I’ve always been that person who needs a fan to fall asleep. There’s something about the noise that helps quiet the tornado of thoughts that spiral around my head as I try to lay to rest every night.
This time last year, I was planted in a place far different from anything I’d been used to. Door knobs did not exist- practically a puzzle to get in and out of any door- and paved roads were not known- and had instead traded themselves for narrow cobblestone streets.
Upon my arrival to this foreign land, I was exhausted- so as I threw on the pajamas and hopped into my tiny little bed- laying my head on the singular pillow awaiting my arrival, my eyes shot open- I didn’t have a fan…
How was I EVER going to fall asleep? Did they even have fans here? Where would I buy one?
As I laid to rest that first night, I was shocked by the sounds of my new home- anytime a car drove past, it sounded like it was coming right through my wall to join me in my room. The glass on the windows would shake, and the shutters along with them. Needless to say, I was stressed. It was actually in that moment, where I realized I probably wouldn’t be getting sleep for the next five months…
Great.
My first morning in this new far away land came quite early- a bright and shiny 5:30am to be exact. It was those windows- they were rattling louder than I’d ever heard before, and for quite a while might I add… But why?
I went on with my day and before I knew it, nighttime came around. I was back in that resting room of mine where I had probably acquired a solid 2 hours of sleep the night before- so it was time to try and give this fanless night another go. Until…
The windows. Those large, old, tall windows. Rattling like the building was about the crumble down on top of me. It was later- around 10:30pm or so. I simply couldn’t understand. What on EARTH was this noise, and where the HECK was I going to find a fan to block it out and actually secure some solid sleep while living here…
The sound perplexed me for days. I couldn’t understand what was happening at these odd times of day.
As I began to explore Florence a little more, I came to know the Mercato Centrale or the central market. Every day, Florentines would gather to sell everything under the sun- leather, food, clothing, you name it. What fascinated me was that on some late night walks around the city, the place that, by day, was flooded with people and goods, was empty. The square was wide open.
It wasn’t until one morning as I walked to an early class, that coming down the narrow cobblestone road behind me was this loud, rattling sound- similar to the one I’d hear every time my windows did their little dance.
As I turned, I saw it. The root of this sound. The causation of my 5:30am alarm.
There was a man, pulling a ginormous cart behind him with his bare hands. Quadruple his size and purses peeking out… he was coming from the Mercato Centrale!
Very quickly, all of the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. The market in the morning (long after 5:30)? Packed. Full of vendors. The square at night (after 10:30)? Empty. Not a soul or garment in sight. What were these vendors selling out of everyday…? Not huts, not tables. One day I decided to look towards the ground- wheels. Every single one- had wheels.
THIS was the sound. The rickety wheels on the cobblestone streets, that my windows mistakes for music and danced to every morning and night.
After continued observation, I came to learn that every. Single. Morning and night. These workers would drag these carts to and from their station every day- and I’m not just talking a couple feet or so… They stored their carts multiple streets away, in these little garages or storage areas. I couldn’t believe my eyes- this felt so “old world” to me- someone physically pulling a huge cart with huge wood slabs and creaky wheels all by themself- all to just go home, sleep, and wake up bright and early to do it all again.
It was dedication. Hard work. Tradition.
So, you might be asking yourself- well, Ranait… did you ever get any sleep? Or how about that fan, did you ever find one loud enough to mask the noise?
Yes and no.
I never ended up searching for an actual fan that plugged into my wall. I tried to just convince myself they didn’t exist as I was already on a budget as it was and surely I could make do and adapt.
But, here’s something interesting…
That noise? That little dance the windows performed every morning and night?
That became my fan.
As loud and alarming as it may have been, it became a comfort to me- bringing a smile to my face everytime I heard it. It let me know that right on the other side of that window, was another human in this world. That I wasn’t alone. That there was actually so much beauty in a world that moved so much older and slower. Truly a simplicity that cannot be replaced.
I don’t live in that magical land anymore- the place that taught me to sleep without a fan- at least for now. But I guess the question now is- so when I returned to my “homeland” did I keep it up? Did I leave the old electric fan habit behind?
Well, if I’m being honest, I’m currently up jotting this whole ramble down in my notes app at a solid 1:35 in the morning after I promised myself I would put down the electronics and go to bed about an hour ago.
I have two fans operating on full speed, and yet I still laid awake tossing and turning- thinking, reflecting, and praying in between. Wondering why I can’t fall asleep when my eyes feel heavy. My mind then transported back to where I would’ve been this exact time last year- in that little Italian apartment- with no fan and just the rattle of those windows.
And as I listen to these fans trying to quiet the tornado that still is swirling in my head, the road outside my window is quiet. No rattling. No people. No cobblestone streets.
It’s funny now- how the tables have turned. I was worried last year that I wouldn’t be able to sleep for months due to the absence of that little electric windmill, and now, I have them back- and I couldn’t tell you the last time I actually got a good nights sleep.
So, as the clock approaches 2am I guess I should put this ramble to rest and maybe even try to get some myself. But as the fans buzz, I will lay here dreaming- of those dancing windows thousands of miles away. Dreaming of the next time, they will lull me to sleep again.
