Moving to Italy
A Relocation Rollercoaster

Emigrating to Italy, who hasn't secretly dreamed about it? Judging by the popularity of shows like "Living under the Sun", there are many. But actually doing it, that's a different matter. Letting go of all certainties, leaving behind family and friends, and immersing yourself in a completely different environment with different rules, customs, and language: it's no small feat.
In this book, the adventures of two Dutch people who took the leap into the unknown are humorously recounted: experiences in buying and renovating a house, obtaining a citizen service number and a bank account, registering with the municipality and health insurance, importing a car, and numerous other matters that posed various (bureaucratic) difficulties.

Dozens of stories in which an equal number of problems are solved in a completely Italian way, often leading to puzzled Dutch eyebrows and hilarious scenes. In this book, the reader encounters countless characteristic Italians, from sympathetic to villainous, from touching to shameless. Real Italians made of flesh and blood, sometimes cliché, sometimes unexpectedly original. But always worth getting to know.
ABOUT Crazy real-estate agents, bossy contractors, shady plumbers, italian neighbour feuds, criminal vets, hospital adventures, tasting wine, eating pizza and much more!

"Buttini checked everything: did the dimensions match what was stated in the land registry, was there any illegal construction or extension, did the size of the plot match? 'È tutto in ordine, non ci sono problemi,' Olita exclaimed at every opportunity, as if he blamed us for hiring a real expert to check on him. But we were well-prepared and had listened to all the horror stories about buying a house in Italy, so Olita could go to hell."

"No, he didn't want any grappa or wine. He was a teetotaler, claimed he. We looked at Torti in astonishment. A teetotaler in this region? You must have an incredible amount of willpower for that! However, later I caught him with a shopping cart at the Cantina Sociale, the wine cooperative where the local boozers replenish their rapidly dwindling wine supply for two and a half euros per bottle. What was he doing there? Buying a bottle of grappa for his daughter, was his excuse. One bottle, with a shopping cart? Later it turned out he knew exactly which wine went with which dish and which vineyard produced good wine and which didn't. But perhaps the latter also stemmed from his stubborn nature, which we would come to know quite well. Torti always thought he knew better."