Viva Italia

Everything sounds better in Italian.

While you’d normally be rather irritated by that your train from the airport was 10 minutes late, you’re positively jolly about it if the announcement is made in Italian. It sounds like they’re doing you a favour.

While the Dutch are crazy for consonants, the Italians are all about the vowels. Put an “o” an “a” or an “e” at the end of just about anything, and you’ve got yourself lesson one in rudimentary Italian.

It also helps, when excited, to wave your hands around madly, like a swarm of gnats has suddenly descended upon you.

Eleanora and another Italian girl – who was more Donatella than Donatella – spent a lot of the trip in from the airport complaining about Dutch food.

“It has no spice,” Eleanora said bitterly. “No salt…yes, it’s good for you and you’ll live longer. But who wants to live without salt!”

They then proceeded to debate the relative merits of Italy’s regional specialties. I’m a vegetarian, but I found myself salivating for parma ham. Go figure.

It feels really good to unpack. Five nights here feel like a lifetime after my journey so far.

Here’s to a little dolce vita.