ROMA
Hot air rushes past me as I walk out the doors of the airport in Rome. I’ve just flown in from Edinburgh after exploring Scotland on my own for the past 9 days. After plenty of much-needed time alone in the cafés, boats, buses, hostels, and hills of Scotland, it will be refreshing to see my family. My sister Sophie and her boyfriend Sean meet me at our Airbnb in the heart of Rome.
My family is here in Italy to celebrate the landmark birthdays that my mother and sister are celebrating this year: 60 and 30, respectively. Italy seems a fitting destination for our family’s celebration, and Rome welcomes us warmly.
Everything in Rome is much bigger than I imagined it. Even the apartment buildings in our neighborhood tower far higher than I’m used to, to say nothing of the ancient colossal monuments that lie around seemingly every corner. The city center is absolutely overrun with tourists during the heat of the day. We make our trips to the Roman Forum and the Colosseum around dawn and dusk, and enjoy the relative calm.
Sophie, Sean, and I embark on a taste tour of Rome in the Testaccio district. At Volpetti Piu, the chef proudly shows off his delicious creations. Our guide takes us to at least ten different pizzerias, gelaterias, markets, cafés, and restaurants. The food we try is impossibly delicious, and every place has its own wonderful story.
Later in the afternoon, we join thousands of Italians on the lawn in front of the Altare della Patria to watch Italy’s World Cup match against Uraguay. The crowd buzzes with excitement and emotion. I sneak to the front with the press photographers to capture the crowd’s reactions in the final minutes of Italy’s loss. On a questionable foul call, nearly everyone in the crowd reacts with the same extended-arm gesture of frustration.
FIRENZE
A high speed train whisks us away from Rome to meet the rest of the family in Florence. My parents, Art and Lee, have spent one night here already; they show us around the city center on the afternoon of our arrival. My brother Devin joins us later at night.
There’s something exciting about assembling the family piece by piece here in Florence. When we were kids, we’d always leave together from home for our family vacations. My siblings and I all have our own lives now, and everyone has plenty to catch up on. Devin, who is now a doctor, tells us the story of how on his last shift before leaving for Florence, he performed life-saving CPR on a patient for the first time.
TOSCANA
After assembling in Florence, the family piles into a big rental van for our drive into the countryside. For the next five days we’ll stay at Castello di Casole in the Tuscany region. The Castello will be our home base as we embark on several excursions around the region.
Everyone is pretty excited as we pull up to Caseificio Pinzani, a cheese factory. They make their Pecorino cheese here with raw sheep’s milk, and age it in a variety of ways. Before our guide will let us into the factory, she makes us dress in ill-fitting smocks to avoid contaminating the cheese.
There is so much cheese here. We roam from room to room, each more pungent than the last. My dad and I react similarly when confronted with a room full of cheese wheels. After sampling nearly every cheese Pinzani makes, we purchase some delicious souvenirs to take back to America.
On another excursion, my parents and I drive to Sienna. The city is known for its famous horse race, Il Palio, in which riders from ten of the different contrada (city wards) race their horses around the town plaza. The event itself is always completely packed with locals and hard to view as an outsider. We catch a glimpse of workers setting up bleachers for the upcoming event.
Walking from the plaza to Sienna’s extravagant Duomo, we pass through several different city wards. Brightly colored flags line the walls. People mill about, wearing shirts that match the flags. Locals drink and sing in anticipation of a practice race that is to be held tonight.
Inside the Duomo, the quiet provides a sharp contrast to the rowdy streets outside.
SAN GIMIGNANO
Today we’re visiting San Gimignano, a town that I’m particularly excited to see. On the way there, my dad stops the car for a moment to figure out directions through the rolling hills. Something red catches my eye. A large sculpture, by an Italian artist named Staccioli, sits on the hill. It draws me into the landscape and the clouds.
San Gimignano, with its famous skyline of ancient towers, is visible long before we reach it. Evidently, in medieval times, there used to be as many as 72 towers, before the wealthiest families tore most of them down. The town itself is a pleasure to explore. We split off and walk in separate directions before meeting for dinner, yet San Gimignano’s small streets and plazas keep leading us past one another.
When I run into Devin, he shows me to an abandoned prison he found. We sneak in through an unlocked door to explore. He and I emerge some time later to a town that’s beginning to buzz. It turns out, tonight is Nottilucente, a town-wide celebration of San Gimignano’s culture. The streets fill with people eager to enjoy the exhibitions, artists, discussions, and performances throughout the walled city. We stop to watch a vocal performance at the base of the city’s tallest tower.
LAGO DI COMO
Devin’s limited vacation time is already up, so he flies home before we drive for Lake Como. Our hotel, in the small town of Varenna, has lovely views looking east across the lake towards Switzerland. We hike up to the castle on a hill above the town.
Atop the hill, in a garden in front of the castle, sits a sculpture made of cloth and clay. I stare into the black of the hollow hooded figure.
A falconer arrives at the castle to let his hawks and owls fly around. I watch from atop the castle tower as the birds soar out over the lake. After our hike, the sun drops behind the mountains and colors the tops of clouds.
Finally it’s time to say our farewells to each other. Sophie and Sean fly home to San Diego, my parents to Walnut Creek, and I to San Francisco.
At 40,000 feet, my mind wanders through memories of the trip. Vibrant oranges and yellows swirl across my closed eyelids. I avoid the airplane food, content to just relive the smells and tastes of the past two weeks in my imagination.
When the plane lands, I put my headphones in and listen to John Lennon’s “Imagine”, like I do every time I get back from a vacation. It sounds like home.
Footnotes:
Many thanks to Lee & Art Oller for making this wonderful vacation possible.