Guest Blogger: Sorellina

A week or so after the fact I've asked the little sister figure to guest blog about our week-long adventure in Italia....enjoy!




I didn’t realize that I was going to Italy to spend my spring break with my sister until I swaggered through the glass doors of the Florence airport and caught sight of her looking just as surprised as I felt. Despite her expert planning abilities, I think we were both caught completely off guard by the fact that our vacation plan, until then only a glorious hypothetical, had actually been followed successfully. The week that followed was at the same time the longest and the shortest of my life. The days themselves passed like breaths, but I assigned such significance to every detail of my experience that my mind was exhausted, filled with new information and perspective that makes every moment stretch languorously through my memory.


While there, Katie exposed me to one thousand amazing things pertaining to Italian life. I had legitimate pizza, drank my coffee the Italian way, learned bits and pieces of the language and learned how to open their wonky hobbit doors. The fabric of life over there is spotted with details that only someone who had lived there for such a long time could have shown me; Katie has by no means wasted her time in Italy. Her passion for the country is evident in the great pains she has taken to know every aspect of the language, history, and culture.

Italy smells old. You suck in the centuries with each breath and feel them age your bones. I could not wrap my mind around the fact that my eighteen-year-old body carried me across stones that have weathered hundreds of years. The first place Katie and I traveled to remains the most prominent in my mind. We went to Bagnoregio di Civita, which is an old crumbly town built 2500 years ago. Holy moley. Katie and I both were struck by this dying city perched upon a crumbling hill and by the sheer beauty of the surrounding hills and valleys. The church, streets, and buildings made of weather-softened stone all quietly whispered their years; the human history this town held enthralled me. Most notable about this journey was the encounter we had with a shopkeeper inviting us into his shop for some cheese and wine. Upon entering his store, we were confronted by an ancient olive oil press, preserved for the sake of tourism. In days of old, a donkey would walk about in a circle while attached to a lever that operated a series of gears, each interacting to spin a giant wheel to squish the olives. Incredible. The man led us into an adjoining room where he served us wine he made himself. He and Katie had quite the conversation about how his olive oil was the best; knowing Spanish, I was able to understand most of the conversation but could contribute little beyond nods and smiles. What amazed me most about this encounter was the level of proficiency that Katie had attained in the language. Watching her communicate smoothly and confidently with a native speaker was amazing. Although slightly rainy, this trip was the most special to me, perhaps because it was my first real tourism stint. Rome was incredible, Matera humbling, and Florence beautiful, but my memory casts Civita in a special glow.

In order to get to such marvelous places, Katie and I had to ride a LOT of trains. The best train rides were the ones that were taken in the morning, with the sun streaming into the windows and the promise of an adventure making my stomach rumble in anticipation. Katie and I would sit and listen to music, with me dancing awkwardly in my chair and Katie squirming under the giant "WE'RE AMERICANS" banner I was displaying loudly over our heads. It's okay, secretly, she liked my dancing. The worst train rides were the ones taken at night, specifically the overnight train Katie and I took from Rome (mid-shin part of the boot) to Bari (heel of the boot). It really would have been quite pleasant if Katie and I had been able to get seats on the train, but alas, such was not the case. Suffice to say, we spent the long, damp, and uncomfortable hours from 12am to 7am hanging out in the aisle of the train. Excellent. It turned out okay, though, because taking this train enabled us to catch a ride to Matera, an amazing old crumbly town, with three very kind Italian gentlemen who thought we were actually from England and/or Ireland. Score.

As only could be expected, I spent a lot of time eating the most delicious food OF MY LIFE. Katie and I had the golden opportunity to have the best meal ever created by human hands. Actually, that's not accurate. There's no way a mere mortal could have served this supper; the hand of God was implicit. We checked out an illegal restaurant while kickin' it in Perugia, owned and operated by a woman from South America. Finding it was a bit of an issue, as our directions consisted of "go into the sketch-mcgetch alley and go up the first flight of stairs, turn left, and look for the door with the lantern over it." Once the moon came up and it was time to put food in our bellies, Katie and I found the place without a hitch, and holy moley, we were glad we did.

Katie treated me to a four-course Italian meal, consisting of bruschetta with tomatoes, the best pasta I have ever eaten, savory sausage and hearty ham (A+ for alliteration), a super fine baked potato and - hold you breath - fried mozzarella balls. You may release your breath, and allow the envy to start flowing from your eyeballs. I have never before had such a finely prepared meal, and never before have I devoted such attention to each bite. I tell you, Italians do dinner right: food is a glorious experience to be shared with people you love.

Above all, however, I am extremely grateful that I was able to spend a week of my life in Italy with my best friend. Buying that plane ticket was the best decision I've ever made for myself for so many reasons. Not only was my time with Katie extremely well spent, but the experience also opened my eyes to the possibilities laid out before me. The world is a place bursting with glory; and life is meant to be enjoyed quite fully with every bite. Grazie, Italia. Ciao.