Vol. 52: Italy from A - Z

Arrival: Most of my nerves came from the travel: Have I packed the right things? Is my bag too heavy to carry? Do I have my new passport? And, most pressing, what if my or Julia’s flight is delayed and we miss each other? I took a Saturday red eye from Dulles to Charles De Gauelle airport in Paris, where I’d meet up with Julia after her flight from Detroit to Paris. We’d connect through CDG onto the two and a half-hour flight to Florence. How will we meet up without international cell plans? I barely slept in my middle seat on the seven hour flight to Paris. After I landed and made it through customs quickly with my priority status (my Delta Gold status comes not from my own travel but because my dad reached such high status that Delta gave him extra statuses to share), I anxiously connected to the free airport wifi, and waited. Whenl I found Julia, we were thrilled - it’s finally happening! I was so relieved I slept the entire way to Florence, at peace and with my friend. Julia navigated us to ourAirbnbusing public transit because she’s an absolute champ.

Chianti: On Monday evening after our first full day, we went on a vespa and winery tour in a small town in Tuscany. We met at a bike shop in Florence from where our guide drove a group of eight up the Tuscan hills as he talked shit about Americans and teased my friend for working in public health. Julia read the reviews for the tour and knew that many people are unable to ride the vespa. It’s not so much a lesson as a test - ride the vespa on gravel, turn a tight corner so our instructor knows you’ll be safe on the road. I’m a passenger princess - I rarely drive a car, let alone a vespa. “Arms, arms, arms!” the instructor shouted as I attempted, unsuccessfully, to turn. Julia also failed, and so we wandered the small town during golden hour and arrived at the winery early, where we drank lots of Chianti. Despite failing the vespa, the wine was worth it.

Cinque Terre: After four nights in Florence, we traveled to our next stop in Cinque Terre, a string of five old fishing villages that I first learned about from none other than Jojo’s TikTok. We took three trains (Firenze -> Pisa -> La Special Centrale -> Manarola) then a bus to our apartment in Volastra. I felt like a master of public transit - something that, even in the city I’ve lived in for nearly a decade, feeds my anxiety regularly. At this point, I was slightly sickly from all the wine, jet lag and general excitement (shoutout to the public library for stocking me up with free COVID tests prior to my trip!) but still managed to go on two hikes, explore both Manarola and Corniglia, have delicious mocktails, pasta, fish, and some more wine. I enjoyed Florence but also found where we were staying near the Duomo and luxury shopping district to be crowded, touristy and overstimulating. Cinque Terre helped me realize I am much more of a small town or countryside traveler than a big city girl. More on this region below, because I’m obsessed.

Fascism: It’s not worth writing this newsletter without acknowledging that while we were there, Italy elected its newest prime minister,Giorgia Meloni, an anti-immigrant politician with political roots in neo-Fascism. We didn’t hear about the election until that night, when at a food tour, an American-turned-Italian-citizen who lives in Florence with her Italian husband told us that she didn’t vote.

Friendship: Julia and I met in 2010 when I was a freshman in college and she was the tall, beautiful, Very Cool and Impressive sophomore in our student org, Human Rights Through Education (known fondly as HRTE). I knew from day one I wanted to be her friend, and serving as co-leads for HRTE ASB (alternative spring break) trip to San Juan, Texas in 2013 cemented our friendship. I spent my senior year spring break visiting her as she served in the Peace Corps in the Dominican Republic. She read Wild Geese at our wedding. When my sabbatical was approaching, I knew we traveled well together and reached out to see if she was interested. This was my first trip with a friend since getting married and I’m not going to lie, it was odd at times - feeling like I’m spending OUR money while my wife is solo dog-mom at home (she’s a Capricorn, so I had a budget!), or seeing couples and missing my wife. But traveling with a friend - especially a best friend like Julia - was such a special way to kick off my sabbatical, to honor a decade-plus friendship and to be a full human with interests and experiences outside my marriage. Julia is kind, funny, and adventurous. I felt safe with her navigating us through Italy on offline Google maps. We’re also both anxious enough travelers that we never judged the other for needing to check if we had our passport for the 50th time. We communicated openly about splitting costs and budget, I was honest when I was in need of a lie down (especially after I got sick) and she was able to independently explore when I rested. I know traveling together can often make or break friendships, and I’m so grateful that it worked well for us. We’re taking another international trip together in 2030, since it’s now an every-eight-year tradition.

Pasta: What’s funny about me deciding to go to Italy is, I’m not that into Italian food. I love so many different cuisines, but I never crave pasta to cook at home or to eat out. However, the fresh pasta was absolutely unreal. The highlights were the pesto tagliari atLa Regina Di Manarola(my favorite restaurant of the trip) and a Caramelle pasta with bacon, chive and cream sauce at theMercado di Mezzoduring our day trip to Bologna. Worst pasta award goes to the tourist trap red sauce pasta we ate near the train station in Bologna. Sometimes they get you - especially when you’re hungry. Overall, I ate very, very well and also can’t eat pasta for the next three months minimum.

Volastra: Volastra was the small town we stayed in outside of Cinque Terre inan apartment we found on Booking.com. We booked what was available with minimal research but it worked out so beautifully. We were staying slightly up the mountain from Corniglia and Manarola, so our hikes went (mostly) downhill, and we were tucked even further away from the tourist centers. There I ate the best focaccia of my life at the mini market and had a crisp glass of white wine on the edge of a mountain as the sun set over the water atCantina Capellini. 

Zwanze Day: After our time in Cinque Terre, we spent our two final nights in Florence at a B&B on the less touristy side of the river. We had absolutely incredible kebab for dinner (a delightful respite - at this point, I was completely pasta-d out), and found a beer bar called Diorama on Google maps - all within five minutes walk on a rainy, cold Saturday night. Diorama was the exact kind of vibe we would have loved in college - and still do: small, divey, excellent beer. I had two sours, Julia had an IPA and another Belgian beer. We saw some people wearing mustard yellow t-shirts with a dog wearing glasses printed on the front and noticed others buying them from the bartender. We loved the bar and thought the shirts would make a fun souvenir, so when we bought our second beer, we asked about the shirts and each got one. The bar was cozy, with all the seats taken, and one old Italian man staring very intensely at Julia so we stood outside, under the awning, as we drank our second beer. From the window, we noticed patrons inside clapping and filming as the bartender tapped and poured a new keg. Well, we thought, this seems like a neighborhood type of vibe so this must be some local tradition they have whenever someone kills a keg. After we finished our second beer and went back to the B&B to get ready for bed, I googled the words on the shirt to see if I could get a translation, and - if you’re a beer snob, you may know where this is going - learned about Zwanze Day. Zwanze Day started out of Cantillon Brewery in Belgium where the master brewer does a specialty limited release, small batch Lambic and bars across the world all untap the beer at the same time - 9 PM Brussels (thus, the clapping and filming!). This year’s Zwanze release was called “poivre de Gorilles,” a 2 year Lambic with black pepper sourced from the Republic of the Congo. Given Belgium’s brutal history of colonialism, I did some googling but it seemed… not problematic, so we of course went back to Diorama and ordered the Zwanze beer. It was SO delicious, tangy but you really tasted the pepper, and a memory I will never forget. (we also plan on celebrating Zwanze Day every year from here on out!).

Thank you for reading. I’ll be back next week with a slice of life. I’ll also be offering an Ask Me Anything; if you have any questions about our trip or my sabbatical, please reply and I’ll respond next week!

If you enjoyed this free newsletter, please consider giving $5 - 7 to World Central Kitchen to support their work feeding hungry people from Puerto Rico, Florida, Pakistan and beyond in the aftermath of climate crises and extreme weather displacement, or to La Union del Pueblo Entero, the amazing immigrant rights power building and direct service organization that Julia and I volunteered with way back in 2013.

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