Iguazu Falls

After squeezing in one last fresh coconut in Rio, the next stop on the adventure was Iguazu Falls, one of the largest waterfalls in the world. Splitting Brazil and Argentina, Iguazu Falls can be accessed from both countries, with awe-inspiring and unique views from each.

Down to one Australian travel partner, we got settled on the Argentinian side and headed to the falls, not entirely sure what to expect. After walking along makeshift river platforms for a mile or so, we arrived to the top of the falls. Perched right over the largest section of the 3 km waterfall, a small railing was all that stood between us and the “Devil’s Throat” portion of the falls. The deafening roar of the water was mesmerizing, as looking down into the abyss brought on a slight feeling of vertigo. Standing right on top of an unstoppable force of nature was an unforgettable experience.

We weren’t done, however. Argentina has built a set of pathways that bring you on top, inside, and below many of the falls. We spent the day exploring and capturing jaw dropping view after another. We even took a boat ride/shower up underneath the second largest portion of the falls, it’s just too bad we didn’t get the memo to wear a swimsuit! Having already been soaked, we headed off the main falls to a trail through the jungle that ended at a relatively minuscule falls with a pool below. After taking a dip, we of course got stuck in a torrential downpour, which turned into basically a monsoon by the time we finished the hour long trek back to the park entrance. From the Devil’s Throat, to the boat trip under the falls, to the monsoon, we had conquered Iguazu falls. Throw in almost getting run over by a slow moving train, and we had quite the day!

As if day 1 wasn’t enough it was time to head over to the Brazilian side for the grand overview of the falls. Armed with rain jackets, we took in the panoramas we had been smack dab in the middle of the day before. The Brazilian side did not disappoint, providing not only the panoramic views but also platforms that put us right in the path of a portion of the mighty falls. Standing on the ledge looking down on the rainbow filled river below while being drenched by the nonstop onslaught of water was an experience that will stick with me for the rest of my days.

Refreshed. Amazed. Humbled.

What an experience.

The Carioca Life

After New Year’s celebrations and touristy sightseeing, it was time to live like a Brazilian. Rio natives, or Cariocas, have things pretty much figured out. Fresh açai smoothies for breakfast, lounging on the beach after a run, having a swim once it gets too warm, enjoying the impressive views in the background, and right in front of you as well. And to your right. And to your left. And behind you. Cariocas are anything but bashful when it comes to their bathing attire, and they definitely have no reason to be. Well…most of them at least!

Nights are filled with hearty meals, live music and Samba dancing that will make gringos like myself feel like I have 2 left feet. There is a constant sense of enjoyment and passion for life around Rio, no matter what neighborhood you explore. It’s enticing and overwhelming at the same time, and I dig it.

I was fortunate enough to have the chance to hang out with a good number of Cariocas during my time in Rio, with one group trip to a more private beach just outside the city. Besides having my fresh sunburn turn from pink to lobster red, the tropical beach setting with the locals made me feel like I’d had a true Carioca experience… Belesa!

Bem Vindo a Rio

As my plane circled the lush, green landscape during its descent into Rio de Janeiro, with lakes, mountains, and beaches surrounding a dense spattering of houses, I couldn’t help but get a little excited to touch down into a place unlike any I’d visited before. Rio said hello by greeting me with 100 degree weather and enough humidity to make a camel sweat. Having flown in from Dallas, where temperatures approached freezing, I immediately began sweating, and didn’t really stop until I left the city!

I had a day to kill before meeting up with a couple friends from Australia, so I spent my time exploring the hipster neighborhood I was staying in, doing my best to learn some rudimentary Portuguese and sample some Brazilian fare. Luckily I made it back to my hostel before the thunderstorm hit, and was able to enjoy the view over the city as the storm rolled through. I made my way to the beach and enjoyed a fresh coconut and the spectacular backdrop as the locals stared at the white guy on their beach.

Once my friends arrived on New Year’s Eve, we were off to a Brazilian house party followed by a trek with the masses down to Copacabana beach for a fireworks show that stretched the length of the seemingly endless beach. Concerts along the sand kept the celebration going into the morning for the millions of people there, dressed in their good luck white outfits. After a swim, we called it a night, a successful beginning to the new year.

We then hit the Rio tourist circuit making our way to the Cristo Redentor statue above the city, and Sugar Loaf Mountain for the sunset. Rio and its residents are picturesque from any angle and you’d have a difficult time not leaving impressed by all there is to see and experience here.

Here I Go Again

Aside from the Italian wedding last summer, my days over the past year and a half have gone more or less something like this:

1) Wake up
2) Go to work for 8-12 hours
3) Come home, watch a lecture, study, or do homework until I’m either too tired or can’t concentrate any longer
4) Rinse and Repeat

Any extras on the side like coaching little kids basketball or weekend trips away always carried with it the unfortunate consequence of having to squeeze my schedule even more than it already was to begin with.

So, as I sit here on my 11 hour flight to South America, my home for the next 6 weeks, l look at my nonexistent agenda and breath a sigh of relief. That light at the end of the tunnel that seemed so painstakingly long a year ago has finally been reached…and it feels good!

This adventure will bring me to Rio De Janeiro to celebrate New Year’s Eve, Buenos Aires for some Tango dancing, down to the southern tip of the world, up through Patagonia for some much needed quality time with the outdoors, and finally through the Salt Flats of Bolivia before heading home.

I’ll do my best to bring you all along for the ride with me through my photos and reflections. And just in case I irritate that travel itch you’ve been ignoring, I still need a hiking partner for Patagonia!

Ready?

Diving in Dubrovnik

It was bittersweet to leave Italia, but I couldn’t help but be excited that our next stop was going to be one of my favorites from my previous trip: Dubrovnik, Croatia. 

Before catching an overnight ferry from Italy, we happened to stumble upon a small restaurant in the port town we were leaving from. The meal was a perfect sendoff, filled with all sorts of different appetizers, topped off with a meaty pasta handmade by the “woman who lives over there.” Buono!

Upon arrival in Dubrovnik, after walking the city walls, I had one mission:

Find rocks. Jump off rocks.

Once again, Dubrovnik did not disappoint, as my favorite activity became a family affair. First Jen, then Dad, then me. The crystal clear water shone bright blue as we made our way into the cliffside cave I’d discovered on the last trip. Dubrovnik is about as picturesque as it gets, and small enough to meander around exploring little side streets and climbing the endless amount of stairs. We enjoyed dinners, winebars, and cable cars as our relentless pace finally slowed down a bit.

Dubrovnik marked the last stop for the family adventure together, as my parents and Aunt and Uncle headed back to the States while the youngn’s stayed behind for some more adventuring. An unforgettable trip together, an experience I’ll always cherish.

Where to next?

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.

Back in Action

A little over two years ago, I embarked on a journey that was life altering to say the least. My six months in Europe became a part of who I was, and ultimately has shaped me into who I am today and who I’ll be in the future. Having been back on the travel wagon for a week now, I realize that this blog has, in a way, become a part of who I am as well. This whole thing started as a way to keep family and friends up to date with my travels, but somewhere along the way it became a necessity for me to fully embrace each and every one of my experiences. I’ve re-read these pages multiple times, re-living the experiences and emotions that I’m able to channel through words and photos on a screen.

For those that followed my journey 2 years ago, welcome back! I hope to capture my new experiences as well as before. To my new friends I’ve been blessed to make since I left my backpack for a briefcase, feel free to scroll through my previous posts, perhaps we have some travel experiences in common.

Without further ado, let’s do this:

The next 3 weeks will most likely take me through 3 continents, an Italian wedding, 10 kilograms of pasta, 13 cones of gelato, a Turkish riot or two, and at least one ride on a camel, preferably on a Wednesday. None of this would be possible, however, if a series of events didn’t all go exactly to plan. 

Getting to Vasto, the Adriatic coastal town home to my family and the location of the wedding this trip was planned around, involved a 7am post-Lake Tahoe wedding wakeup call, a drive to Sacramento, flight to LA, race to work to grab my things, a mad dash back to the airport, an LA to Rome direct flight, a train to the closest metro stop to my bus, and a full on sprint to the bus station, backpacks and all, that sat waiting to take me to Vasto. I couldn’t help but think of how, 2 years ago, my journey from the airport was not as fortunate, as my wallet was stolen before I’d even arrived at my hostel. This time, though, being the seasoned traveler I like to think of myself as, I’d made it, money and all. The sight of all my family waiting on the bus, looking like they’d just gone through the same frantic dash, made it all the more enjoyable. Somehow, someway, we’d all made it from Sacramento, LA, and New York to Bella Italia…Andiamo!

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…