While there is much to be learned from living in Italy, one of the most valuable is how to slow down and enjoy simple pleasures—namely those beginning with the letter P.

The first P is the town I live in: Parma. It is a place overflowing with pleasing Ps. Parma's historic buildings are brightly painted in hues of yellows, blues, greens, reds and even purples. In the spring sun they pop like chestnut blossoms in the Parco Ducale. The parco is the second P, entertainment aplenty for this puritanical foreigner with no TV. Public displays of affection everywhere! Never have I seen so many P.D.A.s. Teenagers mostly. Mostly kissing. Shamelessly presenting their pubescent passione.

The third P is the Po river, which runs north of Parma. A place to watch pheasants promenade, with their long, regal, emerald tails. This game bird is not only beautiful visually, it is most palatable. As we pass them on walks, I often ask my fiancé to hunt one for me. Perhaps this would be more possible in the pistol-packing pride of the U S of A. Because it is illegal here and we are guests in the country, I dare not risk our propriety in such a proper place. Fortunately, the chefs at Alma, the cooking school where we dine daily, sometimes prepares a delectable pheasant.

One P that is lacking in abundance and taste is pleasing pane. Luckily, the Pugliese baker in town has alleviated many of my friends' bread cravings. The heart of any dinner guest will be won by preparing bruschetta with this bread. We are also partial to pasta, which is plentiful—as is the prosecco to precede it.

Finally, I must pay homage to the two products that make Parma famous (and so too have made me plump): Parmigano Reggiano and Prosciutto di Parma. Though I already loved it before moving here, now I cannot live without parmigano. Two of us can consume half a kilo a week from the organic farmers market. Sometimes we have a meal consisting only of Ps: parmigano, prosciutto, pane, prosecco and Puccini. Perfetto!

Simple pleasures: A promenade in the park, the prospect of pheasant, a picnic of products beginning with P, a piccolo peck from your partner. A place filled with passione!

— Sophie Esser