Cinque Terre
Our first trip to Italy. My mom and I researched and read and schemed and dreamed for months, aiming to pull together a 10-day itinerary that would serve as our introduction to the place of my mom’s heritage. Ten days that could strike just the right balance between leisurely Mediterranean swims and sweaty coastal hikes, centuries-old cathedrals and meandering to the next espresso, afternoons making pasta in the Tuscan hills and city sidewalk slices of fontina and salami. I think we got it just right. We traveled in late September — late enough to beat (some of) the crowds but not the sunshine. Our plan was to start in Cinque Terre, take the train to Florence, train onwards to Rome, then down to Naples before a final stay on the island of Ischia.
Cinque Terre is a collection of five pastel fishing villages scattered on the edges of cliffs that tumble straight into the Ligurian Sea. The villages are quite remote, each with its own character and reputation, and sitting just below expanses of olive groves, vineyards, and incredible hiking paths. We chose to stay in Vernazza — one of the quieter of the five villages. Our home was a small stone cottage nestled into the hillside built by Giuliano, a 6th generation stone mason born and raised in Vernazza. Marveling at his stonework and getting to know Giuliano was a highlight of our stay.
We kept our days simple, maximizing time on the trails, in the sea, or devouring pastries and practicing our Italian. The Cinque Terre region is inescapably touristy, but we found our pockets of quiet.. the best tips are to hike early before the crowds arrive and the sun is high and spend afternoons under a beach umbrella or in the village of Corniglia, the greenest and most peaceful of the villages, surrounded by vineyards. Corniglia is only accessible via a 377-step brick staircase, and is the only village without direct sea access. If the trails are accessible, hiking between them is the most spectacular form of transportation. We hiked from Vernazza to Monterosso al Mare (directly to spiaggia di fegina for a swim), and from Corniglia to Vernazza. Alternately, taking the ferry between villages is a beautiful (and inexpensive) way to take in the coastline. The ferry to Manarola at golden hour was a dream. It was there, at Trattoria del Billy, we learned the difference between spaghetti and pasta! A crucial distinction for the rest of our trip.
Manarola —
FLORENCE
The two hour (well, closer to three… are Italian trains ever on time?) “high-speed” train from La Spezia to Florence dropped us into the heart of Florence just as the bells of Giotto’s tower rang out, signifying the hour before sunset. It made for an epically memorable arrival, racing across the Piazza Duomo with our luggage, and onwards to the Piazzale Michelangelo in hopes of catching the last rays of light. (With just enough time to grab a few slices of pecorino, prosciutto and salami on en route.)
Our first home in Florence was a tiny rooftop with extraordinary views of the duomo and the bell tower. Between the green, white, and pink marble facades, the frescoes of the Last Judgment inside, and the iconic masterpiece of a dome by Brunelleschi, the Cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore was the most impressive and compelling structure I’ve ever seen. The cathedral inspired the Italian Renaissance, and is reason enough to visit Florence. We climbed to the top of the duomo for sweeping views of the city, and spent a morning wandering through the works of Ghiberti, Donatello, and Michelangelo inside the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.
Florence can be easily tackled on foot — a hallmark of all my favorite cities. In our few days there, we walked to Santo Spirito square, admired the Basilica of Santa Croce, and (my absolute favorite) marveled at the frescoes and the Grand Cloister of Santa Maria Novella. Santa Maria Novella is a less discovered sight of Florence, and arguably the most peaceful and extravagant. The Oltrarno neighborhood across the river was home to old world restaurants and cafes, and the most awe-inspiring of wooden doors! Of equal importance: for a stunning backdrop to an espresso and a brioche, make a stop at Sforno, Rivière cafe, and Cibreo :)
We chose Numeroventi as our second home in Florence — a gloriously restored former syrup factory from the 1500s with its original frescoes still in tact. The space now serves as an artists residency and some of the sun-soaked lofts can be rented out for short stays. In the evening, we devoured Florentine steak at the communal tables of Trattoria Sostanza, shared a bottle of wine at Alla Vecchia Betola in San Lorenzo, and finished generous bowls of pasta over candles and twinkle lights at La Giostra. Along the way, we peered into a few other gorgeous spots: Trattoria Camilla, Osteria Antica Mescita, and Trattoria Sabainto. For lunch, our absolute favorites were the rigatoni at Trattoria Sergio Gozzi, and 5e Cinque, where owner Servio indulged us with his stories of early life in Italy. In between the Renaissance art and architecture and Florentine meals, we scoured the city for leather goods (the prestigious leather school, Scuola del Cuoio, and Da Francesco for custom-made leather sandals were our greatest finds), unique hand-decorated paper from Il Papiro and Il Torchiro, and all the apothecary treasures at one of the oldest pharmacies in the world: Officina Profumo - Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella.
Chianti Hills
A cooking class in the hills of Tuscany. We made Ligurian pesto, homemade tagliatelle,
ricotta ravioli, and tiramisu that one can only dream of recreating back home.
Rome
The train from Florence to Rome takes a speedy 90 minutes. That is, if you get on the right train. We… did not. Ninety minutes turned into five hours on the “regional”train. A little unplanned sightseeing? :) We pulled into Rome just as the sun set and hopped onto a bus to Piazza Navona.
I was apprehensive about Rome — imagining the two of us shuffling through hoards of tourists, standing for hours in lines, fending off pickpockets, and trying to make sense of its public transportation. Remarkably, our experience couldn’t have been further from this. I fell in love with Rome right away. Its centuries-old crumbling travertine facades spilling onto the sidewalks, its color palette of burnt orange and rusty rose and ivory hues, its magnificent legacies of art and architecture, and well, its Romans. The sheer depth of the city’s history is so confronting, you can’t help but be swept away by the romance and beauty of it all.
We managed to take on Rome entirely by foot, traipsing from the Coliseum to the Vatican City from our central homebase in Piazza Navona. And we quickly tossed aside any hopes of securing last minute dinner reservations (all non-existent), because there’s truly no bad bowl of pasta in Rome. The cacio e pepe at a sidewalk cafe we stumbled upon in Piazza Navona (called Virginiae) was worth the trip to Rome in itself.
The Vatican, Sistine Chapel, St Peter’s Basilica, Pantheon, and the Coliseum were all well-worth every line and wait. Equally spectacular were the quiet corners we discovered — like Piazza delle Coppelle, overflowing with a flower and vegetable market, or Piazza Caprania, or the bustling Piazza del Parlamento. Grand cafes like Vitti dal 1898 on Piazza San Lorenzo, Roscioli Caffe Pasticceria, and Pasticceria 5 Lune kept us full of pasties and espresso, and introduced us to the formidable and heavenly maritozzo: the traditional Roman pastry.
Our on-foot explorations continued down Via Giulia to Campo de’ Fiori and into the Jewish Ghetto; stopping to marvel at Via Portico Ottavia along the way. The antique shops along Via dei Coronari, perhaps the most picturesque road of the old city, were lovely, but the best shopping was found at Chez Dede and in the trendy Monti neighborhood at LOL.
We spent our last evening across the Tiber river in Trastevere, an eclectic, bohemian area originally home to more local, working-class crowds. We threw down pizza at Dar Poeta before admiring the mosaics in the Basilica of Santa Maria and the lesser known church of Santa Cecilia.
the Roman forum, 8AM
Naples & Ischia
The original premise of our first trip to Italy was to connect with my mom’s family in Naples, whom we had never met. In the months leading up to this trip, she sent several letters and photos to the address she had gotten ahold of, but no response came… until one week before we were departing! And so, communicating via their broken English and our nonexistent Italian, we set an evening to meet in Naples.
Exiting the train station felt like we were stepping into a defiantly authentic version of Italy. It was chaotic, dirty, loud, and beautiful. A monumental shift in energy from the northern regions. We wandered along the seafront promenade and to the top of the Castel dell'Ov for views of Mount Vesuvius (one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world considering the 3 million people living just underneath it). A celebratory reunion with our Italian family followed at Antonia Antonia over platters of arancini, fried zucchini stuffed with ricotta, and the best margherita pizza of our lives!
There are three islands in the bay of Naples — the glamorous Capri, tiny Procida, and under-the-radar “green island” of Ischia (the largest of the three). Ischia is known for its mineral baths and secluded beaches, and it made for a restful place to soak up our last moments in Italy. We ferried from Naples across the Tyrrhenian Sea to our home: Castelo Aronganese, a towering medieval castle linked to Ischia by a narrow stone bridge.
The fortress is an enormous expanse of 16th-century churches, arches and vaults, prisons, hidden flower gardens and vineyards, and a convent that was recently converted into a hotel. We could have spent the entirety of our few days in Ischia exclusively wandering the castle grounds, but alas, the beaches of Sant Angelo, the cannolis, and the fresh orange juice stands beckoned. On our final day, after a rainy afternoon savoring our last espressos under umbrellas at Spiaggia dei Pescatori, we caught the eye of an older Italian man who beckoned at us to join his family’s gathering on the stone bridge connecting Ischia to the castle. Baskets of homemade pastries and sparking Italian wine flowed alongside stories of Ischia 50 years back, the warmest welcome of complete strangers and a most memorable final evening for my mom and I. Arrivederci, Italia!
