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The Florentine
Chi è? quanto sta? quando va? This, I heard, was my future father-in-law’s reaction when my future wife first announced that she had a new boyfriend who was, uhm, not Italian: who is this guy? how long is he staying here? and when is he
“So, what should I get at the market for lunch tomorrow?” My blood turns to ice. This seemingly innocent question, when asked by one’s Italian mother-in-law, can shatter ...
I need that special place, but... nothing in the centre (too many tourists); nothing on the other side of town (that’s not our neighbourhood); nothing out in the country (it’s too far for a weeknight); nothing affordable (not special enough for the occasion); nothing new (what
When my Italian then-girlfriend, now-wife, and I moved in together, our First Big Fight wasn’t about money—we didn’t have enough to fi ght about. It wasn’t about any of the sources of confl ict you might guess would plague a
