HOSTING GUESTS

I must admit I’m not particularly skilled in etiquette and hosting. Growing up in a working‑class family, with my mother constantly busy trying to make ends meet, meant we rarely practised formal entertaining. Instead, we had informal gatherings — meals on the floor, everyone helping with the cooking — and those moments of preparing food together were the most treasured: people shared their lives, offered advice and teased one another with affection.

Moving to Italy gave me a completely different perspective on hospitality, and the ideal of the “perfect hostess” initially felt rather daunting. I rarely host large parties because they demand so much time and effort, and our home is small and often untidy; the thought of spending days preparing it for guests puts me off. I prefer to invite only people I feel completely at ease with, those who won’t judge me and won’t expect the house to be immaculate.

That said, I deeply appreciate the Italian approach to welcoming visitors. A recent encounter with a friend and colleague — I’ll call him G — illustrates this perfectly. G invited me to his flat to brainstorm a new project. He’s fascinating: passionate about plants, trained in agronomy and completing a Biology degree at our university. About half an hour before our meeting he sent a voice message with detailed directions — where to park, where the main entrance was — and reassured me he’d be reachable if I got lost (and believe me, I can get lost even in my 80‑square‑metre apartment). When I arrived he was waiting to greet me and escorted me to the lift. On the way up he explained that the complex comprises three towers and that we were in tower C, marked in green. At his flat he offered me a pair of flip‑flops since I had taken off my shoes, then led me on a tour of his home. His warm welcome made me feel immediately at ease and demonstrated how open‑hearted he is as a host.

He then brought out biscuits and coffee — a simple, thoughtful start to our session — and later showed me his plants and the butterflies he rears. It was an unexpectedly delightful experience. Encounters like this are typical of my Italian friends: even when I call by briefly to collect my daughter, they often insist on showing me around and offering coffee or a snack. Italians strike me as among the most genuinely welcoming people I know.

On my side, I recently hosted a hot‑pot lunch for two good friends, K and J. J is a colleague but also a close friend, so there was no need for formality; I hadn’t even tidied the whole house in advance. I trusted that they would understand and that an imperfect home doesn’t mean I don’t value their company. The hot‑pot turned out wonderfully fragrant and full of flavour — I was rightly proud. From now on, I won’t buy ready‑made tom yum paste; mine is much better.

After lunch we had wine and petit fours, then coffee, and I showed them my hydroponic greenhouse. Jane told us about her country cottage and suggested a visit, which we eagerly accepted.

Spending time with friends is one of life’s most valuable experiences. I rarely accept invitations from mere acquaintances because sharing time is, for me, sharing a piece of life. Time is life: we each have only 24 hours a day, and it’s important to use them wisely, isn’t it?