Everyone loves Elena Ferrante. When someone learns of my interest in Italy, my love of reading and my preference for writing by and about women, they assume I love her, too. For those unfamiliar, Elena Ferrante is the nom de plume of the author of a four-volume series about two girls growing up in poverty … Continue reading 193. Naples Novels
There are two conditions under which I will ride a bicycle: 1) The terrain must be perfectly flat, and 2) there must be a dedicated bike path, with no chance whatsoever of cars, and preferably, of any other people at all. So I felt I was in Bizarro World in the Dolomites, where all the … Continue reading 192. Bikers
I am not really one to watch sports, even though they are on constantly at my house, except for the occasional Eagles game and whenever Italy is in the World Cup. But there’s something about the Olympics that has me glued to the TV every night. It’s probably the only time that hearing the Star … Continue reading 191. The Olympics
If you told me I took a wrong turn on my way to the Dolomites, and ended up in Austria, I wouldn’t argue. Because it feel like that’s pretty much what I did. Much of the region that encompasses the Dolomite mountain chain, tucked in the upper right-hand corner of the boot, was originally part … Continue reading 190. Italy, not Italy
I’ve heard of destination weddings and I’ve heard of elopements, but destination elopements was a new one on me. Apparently, couples who are not wanting to fork out ghastly sums on dinner and dancing for 100 or more guests at a local catering hall, or to force their nearest and dearest to spend money and … Continue reading 189. Destination elopements
I love a good ritual. Some would say that doing the same thing over and over is a sign of timidity and lack of imagination. I disagree. I feel that those little things you find enjoyable and meaningful are what builds a satisfying life. Happier days at the Milan airport, just eight months ago One … Continue reading 188. Rituals
Every so often when I was a kid, the neighbor across the street would pull me aside and ask, "Did you know that your father swam in the Olympics for Italy?" It was always a source of great hilarity to my father and me, the idea that in our close-knit family in our tiny house, … Continue reading 187. The Swimmers
Ping! It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's always right. It's almost a physical thing: every once in a blue moon, something arises that seems just perfect for me, both in terms of my desire and my ability to do it. And when it occurs, I get an almost physical Ping! reaction that … Continue reading 186. Thank you, Wellesley
I am just back from a week in Paris and Belgium, and while I feel that any trip across the Atlantic that doesn't end up in Italy is a waste of my time, I've put that aside and I've done an objective (?) comparison. To be frank, I found Belgium to be drab and dull, … Continue reading 185. Italy vs. France
Maybe it's because my real name, Angela, means "female angel" in Italian, but I am seriously into angels. No, not the woo-woo kind of angels that some people feel send us messages and predict the future. Or the guardians that sit on our shoulders and save us from danger. The angels I'm talking about are … Continue reading 184. The Angel
Gigi's Italia 