The Dolce Vita

Arriving in Italy felt like a huge weight off my shoulders. I could instantly feel the change in the air and was comforted by the warmth shown by the Italians. I had a thick layer of scummy evilness coating my skin from Morocco after 2 challenging weeks. There are some major bad vibes radiating from that country. Once in Italy, my stress level returned to zero. In my relaxed state, I was ready to enjoy Italy. After 3 long months, I'd had enough of third world countries for a while. Finally, civilization!
Though I sincerely believe the world is too big to return to the same place 3 times within 3 years, this is exactly what I've done with Italy. I've never understood how some people choose the same vacation destination every year. There's so much more world to explore! But Italy is an exception. Maybe it's the friendly locals or the classy atmosphere. Maybe it's the food, or maybe it's all three that make me beg for more. For whatever reason, something keeps me coming back like a boomerang. Mi piace moltissimo l'Italia! It's my safe haven. I feel welcome and comfortable here. There is a unique vibe here that has made each and every trip enjoyable. These days, it feels almost like an old friend to me. I fell in love with it the first time I came here, and my love grows stronger with each visit. From the charming Tuscany countryside to the romantic canals and bridges of Venice, my love runs deep.
If you have ever been to Italy, you may realize quickly that Italians are very proud of their heritage. Italians are peculiar people. The general concept among the locals is that there is no better place to live than Italy, and they aren't afraid to tell you that. They say it with a matter-of-fact tone of voice. If you happen to laugh at this absurd perception, they will look at you and blink in disbelief. To them, it's a well known fact that their country is superior, from the fashion to the food. It is true, they do have an impressive array of foods and the people do dress very fashionably. I'll tell you a secret: if I was from Italy, I would be just as proud :)
Walking around Rome, I felt sorely out of place as everyone around me was dressed to the nines and I was wearing my usual backpacker rags paired with a fleece coat. I bet they shook their heads at me behind my back. I screamed American with no fashion sense. But in reality, I do have fashion sense. Give me a break, I've just come from a string of third world countries and I didn't have room in my backpack for all my Versace and Dolce and Gabbana clothes :)

Tossing my coin into the Trevi fountain

We all like to make jokes about the cliche "Mama boy" Italian living with his parents long after he starts to bald. This is not entirely inaccurate. It is a very prevalent situation in present day Italy. In their defense, Italians have very strong family bonds and see nothing wrong with this. Which is just another reason why I love Italy. Living with your parents after the age of 18 in America is looked at as such a taboo, but in many other countries, it's really the thing to do. There's more of an emphasis placed on the importance of family. Maybe we should all take note.....
Italians exude an air of confidence, but aren't overly cocky. They're smooth characters, these Italians. They are honest and kind, without being artificial.
I love listening to them speak. They do it with such passion. Stress is placed on exactly the right syllable at exactly the right time. The words seem to blend together so well with all the ch, s, r and g sounds. It rolls off the tongue like warm butter spreading over fresh bread.
I dream of living in Italy one day and being able to fluently speak their lovely language. But as I stumble over my American-accented Italian, trying to communicate with shop owners and cute little old Italian ladies while wearing my unfashionable backpacker attire, I think, "Who am I kidding? I'll never be Italian!"
Oh, but a girl can dream.

Rome nightlife with some funky shades

I had various reasons why I wanted to return to Italy this time.
-In the grand scheme of things, I honestly would like to live here one day, so I wanted to see more of the country to make an educated decision.
-I needed to eat that pizza in Naples! My life is now complete.
-I wanted to improve my struggling Italian. I began learning it while living in Alaska, but I needed someone to practice with, and who speaks Italian in Alaska?! However, I've found it very easy to pick up the language and have increased my vocabulary significantly even after spending only 10 days here.
-I have friends in Italy that I wanted to see. Meeting locals is always a major determinate in liking a country.
One of these friends is Angelo from Venice. I met him 3 years ago while I was in Venice. At the time, I was on a short 2 week European vacation to escape the Alaskan cold. I traveled via train between Paris, Rome and Venice. The crème de la crème of Europe. It was a magical time. Being my first taste of Europe, I absolutely loved it.
Since I was on a short holiday, I could afford to stay in swanky hotels, rather than the cheap hostels I'm forced to stay in during my prolonged adventures. I splurged when I chose an elegant Venetian hotel that was the former house of Marco Polo. I stayed in a luxurious room with a small canal directly outside my window. After I grew tired of roaming around the maze of streets in Venice, I could retire to my posh pad. There was a bay window in my room, perfect for sitting and reading as I watched the gondolas float past. Lovey-dovey couples, snuggled closely together inside the boats, would pass by my window as their gondoliers called out "Ciao bella!" to me. It felt like a dream. I was in a fantasy land. This vacation played a major role in my travel addiction. I nourished myself with pizza, wine and gelato, eating as irresponsibly as a freshman in college. But remember, there are no such thing as calories while you're on vacation.
One lazy afternoon, I was lounging in my window reading a book when suddenly a gondola passed significantly closer than the other gondolas. I could have reached out and touched it. I was a little surprised, and so was the gondolier. We both jumped when we met face to face.

Angelo on his gondola

The man with the black and white stripped gondolier shirt exclaims, "Hello!"
"Hi!", I reply.
"Where are you from?" he inquires.
Casually, I say "The US", as he slowly floats by. He leans back on his gondola so he won't lose sight of me as he clears my window. His last question as he coasts away is, "Are you married?!" I laugh to myself and shake my head. I had heard this from hundreds of Italian men already. I stick my head out the window and yell back "No!" I go back to reading my book, then quickly peak back out and notice he is rowing his gondola backwards!
I didn't even know this was possible.
What is this crazy Italian doing?! I thought. These Italian lover boys are such hopeless romantics.
He had a middle aged couple in his boat, hugging each other closely. Though later he admits this was unprofessional to do with customers in his boat, they seemed to be loving the entire situation. It was like a fairy tale meeting. A handsome Italian gondolier rowing his boat, comes upon an American girl reading in the window of her ritzy hotel. Love at first sight. Perhaps. He rests his arm on my window sill and tries to act smooth. After a short conversation, he asks if I'd like to meet him later that night after he finished working. I was intrigued by the gondoliers and had several questions to ask him about his lifestyle. I said yes.
We planned to meet at 7 pm on one of the little bridges. If I leaned out my window far enough, I could see this bridge.
Later that evening, I returned to my hotel after wandering around enchanting Venice and quickly got ready. I wasn't sure if Angelo would show, so I didn't get my hopes up.
At 10 minutes before 7, I leaned out my window to visualize the bridge. I see Angelo standing there! He waves at me boyishly. I wave back. I laugh at myself for even thinking he wouldn't show up. Of course he was going to show up.
He introduced me to the Venetian night life, which is much more sophisticated and calm compared to America. I was able to see Venice from a local point of view. I could live here, I thought.
Me and Angelo fell hopelessly in love with each other and lived happily ever after.
Just kidding. Don't you wish? Sorry. It's not that easy to tame this restless soul. This could have been a perfect, romantic, happily-ever-after story, but I have placed Angelo in my friends category, much to his dislike. I had a blast with Angelo and I knew this was the beginning of a great friendship. He's a bit of a dork and has a unique way of making me laugh without even trying. I know he'll be reading this. Yes, Angelo, I just called you a dork again. He didn't know the meaning of this word until a few days ago when I called him one. His English is good, even though he doesn't think so. However, they don't teach you "dork" in English class. He's also a jokester along with being a good actor, which has made me fall for several of his tricks. Darn you, Angelo. I really believed you on that last one! I'll get you back....
Not only is Angelo a gondolier, he is also an architect and a successful author with 2 books published already.
The summer before last, during my 3 months of backpacking through Europe, I visited Angelo again.
This winter, I also met up with him. Since Venice was frigid and snowy this time of year, we explored Rome together instead. It was my second time in this astonishing city and it never ceases to amaze me.
We roamed around Rome for 4 days and had a smashing good time, as usual. Having a local accompany me is very convenient, as well as comforting to be around someone I know. We mingled through the ancient Roman ruins as we imagined what they looked like thousands of years ago.
We walked all over the ancient city, stopping periodically to sip on espressos. And when I went to pour water in my potent espresso, Angelo acted like it was a crime. He pleaded with me, "Rachel, no, please don't, not in Italy." He couldn't bear the sight of it and walked away embarrassed. Alone, I nearly choked on my diluted coffee as I thought about how serious he took this matter. See what I mean about Italians being peculiar?
One night, we celebrated the release of his second book. I'm so proud of him. I met 2 of his cousins and their wives as they joined us for dinner. It was an Italian style meal of biscotti, pasta, wine and desert.

Angelo, on right, with his cousins

me with the cousin's wives

I enjoyed listening to them speak so eloquently to each other as I waited for the translation, which was often unneeded. Soaking in this ambiance, I thought, I totally get you Italians. You're a little goofy, but I'm totally digging you guys.
With a 4th visit to Italy already on the horizon, I say arrivederci as I trade it in for Thailand!
Ciao bello!