Digging Deeper — Lessons from a Swimming Pond and Life in Southern Italy

Still in Petacciato — and still falling in love with this little corner of the world — but life here isn’t all olive trees and sunshine.

Over the past two months, we’ve taken on the job of building a natural swimming pond for our friends. What started as a hands-on, exciting project quickly turned into a full-on lesson in patience, adaptability, and letting go of control.

Coming from a background in construction and DIY, I (maybe naively) thought I had a pretty good idea of how things would unfold. In Switzerland, that might have been true — where you can plan every detail, order exact materials, and expect precise deliveries more or less on the dot. But here in southern Italy, things move at a very different rhythm.

Supplies arrive late, or not at all. The specific materials you need might not exist within a 200 km radius. Tools break, or aren’t quite the right ones, and replacements can take days — or weeks — to track down. There’s a language barrier that turns even simple tasks into games of charades. And then there’s me, standing knee-deep in half-dug earth, realizing just how much I don’t know about pond building.

It’s frustrating, yes. But it’s also deeply humbling.

This project has become less about the pond itself and more about learning to slow down, let go of the “Swiss way,” and meet challenges with curiosity instead of resistance. It’s about making peace with things not going as planned — and somehow still moving forward, one shovel-full at a time.

Connie & Angelo

Authenticity is key they say

None of this would be possible without the generosity and trust of Connie and Angelo — two incredibly kind people who welcomed us with open arms from the very beginning.

They’ve not only trusted us with building the pond on their land, but also with living alongside them and their dogs, sharing meals, stories, and everyday life. Even though there’s a 40-year age difference between us, our connection has grown into a genuine friendship — full of shared values, laughter, and mutual respect.

It’s been a reminder that meaningful bonds can form in the most unexpected ways, and that generosity and warmth really do transcend age or background. We’re so grateful to be sharing this time and space with them.

Mental Hills

As we navigate these physical challenges, there’s also a quieter, more emotional terrain we’re climbing.

We miss our people. The ones who knew us before all this — before the rooftop tent, before Ciro, before the coastal village and the dog shelter. We miss easy coffee catch-ups, spontaneous dinners, and being able to share a laugh without needing to explain the backstory first.

Some days, the weight of distance sits heavy. It’s not regret — far from it. We chose this life, and we love it. But even the most beautiful views can’t replace the feeling of hugging a friend you’ve known for ten years.

That said, we’re still exactly where we’re meant to be. Building something new — ponds, friendships, purpose — with dirt under our nails and our hearts wide open. And we know the people we love are cheering us on from afar.

What’s next?

Next up: turning the view into something you can walk out onto. The pond is nearly done, and we’re about to build a sun deck from some absolutely stunning wood we hunted down all the way in Imola (yep — 9 hours of driving for the good stuff). More on that, the build, and the blisters in the next entry.

The good stuff…

P.S. @assiria — I’m so proud of everything you’ve learned and built with your own hands. You amaze me every day. 💛