When I moved to Italy, I never imagined it would be Lake Como of all places. It sounds like the kind of place where you vacation for two days, drink an Aperol Spritz by the water, and pretend you’re in a George Clooney movie. But somehow, life unfolded in a way that placed me there for nearly a year and it changed how I think about beauty, bureaucracy, and gelato forever.
Why I Moved to Lake Como
I didn’t go looking for Italy. Italy found me.
I was hired by a company that had recently relocated their headquarters to Switzerland, and living just over the border, in Italy, was cheaper, livelier, and honestly, more my pace. Switzerland had its perks, sure, but Como had charm, chaos, and carbs. So I said yes.
Apartment Hunting Without Italian? Wild.
Let’s just say… trying to find an apartment when you don’t speak the language was a humbling experience. I wasn’t even being picky, I just wanted something clean, quiet, and affordable. But trying to coordinate viewings, set up utilities, and figure out if “cucina abitabile” meant I had an oven was an uphill battle.
Setting up basic things like electricity, trash, or water could take weeks and it had to be done in Italian. There was no “press 2 for English” here. It was “Solo Italiano” or no service at all. And yes, they’d hang up on you if they didn’t understand you. That kind of trial by fire makes you learn the language fast, or cry. Sometimes both.
The Slow Life Is Real And It Has a Schedule
One of the hardest adjustments was siesta hours. Picture this: you finally have a day off, you’re ready to run errands, and BAM, everything is closed from 11:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. Even in summer. Especially in summer.
At first, I found it annoying. But once I surrendered to it, I realized it was actually kind of genius. The heat is brutal, and life needs a pause button. Siesta was a reminder to rest, to cool off, and yes, to get gelato.
Let’s Talk About the Gelato
Every day off included a gelato stop. Sometimes twice. I had a go-to spot near the water, and by month three, I didn’t even look at the menu. I had a rotation, and they knew my order.
Gelato in Italy isn’t a dessert. It’s a lifestyle and a ritual.
The Bureaucracy? A Masterclass in Patience
I don’t say this lightly: Italian bureaucracy will test your character. From tax documents to getting your trash bins delivered, there were layers of approvals, miscommunications, and missed appointments. But it taught me something Americans rarely learn, how to wait without losing your mind.
Dating in Italy… an Experience
I did go on a couple dates. They were fine. But when a bald man spends longer in the bathroom than I do, and I have hair, I’m out. Italians are passionate, loud, and unapologetically close to their families. It was sweet to witness. But for me? The dating culture just didn’t click.
My Day-to-Day Life
Work. Aperitivo. Walks. Gelato. More walks.
I explored the smaller towns surrounding Como, took day trips to Cinque Terre and Genoa, and hosted friends from Germany. The weekends were for fresh pasta, road trips, and standing still in sun-drenched piazzas with nowhere to be.
What Shocked Me in Hindsight
I became a full-blown bidet girlie. At first, I laughed. Then I fell in love. It’s actually kind of life-changing. I’ll never look at American bathrooms the same way again.
Would I Move Back?
Short answer: no.
I love Italy for vacation. I want to show my mom the Amalfi Coast, sip coffee in Florence, and eat my way through Sicily. But living there again? Probably not. The bureaucracy, the heat, and the pace of things made me appreciate the order of Germany (where I moved next) and the creative buzz of Amsterdam (where I settled after that).
But Lake Como will always be a dreamy chapter in my story, full of beauty, frustration, and a lot of pistachio gelato.
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