Top Ten Things I’ve Learned After Living (or Surviving) in Sicily for One Year

Young Ashley clapping by a door, as seen on The Late Show circa 2009 (a coworker caught this screenshot, my first national TV debut).

Well, well. Look who took forever to write her next blog post? Yeah, it's becoming a pattern, but those of you who know me, understand...happy 2026! I have a fun tale for you. Way back when, in the year of our Lord Two Thousand and Twenty Four, when I found out we were moving to Sicily and started spreading the news, I got one of two reactions: “Oh my God, how romantic!” or “Isn’t that where they filmed The Godfather?” Both are technically correct. Sicily is a sun-drenched collision of beauty and chaos.

And because I feel the need to pay homage to my time spent off of W 53rd Street and Broadway working for a certain late night TV show, I couldn’t resist framing this experience the only way that felt honest: a Top Ten List. Only this time, no cue cards, no Paul Shaffer, just one year of living here and everything it’s taught me so far. In no particular order, because life in Sicily doesn’t seem to believe in order anyway.

10. Driving Is Basically Mario Kart (Only With Real Consequences)

Movie poster for a new action movie? Or just a normal Sunday drive in Sicily? (The island was basically on fire the entire summer).

I grew up driving in Florida (where turn signals are more of a suggestion than a practice), survived New York City cabs, and logged time among the drivers of California, Utah, and Las Vegas, who are no strangers to vehicular chaos.

None of that prepared me for Sicily.

Here, traffic laws are treated less like rules and more like gentle guidelines. Stop signs are a suggestion. Roundabouts are tests of faith. You merge when your soul says now. You park where your car physically fits, including places that were clearly intended for pedestrians, small trees, or both.

And yet, miraculously, it works. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, and oddly freeing. All those years dodging SUVs back home were just training levels. Now I'm dodging 1985 Fiat 500s. It's giving Toad's Turnpike with the hopelessness of Rainbow Road at 150cc vibes.

9. Passion Isn’t Optional

My passion for mortadella remains unmatched.

Sicilians do not do “lukewarm.” Opinions are expressed at full volume, with hands, facial expressions, and emotional commitment. And more hands. Tomatoes are debated with the seriousness Americans reserve for politics. Conversations about pasta escalate quickly. And please, for the love of everything that is holy, do not break your pasta in half.

It’s beautiful. There’s no embarrassment in caring deeply, loudly, or visibly. I’m learning that passion here isn’t something you apologize for, it’s a sign that you’re alive. I now argue about the best gelato in town with my whole being.

8. Convenience Is Overrated (But Also… I Miss DoorDash)

Living in Sicily feels like stepping back into a pre-algorithm era. There’s no next-day delivery, no Uber Eats, no magical app that solves your hunger or boredom in under 20 minutes. And while there are food apps that exist in this beautiful, mythical land, it is difficult to arrange delivery when you do not yet have an address (that's right, our house is new, so we were told we may not have a house number for several years).

Instead, you wait. You talk to people. You adjust your expectations.

It’s equal parts charming and annoying to my American-born neuroticism. But it turns out that not tracking packages like a Wall Street bro tracks market trends does wonders for your nervous system. It reminds me of a much simpler time and I'm here for it. However, I do miss having a delicious bowl of ramen delivered to my face at the touch of a button every now and then.

This is much better than DoorDash, however.

7. Our Definition of Beaches Differ

Welcome to...the beach! Your feet will hate you.

Let’s be honest: Sicilian beaches are not soft. They are rocks. Big rocks. Sharp rocks. Rocks that demand sturdy sandals and personal accountability. However, there are beautiful places called Lidos that do offer the sandy beaches we're accustomed to. They also one-up us and typically have a restaurant with some of the freshest seafood you can imagine, a bar, live music...I feel like Sicilians have the beach day won.

But talking to locals, you'll notice that when they say they're going to the beach, that often means to the rocky coast. Once you carefully navigate the geological obstacle course and dive into the water, everything else disappears. The sea is impossibly blue, cleansing, and humbling. It makes you forgive every pebble that assaulted your feet five minutes earlier. Snorkeling gear is a must, because what lies beneath the surface is a site to behold.

Nonne and bambini alike navigate these slippery, jagged rocks like the Alpine Ibex of the European Alps. Umbrellas and towels dot the sun-bleached white crust of the earth. Or black crust, depending on if the shoreline contains remnants of a past Etna lava flow. It's an amazing spectacle and truly proves the notion that the beach is where you make it.

6. Doing Nothing Counts as Doing Something

Elton has already perfected "il dolce far niente"

Back home, rest often felt like failure. Here, downtime is sacred. Cafés are full of people doing absolutely nothing, and doing it exceptionally well.

Sicilians understand that sitting with a coffee, staring at the sea, and talking about nothing in particular is not wasted time. I’m learning to measure productivity less by output and more by peace. It's a notion I still struggle with day to day - being tethered to the US by employment and loved ones has not allowed me to fully immerse myself into this mindset.

But, I actually take a lunch break now and no longer eat at my desk (which a French man told me recently, was illegal and I should be in jail). So, there's that! Piano, piano.

5. Family Is Everything (No, Really...Everything)

Our Sicilian New Year's Eve, spent with our awesome neighbors, a saber, and a (few) bottles of champagne.

You don’t casually stop by someone’s house. You arrive, are fed immediately, introduced to multiple generations, and leave with leftovers you did not ask for but will absolutely take.

Family here isn’t a compartment of life, it is life. It’s loud, overwhelming, deeply loving, and non-negotiable. Exhausting and wonderful in equal measure. It reminds me of an Italian version of my mom's side of the family, so I find a familiarity and comfort in the chaos.

E and I wanted to share a small dose of American Christmas cheer with our neighbors, so after a work trip to Chicago, I brought everyone back a tiny tin of Garrett’s popcorn. That modest gesture somehow snowballed into home-cooked lunches, two full dinners, ringing in the New Year with a Sicilian family, and even an invitation to a two-year-old’s Italian birthday party. I mean, Garrett’s is good...but our neighbors have wildly outperformed us in the gift exchange.

4. Grocery Shopping Is a Competitive Sport

I'll brave any Italian grocery store for unlimited access to this.

Grocery shopping on this island has quickly become my personal passion project. Honestly, I could write an entire blog post on this alone. I’ve spent the better part of the past year trying to figure out exactly… what the hell is going on. If you’ve never been to an Italian grocery store, it’s nothing short of an adventure. The food is incredible, fresh, and unlike anything I’ve ever tasted back home. One entire aisle is devoted solely to pasta. Yes, just pasta. It’s a beautiful, life-affirming thing.

But it’s the act of shopping itself that makes me question the meaning of life. Timing is everything. Throw all American grocery logic out the window. Arrive at opening, and you won’t find empty aisles or speedy checkouts. No, everyone is there. And they are socializing. Men and women, young and old, impeccably dressed; makeup, cologne, high heels, button-up shirts. Apparently, being seen is a national pastime. La bella figura, they say. And with that philosophy in mind, aisles are crowded, friends block your path to the Parmesan, and somehow it all works.

The “best” time to shop is during riposo, the afternoon lull when the island appears to shut down and everyone else is napping. The stores become eerily quiet, and I finally get a chance to breathe, contemplate life, and slowly figure out what finocchio is (it’s fennel, by the way).

Lines are a suggestion rather than a rule. Nonni may cut in front if you have more than two items (honestly, I just say prego and let it happen). You weigh your own fruits, vegetables, and bread - and don’t forget to print the price sticker, or you’ll unintentionally hold up the line, which is practically an Italian sport at this point. The carts themselves require the abdominal strength of a triathlete; they move in every plane at the slightest provocation; forward, backward, sideways, maybe even in another dimension if you sneeze too hard.

Fun fact: an American quarter will actually work as a euro coin to release the cart from the chain. I may have had to test that theory myself one day, since I never seem to have coins on me. You'd think I'd have learned by now.

3. Everyone Has a Guy

Found the cheese guy (in Puglia!) If you try at least one cheese in your life, please let that cheese be burrata from Puglia.

You don’t just buy things, you build relationships. You have a fish guy. A bread guy. A produce guy. A wine guy (very important).

Once you have your guys, life gets easier, and significantly more delicious. Going to the supermarket for a loaf of bread and not the local panificio feels almost criminal after a while.

2. Contradictions Are a Way of Life

Sicily is breathtaking and messy. The sea sparkles like a postcard while the streets can be piled with trash. And while organized crime may technically exist, I’ve never felt safer anywhere in my life.

Here, contradictions don’t cancel each other out, they coexist. Beauty doesn’t require perfection. It thrives alongside it.

1. Slow Down. Love Hard. Let It Go.

Sicily has taught me that life isn’t meant to be rushed. Espresso tastes better when you’re not multitasking. A two-hour lunch on a Sunday isn’t indulgent, it’s necessary.

Love people deeply. Worry less. Let things go. Because most of what you stress about doesn’t matter.

At the end of the day, the sun is setting over the Ionian Sea, you’re alive, and there’s probably another glass of wine coming.

Bonus Lesson: Travel Is Basically Mandatory Here

Living in Sicily has turned me into a shameless globetrotter. In just one year, I’ve seen more of the world than I had in the previous forty. I’ve driven the entire length of Italy’s boot, stopping in beautiful locations like Salerno and Bologna. I got the chance to finally visit Rome and Puglia with the fam. I’ve hopped over borders to Germany, Ireland, and Amsterdam. More on these in their own respective blog posts, but I can't wait to share a few highlights below.

Here, travel isn’t a splurge or a special occasion, it’s just what you do. Flights are cheap, trains are easy, and suddenly weekends have a “why not?” energy to them. Want to eat gelato in Rome on Saturday and drink beer in Amsterdam on Sunday? Go ahead. No one bats an eye.

Sicily has taught me that adventure doesn’t wait for permission, vacation days, or a decade-long plan. It’s available, it’s close, and yes, it may involve a few espresso-fueled panic moments navigating foreign trains (but that’s half the fun).

And the kicker? Somehow, in a single year, I’ve managed to collect a ridiculous number of passport stamps, enough stories to last a lifetime, and zero excuses for ever saying “I can’t travel” again. Sicily didn’t just open my eyes... it threw the door wide open.

Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to travel the world. I remember listening to stories from my late grandpa, as he described his travels all over Europe, his 2-year stint in Africa...the possibilities seemed endless. However, as you become an adult, you realize that a lack of time and money makes that near impossible. I've made it a point to travel within the US (only 5 more states until I can say I've visited all 50!) but it wasn't until recently I've made the trek to Europe. I have my husband, the #1 travel partner, to thank for the push and the means to make my dream come true.

Grandpa would be proud.