Un'estate italiana

As I begin to write this post, I can see the Bay of Sorrento in the distance shimmering in the night sky. 

It’s my last night in Italy and I’ll be flying back home in the morning. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We have to go back to January 2020 first. 

I booked the trip for September 13th-24th of that year. The exact itinerary that I took now. But COVID changed everything. 

In June 2020, I found out that the tour operator that I booked the tour with was suspending all operations. I was faced with a choice, request a refund or rebook the trip with the travel credit good until June 2023. 

I dragged out the decision, until the day my FIGC scarf and matching T-shirt arrived. The moment that I held the scarf aloft, it was time to move. 

It didn’t stop me from silently sobbing as I pressed the Cancel Reservation button. Every year for the last five, I’d take my vacation at summer’s end. Not this time, though. 

But I would channel my sadness into a five poem play, “An American Tourist In Italy”.  Using my imagination, I dreamed of how the trip would play out and then submitted the work. And it got published into the literary anthology, “Groundwaters” in November. This was my way of willing it into the universe. 

I needed another sign, though.

And it came in the form of an email. 

The trip I had in mind was on sale in January 2021. The sale price took care of the single supplement. I wanted to travel in September 2021, but with the pandemic still raging, I held it off for one more year. The Enchanting Italy with Amalfi tour was now set for September 20th-October 1st, 2022. 

The months went by. I still had it in my mind that this trip would somehow be cancelled. I would be happily proven wrong as I stood at Gate 38 inside terminal 4 of JFK Airport for my flight to Venice on the evening of September 20th, 2022. 

The world was a changed place in the two years. Masks not nearly as prevalent in the terminals or on planes. I was being overly cautious masking the entire eight hour flight. Something didn’t change, the thrill of being in a new destination.

It didn’t take long to meet the rest of the group and our tour guide, Andrea. All 28 of us found one another in the arrivals area of Marco Polo airport. With two water taxis, our journey from the mainland out to the lagoon began. With speed, the vaporettos took us to our hotel, the Carlton on The Grand Canal.

That night was the orientation meeting after settling into Venice. But something was off, as we weren’t made to introduce ourselves. Neither the famed keychain nor the name tags appeared. By dinner time, we were well acquainted. 

Thursday morning, we walked across the Rialto bridge as had a water taxi to catch. Our next stop, the island of Murano. It was fascinating to see the glass blowing being fine. And the chandeliers in the showroom. Someday, I’ll have the money to purchase the chandeliers in the showroom.

Next up was a walking tour of Venice. In a city of 400 bridges, we crossed at least a dozen of them on the way to the Piazza San Marco. Then, there’s the square itself, a sea of people and beauty with the basilica of St. Mark, the Doges Palace and the Campanile all within short distance of each other. 

As I didn’t go on the optional gondola ride, I went to visit the Campanile and got a 360 degree view of Venice before joining up with a few in my group for a visit of the former Venetian Republic’s seat of power. 

As the sun set, we took a water taxi down the Grand Canal to our hotel. 

The first moving day of the trip was at hand. 

But before arriving in Florence, we first made a stop for lunch at a winery. After the tour, there was a long table for all of us to share lunch and try the wines. Under a sunny canopy, one imagines the final scene of the film version of Under The Tuscan Sun. We weren’t done yet though. Our next stop brought us to the town of Pisa. And yes, there was ample time to take photographs at the leaning tower. As the sun set, we arrived in Florence, and so was the view from the Piazzale Michelangelo of the rest of the city. 

A misadventure of sorts followed as I walked the streets away from the hotel for dinner. I found a restaurant and at the next table over, a half dozen Italian women sitting together. My limited knowledge of Italian kept me from saying hello to them. 

Saturday morning, was the next walking tour in Florence. Starting at the Piazza del Duomo, we passed by the Santa Maria del Fiore basilica. It’s a wonder to see the bell tower and it’s roof bricked out layer by layer. Walking through the city, we arrived at Signorina Square and visited the Misumi leather and jewelry shop. I tried on a few of the leather coats, but couldn’t bring myself to buy one. 

The heavens opened up as we departed for a winery in the hills above Florence on Saturday night. In another Tuscan Sun moment, we had dinner together. With music in the background, it was a lively conclusion to the shortest stop on the tour. And it wouldn’t be the last times that “Volare” and “That’s Amore” would be heard on this trip. 

All roads on Sunday would lead to Rome. But we made a stop in Assisi first. The town is famous for the Saint Francis of Assisi and we paid his basilica a visit. The town’s steep hills provided a challenge to get uphill but the reward was a view of the valley and the city as far as the eye could see. 

We arrived in Rome later that evening. And after we arrived, I joined our guide and a few of our group for a walking tour. It was mentioned that our hotel was close to the Flavian Amphitheater. And it turned out to be true. But the views were not done yet as we walked by the presidential palace. In the distance, the sunset seen over St. Peter’s Basilica. The Rome leg of the trip was only beginning. 

It may have been a Monday in September, but today we went back in time. As our walking tour began at the Roman Forum. A space where life flourished now a space housing ruins that are perfectly preserved as they were. A short walk led us to the Colosseum.

In the pouring rain, we explored the amphitheater. From the top where the spectators sat, to the areas that the gladiators entered the venue and the area where the emperor sat. And finally, the floor of the arena. The full bread and circuses experience brought into the modern age. 

Day two in Rome brought us across the Tiber River. 

A visit to The Holy See began the day. Our first stop, the Vatican Museum. All the exploration led to the signature experience of the museum, the Sistine Chapel. The frescoes above our heads depicting the story of creation in vivid detail. 

Across the set of stairs, the entrance of St. Peter’s Basilica. It’s one thing to see the basilica on tv every Christmas Eve but it’s quite another to see it in person and realize how big the building truly is. In the building, several popes are buried and among them, St. Peter and Pope John Paul II. After walking the length of the building, we stepped out into St. Peter’s Square. Like the basilica, the square’s much more massive than the Urbi et Orbi messages on tv make it out to be. 

 After lunch, our bus took us to the Piazza Navona. Another walking tour on tap, but this one has little in the way of uneven terrain. We continued on to the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. Speaking of the Trevi Fountain, the legend is: throw one coin in the fountain, a return to Rome. Two coins, you’ll get married and three coins if you want a divorce. All while closing your eyes and using your right hand to throw it over the left shoulder. That’s exactly what I did, though I caught flack from one of the group for not tossing a second coin. Marriage isn’t at the top of my list of priorities at this moment, traveling is.

We had a short stop at the Trevi Fountain during our Piazzas of Rome walking tour. I was able to make it through the throng of people and was given a coin to throw in the fountain. My tourmate Barbara, caught the moment where I hoped that the coin landed in the fountain. I could hear the splash and that’s when I knew it was a success. If only I had an extra coin to throw in.

The stay in Rome would end with an operatic finish. As we went to dinner together with all three Gate 1 Travel groups that stayed at our hotel. A pianist and a singer in a blue dress performed various arias of opera. But she saved the best for the rendition of “La Habanera” from Georges Bizet’s “Carmen”. In which she involved quite a few of the men in the room. Next thing I know, she’s come over to our table and is feeding me with my glass of red wine. Before I could express my appreciation to her and before she began singing “The Macarena”, we got back on the bus for a tour of Rome under the lights. Our time in the eternal city came to a close. 

When I was deciding upon which Italy tour to take, I chose this one due to two words, With Amalfi. And on Wednesday morning, we would make our last move of the trip to Sorrento.

But we had to make one more stop, one more trip back in time. To AD 79 and the lost city of Pompeii. When that name comes up, so does Pink Floyd’s 1971 performance, “Live at Pompeii”. I saw the directors cut on DVD and their performance of Echoes came back up as our guide mentioned the performance. The amphitheater where it happened is closed to the public due to too much sustained damage. And I was rocking my Dark Side of The Moon T-shirt. This city remains as it was on October 24th in 79AD, buried under the ashes of Mount Vesuvius. The people thought nothing of the eruption thinking it was the act of the gods. And after the tour ended, the heavens opened up as rain interrupted our lunch. That wouldn’t interrupt our arrival at Sorrento later in the evening. 

As is the case when traveling, sometimes plans change. One of the most anticipated moments of the trip was the day trip to the island of Capri. But due to rough seas, the trip was called off. Andrea being the magician that he is offered us an alternative, a day trip to the city of Naples. All of us on the bus agreed to the switch.

And so, we drove an hour and a half from Sorrento along with our local guide, Fabrizio. Our first stop was the Palazzo Real. During the 1730’s, this was the seat of power for the kingdom of Naples until Italy became a unified country. If you also wonder of Cinderella’s origins, this is where her story originated. A walking tour of the city center would lead up to a three pizza lunch. I went for the two Margherita pizzas instead of the one with salami.

After lunch, our drive continued into the Santa Lucia section of the city. High above Naples, we could see the bay, Sorrento and Mount Vesuvius. The horizon endless, with the blue skies as deep as the seas below us. We made one last stop, for gelato at the bottom of the hill. 

There’s a bit of magic involved in this photo. I was asked to stay where I was at first and then when the signal was given, to run to the back of where everyone else was standing. That’s how I appear twice in this photo.

As day turned to night, it was time for the “farewell” dinner. The air quotes emphasize that we had one more day of the trip but it would be the last time that we’d be all together. Our locale for this night was the Ristorante O Patrucciano. Lemon groves all around us twinkling in lights a dream come alive. Andrea led the toasts as the Prosecco started the meal by thanking all of us for our punctuality and making the trip such a joy. Later in the meal, I addressed everyone to thank them for being so helpful and kind to me during the trip and I gave Andrea his due for the job that had been done. Before we ended the night with a paparazzo moment, gathering for the group photo on a staircase outside. 

Our tour guide, Andrea is at the head of the photo. And I’m all the way at the top with my eyes closed. I can’t thank everyone in this photo enough for the company and all the help navigating the uneven terrain. Being able to befriend people is the reason why I go on escorted tours as a solo traveler.

As Friday dawned, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that it was the last day of the tour. Rather, the drive ahead. 

The Amalfi Coast. Those words bring me such joy in their beauty. But, it looked like our views would be obstructed by fog. As it has been during this trip, the weather cleared up enough for the view of Positano Bay to appear on the horizon. The view is breathtaking from above, with the clouds foreboding in the skies. We would make one more stop, to the town of Amalfi. The cathedral in from leading to backstreets and the waves of the beach. Every road trip needs a soundtrack and this one was provided by the solemn yet joyful strings of il maestro himself, the late and great composer Ennio Morricone. 

Positano Bay. The views were heavenly, as the clouds cleared up just as we arrived at the overlook. This would be a common theme throughout this trip.

Amalfi Cathedral (Italian: Duomo di Amalfi; Cattedrale di Sant'Andrea) is a medieval Roman Catholic cathedral in the Piazza del Duomo, Amalfi, Italy. It is dedicated to the Apostle Saint Andrew whose relics are kept here. Formerly the archiepiscopal seat of the Diocese of Amalfi, it has been since 1986 that of the Diocese of Amalfi-Cava de' Tirreni.

On the drive back, the strains of Sarah Brightman’s version of “Time To Say Goodbye” entered the air and it happened, the “Oh, no” moment. I knew the trip was over the moment our bus arrived at the hotel. I couldn’t hold back the tears in the elevator ride up to my room. And again this morning after playing Luciano Pavarotti’s rendition of “Nessum Dorma” that accompanied the BBC’s closing montage from the 1990 World Cup in Italy. I picked myself up by playing Un'estate Italiana , a song by Edoardo Bennato and Gianna Nannini, one of the theme songs from that same World Cup before going downstairs to breakfast. 

As most of the group had left, there were only three of us heading to the airport in Naples and so was Andrea. After an hour delay, I would make it to my connection in Paris. 

As soon as I saw the change of flight, I panicked. I was worried that I would miss my connection and end up stuck in Paris for the night at minimum. And all the other bad thoughts about how the good times couldn’t last raced into my mind.

One last look at Naples from the sky. I had the window seat and the entire row to myself for the flight to Paris. This is what I like to call, the Traveler’s Miracle. But it would be a close call to make my connecting flight.

After two years of waiting, this trip was over. I’m not ready for the rest of this year, nor going back to reality. At the same time, I’m proud of myself for not being afraid to ask for help through the uneven terrain and to find my joie d’vivre once again.

As this post concludes, I’m flying back to NYC from Paris. I’m fortunate to do so after my first flight from Naples was delayed this morning. 

Against the odds, I made my connecting flight. Thankfully, the flight back to NYC was also delayed. So, I got off the bus and made the mad dash to my gate only to realize that it was the wrong one. I feared the worst, but then saw the long line of people waiting to check in. Sometimes, the universe does come through in the clutch.

I had an amazing twelve day trip, two years in the making. I can’t thank enough our guide Andrea, all the local guides and the drivers for all their wonderful efforts. I haven’t felt so much joy

 I hope that my fellow travelers in the group get to their next destinations safely. Hopefully, our paths will cross again someday. 

And as I have a glass of champagne in my hand at this moment, one final toast:

The glass of Champagne is something that my friend Wendy & I had talked about before we departed on our respective trips. We agreed to meet at Charles de Gaulle Airport to toast each other. But she flew back to Bolton, Massachusetts out of a different airport. As dinner came around though, I still made a silent toast to her, as the last two years would not have been so fruitful without out her kindness, empathy and tough love.

Grazie, Italia!  Hai tirato fuori il senso di gioia che è andato perso negli ultimi due anni. Terrò te e questo viaggio nel mio cuore sempre!