Ah, to be back on the Mediterranean. Those were the days: walks on the sea, trips to the market, and fresh mozzarella and tomato sandwiches with some Nutella and Pain au Chocolat to wash it down, oh and don't forget bottle after bottle of unique wines. After my summer in Provence I have been constantly planning my escape from the materialistic and fast paced life we lead here in the states. I want the run-down villa and quirky neighbors on a day to day basis. Or do I? Yikes, maybe not. After reading The Reluctant Tuscan I may have to rethink my early retirement. Life really is different over there, and Phil Doran figures that out pretty quickly when he moves from his overly stressful job in LA to a small town in Italy. In his anecdotal memoir he takes the reader with him on his many misadventures in figuring out "the system" in Italy, and by system I mean lack of one. Since when do stores close down for a whole month? Who gives someone a goat as a housewarming present? Welcome to Europe.
I laughed. I didn't cry. I felt many pangs of nostalgia. I am not exactly sure if I liked it or not. I related to his plight, but I think I am bored with Memoirs. What will be the next big genre and can it please happen soon?
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