What are the biggest cultural differences between America and Italy?

Another question I was asked on Facebook recently, so let’s have at it. (FYI: planning on plugging my way through all of the questions–budget, kids’ schooling, and all!)

There are pros and cons to both. (Uh, duh?) So let’s no one get offended.


Breakfast. You’ll go into a cafe and see desserts, desserts, and more desserts. Things with glaze, with chocolate, dusted with powdered sugar, and you think, “Ooh, can’t wait till after dinner to treat myself.” Nay! Have one right this very minute, you lucky devil you! Wrap that baby in a napkin (so your hands don’t get sticky) and eat it while standing at the counter downing your cappuccino in one gulp–as the Italians do! Needless to say, breakfast is quick and is not nearly as much of a “thing” as our sit-down with an omelette or pancakes and coffee the size of your head thing.

(However, worth noting for the second time: San Teo on Via di San Teodoro in Rome has THE GREATEST sweets/breakfast that I’ve had yet. In Italy, maybe ever. And great cappuccinos too. So even as I say all this, I literally skipped with glee every morning, heel taps and all, to get my chocolate croissant (sometimes two) to shove (them) in my mouth without a moment’s pause. That spinach and feta egg scramble can wait!)

Breastfeeding. The person who asked about my observations of cultural differences mentioned breastfeeding specifically. I’ve nursed all over, while walking down the streets of NYC, to strolling F21, to sitting on the ground at St. Peter’s while the kids waited in line to get in. My experience with nursing has always been a positive one. Literally, I’ve never had even the slightest side-eye. Now, is this because I’m super unobservant and people all around are looking at me with disgust? Is this because I have a face that says, “Don’t *!%# with me?” I’m really not sure, but I have never used a nursing cover, and I have never gotten a look. Here or abroad! Steve’s always making fun of me to others, “She’s literally looking for a fight. God help the person who says anything to Bridget about nursing in public.” So maybe it’s the second one.

Parenting. I’m really not sure how to answer this one (but it was another that was asked specifically). I’ve probably been so wrapped up in counting heads and making sure everyone is present, not running into the path of an oncoming motorcyclist, not picking up a stranger’s cigarette butt to chew on, that I haven’t truly witnessed parenting the Italian way. (Add to that, there’s a lot of tourists there. So I’m not always certain who’s Italian, who’s Norwegian, etc. Except in Orvieto–mostly was Orvietans!) Things that surprise me though? Small things: children being pushed in strollers who are older than they would be in the U.S. Children on bikes without helmets, or in the front passenger seat of a car when they’re still quite small. Also, children out late! The places worth eating at don’t open till 7. And, at least in Orvieto, opening time of 7 should really have an “ish” at the end. (We showed up at 7 more than once to have things just barely getting under way.) Flip side: I sort of like how children are a part of the evening scene. There’s something nice about bringing your kids places and knowing you won’t get a side eye for having a baby at a restaurant at 8 pm. We went to a pizza place in Lake Como that made a point to say on their website babies are not welcome in the evenings. I guess one too many crying babies ruined the ambience for other patrons’ meals? I don’t know if babysitting is as much of a thing here as it is in the States. It seems like if you have kids, you bring ’em and, a lot of the time, I like that. Anyone else have a similar experience?

Rules. On that same note, there’s simply fewer rules in Italy. This is good and bad. Sometimes there’s just tooooooo many rules in America that it’s tiresome while others are in place for a reason. Take building codes for instance. I’m not sure we saw a smoke alarm at any of our Italy stays. And steps, high ones, with no railings. Building codes are casual. Business hours are casual. A lot of things are, you guessed it, casual. There’s a certain lovely joie de vivre about it (and, sometimes equal parts, frustration about it.) A pool in your backyard doesn’t have to have a fence around it if you don’t want one (much more aesthetically pleasing, though less safe). You get to the car rental place by 9 and the person doesn’t come waltzing in until 9:30? When in Italy! On the flip-side, America is rule-happy. Rules upon rules upon rules. Rules for your rules! Lay off, America! It goes both ways.

Food/Restaurants. Food, in general, is cheaper here. More bang for your buck. Though, Rome is a bit more expensive than other places we’d been in Italy because it’s a big city (just as you would pay more in NYC for the same thing that costs less in the middle of Connecticut). Random things will cost more than you think they should, and other things will be way cheaper. For instance, Steve and I will each get two cappuccinos, and one really great pastry from a nice place, and it’s like 6 euros. Soda, though, isn’t that cheap abroad (good, I say!). Farmer’s markets are also cheaper than ours. Grocery stores are roughly similar, I think? Restaurant service can be hit or miss here, whereas I’m rarely disappointed by the service in the States. (Perhaps the difference is owed to waiters working for tips in the States whereas here there’s no tipping system?) And food–you’ll find many a great pizza, pasta, or sandwich but I found that I was really missing meat and vegetables. On the other hand, the pasta is really, really good and often homemade.

Lines. Get in line and hold your spot with confidence because lining up and waiting your turn is a little dicier here. Throw some elbows out if you have to.

Babies. The Italians love them some babies. You can’t get from point A to point B without multiple people making a fuss over your baby. And not just women! Men made a huge deal over Anders too, which I found especially unusual (and really sweet). In the States, men just do not make fusses over other people’s babies. American men need to get in touch with their feminine side. Too much testosterone. I say to you, American men: Turn off that football, put down that remote control, and go find yourselves a baby to fuss over. (Additional note: as soon as we got to Switzerland, the strangers-loving-on-babies promptly stopped! Moving from one country to the next showed such contrasts between the places.)

There are a million more ways in which the two differ. Those who’ve been to Italy, let me hear yours!