Benvenuto! If living in Italy is your dream, I’d love to be a resource.
I created Italywise.com to share my journey of living in Italy as an American Expat. For me, moving to Italy required great preparation and diligence, as did navigating the many legalities of becoming an Italian resident. I depended heavily on the advice and experience of others who had already made the journey, so I know the value of resources that can help you build a plan to execute your dream of living in Italy!
My story has multiple parts, and so I have organized this blog accordingly. Some people mistakenly assume, by leaving life in the U.S., I effectively entered retirement. I have an allergic reaction to that word because I am hungry to learn and do. And, living in Italy affords me the opportunity to embrace and develop ALL of my interests. Being an artist and writer is hard-coded into my DNA, so I can’t tell my full-story without sharing my creative journeys as well.
I hope you’ll find ItalyWise intuitive and easy (don’t hesitate to contact me with feedback).
I’ve endeavored to provide valuable information and tips on not only moving to Italy but thoughts on navigating the requirements and legalities of becoming a resident here. You’ll find tips for buying a house (fairly easy) and buying a car (not so easy), tips for navigating the permesso di soggiorno and residency process, and a host of other necessities of daily life in Italy.
I write about the Italian culture, and hopefully, I can alert you to potential missteps when assuming the “American Way” applies everywhere.
While the practicalities of being an Italian resident still occupy a good part of my time, I’m not concentrating on exploring Italy and writing about and photography the gems of my discoveries. Hopefully, I’ll share some perspectives that will lead you off the well-worn path.
I would be remiss if I told the story of my “new” life in Italy, without sharing the emotional and psychological journey that accompanies starting a new life. I’m learning more about myself, and how life flows.
While I worked for many years as a creative director, I’ve always nurtured my identity as a fine artist, photographer, and writer. I hope you’ll enjoy seeing my visual expression as a complement to my written accounts of living in Italy.
Probably the biggest and best plate of Frico I’ve ever eaten.
I’m still salivating. That’s what frico can do to you.
Unfortunately, many people who come to Italy, to live or to visit, don’t set foot in Friuli, the northeast region of Italy, where culinary treasures like frico were born. I hope this post has the ability to reach people who ordinarily would not take a trip to this area, which is often considered an inconvenient detour based on its non-central location. But, trust me, if you want to have the full Italian diversity experience, you will be thanking yourself for including Friuli (and frico) on your “to do” list.
Let me back up for a second and talk about our new friends who took our frico appreciation to a new level.
Don’t be surprised if you hear ciao more than a few times when a person is saying goodbye on the phone.
“Ciao” can flow like water at the end of a phone call.
Years ago, I was on a northbound train in Italy, sitting close to a man talking on his cell phone. I swear I heard him utter “Ciao” at least two dozen times over the span of two-to-three minutes before he actually ended the call. I thought to myself “Is this for real?” At the time, I was mostly irritated that the man with speaking so loudly. I just wanted him to end the call and shut up so I could have some peace. But, this was the beginning of my understanding and appreciation of why and how Italians differ from Americans when ending a phone call. I now lovingly call it “The Long Goodbye.”
An underlying logic exists in this prolific use of “Ciao.”
When the mind gets overly fixated on being literal, it can use a break.
Mine does, for sure. And, thanks to the vibrantly rendered island village of Burano, just outside of Venice, I’ve stumbled upon Italian abstracts that do the trick.
As I approached ferreting out a topic for this week’s blog post, my mind told me it needed a short vacation from writing about the logistics and adjustments of living in Italy. I thought, “Well, I’ll just skip a week.” But, then I realized I could speak with photos and not get too mired in words, other than a brief commentary as to why the images in this post give my soul peace and balance. Maybe you’ll relate…
A rare sighting. The classic sign for L’Ufficio Postale is being phased out.
The Italian Post is a mixed bag.
If you live in Italy, on some days you might find yourself exclaiming “I can’t live with it!” But, in the next breath you’ll be reminding yourself that you can’t live without it. This post isn’t meant to be harsh or critical about this essential Italian public service. It’s simply meant to be pragmatic and to advise you, based on my personal experiences, how to work with The Italian Post to your best advantage. I also have recommendations for alternate “mail” services to give you greater peace of mind.
L’Ufficio Postale, or The Italian Post Office, is an essential part of life in Italy. However, its workings are a bit behind the times.
In the past several years The Italian Post has been trying to spruce up its image and bring its services into the 21st Century. A modern logo, a proliferation of Posta Italiana bancomats, and updated computer systems have helped. But, sadly many of its services still don’t meet my threshold of expectations––which aren’t incredibly high.
Building a new life means recognizing you may have to lay new stones and tear out old ones.
This realization has been smacking me in the face again and again lately. Just when I think I’ve shaken off the slumber of a lifetime of conditioning, I find myself all too often in the jaws of a repetitious past. Trying to reorchestrate my life with my move to Italy has shaken things up and challenged the status quo that remained hidden from my conscious awareness. I wanted change, and I got it in spades.
Bypassing the work and discomfort of changing one’s life just isn’t an option.
As I write this, I’m realizing that I should metaphorically duck the certain onslaught of rotten fruit and vegetables surely being hurled in my direction. Who am I to take the shine off of the nicely packaged ideas of moving to Italy or any similar major life change?
I’m one who continues to navigate the journey while discovering and stepping into the potholes of my conditioning. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade this for anything, but I wasn’t fully prepared for being pushed, actually shoved forcibly at times, out of my comfort zone.
And a healthy splash of color. I so appreciate the enthusiastic responses to last week’s post, which featured the Venice snow through a filter of black and white. Such images, devoid of color, can’t help but elevate the sense of extreme cold. But I would be remiss if I didn’t share the impact of color in this second installment, so here goes!
Yes, I’d been waiting for this rare occurrence, Venice Snow. Last winter I waited and hoped. But no luck. Ever since I saw a few photos (on display at a local gallery) that had captured Venice blanketed in snow, I’d been itching to have my own crack at it. I have volumes of Venice images in color-saturated summer, and in dreary rain, but no snow. Imagine my delight when I saw snow in the forecast with a high probability. We hopped on hotels.com, found a screaming deal of a room adjacent to the Rialto Fish Market, and I charged my batteries and packed up my photo gear. We boarded the train to Venice with great optimism. Would the forecast be correct? Would I be gifted with this rare opportunity?
If you’re moving to Italy you’d best be prepared to hit reset.
Why do I say this? Because, in my experience, many people can be so swept along by the romantic notions of living in Italy that they end up being blindsided by an avalanche of change. Other people are purposely steering into major change and are itching to hit reset. Either way, life is going to change significantly.
I recently returned from a trip to the States. It has been almost five years since I jumped off the cliff and left my American life in the rearview mirror. I don’t know if the amount of personal transformation I’ve been through just now is hitting the tipping point, but on this particular trip I was homesick for Italy and I didn’t have the least bit of nostalgia for my former surroundings (exempting, of course, my close friends). I felt like a tourist in my country of birth. And, when I returned to Italy and stepped off the plane, I breathed a sigh of relaxation. I was home, truly home.
This is my wish for all of you who embark upon the journey of moving to Italy, to embrace Italy fully and eventually feel in your bones that she is home.
Dreams of living in Italy often include a vision of riding out one’s years here and drawing one’s last breaths in the country they’ve come to call home. If that is your dream, and a possible reality, then I recommend knowing the lay of the land. Dying in Italy can come with complications if you’re not prepared.
Know the legalities.
You don’t want to be caught unawares if you or your significant other dies while living in Italy. I suspect many people will read this post and exclaim “What a downer!” But I’ve promised to be faithful to addressing the full gamut of what life in Italy entails, and that includes the potential hurdles that can come with dying in Italy.
Having a relationship with a local attorney can be advantageous. He or she can help you navigate the laws and bureaucracy if you or the person who ends up being responsible for funeral and burial arrangements hit a snag. In my opinion, there’s no better person than one who knows how to navigate the often sticky Italian red tape rather than trying to figure it out on your own.
Venice remains my favorite city in Italy. I never tire of her beauty and charms. I’m also fascinated by her dark side and her complicated past, which seems to be reflected in the many dark faces of Venice that adorn countless walls and doors.
Don’t get too comfortable.
That’s my interpretation of these dark and foreboding faces of Venice. On their own, they can make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but throw in their location in the maze of dark and confusing alleyways, and you have an excellent setting for a thriller or horror movie. Who can forget the final scene in Don’t Look Now? (The creepy knife-wielding dwarf elevates the spooky factor).