So yesterday Leone came to fix my gas tank. He said I had very little gas left. He said: You’re almosht out. I said: That’s okay. I’m going back to Dublin for a couple of weeks soon anyway. No s...

(The sound of whistling up the steps; the loud zap of a doorbell) Leone: Good murning, Ulivia. Myself: Salve, Leone. Thank you for coming – this gas leak has really made me nervous. Leone: Nuthing t...

I’m sitting on the beach with my mother’s cousin, Flora, and we’re watching the waves rush towards the shore; rush away from the shore; rush towards the shore; rush away from the shore. My toes ...

Cat, always to be/ found prowling Rome’s ancient stones/ You and all your ilk. This post has been brought to you by Delicious Baby Photo Friday.>>ORIGINAL...

Walking around City Centre I suddenly realize that, after the 25-minute bike ride into town, I’m feeling too lazy to cook dinner. Well, am I living on the beach or what? Heck yes, I’m living on th...

I heard him before I saw him: Signorina! You, the one who’s getting wet. It was a mime – painted gold, dressed as Casanova. This was December 2005. Rome. La Fontana di Trevi. It was pouring, thus,...

“Ciao, Olivia.” “Hi, Zia Malevola. How are you?” “I saw that you put a lot of plants on your balcony. Why did you do that?” “What do you mean?” “They’re all out there. And then the...

There’s the beach, there’s the boardwalk; there’s the centro, there’s the plaza. And then there’s the antique city. It’s the high city, up in the mountains, above the discotheques and pizz...

In Italian, you address a man as signor. You address a woman – mature, married – as signora. A younger woman – ostensibly unmarried, unattached to children – as signorina. 1 signorina, 2 or mo...

Since I’ve been in Italy, I’ve had to do a little bit of reconciling – that is, reconciling my childhood memories of the country with my adult impressions. Because I’m me, most of the old memo...

My upstairs neighbors, Maria and Eugenio DiVecchio, have been so good, so accommodating in helping me get settled here in Latina. They’ve lent me a bike. They’ve helped me move furniture, had me o...

Living here in Latina – where my parents came every summer in their adolescence – I run into a lot of people who knew them way back when. I have to take their word for it, but they insist it’s t...

Question: How are you? Answer: Well. Happy. Calm. Exuberant. Inspired. Curious. Dreamy. Tanned. Excellent…. This post has been brought to you by Deliciousbaby Photo Friday.>>ORIGINAL...

One of the reasons I decided to break my move to Italy into two parts – rather than staying in Dublin until I’ve published my thesis – is that I wanted to take advantage of beach season. Goodnes...

“Listen,” says my mother. “I think you need to go over and visit Zia Malevola.” Zia Malevola is my mother’s aunt. In the summers, she lives across the hall from my Nonna Teresa’s old apart...

A puppet show in the piazza on Saturday night; two euro a seat. Counts and magistrates, bumbling men-a-courting, damsels in distress. Everybody gets slapped. Everybody gets kissed. Everybody gets head...

The city in which I now live is small enough that I can cross it by bicycle, and small enough that I already know where to find things I need. I’ve got my butcher, I’ve got my fish vendor. I’ve ...

…is that sometimes I’m walking along the streets, looking at the places where they might have eaten gelato or gone to the movies. Or I’m on the beach, where they might have gone swimming togethe...

Before I left Florida last month, my mother gave me a pair of shoes. I took one look at them and knew without a doubt that Diego would have something to say when I got back to New York. Sure enough, h...

SETTING: Modern day. A beachside town in Latina, Italy. Beach shacks serving pasta, panini, and ice cream. A rainbow of beach umbrellas. A dead end street with a German name – Via Bad Soden. A bare,...