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Wanderlust; meaning the strong desire to travel.

This publication is for young, potential travellers and existing Italian and English expatriates. It features real-life people and their stories, including where to go upon exploring local places. Although London is highlighted, the main strength of this publication is to show that there is plenty of beauty in the North of England, and a strong Italian presence.

Created By Hannah Briggs

CONTENTS

LONDON Pizza East // Caterina Petrucci

YORKSHIRE Oliver’s Mount // Per Bacco

NEWCASTLE Heaton Perk // Loredana Trevi

ITALY Kate Bailward : A Roman Childhood Memory

WHERE TO EAT : LONDON DOVE MANGIARE: LONDRA

Shoreditch, in London is known to many as the ‘cool spot’ for people to enjoy food with a laid back setting. Pizza East is one of the places, situated just opposite the well-known ‘Box Park.’ It is a prime spot to settle down for something to eat after exploring the area, or just round the corner from the tube station. It is obvious that this place offers various pizza types, but unknown to some, it also offers the best traditional English Breakfast around.

56 Shoreditch High St, London E1 6JJ

Shoreditch , a Londra è noto a molti come il ‘ luogo fresco ‘ per le persone di godere di cibo con un ambiente rilassato. Pizza East è uno dei luoghi , situato di fronte al famoso ‘ Box Park. ‘ Si tratta di un punto principale di sistemarsi per qualcosa da mangiare dopo aver esplorato la zona , o semplicemente dietro l’angolo dalla stazione della metropolitana . E ‘ovvio che questo posto offre vari tipi di pizza , ma sconosciuto per alcuni, ma offre anche la migliore tradizione inglese colazione intorno .

“COMING TO A NEW COUNTRY, TOTALLY DIFFERENT FROM YOUR NORMAL WORLD, IS SCARY, CRAZY BUT A WONDERFUL AND AMAZING IDEA. ITS LIKE THAT LIGHTBULB MOMENT IN YOUR HEAD, WHEN YOU KNOW YOU JUST HAVE TO DO THIS. I LOVE LIVING IN ENGLAND AS AN EXPAT, BUT I AM ALSO PROUD OF WHERE I COME FROM. ITALY AND ENGLAND ARE TWO PLACES, TWO HOMES, TWO COUNTRIES THAT ARE UNITED IN MY HEART.”

- CATERINA PETRUCCI.

MY FIRST DAY MOVING TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY A Blogger trades vineyards for pebbles, and swaps pizza for fish and chips, how will it compare to her home?

Caterina Pucci is a 24 year old Blogger and Student from small town Chiesuol Del Fosso in Italy, whose sole ambition was to build a new life in a foreign country, which came down to England. I meet her in central London, at a little Café on Portobello Road. She gives me a warm smile and quick kisses on both cheeks (an obligatory hello in Italian) before taking a seat. I instantly warm to her. We make quick small talk about the weather and tube delays, before she begins to tell her story of her first day travelling to England….

When the 1st of September finally came knocking at my door, it didn’t feel real – I really leaving the only home I’d known for the last 24 years?” Nobody in my desolate town ever does anything even remotely spontaneous. They are born here and work on the fields, harvesting the ground, just to be buried headfirst in it. I needed to experience life. My suitcase was packed to the brim, stuffed with the contents of my entire life. In other words, my journal, clothes and a half-full bottle of Gucci Guilty perfume.

Moving to the British seaside town of Brighton seemed but a daunting dream. I already knew the city from when I visited a few years ago, and I instantly fell in love with it. From the boutique shops on the North Lanes, right down to the food-stealing squawking seagulls.

But it still seemed a scary experience - I don’t usually like leaving and settling in anywhere – but I knew I had to do it. I needed to escape, to breathe a different kind of air, to make mistakes and learn from them. To laugh, make memories and maybe even cry a few tears. I could feel myself slipping into a quarter of a century, and I didn’t want to wait around for life to happen anymore.

I set off in the early hours of a Tuesday morning, feeling light-headed - either from the lack of sleep or sense of adventure that awaited me. I gave one last glance at the unravelling vineyards outside my family’s stone-wash villa. Feeling the familiar warm, soft breeze wishing me goodbye, I reluctantly stepped into the impatiently waiting taxi. The golden rolling hills of Bologna’s beautiful county-side flew past my window, whilst I listened to the driver ramble on some nonsense about how the Italian economy is all run by the mafia. Typical. Time seemed to fly, and I was at the Bologna Guglielmo Marconi Airport.

Thanking the impatient taxi man, I rushed off with my old wheeled suitcase squeaking after me, before I could listen to anymore of his corruption drivel. Oh, how I hope England brings polite men, interesting places and a new (preferably less mouse-like) suitcase.

On board Air-Italia a flight attendant with a glossy name badge ‘Giovanna’ was going through the safety checks, directing which areas needed to be used in case of an emergency. She had slicked back hair in her pea-green uniform, her red lipstick pouting at those frequent flyers that don’t pay attention. Some child behind was already kicking my seat, every thud making me grimace and grit my teeth. I looked out of the tiny window next to the wing as the plane starts to fire up its engine - is it too late to turn back? As the plane took off, I concentrated on the vulgar pattern on the seats, and gripped the cold metaled armrest for dear life.

Shortly after touching down in Heathrow airport, I was met with unruly winds and cold, bitter rain – certainly a world away from Chiesuol Del Fosso, even if it is just a two hour flight. I headed to the main bus terminal, and eventually found the right bus to take me to Brighton. All seemed to be going well. I got on, adjusted my seatbelt and settled down in the brown speckled seat. What is it with transport and ugly seats? I felt myself drift, allowing myself to sleep, and my back to rest after that thrilling plane ride….

I remember awaking abruptly. Everyone was collecting their belongings and hurriedly getting off like it was some kind of race. I reached for my seatbelt to unbuckle it, yet it wouldn’t move. No matter how hard I pushed, pulled, toggled, and yanked - there was no way it coming off. The bus was now empty and I was left feeling red-faced. The driver took pity on me, and got help – it was in fact faulty, and they had to cut me out of it. That was certainly a first adventure and delightful welcome to England. I did find it pretty funny recalling my story to the taxi driver afterwards. He was laughing and joking away with me, again, a world away from the Taxi man back in Bologna. I like English people already.

After a too-short ride, I arrived at the house, a bright bubble-gum pink Georgian terrace, with huge bay windows. I breathed in the salty-sea air, and took a long look around me. Four young girls came rushing out the front door; I take it these are my housemates. Each girl gave me a friendly embrace, and I immediately felt at ease. I no longer see the rolling vine-yards, nor feel the familiar warm breeze, but for the first time, I knew I was home.

Y O R KS H I R E

WHERE TO EAT: YORKSHIRE DOVE MANGIARE : YORKSHIRE

Nestled on the very top of Oliver’s Mount in Scarborough (The seaside town in Yorkshire) lies Oliver Mount’s Café & Restaurant. Recently renovated, this place offers everything from chocolate cake desserts, to refreshing drinks after the long walk up to it. The best part? Is the view, where you can see the coast stretch out for miles.

Olivers Mt, Scarborough, North Yorkshire YO11 2UG

Situato sulla cima del monte di Oliver a Scarborough ( La località balneare nello Yorkshire ) si trova di Oliver Monte Café & Restaurant . Rinnovato di recente , questo posto offre di tutto, dai dolci al cioccolato per dolci, di bevande rinfrescanti dopo la lunga passeggiata fino a esso . La migliore parte? È la vista , dove si può vedere la costa si estendono per miglia .

LA BELLA VITA..... IN YORKSHIRE. Per Bacco is a Sardinian family-owned restaurant located in Riccall, just outside York.

How does this Italian clan keep their heritage alive through food?

Alfesio is the part-owner and head chef, he delivers the food tasting experience at Per Bacco, which so many in the Yorkshire area travel for to enjoy and relish.

As I approached the looming house it had sickly sweet caramel walls and dark wood windows, with two distinct bushes guarding the entrance. The place looked kooky and disorientated in comparison to the other sleepy cottages and stark town houses that surrounded it. Pushing open the heavy brown door, it groaned with discomfort as if it had been worn down lovingly over the years.

The intense smell of Italian spices – basil and pecorino – hit me, filling my nose and uplifted my senses, along with the aroma of the woodburning fireplace sat promptly in the centre of the restaurant. Like air, you never seem to tire of breathing it. People chatting amicably vibrated through the floorboards as I circulated the room. This place was definitely popular. Artwork lined the red-wash interiors, plaques held quotes about the art of cooking and maps of Sardinia emblazoned proudly in the dim lighting.

Within minutes I was seated and ordered, dazing at the tantalizing food. A slogan hangs above my head amongst the other cluttered memorabilia; which reads “From sun-drenched farmhouses, fields and vineyards, we bring you a taste of true Italy.” My eyes glisten over at the thought of Italian landscapes as the music softly plays and the chatter disappears into the background.

In what seemed like no time, a plate of Linguine Al Branzino was placed in front of me, a steaming mesh of fiery reds & burnt oranges.

The first bite instantly whisked me away to those fields and vineyards.

The late afternoon trickled golden sunlight, seeping through the windows and stretching its arms across diners and their tables.

These Sardinians have certainly brought a piece of Italy to Yorkshire.

NEWCASTLE

WHERE TO EAT: NEWCASTLE DOVE MANGIARE: NEWCASTLE

Situated in the outskirts of the city centre, lies Heaton – a wellknown student area, with vast takeaways and charity shops.

However, just beyond the park lies ‘Heaton Perk’ café, a salute to the hit ‘90s TV Show Friends. This small yet inviting café serves delicious hot chocolates to warm you up on a cold, wet English day, to homemade soups and sweets. It is an adult’s child dream, with board-game classics such as Scrabble, and books upon books crammed on the shelves and stacked up against the comfy sofas to just pick up and read.

103-105 Heaton Park Rd, Newcastle upon Tyne NE6 5NR

Situato nella periferia del centro della città , si trova Heaton un quartiere studentesco noto , con vaste take away e negozi di beneficenza . Tuttavia , appena al di là caffè le bugie del parco ‘ Heaton Perk ‘ , un saluto alla hit ‘ 90s TV Show Amici . Questo piccolo caffè e invitante serve deliziosi cioccolate calde per scaldarsi in una fredda , bagnata giorno inglese , a minestre fatte in casa e dolci . E ‘il sogno bambino di un adulto , con i classici board- game come Scarabeo , e libri su libri stipati sugli scaffali e accatastati contro i comodi divani per solo prendere e leggere.

THE ITALIAN / ENGLISH MEET-UP

Cristina Conti is the Italian teacher and mastermind behind the weekly ‘Italian-English Meet Up’ sessions, which are held in Newcastle upon Tyne. She coo-ordinates them on social media websites such as Facebook, and encourages people of all ages and whether they are Italian or English, to meet and learn the language together. These sessions are usually free, and only a small donation is asked for her generous time. Local events such as these are incredibly valuable to an expat, as it’s a way of socializing and meeting new friends, while learning a language. The location constantly changes depending on the availability of most people, however it always at a typical Italian restaurant, café or bar.

Cristina Conti è l’ insegnante di italiano e mente dietro delle sedute settimanali “ Italiano-Inglese incontrarsi ‘ , che si tengono a Newcastle upon Tyne . Li coo -ordinate su siti di social media come Facebook , e incoraggia le persone di tutte le età e se sono italiano o inglese , per incontrare e imparare la lingua insieme . Queste sessioni sono generalmente gratuiti , e solo una piccola donazione viene chiesto per il suo tempo generoso . Eventi locali come questi sono incredibilmente preziosi per un expat , come è un modo di socializzare e conoscere nuovi amici , mentre l’apprendimento di una lingua . La posizione cambia continuamente a seconda della disponibilità di molte persone, tuttavia è sempre in un tipico ristorante italiano , caffetteria e bar.

“LIVING, LEARNING, BELIEVING IN A NEW PLACE IS ALWAYS FUN - IT’S AN ADVENTURE. MY OWN ITALIAN ROOTS FOUND A NEW HOME IN NEWCASTLE, ENGLAND.”

A STUDENT LIVING ABROAD: MASTERING THE ART OF MEDICAL SCIENCE

Loredana Trevi is an Italian international student, currently living and studying in Newcastle Upon Tyne, the North-East of England. She is originally from Viterbo, a small, compact city near Rome. I meet her on rainy day at Newcastle University campus, fresh from her recent lecture. She wipes her glasses from the pattering raindrops and looks shy as I take her hand.

We find shelter and begin our discussion, I instantly notice that the shy behaviour seems to disparate, when she speaks with such passion and flair about her love for medical sciences, and long-awaited dream of becoming a Neurologist. I ask her how she copes with the different education system to Italy, and being the outsider in a foreign country. In a distinct Italian tone and her cat-like brown eyes intently staring, she tells me about her life as an International student.

Back in 2011, I decided to move to the UK to study my first degree and I am now doing my masters. I am studying a master in research (MRes) in Stem Cells and Regenerative Medicine, which I find so interesting and informative. In the future, I am hoping to become a neurologist and to do medical research for those conditions with no cure, as in the case of Parkinson’s disease.

Looking back at the start of my expat adventure was my first day at university. It was quite scary and confusing, as I was not sure what to expect, and my understanding of the English language was not too good at the time. I have never studied at university in Italy, so I don’t know much about the differences between the two education systems. I can only say what I hear from my friends at university in Italy. That is, that in the UK there are far more group works, more assignments during the semester, more practical work, and usually written exams. On the other hand, in Italy exams are generally all oral questions and answers with your lecturer, not as many group works, and more theoretical study rather than practical. So it seems a lot less structured in comparison to University in England, and I definitely prefer the way the system works here.

Life as an international student can be difficult, but I think I have coped quite well. Although, I do find it easier socializing with other expats / foreigners, as they are simply in the same boat as me and we just tend to connect and communicate better. In terms of how I cope being an Italian living in England, I have my home comfort foods and talk to my family. I do miss my home-town of Viterbo sometimes, but then I think of the life I have here and I know it’s all been worth it. My parents have given up so much for me to be here in this Country, so that is why I feel I need to constantly study and achieve the best I can, to get the career I want.

MY DAILY ROUTINE

08:00 - I normally rush out the door with no makeup on and fly-away hair sticking out, as my comb refused to go through it. Sometimes I don’t even have time for breakfast; you could say that I’m not exactly a morning person! So, my daily morning routine always consists of hurrying to university (as I’m usually late!) grabbing a hot drink on the go and quickly settling into an intense lecture for a few hours.

12:00 – Lunch-time! This sounds oh-so-typical Italian of me, but I like to have packed pasta or olives to snack on, home comforts are a must!

16:00 – After a few more hours of lectures, its round about time for independent study. I normally either go to the library or go back to my place for some peace and quiet. My course requires a lot of work, but I’m happy to put the time in to get the desired results.

17:00 – This is when my boyfriend comes back from work and we can relax and ejoy an evening together. Normally we either go to a nice pub in Jesmond (on the outskirts of the city centre) for a pint, or curl up on the sofa and watch a movie to switch off from all the never-ending University work!

PACKING MY LIFE INTO A SUITCASE: AN EVER-LASTING ITALIAN ADVENTURE

Kate Bailward is a proud, yet adventurous, British woman, residing on the coast of Sicily, in a bustling town named Catania. Originally from Somerset, she is an English teacher and avid blogger. She describes her first day moving to Italy, and whether she had the guts to make it past the gateway at Terminal 3.

As I click the skype conversation (as Newcastle is thousands of miles away, technology has its perks) Kate’s sunny smile pops up on my screen, with burnt orange and cyan coloured mosaic tiles as her backdrop, from which I assume was her kitchen. It’s a stark contrast against the dark skies that surround my room in England. We quickly make friendly acquaintances, and I click the record button on my phone. The most intriguing answer I receive? I ask her, what was your first day like, moving to Italy? Kate rolls her eyes in a young, comical way and laughs whole-heartedly, before beginning her Italian story.

“The year was 2009 – that makes me seem old! - And the day was tearful, stressful and seemingly never-ending. I had too much luggage (by about a power of two, baggage weight-allowance-wise) but managed to get away without having to pay extra fees by being one of the first to check in with the early morning Alitalia flight out of Heathrow. I suspect the panicked look on my face when I said, ‘but I’m moving there for a year!’ to the guy at the check-in desk might have had something to do with his leniency, as well”. Shaking her head, she runs her crooked fingers through her frazzled red hair, recalling the chaotic time she once had.

“The first flight passed without incident, but I came perilously close to losing my bottle completely at Rome, where I had to change for my onward flight to Brindisi. One of my clearest memories of that day is seeing my flight disappear from the screen at the gate and be replaced by something else, and the feeling of elated relief that everything was all about to go to go horribly wrong due to circumstances beyond my control, and I’d have to just turn round and go back to England.

Turned out that it was just a minor technological blip, and so on to Puglia I went.” Kate pauses and sighs, her face clouds over, as if lost in thought. For a moment, I thought technology had failed on me and that her face had frozen due to a technical glitch. I hesitantly call out her name, and she quickly peers back up to the distorted webcam, looking flustered, re-composing, before continuing the story.

Kate’s story shows that love has no race, language barrier or travel boundaries. She, as an English expat, discovered more than just culture and Italian food; she found a second, new life.

KATE BAILWARD (PART TWO): HOW I ADAPTED TO ITALIAN LIFE

Do you find any similarities between here and Italy?

As the saying goes here: ‘il mondo è un paese’ (the world is a village); in other words, people are the same the world over. There may be linguistic or cultural differences which make communication difficult at times, but ultimately you can always find common ground if you look hard enough.”

Do you find it difficult living in another country? How have you learned to adapt?

Sometimes yes, sometimes no. The most difficult aspect for me has always been making myself understood: I spent my first year in Italy basically mute if there weren’t any other English speakers around.

However, I learnt to listen, which has stood me in good stead. My best coping strategy, however, has been to avoid direct comparing and contrasting of the two different cultures. When you stop looking for the differences and instead find the similarities, I’ve found, life becomes much simpler and less stressful.

Was it easy making friends? Do you mainly socialize with other expats?

In my first year I couldn’t speak to people so, although I went out for pizza with students every so often, or in groups with Italian friends of my English teacher friends, it was nigh-on impossible to make independent friendships of my own, due to the language barrier. In my second year, with more language at my disposal, it started to become easier, but I was still very limited at first. The real breakthrough point was joining a choir. Our common language wasn’t either Italian or English, but music; suddenly my world opened up. I made friends of my own, who I’m still in touch with, despite having moved away from Calabria, where I was based at the time, three years ago.

Now, although I do have expat friends, I mainly socialise with other Italians. Apart from anything else, my husband is born and bred Sicilian, so his friend group is obviously mainly that way too. From my first arrival in Italy, however, I never wanted to be someone that lived in a little expat bubble and never got to know the country that I was living in. I probably made my life harder, in fact, by actively rejecting expat groups, but I think my baptism of fire contributed (at least in part) to me wanting to stay on for a second, and then a third, fourth, fifth and sixth year.

A ROMAN CHILDHOOD MEMORY

It’s that time of year again, the leaves are turning golden and yet the sky is brilliantly blue, I see honey-coloured walls and rustic cobbles – is this some kind of deja-vu?

I listen to the buzz of Vespas rushing past like angry bees, Or is it the battered red Cinquecento sending off that hint of breeze?

The familiar warmth can still be felt tenderly stroking my neck, As I wonder down the Via Veneto, gazing at the Italians flashing their weekly payroll cheque.

The stench of heavy cigarette smoke follows them through the street, With counterfeit Gucci handbags, seemingly melting plastic in the roman heat, The man shouts out and whistles his true salesmen tune, Tourists are easily tempted, miraculously gathering to his taunting croon.

This place seems so real yet distant from home, Is this memory, or a dream?

My eyes stare down at my somehow younger hands, firmly clutching a Nutella ice-cream.

Twisting and turning through the labyrinth of people, they all seem to be a foot taller, My instinct knows my way through the bustling streets, even though my steps are smaller, I try not to think about it, and push through until I find what I’ve been searching for, Then I hear the crashing sound of splashes and that oh so distinctive roar, I see the great white marble statues glaring down at me, guarding the euros that glisten in the waters below, For a moment I breathe it all in, for a brief time lapse before I feel myself start to grow.

I look down at the reflection, my eyes look tired and my height has increased, In this moment I realise I am no longer a child, then I feel a sense of peace.

I wouldn’t be torn between two countries or defined by being an ‘expat’, They are both places where I will always come back, The capital of love, the eternal city, it’s known by many names, not just Rome, But for me after all these years, England will never replace my true home.