Italy
I have never felt so full in my life.
While I was in Italy, I easily must’ve eaten 13,786 pounds of pasta, the equivalent of the Guinness World Record’s largest bowl of pasta. Yet the fact that I was still able to do daily walking tours is a feat no less than extraordinary.
After the beautiful sights of Venice, Verona and Como, we headed to Florence, the “cradle of the Renaissance”, where we saw art, art and more art. Art students sketching sculptures in the city center, museums filled with the works of the greats and churches with the most beautiful ceilings. I felt cultured just being around it all.
Pisa was an adventure on its own. Although we only went for a few hours, we walked all the way up the tower (more than 290 steps), my brother managed to disappear and we heard the voice of an angel in a church. And what’s a trip to Pisa without the cheesy family touristy shots of pushing the tower sideways?
After Pisa, we drove a few hours to Montefioralle, a village nestled in the Tuscan countryside, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. You know those classic shots of Italy used in movies, with the rolling hills, endless vineyards and the scattered stone houses? That’s where we went. We visited little towns around the area and tasted some wine – in my case, admired some wine – but the best part was visiting the farms.
We went to a bee farm (though being surrounded by thousands of bees wasn’t exactly comforting) and learned how honey was made. We went to a cheese farm and learned about the process of making different types of cheeses (let me tell you that you’ve never smelled anything like a room full of aging cheese). We went to a vineyard where we learned the science behind wine, vinegar and olive oil (you basically need a Ph.D. in chemistry). Finally, we went to a grain farm where we were completely surrounded by bags of pasta (yes, a place like that exists).
I don’t normally get carsick but driving up and down windy roads on the edges of mountains apparently makes me nauseous. It was all worth it though when we arrived at the Amalfi Coast. Instead of museums and farms, Amalfi was beaches and caves. We visited neighboring islands, I got to check “sing ‘I’m on a Boat’ whilst on a boat” off my bucket list, and took at least one picture per second for the next three days.
Yet, it was almost time to go home and we only had one stop left: Rome. On the way though, to my utter happiness, we got to stop in Pompeii. By the time we arrived, I’m proud to admit my family could sing along to “Pompeii” by Bastille with the best of them. I’m a bit of a Roman and Greek history nerd so actually seeing “the forgotten city” called for multiple freak-out sessions. Walking through the walled city, seeing the ancient homes and touching the ancient walls was unbelievable. I’m also quite emotionally unstable so seeing the plaster casts of the volcano victims caused too many tears to count. It’s such a poignantly beautiful place that’s not only brimming with history, but also filled with an unspeakable sadness and Mount Vesuvius in the distance won’t let you forget that.
Finally, Rome was Rome. The coliseum, the gladiators, the Trevi Fountain and the Vatican were all (of course) magnificent. Yet, I found the best parts of Italy were the ones, to quote Robert Frost, on the “road not taken.” The scenic drives and the small towns untouched by tourism truly painted a picturesque image of Italy. Now that my posts on Italy are complete, all I can say is I wish it was summer, I wish I could go back and I wish I wasn’t on gelato withdrawal.
