I have nothing against Americans, but they are Americans, and they discovered Italy in droves

Aaf Brandt Corstius

In Italy, I found that Italy is the most beautiful country in the world. I was already aware of this, but still, once in a while, you have to see a rock, a village, an azure sea and an Italian grandpa or grandma in a nice woolen sweater to determine that it’s TRUE. These four elements were in view all the time during my vacation, so I could determine with certainty.

The elements that were also in the photo were Americans. Now, I have nothing against Americans, but they are Americans. They recently discovered Italy in droves, thanks to Instagram. Italy is the only country in the world where everything looks even better than on Instagram, but it’s already very attractive on Instagram, so huge teams of Americans are moving around the country, and certainly across the Amahlfi coastwhere I was – not the most original place to vacation, I admit.

What is good about bivouac in a clichéd area where there are a lot of American tourists is that, while you are also only an unimaginative tourist, Dutch sneakers, a suspended belly bag and a It’s momo timeguide, feels incredibly high. Because: you are a European. You don’t say ‘Amahlfi’. You know it’s best to eat pasta under a tent with fluorescent tubes. You don’t line up for that marble saint under that marble sheet in Naples. You’re not buying any of the lemon-related paraphernalia that populate every store on the coast.

What I loved was watching Americans sitting around us in a restaurant. There was a couple on their honeymoon. She with a diamond club on her finger and a pregnant belly. He is constantly on his phone, searching Tripadvisor for the next restaurant. And then listen to how they pronounce “Barolo”. I found them moving and sweet, and I thought of myself as an imported, European, almost Italian woman who could do a rolling r, although my children wouldn’t let me use it under any circumstances.

Another highlight: American girls imitating the movies and books in which an American woman has bought a house in Cortina and wanders day and night through her new Italian existence in a flowing dress with sandals, a capeline and a basket. There they all walked, through Salerno, in their own Italian dream. With basket.

On the last evening, we were sitting in a restaurant when an American woman in a white blouse embroidered with lemons entered. “So they really buy these blouses,” I told my husband. And they wear them. While they are still in Italy.

Enjoy. Beautiful country.

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