14 wonderful things I learned in 14 years in Italy
Among them - go to your local bar even if you don't drink coffee and slow...down...everything...
As of today, October 10, 2024, I’ve lived in Como, Italy for a mind-blowing 14 years. This place and people are my home and my heart. I’ve regressed, evolved, turned myself inside out, and learned more than I ever knew was possible along this wacked-out adventure of love and loss. So here’s my list of the best things I’ve learned.
My son, Matteo, isn’t half Italian / half American as I imagined he would be having an Italian dad and American mom. He’s more like an Italian spritz - 100% Italian with a splash of American poured on top. I realized this when he was about 2 years old, attending Italian nido (day care). I had this moment of shock that this person birthed from my own body was so different and almost alien from me. A small example from this weekend: at 13 years old, without hesitation, he ordered polenta with donkey at an agriturismo.
Go to the local bar even if you have a coffee maker at home or don’t drink coffee. This is where everyone will stop by eventually for a 5 minute coffee or a few hour aperitivo, or just to say ‘ciao’. It connects me to my neighborhood in the warmest way. I spent my earliest childhood in a small village in upstate New York and always wanted to replicate that everyone-knows-everyone, the-kids-can-roam-free neighborhood ease for me and my family. Our Como neighborhood is this way and a large part of the connectivity happens at the bar and related piazza.
If a road is so narrow it seems it can only be a 1-way street, it’s definitely a 2-way street. Cross my heart, my most asked question when I first moved to Italy was: “Is this a 2 way road?” The answer was always always always yes. Many Italian roads were not built for cars but there’s no space to widen them, so they are 2-way roads on one car width of space. Locals know where to pull over to allow opposite-going cars pass or who should back up depending on which point in the road you’re at. I became one of those locals on the precarious and ancient Roman road leading to our house in the photo on the right.
How to complain. Italians are masters of this and they are right in that it’s not necessary to hide a sh*tty moment, day, or feeling with a smile and “I’m fine.”
How to take a lunch break. Stopping to make a quick hot lunch or run down to the piazza for a farro salad, pasta, or piadina, without guilt, is just civilized. It feels good and it’s right to take time to feed my body without distraction, but most importantly, away from my desk and computer. We are not just brains nor machines.
Having a group of friends of all ages from all backgrounds is profoundly life enriching. Due to the circumstance of speaking very little and bad Italian when I arrived in Italy, the first friends I made in were English-speaking expats and immigrants from all different countries, educational backgrounds, careers, and stories. Age never was a barrier to friendship, where in the US, my friends had been typically all around the same age. The friends I have here, both expats and locals, are a random crew of the most loyal and generous people I have ever met. I’m terribly lucky to call them my friends; they open my world and expand my horizons. As my friend Stella once said, “We’re alone here. Who do we have, if we don’t have each other?”
How to rest. Sure, I work hard now I have a full-time job again, but I take breaks and spend time doing nothing. The dolce far niente, “sweetness of doing nothing” is a real thing. My partner often stops me when he sees my urge to take on another task, with a “Why don’t you just take a hot bath and put yourself to bed?”. His reminders make me feel so cared for. He cares if I rest my body and mind. It’s still a novelty.
How to be humble and ask for help. When my son and I first left the family home when my ex and I separated, I found myself in a foreign country without a job and my only family far away across an ocean. I found a part-time English teaching job, then Covid hit, and lost it. We lived below the poverty line like this for several years. As a college-educated person with decades of professional experience, this was a set of circumstances I’d never fathomed I’d experience. But it’s not easy for anyone to get a job in Italy, so I learned to not be embarrassed about my state. I also learned to ask for help without embarrassment and that if there’s something you need, someone probably has an extra in their cantina that they’re not using and will be more than happy to share it!
Dreams can come true. I always longed to live in a place with mountains and hiking trails out my back door. The easily accessible nature just out our doorstep even surpasses my dreams.
Talking a lot, listening a lot, and making a lot of mistakes are the best way to learn a second language. The wonderful thing about learning Italian is that Italians are so patient with mistakes and gracious with people attempting to speak their language. In all my years here, I’ve only been scorned twice by an Italian for my language ability: once by a ticket agent at Milan’s Stazione Centrale and the other time unfortunately more seriously by a judge in the Italian court for my divorce.
I am my own best advocate. The Italian culture challenged me to grow in ways I didn’t even know I needed. I’ve become a tenacious advocate for myself. In Italy, the first answer is often ‘no’ and you are expected to push beyond it to get the response you need.
How much I can love a dog. The love for my child never surprised me. Like most mammas, I already loved my son while he was in the womb. But I never imagined the bond I could have with a dog. My son loves Coco like a sibling and I’m definitely her mom. Dogs are utterly beloved in Italy and welcome everywhere except large supermarket chains, so she comes everywhere with us.
Kindness is sexy AF. I changed my thinking about what’s attractive after my divorce and manifested the right guy… with Italian manners, generosity, and kindness. He’s also a great role model for my son.
Knowing when foods are in season and how to cook simple, seasonal, delicious Italian food. This is a top joy and point of pride for me after being such an uncertain cook and constant take-out eater in my previous life in the US! If you follow my Weeknight Pasta from Italy, you know how passionate I am about Italian food culture. If not, check it out for simple 30 minute recipes Italians actually make!
I’ll summarize with some words of advice to my 14-years-ago self which might have made my transition from Manhattan to the edge of an Italian village of 1000 people a bit easier: If you want to live the dolce vita slow life or slower life, it’s up to you. You can live in Italy and still be busy busy busy but the positive influences of the culture are here. Take a break. Go drink a coffee at the bar and talk to someone. Have lunch in the piazza on a Tuesday. Don’t wait for Saturday. Go to the market for your produce and the macelleria for your meat, and the bread from the panificio. Sure it takes a little longer than buying everything at the supermarket but it will taste better, be better quality, and give you back 100-fold in the experience. Make your meals and snacks instead of ordering Deliveroo, stopping for fast food, or opening a package of pre-made something. Slow food can be fast. You can make a delicious, healthy meal in the same amount of time or just a bit more. This blew my mind and is the biggest form of self care you can do for your body, mind, and family.
I’m working on Italian citizenship (my dad is a citizen) and also working on having a kid on my own and this story just feels so excellent to hear at this pivotal time for me as I’m hoping to have my kid/raise them in Italy. Thank you for sharing!
Interestingly enough, the many points you describe are also ones I use living in a small American midwestern town. I grew up across the pond but continue to rely on my upbringing there to create and keep my own culture here.