with Desperate Characters by Paula Fox
It might not be the tourist-centre of Italy, but Montichiari – only a twenty minute drive from the south-east side of Lake Garda, and forty minutes from Verona – does hold a few unique delights. One of these is Castello Bonoris, one of the most confusing, un-historic yet historical castles I have yet to visit.
Everyone knows that Italian food is the best in the world; at least, that’s what any Italian will tell you. It’s true that my taste-buds have never been left unsatisfied here, and that nearly everyone Italian household has a passion for cooking that unfortunately you don’t find so much in the pre-prepared, pre-cooked culture of Britain. However, there are some British foods that just aren’t available here, an atrocity considering they should be high up on the compulsory food list. Continue reading
After three years here, I’ve got fairly used to Italian life, “la vita Italiana”, even picking up several habits and norms which don’t fit in so well in England (see Signs I’ve Been in Italy too Long). Things which tourists always point out as strange (paying for coffee after drinking it, having shutters but no curtains, rarely having a kettle) now seem completely normal to me. That said, there are still the odd nuances that continue to strike me as so foreign, no matter how many times I confront them – mainly because of their illogicality.
I love you Italy, but there’s a few issues I’d like to bring forward. For instance, why…
As you may have noticed from brief mentions in previous posts, I’ve finally succumb to the charm and got an Italian boyfriend. I won’t lie that I was a bit uneasy about the idea. There are certain stereotypes about Italian guys that I’m sure we’ve all heard: sleazy mothers’ boys who are very romantic, yes, but are so with several women at the same time.
My recent lack of posts has another excuse: I am not actually in Italy at this time. Why would I leave such a beautiful country, food, host family and boyfriend, you might ask? Well, I was asking myself the same questions within the first week of returning. Continue reading
In some ways, I am still exceptionally English. I insist on going outside even when I have a cold, because – despite the Italians fear that a slight breeze will give us all fever – my mother taught me that fresh air is the cure for everything. I jump into the water before it is as warm as the summer air, because my childhood experience of swimming in outdoor water was always a challenge to how long you could stand the cold. And, frustratingly when it comes to social plans in Italy, I prefer my dinner before sunset.
Though only a small village, in summer Moniga Del Garda becomes a hot-spot for evening entertainment. As well as the several bars serving aperitivo at the picturesque port, the central piazza (really the only piazza – as I said, it’s a small village) hosts several concerts, and even a mid summer beer festival which attracts a huge mix of tourists and locals.
For any of you lovely people who for some reason actively enjoy my writing, you may be aware that my other wordpress page – unwrittenshades – largely consists of book reviews. Yes, I am a bookworm. No surprises there really, with writing and reading generally going hand-in-hand. Continue reading
With several large, tourist-budding lakes only a hundred or so kilometres apart in the north of Italy, there is obviously some competition between them, in much the same way as with neighbouring city’s football teams. Continue reading
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