they were in Florida. The beaches are rocky and the water is just too damn cold. I had to find other things to enjoy and accept that the things that had made me ‘me’ for so many years could take a backseat and still be valid parts of who I am.

Now, in Italy, that same feeling is happening again but with new and more quiet things. We’re back in a warmer climate with a beach culture so that part of me is starting to resurface, and simultaneously I’m grieving the person who fell in love with quiet, rainy, grey days and hot coffee and slow walks through the greenest trees I’d ever seen. And in conjunction with both of those, I’m discovering new parts of myself who are fully embracing Italian culture of a slower paced life and of experiencing food instead of just eating it. The three levels are an interesting juxtaposition and can sometimes be overwhelming.

One of my favorite things to do at night when I’m feeling restless is just go for a drive and listen to music. Maybe with a silly little drink like a slushee or a fun fancy water. Moving to a new country took away our ability to drive for a month while we waited for our Italian licenses, and when we could finally drive again we learned that the driving culture here is vastly different than anywhere in the US. The roads are awful (yes, even worse than New Orleans), everyone drives *so* fast all the time, and my only experience with non-highway driving before this past weekend was when we accidentally made Google Maps route us down literal foot paths the first time I drove Kevin to work. Talk about culture shock. I was very much anticipating not being able to go on my little mental health drives and was becoming not necessarily *okay* with it, but accepting that it would be an uncomfy, if quiet, adjustment.

Then we went to an engagement party out in the country last weekend and I was SO excited to learn that paved non-highway roads ARE a thing here and that they do still have ridiculous potholes but they’re definitely acceptable for chill nighttime driving. Not everything is fast city living! Small towns and farm lands ARE a thing in other places in the world! It’s almost like people are pretty much the same no matter where you go. Imagine that.

On the way home from the party, I was pondering how relieved I felt knowing I could have my little night drives here and the phrase “slow settle” popped into my head. I think with frequent, large-scale moves there are stages to settling into your new life. There’s the obvious, quick settling where you adjust to the new time zone and switch your phone plans and figure out how to use the oven. Then there’s the next stage which is finding the dentist and getting into the new routines and setting up your new house the way you like it. Then I think there’s a third, quieter kind of settling in that we don’t talk about much. The gradual finding of who you’ll get to be on a smaller, more daily scale. What coffee shops you’ll go to when you want to write in peace but not be alone, which beaches suit your vibe, and which little back roads you can drive down at night with your fun little fruit water and your angsty playlist. That’s the slow settle. Quiet. Gentle. Comforting in the midst of all of the discomfort. I think it might be my favorite one.