I grew up second-generation Italian. This means I am just removed enough from my heritage to feel like I can’t claim it without being a fraud – an uncouth Australian girl trying to assert some culture by announcing she’s Italian. But just close enough so that when, as a child, my friends heard my grandfather…
“Let’s just get super fucked up, hey?”
It’s a plan. We drink rum, vodka, gin and Bintang longnecks skulled outside a bar, and multiple free shots of arak given out like candy to babies. We have long-winded conversations that go nowhere, get drenched in the rain and boogie to The Strokes at 2am.
If my…