Traveling Italy

By: Chelsea Weiss

Posted: 6/27/05

Traveling to Italy with your parents requires a certain kind of mental and physical preparation that cannot be explained in any of Rick Steve's travel guides. Shortly after finals ended this past spring, my parents graciously invited me to meet them halfway through their whirlwind tour of Italy. Though I have traveled Europe with my parents before, this trip proved to be the most revealing of Italian culture as we traveled at breakneck speeds in a rented Smart Car through Umbria and Tuscany.

The most nerve-wracking aspect of the trip, traveling alone from Boston to Amsterdam and Amsterdam to Rome, established my new found appreciation for independence. Traveling through airport security in the United States and abroad can vary in its level of aggravation, as random security checks and wasting two hours before an international flight contribute to travel anxiety. I suggest purchasing a brightly colored cover for your passport. They are often made of sturdy leather and cost about $20. Holding your passport throughout the barrage of airport security can cut down on the time it takes to get to your terminal. In my trusty leather covering case, I managed to keep track of my boarding pass, a few dollars and essential passport neatly in my grasp through security. The bright red case was easy to find in my nearly bottomless carry-on.

Seven hours on a plane will generate restlessness in even the most sedated passenger. Some flights will show a video that suggests Zen-like stretches that will keep the blood flowing. Every hour or so, out of pure boredom, I stretched in my seat, demonstrating what the video had shown me, careful not to elbow the sleeping passenger to my left. I later found I was less achy when I dragged my overstuffed carry-on through the Amsterdam airport.

Aircrafts for international flights offer a bevy of bathrooms that can be found all over the plane. I suggest eyeing the farthest lavatory from your seat to maximize your walk on the plane as well as guarantee some conversation with those in line. Though I fully support all airplane regulations, I found the bathrooms in first class to be far more spacious and with better scented soap.

I met my parents in the Rome airport without any trouble, but I noticed they already looked more European than when I had last seen them. My father had ditched his sneakers for loafers and my mother wore a brightly colored scarf around her neck. They had a certain air to them as they breezily walked toward me. I realized my father didn't have a cell phone to his ear and my mother wasn't in a rush. Take off the T-shirts and sneakers and my parents were suddenly European.

Though I was jet-lagged, my parents thought it best to spend the day walking around Florence. Florence is a city of craftsmen, the shops are teeming with gold jewelry, leather goods and pricey gelato. The locals found refuge from the tourists by sunbathing on the break-dam in the middle of the Arno river. Across the scenic views of the Pontevecchio, a bridge over the Arno, I couldn't help but gawk at something that looked so familiar to me. I saw a scattering of Italian teenagers sporting T-shirts achingly similar to those in vogue in the states. With statements in English plastered across the chest like, "brunettes have more fun," complete with jeans and Pumas, the Italian youth mirrored my American friends.

Il Latini, a renowned restaurant in Florence, served me a night of gastronomical delight. The restaurant can be found set back from the busy roads, down an alley and around a bend. When Il Latini opened at 8 p.m. the tiny street was already crowded with those eager to taste their menu. Slowly, a charming host appeared at the door to calm the crowd. He allowed those with reservations to enter as well as a few pretty girls in pairs of two. As the roaring crowd waited their turn for a table, the host fed them slices of cheese with pear and poured out nearly 40 flutes of limoncello, an Italian liquer. I'd never seen such hospitality in the states and I was surprised to find that the Florentines even had fun waiting in line. Once inside the boisterous walls of the restaurant, I ate hand-made gnocchi, tapas with goat cheese and various cured Italian meats that I couldn't pronounce. Oh, and the wine, Italians drink wine like Americans drink Diet Coke.

We left that night for our hotel, Fattoria di Vibio, which in fact wasn't a hotel at all. The Italians in the country highly value agriculture and have many places to stay that are set into the hills and completely secluded from urban life. The Fattoria was set on the highest hill, off a narrow winding road and was guarded by four, huge, white dogs. The dogs, an Italian breed, sat at their posts surrounding the Fattoria. My father late one night walked out of our villa to get a piece of chocolate from the Smart Car only to find one of the dogs viciously commanding him to turn around. The inns in the hillsides of Italy keep these dogs to protect their guests from the wild boars that run out of the woods at night.

The rented Smart Car, produced by Mercedes Benz, is a common vehicle in Italy that tops 45 miles per gallon and is an exciting death trap of a car. On the Autostrada, the major highway in Italy, one must be willing to travel about 90 miles per hour if in the left lane. Though I thought I may have seen my last days in the back of the Smart Car, stuffed in next to the luggage, it was able to wind along the hairpin turns and sped through the tunnels safely.

Allowing ourselves leisurely day trips through small towns we immersed ourselves into the Italian culture and attempted to blend in with the scenery. Almost all of the towns and cities we visited were built on hilltops, typically with parking lots at the bottom. We walked up and down the towns on cobblestone streets that wrapped around themselves like vines. In Derruta, the pottery capital of the world for over 1,000 years we saw innumerable pieces of "majolica" the Italian pottery that has even made its way into T.J. Maxx in the United States. North of Derruta lies Lago Trasimeno, an aqua colored lake that is only 18 feet deep and a popular place for flea markets. Young people stroll languidly around the perimeter all evening, stopping for a cappuccino or for a meal at one of the only pizza places we saw in Italy. Perugia was another college town, rich with art and sculpture. In Assisi, the main attraction is the Basilica of St. Francis. About 10 years ago the area suffered a huge earthquake which was apparent inside the cathedral where the cracks in the walls seemed ready to rip open. Todi, a smaller village, looked like a walled city that had grown out of the green hillside. In the more remote areas fewer people spoke English and our poor Italian gave way to broad hand gestures. When in doubt, if you need to speak to someone in English ask the teenagers who seemed to have become extremely comfortable with the language.

Aside from the bustling metropolis of Rome, the world seems to spin more slowly for the Italian countryside. Italy is built on religion, blood, waves of immigrants, romance, corruption, style, art, wine and phenomenal cuisine. Encircled in the shouting of Italian men, the smell from street-side kitchens, never-ending views, tradition and extravagance, Italy is a never-ending feast that begs to be devoured.