Sigh. The World Is Full Of Assholes.

This isn’t a real post. I just want to let you know that everything I write here is an honest depiction of my experience. Some good, some bad, some funny, such as life. If you are offended by M.E., don’t read my blog. If you’re a jerk, I’m going to change your comments to make them more suitable to things that makes me happy. So, be warned, if you are an asshole, and you write, “I hate you” I’m going to change it to something like, “I love you and I want to wear your panties on my head.”

P.S. If you’re bored I can give you a list of organizations that need help. Your time would be better spent doing something productive and more positive. I understand you’re angry but channel it to helping poor people or homeless dogs. I totally just changed your life, I know. You’re welcome.

13 Things That Marrying An Italian Man Has Taught Me About The World

1. Everyone is trying to steal from me. This includes children, animals, and department stores.

2. The best way to get something done is by going through a long network of connections. “I know a guy,” means, “this will take four or five hours but by God we’ll save a buck-fifty it is kills me.”

3. People REALLY want to see into our apartment. At this moment there are probably hundreds of people in the bushes with binoculars just waiting for me to open the blinds. That’s why the blinds always have to be shut. Always.

4. Nothing expires ever. Salmonella doesn’t really exist. Many people have died from air conditioning.

5. The best way to accessorize a t-shirt is with chest hair.

6. Wildly waving hands, screaming, making intense eye contact, can be used not only for anger but also to ask, “Where are my glasses,” or, “You have an adorable dog.”

7. You can still be masculine while wearing a pink shirt and riding a bike that has a wicker basket.

8. Google knows significantly less than any grandmother or mother.

9. Pesto does not go on bread. EVER. Seriously, like fucking EVER.

10. You can catch a disease from walking barefoot but not from going to the bathroom without washing your hands.

11. Every activity has to have a special outfit. You cannot wear your day clothes to the park. The park requires your park outfit which is basically your day clothes but with ugly tennis shoes.

12. Everything can be done tomorrow. There’s little or no reason to do anything today.

13. There is no privacy when it comes to family. This includes lengthy discussions about my underwear choices:

Father in law: I can see your underwear. Does your husband know that your pants are transparent?

Me: Uhm, I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything.

Father in law: What color are your underwear? Red? Black? Blue?

Mother in law: BLUE!

Father in law: Red!

Me: Uhm…They are black? Okay. I get it.

Mother in law: You cannot wear black underwear with that. You need to buy white, or skin-colored, or off-white, or a thong. Maybe not a thong. You need something like this, [leaves and returns with a pair of white granny panties].

Me: Awesome. Yeah. I’ll buy some. Okay, thanks. I’ll change before I leave.

Father in law: Because if you can see your underwear people will stare at your bottom.

Mother in law: And your HUSBAND should know better! Everyone is looking at his wife! SHAME! Shame!

Me: Dear god. I said I get it. The whole town is not staring at my ass. I’ll change.

Father in law: You can’t wear black with that.

Mother in law: White or nude colored.

Father in law: Your husband! Shame! I would kill my wife!

Mother in law: He would. He’s jealous! Francesco should care more!

Me: Sigh. [Face in hands].

And this is the life of marrying an Italian man and being an American expat in Florence. Did I miss anything?

 

 

Mamma Rosa Part 1, Cellole Italy. 2013. Melanzane alla Parmigiana (Eggplant Parmesan)

This blog, ComeTiPiace (pronounced comeh tee pee-awsh), meaning “how you like it,” is seriously awesome. The blog documents the journey of a young Italian man as he travels throughout Italy visiting different homes to learn how to cook some of the family’s favorite dishes. He posts recipes, photos of the cooking process as well as short bios of the people he visits. If you want to learn how to cook authentic Italian food I promise you that it does not get more authentic than this. Here is the latest post:

Mamma Rosa Part 1, Cellole Italy. 2013. Melanzane alla Parmiggiana (Eggplant Parmesan).

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And What If You Shoot Yourself In The Face In Italy? Funeral Customs In Italy.

I see any denim, you sleep with the fishes.

I Googled, “funeral in italy,” and this is what came up, a scene from The Sopranos. Google twists the truth.

My best friend of a long time, “D,” came to Italy this month to visit a friend of hers that lives in New York with her (bitch). Her friend is a young Italian guy who immigrated from Italy about six years ago to The Big Apple. Oddly enough, his village is nearby my husband’s hometown near Naples. The world is small and my husband is thoroughly obsessed with the fact that someone from such a small city in nowhere Italy made it in New York, the most intimidating city that exists, according to most Italians. He honestly seems relieved. I’m not sure which is the more difficult move, moving an Italian to America or an American moving to Italy.

Her friend, we’ll call him “A” was unable to pick her up from the airport and we were more than happy to take his place since it meant extra time with D. When we arrived to pick her up she was the same as she’s been since we were teenagers. Dressed from head to toe in loose black clothing,  pin-straight black hair framing her honey skin, gifted to her by her Mexican/Phillipino parents. She dragged herself to the car and threw herself inside exhausted.

F: So, “A” couldn’t pick you up because his father’s brother passed away?

D: Yes. I think it’s his uncle though I don’t understand why he would say his “father’s brother” instead of his uncle. Super confusing.

ME: Everything here is super confusing.

F: Boh.

D: But he just died like yesterday and the funeral is today. That’s super fast. Is that normal to have a funeral that fast here Francesco?

F: Yes. I tink so because a you know-a, you have the body in your house and then people come to see it and then you know you go to the church and bury them. It has to be fast so the body doesn’t, you know, go bad.

D & ME: THEY KEEP THE BODY IN THE HOUSE!?

F: Uhm. Yes. You keep it in the house and everyone they come to see the body and the family.

D: Do they do something so that it doesn’t stink?!

F: What do you mean? Like what? I think no.

ME: What? They don’t take it to a funeral home to do embalming? They don’t suck out the blood and put in chemicals and then put makeup on it and dress it up?

F: No. I mean, we don’t suck out the blood. But yes, someone puts clothes on the person.

D: WHO!? Who is the person who comes to dress up the dead dude in the house?

F: Family I think.

ME: Just so we’re clear on this, when you die you are not staying in our house. I’m not sleeping with your dead body nearby.

F: They keep the body wherever it dies, like if it’s in the hospital they keep it there.

D: So what if someone dies on the side of the road? Does someone go there to put makeup on them by the road and family comes to visit them there?

F: I don’t…I don’t know.

ME: And what if someone shoots themselves in the face? You just leave it like that at your house with the face off? Or do you close the casket? Wait, they are in a casket or like on the couch?

D: And what if it’s not at home or in the hospital? Then what? You just put a towel on their head to cover the damage? You’re making this shit up.

F: I’m not! We keep them where they died. You guys are dicks. I don’t know! I only know what we did when my grandpa died. We kept him at his house. Then we had the service in the church the next day and buried him that same day. He didn’t stink. He looked fine.

ME: And how old were you?

F: Eight or something.

ME: So you’re totally making shit up. D, you want to go to the funeral home and check it out? We can ask them.

D: Uhm, no. Because apparently there are no dead people in the funeral homes here. And all of the houses with dead people probably stink.

F: They don’t stink.

D: Making shit up.

ME. Seriously.

F: Dicks.

InterNations Is Helping M.E. Import You To Italy: Preparing for Your Move to Italy

This week I have an awesome guest blogger, a massive expat organization, InterNations. Yes, It’s happened, I’m getting fancy enough to have contributing writers and people wanting to advertise on my blog (What?! Fuck Yes!) The world is drunk, my friends. Here is a great article from InterNations, THE expat organization in Europe. If you’re moving here or you want to, I highly recommend signing up on their website. When you finally start to go crazy from living abroad (it happens to the best of us) they’ll provide helpful info, and other insane expats (like me) that can make the shitty moments a little less shitty and a lot more awesome.

Map Of Italy Brought To You By Google.

Map Of Italy Brought To You By Google.

Preparing for Your Move to Italy by InterNations

Have you been thinking of making the move to Italy? What do you need to know before you get on that plane? If possible, try to visit Italy as a tourist before moving there and gain a better understanding of life in Italy. You can experience the character of different cities, and maybe even find a job. Italians often prefer to do things face to face, which can make job-hunting difficult from overseas.

The next step is to decide where you want to live in Italy. Most expats will probably make this choice based on the job they find. The biggest expat hotspots in Italy are Rome, Milan and Florence. As Italy’s economy is much stronger in the north compared to the poorer south, you will most likely be relocating here. Not all expats live in Italy’s big cities, however. Some prefer life in the countryside, which opens up options like opening your own B&B.

Once you have found a job and decided where to live, you need to apply for a visa. EU citizens, as well as nationals of Norway, Iceland, Liechtenstein, San Marino, Switzerland and the Vatican City, don’t need a visa to enter the country or live in Italy. Citizens from many other countries don’t need a visa to enter Italy for tourist purposes, but do if they are planning on taking up employment there. In this case, you will need to apply for a long-stay or “national” visa in person at your nearest consulate or embassy before relocating to Italy.

If possible, you should try to figure out your accommodation before arriving in Italy. A high proportion of Italians rent rather than buy, so especially if your expat assignment will only last a couple of years, this is probably the best option for you as well. Keep in mind that the rent in Rome and Milan ranks among the highest in Europe.

Another option is to live in a more rural town outside of the city. Whether or not this is a feasible option will depend largely on where you will be working in Italy and how long your commute would be. Public transportation in Italy is fairly good, and as gas prices are high and driving is chaotic, this may be a better choice than commuting to work by car.

Another big part of getting ready for the international life is learning the language. Italians are very proud of their country and language, and will appreciate any effort you make to speak their language. In addition, not speaking Italian will limit your job opportunities in Italy.

If you’re moving to Italy with kids, you should decide which school you want to send them to. Especially if your children do not speak Italian, it is probably best to send them to an international school. There are many such schools catering to expat children in Rome and Milan, as well as other cities. These schools are usually quite expensive, though, so unless your employer is helping with the costs, you may need to shop around a bit. Many of the international schools offer an International Baccalaureate diploma, which will make it easier for your children to attend a university in another country after graduation.

InterNations is the largest expatriate network worldwide. It was created to help members meet other high-profile expatriates from around the world living in their city and connect with them, both online and offline through events and activities. InterNations was founded in 2007 and now has over 900,000 members in more than 360 Local Communities around the world.

Europeans And Their Long Ass Vacations OR Misty Becomes A Pirate While Drunk In France

Hello my humans! I’m not dead, I took a break. In August Europeans flee their cities for the coasts and some, like my husband, get one month of paid vacation. ONE MONTH! Can you imagine? I just returned from a week vacation with F and two of his friends. We drove from Italy to Barcelona and on the way back we stopped in Blanes Spain, Montpellier France, and Arles France. Drank too much, suffered a suicide level depression (weeee!), ate the best food of my life, and talked a boat captain into letting me on his empty cruise ship at 4 a.m. last night to drink with the his crew. I can be persuasive when alcohol is in question (or more accurately I seem mentally disabled and people feel sorry telling me no).

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Public Stalking Italian Style

I finally got my identity card in Italy so now I’m feeling very official and fancy and violated. Yep. Violated. F and I went down to the public office today to get some stuff taken care of.  F left me alone for a few to run to the bank and I was ushered into an office to make sure I had my stuff in order, etc. I noticed while doing this that the man working behind the desk was giving me very obvious, “i’m thinking about having sex with your right now,” looks. Fine, whatever, it happens but he’s old and working for the public office. F returned and I was all, “dude over there is giving me perv stares,” and F was all, “yeah I noticed that.” Dude peacocked around the office smiling a little here, pacing in and out of his own office into the one that I was in and making sure I saw him glancing in my direction. Again, whatever. BUT THEN, I returned home and checked my FB to find an invite from dude. 

Listen, dude, other than the fact that you’re 20 years my senior, you found me by getting  info out of the public database! Ahem. In my country this is borderline crazy. Don’t be weird.

“Babe, that dude sent me a friend request on FB!” I screamed across the house. 

“Really? Huh.” 

“Seriously. That’s all you have to say? ‘IT’S A LITTLE WEIRD’?  I was there today WITH YOU.”

“Yeah.”

“Not bothered, huh?”

“Well, you know, we are in Italy. Dees dings happen here.”

“Right. Awesome. And what does he think will happen? I’ll add him and soon I’ll be having an affair with old man balls?”

“ha! Old man balls! You’re funny.”

“Sigh.”