Well I’m a bit late to the party since this is my first blog ever.  But don’t let that put you off since I have some fab stories to share about living in Italy 22 years ago and my continued obsession with the people, the landscape and the cuisine.  Oh, and the wine of course.  Plain and simple, I LOVE ITALY!

Over the years several friends suggested I should write a book about my 6-year stay since my experiences ran the gamut from mistakenly “dating” a dude from the Mafia, to temporary lodging in a male model brothel (also by mistake), and my Monday night Italian cooking lessons from my elderly (91) neighbor Signora Bergamaschi, in exchange for boxed wine.

I never wrote the book because I’m not a writer – I’m a fashion photographer, which is why I moved to Milan in the first place.  Yet I’ve been reading other peoples’ interesting blogs for a while and some of them don’t write that well either, but their stories suck me in just like a good book.  

I sympathize with professional writers and authors whom are most likely annoyed by non-writers.  Just like I am annoyed (understatement) at “smart phone photographers”.  

Getting that off my chest, I will now welcome you to my blog which I’ve decided will have 3 main reasons for being: 

  • Finally put down in words some humorous adventures from my 6 years in Italy while I pursued my fashion photography career.
  • Share my favorite things to do and places to go in Italy. 
  • Share recipes from Signora Bergamaschi.  I’m not trying to be a food blogger here, but I promise that you will love them.

So I shall start here with the very first day I arrived in Milan, sometime in the fall of 1991 (yes, I’m kind of old-ish).


 A male model I knew in the States told me about an Italian man named Antonio who rented rooms to models, so I called a week before my flight to see if he had a room even though I wasn’t a model.  He said yes and gave me the address.  I sold everything I had, which wasn’t much, and took off for my new life in Italy with $5,000.  I arrived in Milan with the world’s largest suitcase since lightweight luggage with wheels didn’t exist then.  I dragged that behemoth, along with my camera bags, up the multiple floors of his building and rang the buzzer.  Antonio opened the door in his underwear (it was hot, but really?) and all I could focus on was his big, hairy belly.  Naturally, he didn’t remember I was coming but more importantly, he thought I was going to be a male model.   Don’t forget, I had spoken to him on the phone, and my name is Kimberly.

Despite his frustration, he gave me a room.  I knew it was temporary – just until I could find an apartment, so all was fine. Things became even finer when a tall, blonde and incredibly fit model named Eddie stuck his head in the door to say hello.  Next thing you know, Eddie is showing me the sights of my new hood.  We had a few beers and he finally gave me the low down on Antonio’s rental rates.  Basically, you didn’t have to pay much if you were a male model and would appease him by walking around in your underwear as well.   I stopped listening when he described what was required to pay nothing at all, and just had another beer.

Luckily I found an “apartment” rather quickly and said my farewell to Antonio and the skanky shared bathroom.  Eddie and I stayed fast friends for years.

A dopo… (until later)