Whence last we spoke, back in October, I was very focused on cocktail creation. Why? Well, drinking helps, right? 🙂 K, maybe that humor is a little dark for the moment. Joking aside, the short and diplomatic version of my story over the past few months is this…
So let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re a Texpat living in the province of Reggio Emilia (totally hypothetical), and you want to treat your Italian girlfriends to a Margarita Night. It’s not as easy as you think…
A somewhat serious look at a common theme in bella Italia – furbizia. Is it ok to become a different person, a harder person, in the face of it? Does it make us better or just more cynical?
I’m just dropping in today for a minute to BLOW YOUR MIND. Ready?
A journey through 6 Italian sayings that may or may not aid you in your search for sex this Valentine’s Day weekend.
My dear friends in the COSÌ group have been busy little bees! Here are their latest tips on summer travel in Italy AND… yes, that’s right… A VIDEO! That’s right; we’re multimedia now. Holla.
“Authenticity… consists in having a true and lucid consciousness of the situation, in assuming the responsibilities and risks that it involves, in accepting it in pride or humiliation, sometimes in horror and hate.” – Sartre
No one wants to be a tourist, but everyone wants to travel. Everyone wants “the local experience” without actually being local. So, how does that work out?
The height of Italian linguistic skills here.
A ponderous post from my stressful position in a Costa Rican hammock. Jealous yet?
See, this is why Italian is cool. Even a New Year’s resolution sounds like poetry.
Our cohort of expat bloggers in Italy (#COSI) has bitten off about as much as it can chew this time: Italian regional food wars.
I am back from my recent adventure, and I am overwhelmed by the quantity of material that warrants this blog’s attention and your comments. Take, for example, Tony.
Fossacaprara, in the province of Cremona, is a little town that leaves a big impression. Get ready for August 22nd and the summer festa to end all summer feste.
Ferragosto: the blessing and the bane of the Italian summer, and the subject of this week’s COSI post. Some people adore this Italian summer holiday, while others find it to be incredibly annoying. My sentiments lie somewhere in the middle… here’s why:
I occasionally get asked to summarize my vast (ha!) knowledge on life in Reggio Emilia to those who are looking to visit or move here. The following is what I usually tell them… (UPDATE: Plus, get info on our live Q&A session on what it’s REALLY like to live in Italy)
Yesterday I was supposed to publish a post for you all to read, as part of our super-cool expat blogger group, C.O.S.I. (Crazy Observations by Stranieri in Italy. My fellow bloggers have dutifully presented theirs to you, but not me. Nope, I’m sorry to say that you will not be getting my thoughts on our…
If you are a woman in Italy, you need to know how to use this word. If you are a man in Italy, you need to know this word as a cue to take cover.
It took six years (to the day) to glean this little pearl of cultural wisdom… just one of many in the long pearl necklace that alternately chokes and adorns my neck.
I’m writing to you on this beautiful Sunday morning with a quick post that perhaps differs from my usual jesting with the Italian culture. My marito and I woke up to an Italian news article by La Repubblica that surprised us quite a bit.
One of the most difficult things to learn in a new country is not the language itself, but how to use the language in the right way. In Italian, we have to disagree a bit before we can agree.
A surprisingly serious ultimatum from my marito regarding a certain box of artificially flavored yellow yumminess.
It’s hard not to love the Tico team. They’re like the little engine that could.
It’s hard not to hate the Italian team. They sucked it up pretty hard.
I have put myself in harm’s way to write this post, so you better read it. And like it, dammit.
Our fearless group of expat bloggers returns to you this week with a doozy. We’ve asked our Italian (and one French) partners to talk about what it’s like being with us crazy expats. Oh, how the tables have turned.
If we can’t mess with your food, then you can’t mess with ours. Deal?
A link to an article I wrote for Houzz on the subject of dealing with culture shock through home design and decor.
This week, a group of us stranieri pazzi expatriate bloggers here in Italy have decided to join forces and tackle a common subject: Stuff we didn’t do before moving to Italy.
The subtle yet GREAT difference between “scoraggiato” and “scoreggiato”.
Many of the culturally shocking aspects of my life here in Italy cannot actually be attributed to living in Italy, but instead to living in a small town. Case in point, this past weekend I voyaged to rural Ireland and found it shockingly comparable to a small town experience here in Italy.
A Collective Post By Some Of Italy’s Best Known Expat Bloggers – Rick Zullo of Rick’s Rome, Misty Evans of Surviving Italy, and me… of here. (Spoiler alert: We all came to the same conclusion.)
Please allow me to introduce you to someone very special. She is but a concept, yet at the same time very very real. She is the true heart of Italy. And she is the thorn in my side.
Che pèis, ragas! This month Italy has kicked my butt a bit, but a weekend in Barcelona was just what I needed to recharge my expatteries. Snort snort.
Quick post to share the most awesome reader comment ever. Can you top it?
A quick #Fitaly recipe that tampers with the most sacred food in Italy – pasta – in order to find a healthier substitute.
My tips about how to watch American men in spandex… with an Italian husband.
If two Italian staples like Buffalo Mozzarella and Catholic Nuns aren’t pure… then how do I know if anything is really pure?
A serious post for a serious day. In respectful remembrance of the Holocaust, here are some of my grandfather’s WWII photos, including those from Buchenwald concentration camp.
Quick update for my #Fitaly friends… the rest of you may read it and laugh at me and my tiny bits of progress. I shall then spit on you.
The super stealth detective skills of yours truly, put to the test in the ultimate question: “did my Italian man cheat on me?”
Can we just take a moment to talk about one of my absolute favorite phrases in the Italian language?
A look into the gifts of the Befana and her sneaky, witchy ways.
A slightly pensive and (dare I say?) sophisticated introduction to 2014… that does involve both peeing AND pooping on things.
A poorly timed holiday tale about the difference between “aroma vaniglia” and vanilla extract (with recipe tips for expats in Italy).
Much in the same way that Cristoforo Colombo and Amerigo Vespucci declared The Americas in the name of their royal benefactors by sidestepping the small issue of native inhabitants, we too shall be inheriting this earth from a prior owner whose voice is too foreign and whose weapons are too small to protest…
Beer + Christmas Season + Crazy Italian Ladies = This.
When I find the missing pieces, I’ll come back to posting. Until then, I’ll be huddled in a ball in front of my stufa, trying not to think of analogies between Italy and Inferno.
A somewhat stretched, but ultimately fun, analogy between The NeverEnding Story and the saga that is the installation of our new stufa.
Just a quick update for my Fitaly readers here. Don’t worry, I also have a post about smashing my head into the brick wall that is Italy. It’s scheduled for this weekend.
I feel like I’ve climbed Everest. I’ve cured cancer. I’ve solved world poverty. I’ve lost ONE WHOLE KILO in a week, whilst remaining inside the geographical confines of Italy! AND, I am fairly certain I didn’t offend anyone in the process.
Speaking on the phone in another language is difficult. Successfully achieving this step represents a whole new plateau in your language skillz (with a z). Here’s some tips on how to artfully conduct a phone conversation in Italian.
Calm down. It’s still funny, even if you don’t give a crap about getting fit in Italy. BE SUPPORTIVE!!!
In an effort to stay on the happy side of life, I’ve decided that I should first point the finger at myself. So, let’s all breathe and take a look at some of the crazy crap we foreigners in Italy try to pull, shall we?
A quantification of the amount of life being sucked out of an expat, as well as a measurement of the subsequent reaction one can expect.
A cryptic, yet literal, ‘How To’ guide for the logistics of buying land in Italy. (By the way, we now own 0.000023% of Italy!!!)
Married to Italy 