I have been fortunate enough to convince my good friend, since the first grade, Antonia, to become a guest blogger on the site. Antonia recently, ( mid May 2019 to be exact) received her Italian Citizenship. It’s been a long an grueling process from what she tells me. But lucky for us she is going to give us first hand information on the process and her exploits as an American woman that moved to Italy. See her first post on Antonia’s Big Fat Move To Italy below.
Salerno, Italy. What are the strange noises outside my bedroom window? I walk out on to the balcony, scan the port, noticing the unpredictable wind (vento) gently whistling but strong enough to force the boats to bobble in the water like those comical figures on a dashboard. The Italian boat flags are making that rapping noise, and I can see the undersides of the trees below, matching the rhythm of the red, white and green patriotic fabric. The earlier blue sky has made way for the grey and white cotton balls. Even Ray Charles could tell that rain is on the way.
Still scanning for the noise, I squinted and focused in on a huge seagull that was squawking at another seagull flying overhead. A domestic squabble, no doubt (I got carried away with my vivid imagination) The bird sat down for a while, then got up and walked around. My timing was perfect just as I returned from making a coffee…a baby seagull just hatched and popped its head out of the nest! The father returned, the mother continued to nag for not helping and then she kicked him off the roof, rather she gently nudged him off with her giant beak.
This scene left me with a thought, not very profound, but a thought, nonetheless: We may have evolved and lost our wings along the way, but the family dynamic has not changed that much. I would not have been a witness to this intimate family scene had I not learned to slow down my pace in my newly adopted home in Italy.
Interestingly, the birds’ communication style was not all that different from my extended Italian family’s style of communicating in New York…yelling…and lots of it. I have loving memories of my grandparents and mother in the kitchen arguing in Italian at a very high decibel level as to how long the tomato sauce should be cooking. And like most first- generation Italians, I could understand most of what they were saying. But because they wanted us to be Americanized, my sister and me were never taught the beautiful language of which I am now struggling to properly learn since my move to Italy in March of this year.
Ecco la mama waiting for the husband, as usual, il padre -after returning home can’t handle confrontation and flies the coop, and the fast growing baby who can’t get it together to fly off and check out the chicks at the nearest roof of a coffee bar. Kids today…managgia!
What prompted my move here was the culmination of about thirty years of saying, “oh, I love Italy. I really want to live there someday.” And then one day I met an ex-pat living in Firenze and visiting Los Angeles. Of course, I repeated the same thing to him. His response was, “well what are you doing about it.” And I was shocked. No one had ever asked me that. So back in the nineties, before I had access to the internet, I started the byzantine process of trying to get my paternal grandfather’s naturalization document (not an easy feat..more on that in another blog).
AnConsequently, life got in the way, and I dropped the ball on my mission until about 2016 when I got serious about living in Italy. I finally arrived here in beautiful, sweet Salerno in March of this year. My move was the result of a confluence of events just at the right time. And I’ve never looked back. I highly recommend following your dream, whether it’s a move to Italy or learning to ride a bike. My life has radically changed from being stuck in a car most of the day to walking everywhere, talking in Italian with shop owners and easily forging new friendships in this small city. Since everything in Italy seemingly revolves around food, I’ll write in the local vernacular: the recipe ingredients for this move were timing, curiosity, willingness to change and keeping an open mind to a new culture of people and events.
Buona fortuna and stay tuned for my next blog on how I prepped for Antonia’s Big Fat Move To Italy!
One of Antonia's mouth watering pastry photos
Ciao Antonia – your article is great! You write like you talk. See you Thursday. G