LIGHT MODE
DARK MODE
Italians usually pooh-pooh precision, brushing off Anglo exactitude as neurosis pure and simple. Minutes matter little; promises are more symbolic than specific; plans evaporate as quickly as boiling water in a pot. And, hey, I get it. The hour hand on my watch hasn't worked for a century
Move frequently and you'll realize that a handful of strategic people have the power to transform a new city into a new home. A trusted fioraio is one of them. Neighborhood vendors who sell things that grow are great friends to have; humans, like plants, have growing seasons, too.
April is naughty and sweet. On its very first day, jokesters look for ‘fools' who fall for harmless stunts. Afternoons get sleepier and the sun suddenly obeys the mandates of Daylight Saving Time, which Italians refer to as l'ora legale. The thought of the ‘legal' hour
Raise your hand if you are bone-tired of winter. If you cannot fathom another rainy Saturday inside your microscopic living room as your toddler does speed laps, pausing every now and again to paw at the front door and throw you a stern ?get me out of here' look. &
‘If my grandmother had wheels, she would be a wheelbarrow.’ That’s what Italians say when they want to interrupt your rambling hypothetical scenario. After all, if a rolling granny doesn’t ...
Some come to Italy to cram for an exam at a university-villa and others come to dig up their roots in a countryside comune. Some arrive for adventure and others stay for love. And those who were born here are curious to uncover our reasons: ‘Come mai sei
‘You almost never write about women,’ a woman friend told me not long ago. ‘Most of your articles talk about men.’ I had not been tallying up ...
