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In Italy, breakfast isn’t a meal, it’s a formality. Expect a thimble of espresso and maybe a cornetto (croissant’s slightly sweeter cousin). Ask for eggs and bacon and they’ll look at you like you’ve asked for lasagna at sunrise.
Rule #1: Never — and I mean never — order a cappuccino after 11 AM. It’s basically social suicide.

Traffic laws in Italy are like Italian opera: full of drama and open to interpretation. Lanes are suggestions, scooters have teleportation privileges, and honking is not rude — it’s a language.
You don’t drive in Italy. You negotiate.

The Italian grandmother (nonna) runs the house, the family, and probably the neighborhood. She will feed you until you cry, insult your thinness lovingly, and knows 47 pasta recipes by heart — each better than any Michelin-star chef’s.
Don’t argue. Just eat.

Italians speak fluent body language. Hands fly, eyebrows dance, and shoulder shrugs have layers of meaning. You can have an entire conversation just using “ma che vuoi?!” and some wrist flicks.
If you sit still, you look suspicious. Move something. Anything.

It’s not just food. It’s philosophy.
Asking for pineapple or ketchup is like walking into the Vatican in a swimsuit. Authentic pizza has rules — crust with a char, minimal toppings, and baked in a proper wood-fired oven.
Don’t argue. Just chew.

• If someone says “piano piano,” don’t rush. It means slow, not musical.
• Saying “ciao” to everyone makes you seem local. Until you say it to a policeman.
• Don’t plan too much. Italy isn’t a checklist. It’s a mood.