I’ve been oddly quiet on socials the last few years with posts mainly to update that I’m still alive and around, but while I’ve been enjoying a life less documented, I haven’t been doing nothing. For the last few years, I’ve been living in Italy, with the first year being the trials and tribulations of navigating Italian bureaucracy to get my citizenship. This is something I wrote a post about but it’s hard to talk through without the conversation being full of negativity, so I’d rather that not be the end of a hiatus. Something I get asked a lot about is how is it to live in Italy. Is so and so true? Do you just eat pasta? So lets break some stuff down.

For context, I moved here in the fall of 2022 and started the citizenship journey. I didn’t end up getting it until November 2023 after moving to a small village in the center of Italy. I met Carla shortly after moving here and stayed after to continue the relationship and spend more time in Italy. I got a remote job for an Irish company and work close to normal hours, albeit remotely. Working for an American company pays more, but working 4pm to midnight is not that fun for the long term.

The relationship didn’t quite work out, but I’m enjoying the company I found and I’m finally becoming fluent, so there’s likely more Italy in my story. Here’s some fun information and hopefully some helpful knowledge for if there is some Italy in your future.

I Had a Great Trip But I Need To Eat Something That Isn’t Pizza Or Pasta

This isn’t a cute heading, this is the exact sentence that it has become my mission to destroy. After I first moved here, more than one friend left Italy saying this exact sentence. So we’ll get into how different Italian life is to American and if by the end you don’t think you could leave Italy without saying this sentence, message me directly and I’ll make sure that isn’t the case.

First things first, the Italian life has an entirely different motivation and to be honest, I still haven’t nailed it down, but we’re getting there. The main goal for most is to enjoy the wonderful things with people they care about. I can already hear you, “Duh, that’s what everyone wants.” , but that hasn’t been my experience in most places, especially America. Most of my time spent living in America was with people saying that is what they want, so they chase fame or money or some other sort of mountaintop that will eventually lead them to the wonderful things with people they love. What I’m saying is that Italians have access to a ton of the best things in life (think California but way cheaper) and acknowledge that they don’t need much more. Eating the same food with the same people every day is a joy when the food is good and the people are nice.

The capitalism bored deep into my soul as an American is set ablaze every time that we go adventure somewhere and I am at a beach club over a mile from the next closest place to get water or food and I am able to get a good lunch and drink for under ten euros. My brain can’t fathom the universe where you have me trapped and I have currency and a need and you don’t wreck me on the price. But this is where we get into the entire mentality shift. They are overcharging me. The coffee usually costs one euro because it costs them next to nothing to make. They are charging me two euros because I am trapped, but that is so close to the original price, I don’t even see it as a difference. The entire country (exclude the north in any of these sentences as someone taught them more capitalism at some point) functions like this. Again to my California comparison, in a few hours, you can go from mountain to beach to forest in Italy. Each region has its own food and it is all delicious. Because no one is trying to gouge you on the price, you can enjoy all of the nice things here without having to gouge anyone on price.

Another example would be Sunday speed. Italians have a different speed that they walk on holidays and weekends. It’s probably not an intentional thing, but if they have nowhere to be, they basically crawl to their destination. When I moved here, I was flying past everyone, even when I had nowhere to be. As I’ve spent more time here, to the detriment of my calf muscles that are no longer in constant strain, I’ve learned to slow down and just enjoy the walk. Piano piano, slowly slowly.

I’m sure you’ve seen the countless videos online of people trying to piss off Italians by breaking a food rule and as funny as some of the videos are, it comes down to a similar mindset. Dishes and food in Italy have been figured out. Perfected. Their disbelief in you doing it wrong is because they can’t comprehend why you wouldn’t want the best thing. I find it really romantic. As an American, you can order whatever you want and do whatever you want to it, as long as you pay for it. Here in Italy, they want you to have the best thing they can give you more than they want your money.

Now on to the pizza and pasta fiasco. This comes down to the difference in dining rituals between Italians (and other Southern Europeans) and Americans (and other countries, I’m sure). When you look at an Italian menu, you’ll see antipasti (appetizers), primi (firsts), secondi (seconds) and contorni (sides). We don’t really need to talk through desserts but we’ll get to after dinner. In America, you order one dish (and maybe an appetizer to share) and that dish will come with everything on it. Pasta, meat, vegetables, whatever. You ordered, you paid, you eat, you get out (and don’t forget to tip). In Italy, those aren’t just cute names. The standard procedure is usually that you’ll have an antipasto to split and then a first plate (maybe to split depending on the occasion), followed up by a second, maybe with a contorno to split. Why isn’t everyone a million pounds? Because this whole affair doesn’t take place in forty five minutes like in the US. Usually dinner is a whole evening affair, taking between one and three hours depending on group size. The point is the time you spend with the people you are with (and the food doesn’t hurt either). When most American friends are presented with the menu, the standard dilemma occurs, “Do I have pasta or the chicken as there isn’t a plate with both?”. There won’t be a plate with both, they’re meant to be separated. Outside of a lunch spot, you’ll never see it. So let me guide you. Come to Italy. Split the pasta with a friend, follow it up with deliciously cooked meat, enjoy.

Next, I guess we should cover wine. For context, I never drank wine in the US. It is expensive or low quality and I never quite got the point and stuck to whiskey or water. Thanks to the owner of a wonderful osteria across from my apartment (shoutout Fabrizio, if for some reason you ever read this in English), I now have a better basis for wine. Wine in Italy is a mainstay. It’s very common for wine to just be made available. It does not follow the same rule as in the US where a higher price tag means a better wine. Wines, like food, are regional. If you’re in a restaurant with a waiter who knows their stuff, they can suggest you a wine that matches with what you bought. If you’re not, red goes better with meat and white goes better with fish, you still won’t have a bad time following this in general in Italy. Usually if there is a house wine (vino della casa), it’s usually pretty good and will only cost you a few euros, so you can’t go wrong there. For an added bonus for reading this far, grab a bottle of Primitivo if you ever see one. It’s usually under 10 euros and has become my gift of choice. I’ve yet to hear a complaint about it and have heard more than once that it has ruined other more expensive red wines for others. Just another beautiful output of Puglia. Anyways, that’s wine. Drink it with friends, be happy, tell stories.

Lets chat on after dinner while we’re here. Desserts here are so hard for me to explain as someone with a sweet tooth. Delicate is the only word that comes to mind. Nothing is so insanely sugary that I’m ready to sleep after, but I’ve never had one where I thought “This needs to be sweeter”. If we exclude gelato (which now that I’m mentioning it, I’ll get to later), I’m not big on other desserts, so I don’t have much more to say here other than it follows the same rules as the food, each region has their own specialties. Next is the amaros, the digestive liqueurs. This for me is a joy as you can find them in almost any flavor profile, and they are small but meant to be sipped. A nice little strong alcohol post meal does the soul good. Now, the infamous after dinner coffee. I know this one feels crazy, you just ate a bunch of food for several hours, it is now close to midnight (or well after depending on how far south you are) and you have ordered a coffee. Yeah, but this is an Italian coffee, small with little to no milk. The point is to help your digestion, not to keep you awake , maybe to counter some of that wine.

Finally, gelato, the crown jewel, my eternal post meal destination. What a wonderful thing to live in a country that has gelato shops everywhere and they are open very late, and are super full in the late evenings. I don’t have much to say here that you don’t know as these aren’t a secret. Maybe that you can ask for panna (cream) on top and if you know the right spots, you can get chocolate covered that hardens (like the Magic Shell when you were a kid but way better). So get some every chance you get and enjoy it. Also, pistacchio in Italian has two c’s so it is pi-sta-key-oh. Hit it with some Italian flair and you won’t get any weird looks when you order. You’re welcome.

Wait, before leave dinner, let’s touch on tipping. In the US, tipping is at least twenty percent and is essentially mandatory. No one is happy to give or receive, but it must be done. I don’t need to get into the details on this, but just for context. In Italy, this is not the case. Food costs what you will pay and workers are paid what they are expected. For exceptional service, you can leave a euro or two. Any time I’ve left a bit more has been met with some resistance, but overall, people are genuinely happy to receive the small recognition of a job well done. Notably, for one meal I had the best steak I’ve ever had, recommended by the waitress and an amazing bottle of wine suggested to pair with it and I left five euros. After some resistance, she accepted it, which is wild, because if I walked out of that bill only leaving five dollars in the US, I’d be famous on the internet for the ensuing scene. That said, no need to tip, but if they do a good job, leave some coin.

But Your Last Name Is Italian

I guess we can hop into what it’s like to live here, not just come here for a week. First off, Italians are great, Italy is great, the food is great. I fully understand that anything here that seems to be a complaint is coming from a place of privilege and I am basically crying in a paradise, but I’ve never hidden things on this blog before and I’m writing, so I’ll cry where I want to.

When I lived in America, I always considered myself not quite American. I never felt that I had the same motivations as others, that I didn’t quite fit the American standard. Let me say that after over two years in Italy, I can assure you that I am American. While there is some semblance that American culture tends to take over other countries as globalization occurs and Americans tend to bring tourism and cash flow, that is not the case in Italy. Italians live as Italians and if you move to Italy expecting to live the Italian version of your American life, I need you to know that you will be sorely mistaken.

That being said, I’ve been blessed to do quite a bit of traveling so had some idea of what to expect and there are some super cool things. After all the learning of riding scooters in Asia, scooters are wildly accepted here, so that’s my main form of transport. Actually, driving here is closer to driving in Vietnam than anywhere else I’ve been, so whipping in between cars to avoid traffic is super cool. Italians have a deep love for driving in the middle of two lanes though, so driving in a car is not. I’d say that’s just for a city like Rome, but as I’ve driven around most of the country…this is a nationwide phenomenon. Parking here is also comical. Driving in Italy mostly follows the “If you aren’t hurting anyone, you’re fine” type rules. Around dinner time, you will see some wild parking. Like double parked over a crosswalk wild. Every time I’ve ever parked and though “this might be too illegal”, I come back to my vehicle with someone parked more illegally than me.

Eating is also a big topic that comes up about living here. The food here is super fresh and not that expensive. Even if you remove the large amount that I save from not having to tip, things are generally cheaper here. They aren’t processed and don’t last as long, but it’s fresh, so eat it. With all of the high quality ingredients, it’s super easy to throw something healthy together that tastes great. I would say option wise, food is much more limited here than anywhere I’ve spent time, but their market is Italians and that’s what they want to eat. I’ve never seen a group of people so passionate about their own stuff. I won’t even get into the number of countries I’ve been to with Italians where we have gone to an Italian restaurant for dinner. I can’t argue with results though.

Next up we have my great adversary, the language…which is gorgeous, but frustrating. As of this post, I’ve been to 42 countries. Of that list, in my experience, Italy in general has the least amount of English spoken. Growing up with an Italian family, this realization was wild to me, but I understand it. Imagine you’re somewhere that has mountains, beach, forest, you name it and then some of the best food and drink in the world and you speak that language. What is your motivation to learn another one? Even in the capital cities, once you leave the center, fluency in English goes out the door, your mileage here may vary depending how far North you are. I’m not complaining, as it does kind of force me to constantly be learning and improving my Italian, but it does inform some of the more difficult things about living here. Things like going to the dentist or mechanic, which can already be stressful, are two-fold when even a choice of words can change your experience, since you likely won’t have English to fall back on. At least most Italians are conscious of the lack of English, so they’ll do their best to help bridge the gaps any way they can and you get some nice compliments when you actually speak the language (whether they fully understand you or not).

The language itself sounds beautiful. Saying things feels nice when you get it right. The language contains no silent letters and words are pronounced exactly as they are written. This makes learning a new word super easy, however, it means that if you pronounce that word with one t instead of two, no one will know what you’re talking about. Then we have rolling your R’s, which is a skill that requires more practice than I’d like to admit. I still can’t hit an R followed by an L without using 100% of my brain. There’s also conjugation, but that exists in a lot of languages and I’m just lucky (unlucky?) that we never had to learn that with English. Not to say English isn’t a psychotic language because I’ve had all the English weirdness pointed out to me since I’ve lived here.

Since most Italians don’t speak amazing English, they really cut you some slack when your Italian is lacking and they try to work with you. Until they find out your last name is Italian, then you’ll likely get blasted for not speaking Italian and have to explain the societal implications of having an Italian accent in early 1900’s America, but worth the price, I guess.

That’s it. I’ll stop there, maybe I’ll follow up next time with more Italy stuff or living abroad or cool travel stories like before. I’m going to try to be a bit more consistent with my writing, so I’m going to kill this here or I’ll never publish this and it will sit in drafts forever (because it has already been there for over a month). As always, thanks for reading. Let me know what else you want to read about and if you ever grab a gelato during an adventure and think of me, send me a picture.

Arriverderci, alla prossima