Lemons, Linen, and Good Livin'

Our time in Positano was a perfect mix of adventure and relaxation. Dinners overlooking the sea below, coast stretching for miles, made for an excellent backdrop to the plethora of lemon products and linen shops the region is famous for. A little retail therapy for the ladies and some dips in the teal blue water signaled the beginning of a true vacation. 

The first adventure was a hike aptly named the The Path of the Gods. The trail traversed high up on the cliffs, providing stunning views of the coastline and plenty of great photo ops. Another day, we took a small boat over to and around the island of Capri, stopping along the way to hop in. One side note, apparently jellyfish can smell fear, as the only person worried about getting stung was my sister, and, wouldn’t you know it, she did. Being a trooper, though, she survived, even without anyone peeing on the sting. The last mini adventure was a trip into Naples for the day for some mozzarella di bufala and some pizza from its birthplace. Naples is raw and grimy, but I thoroughly enjoyed perusing the streets and soaking it all in. A stopover in Sorrento for some cocktails and limoncello at sunset made for a proper sendoff from the region. 

Next up, Croatia!

A Well Deserved Beer

Getting from Ascoli Piceno to the Amalfi Coast, our next destination, wasn’t exactly a straight shot. We decided to rent a couple cars to avoid taking about 10 hours worth of buses, trains, and ferries. The plan was to drive down to Salerno, a 4.5 hour drive according to Google, before taking a 3:30pm ferry (the last of the day) over to Positano. Doing the math, I knew we’d be cutting it pretty close, but I tried to keep that part mostly to myself. 

We of course got off to a late start, walkie-talkies in hand to communicate between cars. The back and forth conversation between cars evolved from playful banter and jokes for the first couple hours to one word answers after the 3rd or 4th U-turn. About 1 hour before the ferry departed, my dad made the assessment that there was no way we were going to make it. I explained to him that I had a history of cutting things pretty close and I always ended up making it. I have to admit however, as we were driving around Salerno at 3:25 unsuccessfully searching for the rental car office, I’d given up hope. That was until we came upon the hole-in-the-wall office and had this conversation with the Italian attendant:

“Where are you going?”

-Positano, on the ferry…

“When does it leave?”

-3:30

“What time is it?”

-3:30.

“Let’s Go!”

All 7 of us, bags and everything, crammed into one, 4 person car and we jetted over to the port. The Circus has nothing on what we somehow accomplished. The man made a call and explained our situation to the port authority and we somehow made it to our boat, which, along with my sister’s boyfriend, Daniel, sat there waiting for us. 

The first order of business was to grab a seat on the deck and an ice cold Peroni, two ingredients necessary for soaking up the spectacular views along the Amalfi Coast. I looked at my Dad, and couldn’t help but say it:

“Told you I always end up making it, right?”

Home Cookin'

Leaving Vasto was difficult for all of us. In less than 3 full days, everyone had become attached to the loving and caring family they’d only just met. Lucky for us, we were off to see even more family, this time from my Grandfather’s side. 

Our time in Ascoli Piceno was even shorter than Vasto, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying our time to the fullest. Our stomachs weren’t done stretching as the home cooked meals we were treated to rivaled even the wedding in Vasto. Everyone wasdoing great, just as when I left two years ago, and we received some welcome news that another cousin (Marino) would be getting married next year, so a return trip may be in order (I hope!). 

A trip up to San Gregorio, the mountain village where my Great Grandmother grew up, and a couple aperitivos in Piazza del Popolo made for a quintessential day in Ascoli. Watching my family soak up the experience brought me back to the same feelings I’d had during my first trip, and I’m grateful to be able to share those feelings with them from now on. All that was missing was Papa, although Croce and Italo were sure to take care of that as the note in the photo shows.

“RUDY WITH US”

“From Italo, Croce, & Sylvanna”

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Papa è con tutti noi. Per sempre.

A presto Ascoli!

A Wedding to Remember

Every idea you’ve ever had about what an Italian wedding might be like is 100 percent true. The beautiful church, the rice, the singing, the dancing, the copious amounts of food, the proud grandparents dancing through the night, this wedding had it all. 

The wedding celebrations began the night before, at the serenata, a Romeo and Juliet like scene with the groom singing karaoke up to his soon to be bride on the balcony 3 floors up. Luckily, the entire condo complex is inhabitited by family, so the 100+ guests watching from the courtyard below weren’t disrupting the neighbors. After a few guest karaoke singers, a Congo line, and a surprise birthday cake for my Dad, we retired for the night.

The next morning, dressed to impress, we headed for the cathedral. I was given the incredible honor of being a testimone (witness) for Marta’s wedding, meaning I’d be up at the front for the ceremony as well as reading the psalm at Mass. Thankfully, the reading went smoothly and I don’t think I messed up any pronunciations! The ceremony was beautiful, and I feel truly blessed to have been a part of it. 

The reception was held at a resort overlooking the Adriatic, a picture perfect cliff side setting. We were served more appetizers than I’d ever seen before being told we were moving inside for the real meal…what? Every course was broken up by traditional Italian couples dances, rose ceremonies, Applausos, and Italian Electric Slides. We danced into the night, and by we I mean everyone, including Maria, Marta’s grandmother, who had more energy than anyone at the wedding I think. 

An experience I’ll never forget, with the people that mean the most: once again, la famiglia…

Arriviamo a Vasto

The 3 hour bus ride from Rome was just long enough for everyone to cool down from the dash to the bus station. Upon arriving in Vasto, we were greeted by the smiling faces of our cousins Marta and Loredana. Introductions were in order for everyone, while for me it was a feeling of elation to be back with the family I have such fond memories with.

Dinner with the family had an even bigger crowd than expected, as everyone was in town for the wedding. There was no easing back into my Italian as I was left as the lone translator at the dinner table for a couple hours…va bene! A couple caffes and a bachelor party later, my first night back in Italy was a success…meno male.

We spent the next day exploring the quaint little town of Vasto, sipping espresso and practicing Italian. We scouted out the wedding cathedral, shown in the photo above, and made our way down to the marina for a little passegiata along the beach. 

Traveling with my entire family has been a new experience for me, something that’s been truly rewarding as I’m able to share the thrills and excitement that come with exploring new places and meeting new faces along the way. Add to that the hospitality we’ve received from even more family in Vasto, and you realize Italy is most definitely meant to be experienced with la famiglia.

All Roads Lead to...Home

Among all of my “last days” in the past week, I’ve kind of lost track of the fact that this is actually the Grandaddy of them all. Leaving Siena came upon me out of nowhere, spending two days back in Ascoli went by in a blink, and the few days in Vasto had me thinking back to the summer. But, alas, here I am, where every road in Italy actually does lead to: Rome. Where, for me, the journey, the adventure, the life as a traveller, ends. I would say it seems like yesterday that it all started back in Spain last June, but, to be honest, it doesn’t. It feels like a lifetime ago, and, in some ways, it was. I will return home a different person from when I left, in more ways than one. Tatooed on my character will be the experiences I’ve been so blessed to have had, the memories of the adventures shared with old friends and new, the influence of the incredible variety of people I’ve met, and the ability to appreciate the sheer beauty that this world has to offer.

I believe it’s fitting, this being my last day, to share a little story about my first day in Europe-my first hour to be exact. After making my way through customs and onto the metro in Madrid, I was finally headed to my first hostel, directions and transfers in hand. Cramming onto the metro, I was in the exact situation I’d expected to be in, amid the throngs of people unaccustomed to the personal space Americans tend to want and need. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to be distracted by the “cultural experience” for a bit too long and, after reaching down into my pocket to check for my wallet, felt nothing but the musty air of the metro. Really?? Yes, really. I closed my eyes for a second thinking that my mind was playing tricks on me before reaching into my pocket again. Nothing. After a deep breath and a few choice words, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself as I had become that traveller that I always thought I was wiser and more aware than. Humble pie never tasted so bitter. I knew things could only get better from that point on, and, needless to say, they did. I chose not to dwell on the things that I couldn’t change, and the rest of my trip was more or less smooth sailing, er, training.

I think my little mishap sums up my advice for any would-be travellers. Take your trip as it comes. Not everything is going to work out exactly like you planned. Trust me. The thing is, though, it’s better that way. Every minute you spend wishing things were different is a minute that could be spent meeting someone or getting lost in a new city. The same mentality can be adopted for everyday life as well. You can “travel” in your own city, in your own neighborhood even, which I look forward to trying when I get home. Get lost, it’s fun. Talk to someone, if not just to see where they’re from and what their story is. Most of all though, enjoy the moment you are in, soak it up and truly experience it, wherever you may be, from the Eiffel tower to your front porch.

For that matter, you can go to the Eiffel tower while sitting on your front porch; all you have to do is close your eyes. As for me? Tomorrow I think I’ll be going back to the rolling hills of Tuscany, watching life stand still. Or maybe if I’m in need of some fresh air I’ll go back to the Swiss Alps or the fjords of Norway. If I’m feeling adventurous, I’ll head back to the streets of Pamplona to hang out with the raging bulls. If I’ve got the hankering for a hearty meal, I’ll savor the taste of some Bavarian sausage and beer. If I’m in need of a little swim, the crystal clear waters of Croatia will be just the refresher I need. Whatever the desire may be, I’ll know just the place to let my mind take me, and that’ll do just fine…

To my readers over the past 6 months, thank you for joining me along the way; I hope you have enjoyed reading the blog as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it, and that I was able to make you feel as though you were right there with me throughout because, in a sense, you were. The thought of friends and family inspired many of my actions and reflections as I was constantly reminded of those close to me by people and places I encountered. While I wish it was possible to tell each one of you how and when you popped into my head, I’m afraid that goal is unobtainable; but I’ll do my best to let you know if and when I see you. I also want to invite anyone that feels so inclined to chat a little about travels. I’d be more than happy to lend some advice or just tell stories, so don’t hesitate to get a hold of me, and, just so you know, I wouldn’t be against serving as a guide for your next trip. I promise I won’t charge too much!

So there you have it, questo blog è finito, the real world is finally calling my name. I would continue with updates, but I’m afraid my life just isn’t as interesting when I’m not country hopping. See you all on the next continent!

Ciao

-Andy

Use Google Translate

You’ll get the idea…più o meno.

Mamma mia che bello era il mio tempo a Siena e in tutto Italia. Non ce l'ho le parole per descrivere quanto significa tutto che me ha dato Italia, ma, ci provo. Italia ha cambiato il mio modo di pensare. Adesso io faccio tutto un pò più lenta, mi diverto ogni momento che ce l'ho, perche la vita è veramente bella. Non so perche non mi rendevo conto prima, ma adesso io capisco quest'idea, e che bello è.

Non sono sicuro cosa farò senza le cose più belle di Italia. Come posso vivere senza pasta ogni giorno? Oppure la migliore pizza nel mondo? E devo guidare una macchina?? Che palle! Sopratutto mi mancherà il popolo, che sempre aveva una ragione per dire qualcosa bello a me oppure qualcuna nella strada.

La parte più importante d'Italia è la famiglia. Ero benedetto avere due famiglie belle qua. I miei soggiorni con tutte e due erano esperienze che non mai dimenticherò. Potevo sentire l'amore il momento che sono arrivato, a Vasto e anche ad Ascoli Piceno. Niente compara a l'amore di una famiglia Italiana, e questo è la verita!

Allora, potrei scrivere un novello su tutto che l'Italia significa per me, ma, come la mia vacanza, questo blog deve finire. Grazie per tutto Italia, spero che tu cambi un altro ragazzo come me hai cambiato, e che tutte le persone che visitano, partano con i stessi sentimenti di me.

Tu sei sempre sulla mia mente, nel mio cuore, e non mai ti lascierò…non ti lascieròòòòò, non ti lascieròòò!!

Ciao Italia, a dopo…no, a presto!

Forza Siena

I hate to admit it, but I’m actually starting to really enjoy watching soccer. After all the years of bashing it for being too uneventful and boring, I now stand corrected. Aside from the game itself, the atmosphere and energy of the fans makes it pretty difficult not to like the sport. I’d like to consider myself a pretty dedicated fan to my sports teams, so I can appreciate seeing young kids below me, done-up girls to my right, father and son behind me, and seniors on my left, all yelling for their team with the same energy and dedication in their voice. Funny enough, they all happen to choose the same words as well, the ones I haven’t exactly been taught in my classes.

After attending a match last week and learning some chants, I was ready to support the squad when Inter-Milan came to town. The stadium was packed as Inter is one of the most well known teams in Europe. Siena put up a great fight, but unfortunately allowed a goal in the second to last minute to lose 1-0. It was a heartbreaking loss, but on the bright side, at least I have some new chants to sing in the shower:

“Che bello è, quando esco di casa, per andare allo stadio, e tifare la Robur! Che bello è…”

An Italian Thanksgiving

Being away from home for my first holiday was not something I was looking forward to, but I managed to help put together a pretty respectable Thanksgiving here in Italy. Myself and another American roommate did our best to show the guests just what Thanksgiving was all about, and how exactly one is supposed to eat mashed potatoes and gravy. I’m not sure they quite understood the types of food that are typical though, as some guests walked in holding a big pot of pasta. Like I said, a meal isn’t complete in Italy without at least a little bit of pasta, Thanksgiving or not! Besides the pasta that was served as a first course, the meal was about as American as it gets: Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, apple pies, the works. I somehow managed to stay awake long enough after the feast to talk to my family as well, capping off the day.

All that was missing was a little bit of football, but hey, I can’t ask for everything!

A Reality Check

Walking down the street today, I overheard a conversation between two English speaking travellers about buying shoes. The part that I caught was,

“Well I figure that, since I’m in Italy, I should probably buy some leather shoes.”

I chuckled to myself and realized that I’ve almost forgotten this isn’t where I live. I don’t live in this city, this country, or even this continent. This is just a vacation. An extended one at that, but still a vacation. Throughout the trip, I have done my best to fulfill all those “since I’m here, I should probably…” goals. In Italy, though, it’s been a different story. Not because I haven’t done the things that you’re “supposed” to do here, but rather because I haven’t done anything just for the sake of doing it. I do things because they make sense, because at this point I couldn’t think of not doing them. For example:

1) I eat pasta basically everyday. Not because I feel like I should, but because it’s a perfect meal and I honestly can’t think what a meal would consist of without it.

2) I walk around in the evening with no intention of going anywhere. The evening passegiatta is a sport in Italy, and while at first I would walk around just because everyone else was, I now feel like my night isn’t complete without taking a little stroll.

3) I speak more sign language than actual Italian, but it works because so do all the Italians. I kid you not, I was on a bus a couple weeks ago and while we were stopped I was watching a conversation between friends at the station and it wasn’t until I took out my headphones that I realized they actually were speaking in sign language, and not just enthusiastic Italian. The line is very blurry.

I’m sure there are many other facets of my daily life that I haven’t realized are different now, but I think I’ll leave it up to friends and family to tell me just how I’ve changed when I return…

Back to School

Apparently being a student is ingrained in my blood, because it didn’t take too long for me to figure out a way to hit the books again. I decided to enroll in a one month long Italian course as, unfortunately, I’m running out of time to master the language over here. So, for 4 hours a day, I do my best to learn Italian as quickly as possible.

I’ve chosen to settle myself in Siena, a Tuscan town of about 60,000 people that is straight out of Medieval times. Living in an apartment with other students at the school, it takes me about 5 minutes to walk to classes in the morning, and about the same amount of time to reach the town’s main square. The apartment is situated in the corner of a piazza filled with university students in the evening and school-children at recess around lunchtime. Saint Francis’ Basilica dominates the square, even at nighttime when flood-lights constantly glow on the facade. Sitting in my room tonight I realize that, on the way home from school, I was able to stop in a salumeria, pasticceria, gelateria, enoteca (wine shop), and a basilica without so much as veering of course down a side street. I had always planned to buy a Vespa wherever I ended up staying, but it’s completely unnecessary here in Siena as everyone walks to get where they need to go.

While the ideal picture I had of myself living in Italy consisted of an apartment above a bakery with my Vespa parked out front, I’m starting to think that being next door neighbors with a basilica and having a balcony overlooking the Tuscan countryside is the better option.

…When do I have to start work again?

A Lesson in History

Another one of my Papa’s cousins, Italo, took me around Ascoli for an entire day, explaining to me the history of the city and just about everything else having anything to do with Ascoli. While my Italian has come a long way, it hadn’t come along far enough to understand everything Italo had to say, but luckily Italo didn’t mind as he never ran out of facts and stories for me. After a big lunch and some more family history, we headed to another cousin’s house for some vino cotto and dessert. Croce showed up and explained to me that I shouldn’t feel bad for not understanding all that Italo had to say, as nobody else really does either. Meeting more family was another great experience, and once again I left with a full stomach and a smile…

The City of Ascoli

As I described in a previous post, it’s evident that Ascoli Piceno is a beautiful city, with character as well. While I’ve seen my fair share of churches during the trip, the Basilica of San Francesco, situated just off the Piazza del Poppolo, holds a little bit more meaning for me. The church in which my great grandmother was married towers over the city’s picturesque main square, just another part of the people’s daily views. Between the evening passegiatas with Croce and the Aperitivos with Marco and Marino, I too got used to being around that special place on a daily basis. Ascoli is an easy place to get comfortable in, and it only took a couple days for me to feel like I was supposed to be there, hanging out in the Piazza along with the bambini playing in the square, the giovane sipping their aperitivos, and the anciani walking as slow as possible, watching the scene unfold before them…

Chestnut Hunting

The trip to San Gregorio wouldn’t have been complete without a stroll down the road to the family chestnut trees. Having never actually seen a chestnut before, I was surprised to find out that they hide in baseball-sized balls with big spikes sticking out. Armed with gardening gloves, we did our best to fill up two big baskets like the one seen in the photo. I think our haul was enough to last through the rest of the year, although I think Croce and Sylvanna made another trip up during the week to find whatever we left behind.

Walking down the dirt road I realized that I’ve been gone for a while, as the seemingly endless summer has finally given in to the shades of fall…

Finding my Roots

When I was a child, I often used to walk down the street to my Great Grandma Marcozzi’s house to chat with her. I don’t remember much of what we ever talked about, but I do remember receiving a crisp one dollar bill every time I visited. I look back at my childhood and realize how lucky I was to not only live on the same street as her, but on the street over from both sets of grandparents, as well as another great grandmother. To top it all off, the family business, where my uncle and cousins worked, was just a quarter mile down the road. While having such a large portion of a family’s life so concentrated in one area is a rarity in California, this family closeness is commonplace in Italy.

After my parents headed home, I made my way down from Venice to Ascoli Piceno, a small city that dates back to before Roman times. More important, though, is the fact that it is the hometown of my Papa’s side of the family. Greeted at the train station by my cousin Marino, I was welcomed immediately by the whole family, as usual in Italy. Croce, my Papa’s cousin, owns a hotel in Ascoli, and they were nice enough to let me stay there for the week. Croce and his wife, Slyvanna, took care of me like only an Italian family can, making sure my belly was always full of food and that I always had everything I needed. Their two sons, Marino and Marco, toured me around the city and taught me all the essential Italian slang I needed to sound somewhat like a local. Ascoli has a great feel to it: fun atmosphere, beautiful scenery, medieval architecture, and elegant churches. There is enough going on to keep you busy, but it’s small enough that the odds are you will run into more than a few friends during an evening passegiata.

The first trip we took outside of the city was to San Gregorio, a small village up in the hills and the place in which my great grandparents grew up. Today, the village has a total of 8 permanent residents. Overlooking the orange and yellow tree covered hills, I could imagine Grandma Marcozzi playing in the town square while her parents walked down to the spring to get the necessary water for the day. Maybe that’s where she met my great grandpa Jimmy, who lived about 20 feet away from her family. Or maybe they met in the church, about 30 feet from her house.

As we enjoyed lunch on the more than 100 year old table in the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think to myself what Grandma must have thought about the small distance between her house in California and all her family there. Troppo lontano io penso.

Too far away indeed…

Salute!

Having had our fair share of sit down dinners in Italy, we decided to do a Venetian pub crawl to mix things up a bit. Scattered all around town are small eateries serving tapas and cheap glasses of wine during the dinner hours. We made our way to about 4 or 5 places, sampling their wine and snacks. From crab, swordfish, and smoked tuna sandwiches, to stuffed calamari, to meatballs, we had a great evening sampling all we could, finishing it off with some seafood risotto. The little joint shown in the picture has been around for about 500 years, the original Venetian dinner hotspot.

Bidding farewell to my parents, I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face as we truly enjoyed the trip of a lifetime together. Here’s to good food and family: Together, as it should be, the Italian way…Salute!

Venice, Italy

The last stop on the journey brought us to Venice. Throughout my travels in Europe, I’ve been to quite a few canal-filled cities that call themselves the “Venice of the North,” or east, or west, or wherever they are located. Just to make a clarification, none of these cities holds a candle to Venice. Cars and Vespas are replaced by boats and gondolas. I’ve never walked across so many bridges in my life, or hit so many dead-ends. An explorer’s and photographer’s dream, Venice is filled with back alleys, eerie canals, colorful buildings, and bridge after bridge after bridge. I could fill an entire day doing nothing but getting lost, both on purpose and on accident. All it takes is one turn in the opposite direction of the crowd and you find yourself on an empty street, with a decision to make: left down a little alley with a low ceiling and no end in sight, or right towards the direction of the water (or so you think).

Besides doing our fair share of wandering, we camped out in St. Marks square to listen to the dueling orchestras at the high end cafes, made the trip out to Murano island to see the famous glass factories, visited the famous Rialto fish market, and took a few rides up and down the Grand Canal to see the palaces and churches from Venice’s main “street.” Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long for me to know my way around the island and, by the time I left, I think I knew the streets like the back of my hand.

I think…

Florentine Dinners

Not only did we eat 3 incredibly delicious dinners in Florence, but we got some entertainment with them as well. One restaurant sat all of 16 people inside, with one server (the son), one cook (the mom), and one person making sure everything was just as it should be (the dad). Our server turned into our friend, recommending what we should all order, helping me with my Italian, and working his way into all of our photos. The next evening, we were treated to some live impromptu music as one of the patrons, a friend of the twin brothers who run the restaurant, decided to play a little airhorn while another friend played some guitar, singing his little 5'4" Italian heart out. While the locals saw it as just another night out, it was the quintessential dinner for some Americans doing their best to take part in the true Italian experience…

Florence, Italy

Back in sightseeing mode, we explored Florence as soon as we arrived. When I say we explored Florence, I mean we shopped. And shopped. My mother was in her element as every other store was either a leather shop or a shoe shop or a scarf shop. The famous San Lorenzo leather market was where most of our time was spent, as we enjoyed listening to the sales pitches of every booth we passed, doing their best to sell us “the best leather in the city.”

We did accomplish more than just shopping, though. We climbed to the top of the famous dome of the duomo (seen in the photo), explored markets, saw Michelangelo's David and the Uffizi gallery, and enjoyed the views from some nearby hills. While we hit a little bit of bad weather, it didn’t affect us too much and by the time we were ready to leave, we had covered (walked) just about every square inch of the city.

Naturally…

You Were Wondering Why it Leaned So Much?

After leaving the Cinque Terre just in time before major flooding occurred, we headed to Florence, but not before making a pitstop in Pisa to go check out the leaning tower. The tower actually leans much more than I had anticipated, and it’s quite a sight to see. The official lean is 5 feet from the vertical, but after my contribution that you see in the photo, those experts might have to change it to 6…