Column: the perfect daughter-in-law

When I first went to visit my Neapolitan friend's family three years ago, I expected a bunch of gruff, traditional Italians who didn't like that new Dutch girlfriend of mother's only son. But instead I was welcomed with a big warm hug and a plate of steaming Penne Carbonara.

Now three years later, Pozzuoli is like a second home. On every vacation I have, I fly back to the apartment in the yellowish flat where my boyfriend lives with his single mother. I do the shopping for them, watch the daily Neapolitan version of Good times Bad Times, and have already devoured dozens of plates of pasta and pizza.

High heels and perfectly styled hair

Of course, there remain the cultural differences that we sometimes clash with. For example, the typical Neapolitan girl is very concerned with her appearance, while I don't like make-up and the perfectly styled hair that many women here walk around with.

'You must buy nice high heels! I can't take those sneakers anymore,' my mother-in-law shouted when we talked about Cousin Mauro's upcoming wedding. 'But wear low heels, otherwise you stand out even further above everyone else. And put on some make-up, otherwise you'll look out of place.' I nod obediently. Yes, mum.

hard risotto

Furthermore, it is really a big scandal that at my age I still don't know how to prepare good spaghetti. "I can make risotto!" I defended myself. Enthusiastically, I threw some rice into a pan and took sausages out of the freezer. I didn't mention that it was the way my traditional Dutch father always makes it.

But the risotto was unsuccessful: the rice was not cooked properly and the meat was not well cooked. 'And those zucchini slices in it, why on earth would you put that in a risotto?' exclaimed my friend. Disappointed, I looked at the pile of white rice in the pan. My mother-in-law smiled at me. “Next time I'm going to teach you how to cook. Then you can prepare perfect pastas for us!'

We will see each other

Although I can't cook, I think my new Italian family appreciates me for my crazy Dutch habits. 'You are always welcome in our house,' says my mother-in-law, when I am about to return to the low countries, because school is unfortunately starting again. She squeezes my hands gently. 'La porta e semper aperta per te', the door is always open for you. 'But make sure you speak better Italian next time. Otherwise you won't be able to get in.'

Yes, mum.

Photo above perfect daughter-in-law Marit and her Neapolitan friend: Marit Bruinsma