Moved From San Diego to Southern Italy; Found Love and a Simpler Life

It was 2019. I was reasonably healed from a grueling divorce, and I began to think about what I wanted my life to look like when I was solo.

My son, Max, would be graduating in a couple of years, and I knew I didn’t want to remain in this empty nest. San Diego had never felt like a forever home.

When I was married, my now ex-husband and I discussed traveling around the world when our son graduated, and staying in one place for a few months at a time. For me, though, the idea of living out of a suitcase sounded like a nightmare.

Where would I like to live? I asked myself. The answer was simple: Italy.

After the divorce, I’d taken my second trip to Italy, spending a challenging but cathartic week hiking the Dolomite mountains in the north and processing my emotions in a yoga retreat in Lucca. A few years later, I took a solo trip to Sardinia.

Something kept pulling me back to this country, which was surprising to me because I’d always been drawn to France. I even majored in French and studied abroad there.

However, whenever I visited Italy, the people were wonderfully welcoming. And because I’d studied French, picking up Italian was easy.

Why not move to Italy? What have I got to lose?

Cleaning my empty nest

I’ll admit, I had qualms about packing up and leaving my teenage son. Okay, I wouldn’t actually be leaving him since he was moving thousands of miles away to Orlando, but still, not being a few hours away by plane felt neglectful.

People asked me how Max felt about his mother moving so far away. I asked him myself and got a shrug. “I dunno. It’s cool.”

I took that as his blessing.

The week after I bravely hid my tears as Max embraced me and headed into his own bright future, a moving company collected my paltry 11 boxes. I gave the keys to the rental house to our landlord, hugged my friends (not bothering to hide the tears this time), and boarded a plane with two cats in tow. It was the fall of 2022.

This is how life is meant to be

Despite being born in the US, I’d never felt truly at home in any American city. I never bought into the whole “hustle culture” and always longed for a simpler life.

Whenever I’d come back from my many trips to Europe over the years, I’d promise myself that I’d slow down and savor life, which seemed to be so easy abroad. That effort never lasted long, though, and I would inevitably fall back into feeling harried.

However, in Italy, life is slower. There’s always time to stop and have a coffee and chat with friends. Evenings over Aperol Spritzes seem endless in the golden summer light. My work day only begins once I’ve had my swim in the Ionian Sea.

Whereas Americans are seemingly slaves to work, Italians prioritize life. That may mean that the office you need to visit will be closed when you go, since the owner decided to close early and have an aperitivo (pre-dinner drink) with friends. Still, I love that people work to live here, not the other way around.

And you don’t have to take out a loan to live well. As a freelance writer, my unsteady income goes a lot further here in the south of Italy.

Rent is so much cheaper in Calabria, the region where I live. In San Diego, I paid $2,500 a month for a two-bedroom house; in Italy, I had an apartment by the sea with two bedrooms for under $500 a month. And now we live rent-free in a house my husband’s family gave us.

Groceries are so much cheaper and fresher. For the two of us, we can eat well for under $300 a month. It’s a relief being here with these prices when I hear so much about how prices have skyrocketed back in the US.

And while this slower life has been blessing enough, do you know the best thing that has happened to me? I fell in love.

I met Francesco on a tour he was giving just nine months after I moved here (he’s a tour guide). We got married on our two-year anniversary, surrounded by his welcoming family.

My experience living in Italy has gotten even better now that I’m married and have a fantastic Italian family. With them, I’ve picked olives, made wine, canned tomatoes, made sausage, and learned Calabrian dialect. I’m more connected to what I eat and to the nature around me than I ever was in the US.

I laugh at the fact that 10 years ago, I could never have imagined that I’d be living a fabulous life in a tiny Italian town, but my life is so much better for taking this leap.

As for my son, he enjoys visiting and getting to know my husband and his family. He’s even learning Italian.