Questa Dolce Vita

This post is for all you young expats or would-be expats, those of working age who aren't loaded and can't afford to retire and bask poolside on a yacht in Portofino (magari!). I would just like you to know, that as you plan or even just dream about your life abroad, it's going to be pretty ordinary in a sense. You are going to find a job, a hot Italian boyfriend (wink), work during the day, come home, cook, watch terrible Italian variety shows, and go to bed. Repeat. Sometimes expectations of grandeur can cloud the reality of life in Italy. I've spoken with many a prospective expat who all seem to think Italy is an eternal vacation. When I reflect on my day-to-day life, the best way I can describe it is as completely ordinary but with an extraordinary backdrop. It's these surroundings that make the difference. Imagine you took the most heinous, bland play in history but gave it the costume designer of Sex and the City and the best of the best set designers. That's your life in Italy. And the problem with that is it's easy to also become immune to the "set". Often, I try to actively remind myself to take a look around me as I frantically drive home to let the cat in, or to the grocery store to stock up on wine. Therein lies the beauty.

Photograph: My beautiful friend Sunmi perusing a fruit market in Forio, a small town on the island of Ischia in Italy. An absolute must-see and highly underrated by all tourists (except Germans, someone tipped them off!). 

Picture this for a lifestyle change: You’re driving back from the beach in a red Alfa Romeo convertible, winding your way through aromatic Tuscan vineyards at dusk. You round the corner, marked by a hilltop castle, and pass a field of sunflowers. Turning onto a dirt road, you see your house come into view: a stone-walled villa with a large garden and a vista over the hills. 

(.© John Moretti, from Living Abroad in Italy. Also check out Transitions Abroad here. )

Photograph taken by me somewhere in the hills of Tuscany during a Trafalgar tour of Italy. 

Being an expat has historically always had a cool factor associated with it. We're automatically allowed at the popular kids table in the cafeteria, not to brag or anything. But everyone wants to know your story, where you're from. Then Italians (or the locals of your country) will gush about how great Canada/your home country is and you'll give the obligatory gush back about your new country and then everyone gets drunk together on cheap European wine and you try to keep your brain from exploding while talking in two different languages at a dinner table for six with eight people because expats always have to bring their friend(s) from ____________ (insert random foreign city). We're all about the networking. Why? Because you're always on the lookout for your new BFF of the month or year or whatever. The harsh reality of being an expat is that not only do you have to be a master at meeting people and forming insta-friendships via your common bond of a) language or b) Questura horror stories or the equivalent in other countries that aren't Italy, but you ALSO must be the master of goodbyes. Inevitably, the majority of your expat friends will leave, back to their native country, or onwards and upwards to the next foreign land. I think in the past two months, I've had to say "ciao for now" to a running total of five lovely ladies, like Kyra from Germany (us pictured above outside Capitol Cinema in Bergamo)- please come back everyone! Just kidding, I'm happy for you wherever you are. But that's my short spiel for today. This thought came upon me after a wonderfully international dinner out last night and the roll call was pretty awesome: C and L from California, F from Singapore, J from New York/Carolina (soon Memphis/Finland), me from Canada, and your three token Italians. It may seem sad, but while munching on my stir-fry, I couldn't help but think about how beautiful yet fleeting a moment like that is- a moment when half-way across the world, eight instant friends from seven different cities sat down and ate curry. That is what life is all about. 

Massi is currently on a business trip on the other side of the pond, in Canada and the USA. He will even get the chance to visit my family back in Edmonton for the second time since I’ve been gone. Lately he’s been having more dim sum with my grandparents than me. Grrrr. The silver lining in all this is that I get to make my obligatory self-indulgent list of items that must make the trip back. Who cares about Massi’s business suits, maple syrup stashes are priority. So here’s what I’m currently waiting for:

· 2 pairs of Stuart Weitzman shoes: ok, so Stuart Weitzman, despite being expensive already, are even more so in Europe because the prices are the same…in Euros. Madness, I know. And to really make matters worse, they never go on sale. There is literally no sale section, ever, on the Italian site. I ordered two pairs that were something like 50-70% off from the Canadian website last season. #firstworldproblems right. Sometimes I loathe myself. 

· Maple syrup: it’s so weird, but don’t you ever get the urge to just have a few spoonfuls of this stuff? No? Just Canadians? Or just this particular Canadian? Please tell me I'm not alone in this. 

· Lemon meringue pie filling: gnam gnam, can’t get it here.

· Random Sephora stuff: same reason as the Stuart Weitzman, as well, I might start crying as I type this…I used to be a VIB Rouge member back in Canada and alas, it doesn’t transfer to Europe so here in Italy I’m starting from the very bottom again with a lowly White Sephora card. 

· Dino Sours: I haven’t really put in an effort, perhaps these are somewhere in Italy but so much easier to make my mom buy them and have them appear magically along with a cute Italian named Massi.

· A “to-go” coffee cup: I suddenly find myself wanting to make a latte in the mornings to take to work and I’ve been hard-pressed to find one in a country that doesn’t believe in taking coffee beyond the bar. 

· Chinese herbal medicine: again, also probably available somewhere in Chinatown in Milan, or even in a Chinese market here in Bergamo. Unfortunately a lot of these places have made headlines and not in a good way so I’m finding myself more wary and worried than I should be.

· BACON: no explanation needed guys. 

This documentary came out a couple years back but worth a mention- a couple of young guys take a trip around their motherland as a last ditch effort to re-discover Italy's beauty before taking on a decision to leave. It's a thought-provoking look at the ins-and-outs of Italy's nuances that are almost never seen through the eyes of us North Americans who think dream the "Italian Dream" and only have a couple vacations to Italy and the first forty minutes of Eat, Pray, Love as reference material. It's especially relevant given the fact that having talked to fellow colleagues and young Italians, the "American Dream" is still alive and kicking and so many people fantasize about life across the Atlantic. What do you guys think, love it or leave it? 

If you clicked on the post because of the 'dirty laundry' title, I'm sorry to break it to you but I shan't be divulging any deep, dark secrets here. This is literally a wee commentary on (literally) hanging dirty laundry. 

So Italians don't use dryers. I know, seems like blasphemy but energy is simply too expensive and the sun simply too warm most of the year to justify using a dryer in Italy. Instead, we go old school- hang drying on lines or metal racks, both of which seem like an enduring sight to photograph when you're a tourist, but that's actually the bane of my existence on a daily basis. I'm being dramatic but let me tell you, it's probably in the top ten of my "culture shock" list and perhaps the hardest thing to adjust to. I had never hung clothes in my life and I think there's a certain mastery to it. I think this because it can't be humanely possible that even socks require ironing...right? Is there some miracle trick to it that lets me skip ironing the tea towels and underwear?! If you're Italian and reading this, please help! Leave your tricks and tips in the comments!

Who is John Moretti you ask? The author of the Moon Living Abroad series for Italy (see previous post or check out the website here if you're interested: http://moon.com/living-abroad/). I didn't even make it past the introduction before having to screenshot my Kindle and post this gem. I AGREE WITH EVERYTHING. (I still leave home without my sunglass and silently kick myself for it as I zip past cars and EVERY SINGLE Italian has an annoyingly perfect and ultra-trendy pair of shades on). 

This is my dear friend Beth who grew up in a small town in Alberta that borders Saskatchewan. Her love of teaching and adventure took her to London, England where she met her ginger prince, James, an Irish fellow in case you didn't get my subtle hint (and she literally refers to him as this in conversation amongst friends). They lived in London, currently live in Vancouver, Canada, and got married in Ireland. If theirs isn't the epitome of international love stories, then I don't know what is. While it may seem storybook perfect, captured in a few lines like this, I give them my utmost respect- though love knows no borders, the heart certainly knows the pain of living far from childhood friends, stomping grounds, and family. It is no small feat to see a cross-cultural relationship until the happily ever after. I suppose that one of the most integral revelations a couple must have is that they must find home in one another because once you've had the privilege of living and loving in two different countries, well, you will never truly be home in a physical place. So congratulations Beth and James and grazie for having us at your gorgeous wedding. x 

If there's a book about Italy, you can bet I've probably read it. I'm the weirdest person ever- I live in Italy and I still love reading about people living in Italy. You'd think I would have stopped my travel lit. obsession once having moved here seeing as there's no need to 'armchair travel' anymore, I just step out my door and I'm immersed in it. What's changed is that I now read other expat stories and nod furiously along with their observations, it takes me back to many of my Italy "firsts"- the first time you see Rome, your first sip of Chianti in Tuscany...anyways, I'm digressing. What I really wanted to say in this post is that one of the books I'm reading is one of the Moon "expat" guides called Living Abroad in Italy. I'm on just the second page, but I already found this quote that I love and wanted to share; it's really the beauty of Italy in a nutshell: the fact that you can do it all in a year, from world-class skiing in the Alps to beaching in Sardinia to shopping in Milan to drinking, well, everywhere. 

Recently, I had the chance to do an interview with Multicoolty, a site aiming to connect the thousands of stories lived everyday by people all over Europe with a focus on the idea of those who are global citizens- the nomadic among us that have lived in more than one country. Here's a snippet from "Meet Our Team": 

We are (Eve short from Evgenia, Inga, our collaborators Nasima, Ying, Masha, Lorena in Italy and Federicain France) a team of journalists, bloggers and migration experts passionate about storytelling and photography. We have lived and worked in different countries and our international experiences have shaped our global perspective on the world we live in. We are real multicoolties and global citizens!

Every day in  the countries where WE are (Germany, Italy, France) we meet plenty of people from all parts of the world just like us: bright and inspiring people who bring their cultures with them making Europe more diverse. And so the idea of Multicoolty was born as we see how Germany, Italy and France increasingly become more multicultural and global. With this project we want to provide a glimpse into the lives of multicultural community by taking pictures, making great videos, collecting short and long stories from real people we meet on the streets (and not only) of various European cities.

Anyways, check out my full English interview here (I've included just a small portion of the questions and answers from it below), or if you like, read the short and sweet Italian version here. 


What brings you to Italy?

Moved to be with my fiancé, I was a pharmacist and now am doing a mixture of blogging, freelance articles, and taking advantage of being a mother tongue English speaker for teaching and consulting.


What were the initial struggles when you moved?

The main challenge is leaving behind your old life- everyone and everything in it. Besides friends and family, I had just started a profession as a pharmacist and practiced for a little more than a year before moving so that was hard to give up. Talking to other expats, the most common struggle is the language but I had a slight advantage having studied Italian back in Canada.


What are the things that you like/dislike here?

Life in Italy is so coveted because it’s really well-rounded. You have the opportunity to be immersed in pretty much any “vice” you desire – great wine, food, scenery, art, shopping, history…you name it, you can find it in Italy. Plus, being such a small country, you can travel from one city to another easily and see the topography, dialect, and food change even between short distances. There’s only one thing I dislike- the bureaucracy. Everything that should be easy is made exponentially more difficult by the need to go to several different offices with several different documents on a variety of days (during hours you would normally need to be at work)…basically it’s a nightmare and you need to behave like an Italian to get things done. By this, I mean you have to be extremely persistent and not be afraid to raise your voice!

Back to reality after a four-day long weekend in beautiful Abruzzo- photographs to come, I'm going to continue with Ireland musings. This is probably the second-to-last post with photographs from the trip. As mentioned previously, we opted to stay in a little town on west side of Ireland, aptly named Westport. I regret to say that we didn't get a ton of time to explore the quaintness of the place, having chosen instead to do the Wild Atlantic Way drive our first day there. We managed to pop out in the evening to peruse the shop windows (everything was closed by the time we got out and about) and settle in for fish and chips at a local pub. Initially, we had claimed bar stools at the legendary Matt Molloy's (last two photos) but had to leave when rumbling stomachs won out over our hope of hearing some live music/running into Bono (who has been spotted here in the past throwing back a pint or two). Westport is like a doll-house town, it shouldn't even exist in real-life but it does. The shops are impeccable, colorful, and cute; the streets perfectly clean and flowers (almost) more numerous than the meticulously-placed stacks of empty beer kegs that somehow also look cute even though they should really render the place a bit unrefined. Westport reminds me of Victoria, British Columbia in many ways, but mostly due to the style of the shops, the colors, and the cleanliness. Be wary that this is certainly no Dublin, the streets were fairly deserted once we finished our dinner, the only sign of human life comes from the warm, musical invitations of the numerous pubs. This is, after all, Ireland. 

If you know me at all, you'd know I love books. If wine is my drink, books are my sustenance. My mother famously once had to refuse buying me more books one family vacation in Hawaii because I had devoured five books in seven days and she was absolutely opposed to using up precious luggage space to take these books home. I still bring up this story when making fun of her parenting techniques, nudging her belly and exclaiming 'what kind of parent denies their kid the chance to read? oh wait, that was you.' All in good humour naturally. This isn't a book review as I'm only a quarter through reading Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, but I was especially struck by a quote from one of the characters, Karla, who says that sometimes you have to surrender before you win. The author reflects on this during an uncomfortable cultural clash when he is asked to pat the tummy of his Indian guide's father who he has just met. He writes: Surrender is at the heart of the Indian experience. I could easily say the same about Italy, that surrender is at the heart of the Italian experience which I think is why I took the extra minute to highlight this quote on my formerly-loathed Kindle. It speaks to the expat experience and the reason why some fail and some succeed- you have to let yourself surrender to the culture of your adopted country and believe me, it's not as easy as it sounds. I have heard my own voice complain over plates of pasta, rejecting the way of doing things as something beyond absurdity, and I have been on the receiving end as well, nodding with earnest understanding while fellow expats in Italy fueled our own crippling fire. I should guess it's taken all this time to learn how to surrender, but trust me, the winning feeling awaiting on the other side is remarkable. 

Honestly, I can't think up more commentary for these photographs as they are simply more from our drive along the Wild Atlantic Way, a continuation of my previous post from the other day (scroll down to read it); I was trying to avoid bombarding ya'll with Ireland's sheer beauty at once. I would like to further emphasize that these are just a smackling of photos that we took during the day and choosing them took me exponentially longer than it's taking me to write this. Uffa. In retrospect, the ideal outfit for this scenery would have been a billowy, cotton dress and a straw fedora, don't you agree? I was decked out in full city-girl mode with high-heeled boots, jeans, and even a leather jacket. Note: high-heeled anything is not a good shoe choice for adventuring on Ireland's coast, it's extremely steep in some areas and you will inevitably at some point step in sheep poop. Yipee! (but seriously, be careful...!). The third photo from the bottom is actually quite a popular surfing beach and I know I've become too used to living in Italy because I sat there frozen (in my leather jacket), teeth chattering non-stop, while all the Irish folks were playing in the water. I promptly went for an Irish coffee with extra Baileys afterwards, or perhaps I should be honest and describe it as Baileys with a dash of coffee. Luckily I'm headed home to Canada for Christmas (whooooo!) and hopefully in that time I'll be able to get back some of my Canadian-ness. I'll keep you posted here, of course. 

Right after our motorcycle tour of Italy, we slept in our bed in Bergamo for all of six hours before promptly hopping on a plane to IRELAND for my dear friend Beth's wedding. We arrived a day earlier and upon the advice of many Irish expats here in Bergamo, we set up shop in Westport, a small and picturesque town on the west coast (photos in upcoming posts). The day was perfect, a rarity in Ireland which sees so much rain to keep it's moniker as The Emerald Isle. The owner of our bed and breakfast didn't just recommend we drive the Wild Atlantic Way (http://www.wildatlanticway.com/home/), she literally TOLD us to go by shoving a map in our hands and the imagery in our heads. Conveniently, we were also given the name of 'the best seafood' joint in Ireland in case we got hungry on our drive. So that was that, we headed out in the car (Massi driving on the left hand side of the road) and prepared for the wow factor. And....WOW is the only way to describe it. The blue skies, the crashing Atlantic Ocean, the dramatic cliffs and emerald everywhere. It's truly a sight to be seen at least once in a lifetime. I stood on a cliff, on many cliffs, wind whipping through my hair, thinking to myself- This is Ireland. Our lunch break was memorable as well because it's where we inaugurated the start of our trip with our first pint of Irish beer- Guinness for Massi, Smithwick's for yours truly. After a splendid morning driving the narrow roads of the coast, we hunkered down for Atlantic crab legs dipped in butter, seafood chowder, and a topped it off with a slice of warm apple pie. You know me, I can never resist anything edible and I feel like Ireland is the perfect place to get your fix of fish and chips, seafood, beer, and "Irish Breakfast" which has become my new favorite despite having no idea what white and black pudding really are...I should probably Google that soon. 

Hey everyone! So excited to introduce this new little project of mine that was basically born out of my personal experiences these past nine months in Italy, working in a variety of positions from a private bilingual school to an advertising agency. Basically anywhere I went, I noticed that everyone I worked with benefited greatly from having an "on-call", "in-house" English consultant. I started getting asked to compose content, proofread documents, and have since been directly involved alongside an advertising agency in creating social media content directed at the North American market for an Italian client. Essentially this is a need that I've recognized is not isolated to one industry. With several "high-profile" cases of English errors (Expo was probably the most recognized), Italian businesses are getting more savvy and are more aware of the effect English content mistakes can have on professionalism and first impressions. 

If you are an Italy-based company, group, or even individual looking for consulting services, head over to our website at www.dolcevitapr.com or click here.

Ferragosto takes place every year on August 15th and is probably best described as the high point of every Italian's summer. It's the day that marks the middle of the last summer month and most people spend the day (eating) with their families whether at the sea or in the mountains. We were in Pacentro and, following tradition, headed out into the mountains to spend the day with Massi's relatives who still live in Abruzzo. The men in the family set out early in the morning to lay claim to the best picnic spot and the photograph above is basically what our view looked like. The women followed suit by first cooking up a homemade lasagna in the oven and then heading up as well (with this freshly-baked lasagna in their laps, which I thought was hilarious!). However, this reminded me that the Chinese culture and the Italian culture are not so different because on every family vacation to Hawaii, my grandma would bring us steaming hot bowls of instant noodles directly to the beach for lunch! I'm not sure if that's evidence that our cultures are superior or that we're all just the same level of crazy. When I say that the whole day is spent eating, I mean the WHOLE day is spent eating. The campfire was already blazing by mid-morning and we grilled what was likely an entire lamb (or two) through the course of the day. Luckily, there was also the lasagna, a tomato salad, bruschette, a cake, cookies, and a watermelon to eat, otherwise who knows how we would have survived. You will never face a fate of starvation in the company of Italians. There are a few more photographs below of Ferragosto, as well as what a typical Italian family lunch might look like (we were at an agriturismo just outside of Scanno, a town nestled in the mountains in Abruzzo).