How Italian Are You Really?

Loving pizza and pasta is unfortunately not enough.

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  1. Check everything that applies to you:

    You know what cervicale is...
    ...and you fear it.
    You also don't understand why no one else worries about cervicale.
    You took part in a demonstration...
    ...but you don't remember what it was about.
    You joined a communist party.
    But it was mostly so you could go to a party.
    You love food.
    You love making food.
    You love eating food.
    You love talking about food.
    You love reviewing food.
    And you LOVE carbs. Like, really.
    But you also really like vegetables.
    You are an incredible cook.
    And you've been cooking full meals since you were 10.
    Your food is better than that of any professional chef.
    You don't make pizza. You go for pizza...
    ...on Sunday nights.
    With your pizza, you drink beer. NEVER wine.
    And you don't ever get drunk, just a little brillo.
    Probably because you've been drinking wine since elementary school. You know, with the family.
    You eat a healthy breakfast of caffè and Cornetto.
    Because only foreigners order espresso.
    And you know how to order the proper caffe: "doppio lungo in vetro senza schiuma."
    You and your friends regularly debate the merits of caffè versus cappuccino.
    You NEVER, EVER wear sweatpants in public.
    You won't even wear them to the gym. (Only once you're IN the gym.)
    You don't own mom jeans.
    Your mom doesn't own mom jeans.
    You call your mom every day...
    Three times a day.
    You've never had a babysitter — just nonni.
    And you see them all the time.
    So it's no big deal if your significant other is not available on Sundays...
    ...because you're never available on Sundays anyway!
    You know your saint name day.
    You have a bidet.
    And yes, you use it.
    You started studying philosophy at age 14.
    And you often casually throw quotes from Virgilio, Dante, Foscolo, or d'Annunzio into conversations.
    You can still recite your middle school lessons on the Renaissance.
    But middle school was precisely the last time you set a foot in the Sistine Chapel.
    You like quoting Totò.
    You've seen at least one "Natale a..."
    You watch San Remo.
    You watch Master Chef Italy.
    And you take it as seriously as your squadra del cuore.
    But you only get emotional over soccer...
    ...when your team wins...
    ...or when they lose...
    ...or whenever they play.
    You complain about the government.
    You complain about parking.
    You complain about your neighbor.
    But you wouldn't say you complain too much.
    You've had to wait in lines.
    So now you know you can just go to the front.
    But they really aren't lines, are they?
    You drive a scooter.
    And you drive it wherever you feel like.
    You always ask for a discount.
    And you get it!
    Your doctor is your mother's cousin.
    Your lawyer is your father's nephew.
    Your architect is your cousin's friend.
    You love tombola.
    You hate tombola.
    Yes, you still play tombola.
    You hug, kiss, and touch everyone.
    And obviously you expect everyone to hug, kiss, and touch you.
    You don't actually trust anyone.
    But you can talk about personal issues with strangers on a bus.
    You speak Italian.
    Actually, you speak two languages: Italian and dialetto.
    Make that three: Italian, dialetto, and gesti.
    You have no idea why Americans would want to move to Italy full time.
    You think Italy is the worst country in the world.
    You think Italy is the best country in the world.
    You know that nothing works.
    But you have a solution for everything.
    You are actually Italian.

How Italian Are You Really?

Mamma mia, you're about as Italian as the Olive Garden. Wet hair doesn't scare you, you have no sense of self-irony, and you probably don't what cambio stagione is. Consider taking up residence in Switzerland instead.

Mike Mozart / Flickr:
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You're about as Italian as Season 4 of Jersey Shore – yeah, you've got the hand gestures and you dance well and have the right wardrobe, but you need a little menefreghismo to go with those disco moves.

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You're as Italian as a rosary-clutching Ultra on a Sunday afternoon. You know how to eat, what to wear where, and when to call your mom. Just add a little humor.

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Italiano DOCG! Complimenti, you're the real deal and you know it!

Titanus Minerva film
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