Arrivederci, Roma. Bonjour, Brussels. I've moved. Left behind the chaos of Italy for the efficiency of Belgium. Abandoned un vero cappucino for a watery cafe' au lait. Rolling my "rs" is now secondary to drowning them. And I have a new, scarey job, too, with a major title. I'm a mother. Una mamma. Une maman. And my boss' name is Luca. He's three and a half months old, and his smile makes me ...More »

She pulled up every day after school in her rusty, brown Maverick with a plastic figurine of St. Jude dangling from her rearview mirror. Always the first to arrive and a half-hour early, she was one of few babysitters in a long line of mothers picking up their kids from school. But Helen was the only seventy-two-year-old babysitter in the parking lot. We liked to think she was our grandmother, even though genealogy charts proved ...More »

I grew up in upstate New York where we always had two cats and two dogs, a motley crew of males and females. It drives me crazy whenever I walk my dog in Rome and have to fend off the furrowed brows of other dog owners who hold back their panting pups from mine with diffident questioning: "E' maschio o femmina?" I've never seen this is the States. Perhaps I hung out in the wrong ...More »

As a child, I wasn’t allowed to open a gift unless I had promised my parents that a thank-you note would follow. My mother used to sit near the Christmas tree with a yellow legal note pad on her lap and a pencil in hand. Before beginning the family rip-a-thon, I’d have to tell her whose gift I was about to open. She’d later present each of us with our list of people to thank ...More »

In Italy, they say that rubbing a pregnant woman's tummy brings good luck. Just like rubbing St. Peter's marbled foot at the Vatican or the wild boar's bronzed snout in Florence. My tummy, whose trespassers have usually just been my husband or my doctor, is now out there for all of Rome to pat. I never imagined the strange sensation of having a body part open for grabs to people whose hands you've never ...More »

Last week, Il Corriere della Sera, one of Italy's leading daily newspaper, reported that this year's fashion shows in Milan would debut models with curves. Forget heroin chic (as Chanel, Burberry and H&M seem to doing in giving Kate Moss the boot). Plus sizes, as they're so delightfully termed in America, are hitting the catwalk. This summer, New Yorkers talked proudly about the advertisements plastered on city billboards and buses for "Dove" body cream that ...More »

My husband gasped when I first told him, at the seaside in Italy, that I craved a burger or a BLT. He's Italian, after all, and couldn't imagine why I wouldn't want a plate of spaghetti alle vongole or some fried calamari at the beach. The only fish I grew up having beachside was either a fried crab cake with ketchup or a cup of clam chowder. Some summer temptations never cease to leave my cultural ...More »

Italians ask not if you'll be taking a summer vacation but when. They make two things clear about summer vacation: 1) you should probably consider leaving your job if it doesn't entitle you to at least a ten-day break and 2) forget the mountains: you'd be nuts not to spend it at the seaside. Many of the scenes witnessed at Italian beaches are an education in the customs of the country better than any guidebook preparation. ...More »

In Italy, people think I am a jock. In America, people wonder how I ever passed P.E. Although the difference in athletic activity between Rome and New York may be wider than the Tiber, it has made me question who is healthier in the sports’ department. It wasn’t until I moved to Italy and noticed what daily intakes of pasta were doing to my thighs that I started exercising regularly. At home in New York, ...More »

The first time an Italian asked me where I would be spending my settimana bianca I drew a blank. “In bed?” I said, assuming a settimana bianca was similar to a nuit blanche, or a sleepless night. After seven years of living in Italy, I now know the best answer: The Dolomites. A week of fresh air in the mountains is a ritual Italians are as religious about as their summer holiday. Many Italian mamas ...More »