Now that we've given up "the world's smallest apartment" and are officially homeless (until our plane takes off on Tuesday...yep, still terrified) we're staying temporarily with the in-laws. This is quite comfortable, as they do most of the cleaning and cooking (if you as much as try to help an Italian mother while she's doing anything remotely related to the kitchen, it's likely you'll get your hand chopped off with the bread knife), and David's brother's around. But it does have its complications.
Since I've first started exploring a vegan diet, I have feared this moment. Turning up in an Italian household and saying, "I don't eat any kind of dead animal, plus I won't touch mozzarella or eggs, either" is like wearing a t-shirt with a print that says, "I am an alien...and I don't like your planet all that much."