This story feels like it should be the subject of a film, or book, for we always think love stories only exist through written words or in movies. But sometimes, real life is even better than fiction.

It was the late 1960s. My nonna, a 30-year-old Salvadoran with a thirst for adventure, had ended up on a tour of Europe with some family friends. After visiting almost every must-see spot in Spain and France, the tour stopped in Rome. It was there where she decided spontaneously, along with some girls on the trip, to get her hair done at a local parrucchiere. It was there where my nonno first set eyes on her. He was five years her junior, but he made up for it with his mature demeanor and flirtatious southern Italian charm. She only spoke Spanish and he only spoke Italian. Yet, he muttered some broken English words: “Do you want to see Rome by night?”

She knew enough English to understand what the words meant. That night in Rome, without any words, they had their first date. It was enough for her to abandon her tour (and, subsequently, her life in El Salvador) and travel south to Formia to meet his family. She stayed in the tiny town for three months, learning to cook and speak the language. After securing a job in America, my nonno and his soon-to-be wife moved to New York where he would start earning enough money to sustain a family. In the bustling city, they were to be married. My nonna’s sister received only a call of when and where the wedding was going to happen. It was a small ceremony, with only the newlyweds, the photographer, and my nonna’s sister in attendance. 

Five decades and a few generations later, my grandparents’ whirlwind love story is still my favorite fairytale.