This interview is based on a conversation with Angie Smith, 52, founder of real estate consultancy Olive and Pine and a women’s retreat in Tuscany. It has been edited for length and clarity.
It was hard to contain my nerves in November 2023 after I closed on a property in a tiny village in Tuscany, escaping my hectic tech job in Fort Worth.
I wanted a fresh start because I felt burned out, unhappy, and unhealthy. It felt exciting to start a new life in Italy — the place I’d loved since my first vacation there in 2013 — once I’d quit my company and sold my house that Spring.
Still, I wondered if I’d be treated like an outsider by the 70 or so people who lived in the close-knit community, 30 miles from Florence.
I hosted a housewarming party
It included an extended family of 20, ranging from small children to great-grandparents.
I decided to host a housewarming party on a whim. I placed a sign on the door of the one little bar, inviting neighbors to come by between 5 p.m. and 7 p.m. on a Saturday evening.
The minutes felt like hours as I waited for them to arrive. There was no sign of anyone. “Oh my God, what if nobody comes?” I thought.
Then the doorbell rang. I found dozens of people standing in line down the road. They carried gifts such as bottles of wine and fresh produce from their gardens.
I barely knew the language and used Google Translate to have faltering conversations, which were nonetheless friendly and warm.
Then an Italian friend read out the letter I’d sent to the previous owner of the house, explaining my reasons for moving.
I had no idea how to harvest olives
The guests seemed touched to hear the story of how I wanted a refuge from the fast-paced life I’d led in Texas. I said I was a spiritual person seeking a peaceful place to decompress, closer to my adult daughter who lives in London.
Ever since that night, the village welcomed me as a daughter. People — especially the large family at the center of it all — watch out for me as a single mom in her 50s.
My 19th-century stone house is set on two acres of terraced olive groves. I had no idea how to harvest the olives, and I had so much to learn.
My neighbors let me help them with their own harvest, so I knew what to expect. It was very labor-intensive, as the fruits are mostly handpicked before they’re pressed into olive oil.
In the fall of 2024, I was co-hosting a women’s retreat in Barga, about two hours from the village, when I received text messages from the family.
There were photos of them harvesting my olives while I was away. They wanted to get them processed at the same time as their own before they got mushy.
My neighbor stopped by with food when I was sick
I cried because it was such an incredibly kind gesture. It was typical of their thoughtfulness over the last two-and-a-half years.
I’ve been invited to lunches, dinners, and church. Once, I was sick, and my neighbor knocked on my door with a basket of eggs. She hadn’t seen me for two days and was worried.
I reciprocate as much as I can. The smallest gestures, like helping older people carry groceries into their homes, count.
Last Thanksgiving, I invited a few Italian friends to a special dinner. We had the traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a sweet potato casserole that they loved.
We ended up with pecan pie bars baked on a flat sheet because I didn’t have a pie tin. But they tasted the same. It was a little bit of America in Tuscany.
The friendships I’ve made are precious
Meanwhile, our village hosts an annual food festival every July. The streets close down for three days, and there’s music and dancing. People who’ve moved away come back to celebrate, and it’s a perfect time to reflect on your circumstances.
The friendships I’ve made in Italy have been some of the strongest, most authentic in my life. I’m grateful to feel like I belong.
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