The First Weekend in Italy

After the long journey from Melbourne, we finally had our first real weekend in Italy. No airports, no transit lounges – just three days to breathe, get our bearings, and start getting used to the idea that this was actually our life now.

As expected, the weekend was a blur of jet lag and adjustment. The kids reacted quite differently to it all. Ilaria was understandably shy to begin with – so much newness arriving all at once.

Isabella, on the other hand, was remarkably comfortable from the moment she arrived. She may not consciously remember her time in Italy back in 2023, but she’d met these relatives before, and somehow, that seems to still live somewhere inside her. Some memories don’t need words.

Friday, 27 February — Arrivals, an Apartment, and a Welcome Cake

We arrived at Paolo and Graziella’s and sat down to lunch together. The kind of welcome that only Italian hospitality can provide. Martha came by in the afternoon and played with the kids while Rose and I snuck off for a much-needed nap. Travelling halfway around the world with young children takes it out of you, and even a short sleep felt like a gift.

At 4pm we met with the real estate agent and the apartment owners. They gave us a tour of what would soon be our home, and they even presented us with a welcome cake. The apartment was even better in real life than what we’d seen on video.

Saturday, 28 February — A Walk, a Park, and Getting Acclimatised

Saturday was quiet, and deliberately so. We stayed close to home and let the day move slowly. I took Ilaria for a walk to a nearby park, which I remembered going with Issy last time we were here. The park backs onto a football pitch and there was a team training while Ilaria played on the playground.

The rest of the day was about catching up on rest where we could and letting the jet lag work its way out of our systems. I also found a quiet moment to prepare for my team’s meetup in France the following week.

Sunday, 1 March – A Long Lunch and the Monza Autodrome

Sunday was the standout day of the weekend. Martha took us all out to lunch at Twister – a restaurant run by the brother of her partner Daniele.

It was a proper Italian Sunday lunch: antipasto to start, spritz, pizzas, dessert, and then the post-meal ritual of coffee and amaro. The kind of meal that unfolds over hours and feels like an event in itself.

AC Milan was playing on the TV screen while we ate. Not close enough to our table to follow properly, but enough to know we were somewhere that takes football seriously.

The restaurant also had a play area for the kids, which kept them happily occupied and gave the adults a chance to actually sit and enjoy the meal. A detail you appreciate more than you can say when you have young children.

After lunch, we walked over to the Monza Autodrome, where a car show was on. Standing at the famous circuit, the same track I’d go on to run through a few weeks later for the Monza Half Marathon, felt surreal in the best possible way.

Cars lined up on display, the park buzzing with people, and all of us still getting used to the fact that this was just a Sunday afternoon in our new neighbourhood.

We made it back to Paolo and Graziella’s in time for dinner, and after the kids were down I packed my bags for France. The first weekend was done. Three days in, and Italy was already delivering.