I moved to a small mountain town in Italy. The community I’ve found here beats anything I’ve had in the US.

• After living in US cities for years, I moved to a small Italian town with a few thousand residents.
• It’s been an amazing experience to really connect with my neighbors and get to know them.
• I like living in a place with a strong sense of community — I never felt I had that back in the US.

Ten years ago, I was enjoying overpriced cocktails at trendy bars in San Diego. These days, you can find me sipping 1-euro beers while watching old-timers play card games in the mountains of Italy.

Back when I lived in the US, I couldn’t have imagined that I would willingly move to a village in the south of Italy with a population of just a few thousand people, but that’s exactly what I did.

And I have zero regrets.

When I moved to Italy, I didn’t expect to find love

Several years ago, I decided to completely untether myself from my American life by moving to the south of Italy.

Though I planned everything down to how to ship two cats by plane, what I couldn’t plan for was falling in love with a Calabrian man and his family.

I met Francesco nine months after moving here. I’d worried that his family might not accept a divorced non-Catholic American into their fold, but they’ve welcomed me with open arms.

Then, a few months later, we moved to his hometown, Davoli. It’s a mountain village just 10 minutes from the Ionian coast with a population of just over 5,000 people.

The move immediately helped me feel even more like one of the family.

However, Davoli is the smallest place I’ve ever lived in. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel living somewhere everyone would know me and my business.

But once I experienced the strong sense of community here, I knew the move was the right decision.

Community is everything in this small Italian town

At first, when we moved, I felt out of place as an American.

But as locals have seen that I’m genuinely curious about their customs, they’ve opened up to me and welcomed me into their fold.

For example, I’ve struck up a friendship with a local with the most fabulous handlebar mustache who’s always got philosophy books in the piazza after I stopped to ask what he was reading.

One day, I told him how I loved to pick herbs in the mountains. The next day, he’d delivered a large crate of herbs he collected, just for me.

Things like harvesting olives, making wine, and jarring tomatoes can feel like a community affair — there are always neighbors willing to help, and I join in, too.

I love learning and partaking in traditions that have been here for centuries. Plus, there are community events like feste (festivals) throughout the year.

I feel included in them, even though I’m American. This year, I even went with a group (of mostly men) to cut trees for the village’s local Easter procession called Naca.

Even on a daily basis, I feel connected to those around me.

Almost every time I leave the house, I run into no fewer than five people I stop to chat with — from the gentlemen in the piazza who often talk about the town’s construction to the older woman who’s given me an open invitation to join her for coffee.

Really, the attitude around community here feels so different from what I’ve experienced in the US

It occurs to me that I never experienced this sense of community when I was in the US.

Maybe it’s because I always lived in larger cities as an adult, or perhaps it’s that this heavy emphasis on community is just not a core part of American culture, which can be very individualistic.

In many ways, living in the US often felt like keeping score: If I invite you over for dinner, I expect that you’ll reciprocate sometime soon.

The American attitude feels very “What can you do for me?” Meanwhile, in Calabria, at least where I live, many people’s first thought seems to be, “What can I do for you?”

Whenever anyone here has a surplus of oranges, tomatoes, or zucchini, they happily take them to family and friends. Doors are always open for an after-dinner digestive of grappa or amaro, and coffee is always an excuse to catch up.

It’s still taking me a bit to adjust to this firehose of kindness. But I’m learning to have limoncello and espresso cups at the ready, in case anyone stops by.

I absolutely love my new, small-town life in Davoli, and I look forward to growing into an old lady (with strong legs from all the walking up and down the stairs) who generously invites young foreigners for a cup of coffee.

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