My wife and I just returned from our honeymoon in Sorrento, Italy, a picturesque town along the Amalfi coast, right near Naples.
If you’ve been following my newsletter, you might remember that I recently got engaged. Well, now I’m officially married.
It all happened pretty quickly. I mean, in today’s climate, everyone seems to be planning extravagant weddings, obsessing over details like whether to have embroidered napkins and how to balance classy classics with chart-topping hits in their DJ playlists.
But no, we weren’t caught up in any scandal. We just wanted something straightforward and didn’t want to wait forever. With the amazing support from family and friends, we pulled together a beautiful, romantic wedding and set off on what began as a vacation but turned into a honeymoon.
Next week’s edition will dive deeper into the ceremony and trip details. For now, though, I want to touch on one of the standout features of America—something I hadn’t really thought much about until I spent two weeks in Southern Europe.
Two words: air conditioner.
Italy is stunning, filled with wonderful people. Their pizzas are definitely better than most in America—unless you’re in Brooklyn, New York City, or New Haven, Connecticut. The pasta is fantastic, too. The neighborhoods are inviting and packed with charm, making it easy to stumble upon hidden gems. There are no drab strip malls; just quaint, shaded alleys lined with family-run eateries.
That said, nothing in Italy can rival the comfort of a consistent, cool 68°F breeze from your ceiling.
Our lovely hotel boasted air conditioning. And sure enough, they had it—but not in the way we expected. There was no central air, only wall units that couldn’t be set below 25°C, or 77°F. I could adjust the fan speed, but lowering the temperature? Nope. It was impossible to hit that sweet spot of 65°F – 68°F that we Americans often take for granted.
To make things more interesting, the electricity automatically shut off whenever we left the room. I assume this is part of those quirky EU environmental regulations that restrict hotels from running power when guests aren’t present.
We ended up buying a fan for 30 euros from a quirky little second-hand electronics store. The owner said something like, “I can’t guarantee this fan will actually cool you down, and I’m not even sure it will work.”
But it did work—and honestly, it was the best $34.67 I’ve ever spent. Not necessarily because it cooled us down, but because it made me realize just how much I appreciate America’s air-conditioned bliss.
