Legendary for its lush lands, aromatic food, melodic language, and a people generous in heart and spirit, Italy has inspired many love affairs over the years – with the country itself and with its inhabitants. The very thought of Italy can inspire visions of passion and romance in the most stoic of hearts. What most Americans have learned of this glorious country is through movies, books, travel documentaries and brochures. But what sets it apart from say the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls, is its promise to open up and set free the very passions and desires that are the key to sustaining a blissful life, rich in spirit and adventure. It is quite literally romance, living and breathing, with a pulse.
Italy is tightly stacked stone villas perched over glistening seas, charming outdoor cafes inviting you to while away a lazy afternoon; she is lively piazzas where children’s laughter flows through the streets like music in the air, and starry nights that beckon lovers to stroll down cobblestone alleyways rich with antiquity. One would have to be made of stone not to be affected by the atmosphere of this magnificent country. So many castles, monasteries and churches stand sun drenched, flowered and frescoed. Fried squash blossoms sit fat, stuffed with wine-soaked mushrooms. Markets burst with the songs of the day’s fishermen and a rainbow of produce. It is a bounty, a feast for all senses; romance comes to life for those of us brought up amongst concrete modernity and fast food burgers.
When traveling on vacation to Italy, we want to take it all in: her art, her leather, her gold, her rich cuisine, and most of all, her passion for life – the essence of which exuberates in her people. So what is this “je ne sais quoi” that sets romance in Italy apart? Ask anyone what comes to mind when “Italy” and “romance” are put on the table and you’ll get the same answer – the men. What sane, heterosexual woman, no matter her cultural upbringing or ethnicity, isn’t at least somewhat intrigued by the myth and aura of the Italian man – the swaggering, well tailored descendent of Roman gods? It is quite simply a well known fact amongst women around the world that Italian men covet and appreciate the female form in all shapes and sizes. Anyone can be a Juliet! Unlike the glossy magazine Barbie doll ideal that most American men find attractive, in Italy it is an equal-opportunity platform. For women who are forever berating themselves for not matching up to impossible and perpetually fickle American beauty standards, a trip to Italy – where all curves from slight to robust are celebrated – is a much-needed salve.
Travel in itself is a sudden bold immersion, exposing us to experiences that we would otherwise shy away from at home. It is the perfect atmosphere for stepping outside of your life’s comfort zone and into a fresh air fantasy, with yourself in the starring role. And in Italy the stages for that fantasy are plentiful. Whether looking for long-term love or seeking out short-term adventure, when in Italy one can easily fall under an exotic spell and believe anything is possible. Potentials and possibilities are all met with instant surrender. After all, what woman wouldn’t want to at least dream about sampling a slice of la dolce vita with a dark and handsome stranger that spouts words as poetic and colorful as the Renaissance art around him.
In my younger days I fell prey to such a stranger myself; quite happily I might add. He was a dark-eyed professional boxer who had me at “So, you like gelato?” Franco courted me around and about the alleyways of Florence as if I were his queen, his one and only Juliet. We strolled the promenade in the evenings visiting all the local restaurants, where he knew every owner by name and was welcomed like family and royalty in one. But there was a softer, more personal side to that Florentine affair as well. I remember our sunny bike ride in the open, green Tuscan hills as if it were yesterday; where he parked his bike under a shady tree and proceeded to gather pine nuts into his waiting pockets. Later that evening he would gently crack them open, one by one, while sitting on the stone stairs inside the house he was building with those same two hands. The resulting sauce was bursting with a sensuous flavor I will never forget in this lifetime.
This slow, deliberate, confident act of romance is nothing but commonplace for the average Italian man. Since the 18th century days of the infamous Casanova, Italian men have continued this well known reputation of charming women the world over; they’re suave and assured, and they flirt with precision. American men seem to be afraid to flirt, in fear of being over-the-top or, heaven forbid, rejected. Most Italian men have no fear of rejection and in fact, see it as part of the dance that is courtship. The act of love and loving is like an elaborate game to Italian men, or more descriptively, an art form.
It is said that Italian men consider many American women to be naive, overly trusting souls who will believe any word that spills from their statuesque lips. Perhaps so, but isn’t it both sides who need this elaborate dance of romance, this lust-driven dynamic, in order to feel alive and full of passionate purpose? Do the Italian men need an adoring audience as much as their adoring audience needs them? It seems to be the perfect symbiotic relationship where neither subject really holds the power. Is it the reason we travel to Italy, and Italians come to the U.S.? And, if liking each other is a mutual endowment, is it possible that a symmetry exists between the American and the Italian psyche?
And the question is: wouldn’t a woman be terribly disappointed if she were to set off on a romance with an Italian man and he didn’t make such an effort? As one of my father’s Italian friends would whisper to my mother after he shamelessly flirted in her direction and she suddenly got shy: “But if I don’t flirt with you, you’ll wonder if you aren’t desirable!”
Italian men: they are perhaps Italy’s most romantic asset. They enthusiastically boost a woman’s fragile ego as she is taking in the country’s plethora of delights. And by appreciating all the effort and lengths the Italian men go to with their elaborate overtures and art forms, we women in turn, boost theirs as well.
Christina Wood