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…
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?
“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
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.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
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.
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!!!)
Somewhere in Sweden there’s a well designed room of blonde people eating meatballs and discussing how to best debilitate various consumer groups into subjection. I am here to report that they have yet to conquer the Italians!
Adapting to a new culture can be a tumultuous process. It’s a mistake to not talk about the difficult parts of living in Italy, for fear of ruining the fairy tale image. (For those of you who don’t like to read, I made a graph that sums it up pretty well.)
You ain’t got the blues ’til you lose what you got. I may have met the love of my life, but at what cost? Fluffy towels, baby, fluffy towels.
My daily life can no longer support the onslaught of carbohydrates and pork that this country is wielding at me. This is my call for help. (#fitaly)
Exploring my thoughts on tight versus loose, regarding men’s lower body garments.