Italy Has More to Offer than Hilltop Towns and Great Cities

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Daren & Esterina Anderson.

This week Daren and I are both contributing a little something to the Travelouge.

Pinch Me

by Esterina

Yesterday morning was Saturday. Even though we’re no longer working a traditional schedule, we’re still living by—and honoring (and honestly loving)—the rhythm of weekdays and weekends. Daren was making breakfast while I was cutting up fruit when I noticed we had quite a few oranges. On a whim, I squeezed a few and made fresh orange juice. Back home, we’d occasionally have extra oranges, and I’d always think about doing something like that, but it somehow felt like there was never enough time.

It took all of a few minutes. Standing there, I found myself wondering why we hadn’t lived like this before. And then I had one of those “pinch me” moments—realizing once again that I’m living a life I always wanted to live.

This week was full of those moments! We took a short midweek trip to see the lentil flower fields in bloom. Daren will share more about that below, but I want to say how deeply lucky and grateful I felt.

First, because there are so many fewer crowds during the week, and our schedules now allow us to take advantage of that. Second, because we live close enough to experience places like this without needing a major trip. But most importantly, because our lives are so much less hectic now, I am far more present and aware while we’re actually living these moments.

The places we saw this week were breathtaking—fields of flowers stretching beneath mountains that made me feel small and humble in the most beautiful way. Simple lunches. Healthy breakfasts. Enough sleep every night. I’ve never felt healthier or more blessed.

As we navigate this year, we’ve been doing a lot of spiritual reading and having long conversations about how we want to spend the next phase of our lives. I think we both sensed that we needed to step away from our old lives for a while in order to better understand how to become the best versions of ourselves—and how to leave the world a little better than we found it.

Our conversations can range from grand ideas—like giving up every worldly possession and embracing a Francis of Assisi path—to quieter ones, like the life of Dorothea in Middlemarch, where unsung goodness, ordinary kindness, and simple acts of love become their own meaningful legacy.

What I know for certain is this: I want to hold onto beauty, presence, and these little “pinch me” moments. They remind me that I’m living a purposeful life—one where even something as simple as an extra orange doesn’t go to waste, but instead becomes part of the beauty of an ordinary morning.

Take my breath away:

by Daren

I think we both needed to be pinched as we beheld for the first time the Piana di Castelluccio (Plain of Castelluccio). We stood in silence for a moment, staring out over stunning landscape unlike anything we had seen before in Italy. This Italian adventure has been filled with so many stunning and memorable sights, but our trip to the Piana was something different. Much of the grandeur of Italy comes from a blending of natural and human achievement: a walled city perched high above a green valley dotted with cypress trees, or a small town clinging to a ledge overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The Altopiano was all about nature—a place high above the tree line in the central mountains of the Apennines, where rugged rocky outcroppings and miles of flat green plains meet an endless blue sky.

Yet even here, people have left their mark on the landscape. As we descended from the mountain pass onto the plain, we first noticed a distant sheen of yellow, followed by patches of blue and red. As we got closer, we could see clearly demarcated fields forming a patchwork of colors, almost like a quilt. These were the famed lentil fields of the high plain, and we had arrived just as the flowers were beginning to bloom.

Before this trip, I knew very little about where lentils come from and had no idea the plants produced such delicate flowers. These tiny blooms, spread across thousands of acres of the Piana, create a natural spectacle that relatively few people outside Italy know about. I learned of them through my Coffee Break Italian podcast. One of the early lessons featured an Italian teacher describing the lentil blooms of this little-known region, and I added it to my mental list of places to visit. Since the blooms are at their peak in June and early July, we decided this was the perfect time to see them for ourselves.

We learned that the nearby town of Norcia would make a good base and set out for a two-day visit. Norcia is only about three and a half hours from our home in Gaville, and we stopped in Spoleto along the way after hearing it was worth a visit. We had a sandwich in the piazza overlooking the cathedral and wandered the old streets for a while, but the town felt dreary and dead. Perhaps we caught it on an off day, but it felt tired. The truly terrible sandwiches didn’t help. We moved on.

Norcia, where we stayed for two nights, was a different story entirely. It sits near the geographic center of Italy, where Umbria, Abruzzo, and Le Marche come together. Many Italian towns are famous for a particular product: Modena for balsamic vinegar, Genoa for pesto, Parma for Parmesan cheese, and Norcia, as we soon learned, for norcineria—the art of producing cured meats. Prosciutto di Norcia and a host of other types of cured meat, are considered among the finest in Italy.

We also learned that Norcia was devastated by a major earthquake in 2016, and nearly ten years later the city remains an enormous construction site. Much of it has been lovingly restored, including the cathedral, city walls, gates, and main street. Yet many buildings remain wrapped in scaffolding, and piles of rubble and vacant lots still mark places where structures once stood, a reminder of the destruction that transformed this beautiful town.

Despite the construction, Norcia felt vibrant and welcoming. Perhaps it was the reconstruction effort itself, but the town seemed full of energy and optimism. The main piazza shone brightly with white stone buildings, and there were very few tourists. Every other storefront seemed to be a norcineria, selling cured meats, truffle products, and local pecorino cheese. Beyond a handful of restaurants and cafés there wasn’t much else, but it proved to be the perfect base for exploring the region.

We stayed in a lovely hotel right in the center of town, home to the Michelin-starred restaurant Vespasia, where we enjoyed—one of us more than the other—a multi-course tasting menu. These dinners are designed to unfold slowly, with each course presenting a creative combination of flavors, textures, and colors. Since dinner starts late in Italy, we ate well into the evening and bumped against our usual bedtime, leaving us tired and stuffed—a poor combination for a good night’s sleep. The bill took our breath away, and by the end of the evening I think we both concluded that Michelin-starred dining is not for us, especially if dinner begins at eight o’clock at night.

The next morning we packed a picnic of fruit, cheese, bread, olives, yogurt, and local cured meats and headed for the Piana di Castelluccio. The road wound back and forth into the mountains outside Norcia. It felt as though we were ascending into the sky. Then, as the road bent sharply north, the entire Piana suddenly unfolded before us. The landscape seemed impossibly vast: green plains stretching to the horizon, framed by steep mountain walls and an endless blue sky. We were above the tree line, and all we could see were green fields extending for miles in every direction.

As we descended onto the plain, we began noticing well-marked walking trails inviting visitors out into the fields. Koji was extremely enthusiastic about this idea, so we parked the car and started walking. Over the course of the morning, we stopped in several locations to explore the fields and admire the wildflowers in full bloom. At one point, I experienced a moment of genuine, spiritual awe. Standing alone in a field of blue, red, purple, and yellow flowers, I suddenly found myself surrounded by pale blue moths with spotted wings fluttering around me. Several landed gently on my shoes and pant legs. The soft colors of the flowers and the moths added flashes of color to the green canvas of the plain, creating an impression I will not soon forget.

Far in the distance we could see a town perched on a hill overlooking the plain. This was Castelluccio, the center of lentil farming in the area. As we approached, it became apparent that much of the town remained in ruins. Castelluccio had been devastated by the same earthquake that struck Norcia, and reconstruction here appears to be progressing much more slowly. The residents have created a temporary village just outside the historic town consisting of cafés, norcineria, and small farm stands selling lentils and other local products, including one of the best pecorino cheeses I have tasted in Italy. We stopped for coffee and a snack before taking one final walk onto the plain.

From a distance, the landscape around the town appears as a patchwork of colored fields. Some are pale yellow, while others appear purple, white, blue, or red. As we got closer, we could see the flowers responsible for these different palettes. Some fields were planted with lentils, while others were filled with wildflowers in bloom. The lentil flowers created subtle washes of yellow when viewed across great distances. Other fields were dominated by brilliant blue cornflowers mixed with red poppies. Some parcels were left fallow. Viewed from afar, the entire plain resembled a giant quilt stitched together from green, yellow, blue, and red fabric.

We enjoyed our picnic just off the road overlooking the fields before continuing to Forca di Presta, a high mountain pass just across the border in the region of Le Marche. Beyond the pass, the landscape changed again. High craggy peaks gave way to steep valleys, and the region of Le Marche stretched before us toward the Adriatic Sea in the east.

There was also a street food vendor selling stuffed olives, a specialty of Le Marche that we had first learned about from Stanley Tucci’s television series on Italian food and regional culture—a show I highly recommend. Naturally, we had to try them. They did not disappoint.

As we were enjoying the olives, a large flock of sheep passed by under the supervision of a shepherd and three sheepdogs, their bells clanging softly in the mountain air. Koji got to discuss work with one of the dogs and learn about life as an Italian working dog. Actually, they mostly sniffed each other for a few seconds and then moved on.

We spent nearly the entire day walking through fields, with Koji running happily ahead and the two of us simply enjoying the colors, the vistas, and the pure mountain air. Our eyes constantly shifted between distant beauty and close-up beauty: towering mountains, blue skies, and endless plains on one hand; delicate wildflowers and colorful moths on the other.

Back in Norcia, we enjoyed a light dinner and a good night’s sleep before heading home the next morning. This journey felt different from many of our previous Italian adventures. There were no great museums, famous churches, or remarkable works of architecture. Instead, the memories we carried home were of open space, wildflowers, mountain air, and a landscape that seemed almost impossibly vast. As we plan our upcoming trip to the Italian Alps, we are hoping for more moments like this—places that remind us how much beauty exists beyond Italy’s celebrated cities and towns.

Spoleto & Town of Norcia

Scenic view of a picturesque Italian village featuring stone houses with tiled roofs, surrounded by lush greenery and rolling hills under a clear blue sky.
An ancient amphitheater surrounded by greenery, with modern scaffolding for renovations, under a clear blue sky.
A shop display featuring taxidermy boar heads mounted on wooden plaques, with multiple wooden signs advertising various types of salami and cured meats, including prices in euros. Baskets of products are also visible in the foreground.
A man with glasses is interacting with a shopkeeper in a rustic store filled with various food products. A black dog is standing next to the man, observing the scene. The store features wooden shelves, trophies, and decorative items.
Front view of the Teatro Civico building featuring a pink facade, decorative elements, and a blue sky.
A monument featuring a soldier statue stands in a town square surrounded by buildings and greenery, with mountains in the background and a construction crane in the distance.
A man walking down a picturesque street lined with shops and cafes, with a historic archway and green hills in the background under a clear blue sky.
Historic buildings in a town square, featuring a bell tower and a church with a large rose window under a blue sky.
A man in a gray polo shirt stands next to a black dog on a stone pathway, with an ancient stone wall in the background.
Exterior view of a norcineria shop with a boar's head mounted above the entrance, featuring colorful chairs outside and a customer browsing inside.
A man standing outside a butcher shop named 'Norcinera Ansisini Maistro Peppe' with a black dog at his feet, next to a decorative boar statue surrounded by greenery.
Narrow cobblestone street lined with a beige building, featuring bicycles parked against the wall and flower pots hanging from windows.
Historic archway with a clock, leading to a tree-lined path, flanked by buildings on either side.
Archway entrance with the inscription 'VETVSTA NVRIA' surrounded by beige stone walls and decorative elements, leading into a street with various traffic signs.
An artistic presentation of gourmet breads and snacks, including green tea cakes, soft buns, and decorative rice crackers arranged on wooden serving trays.

Castelluccio di Norcia and Surrounding Area

A man stands on a grassy hillside with a black dog beside him, under a clear blue sky.
A scenic view of a winding road leading down a hillside, surrounded by lush green grass and mountains under a blue sky with clouds.
A smiling woman with long brown hair wearing sunglasses and a blue scarf, standing in a grassy field under a clear blue sky.
A black dog walking on a grassy path in an open field with rolling green hills and blue sky.
Wooden directional sign pointing towards Inghiotitito (Plan Grande) and Castelluccio, with distances indicated in kilometers, set against a scenic backdrop of mountains and a blue sky.
A vibrant meadow filled with various wildflowers, including daisies and purple blooms, with lush green grass and rolling mountains in the background under a blue sky with fluffy white clouds.
A picturesque landscape featuring rolling green hills and a distant village nestled among mountains, with a vibrant field of red and yellow flowers in the foreground under a blue sky with fluffy clouds.
A scenic landscape featuring a vibrant field of wildflowers in red, yellow, and blue, set against lush green hills and a distant village perched atop a hill under a partly cloudy sky.
A black dog walking down a grassy path surrounded by rolling green hills under a blue sky with fluffy white clouds.
A scenic landscape featuring a variety of wildflowers, including red and yellow, with a barn in the foreground and rolling green hills in the background.
A scenic landscape featuring rolling hills with lush green grass, patterned fields in various shades of green and brown, and a bright blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds.
A vibrant field of red poppies with scattered wildflowers and green grass under bright sunlight.
A construction site featuring a tall crane under a bright sun and blue sky, with white clouds. In the foreground, there are market stalls with canopies and chairs, set against a backdrop of mountainous terrain and newly built structures.
A rustic stone building with a wooden sign and decorative elements, featuring an entrance with a menu board and potted flowers in front.
A rustic building with a colorful mural featuring flowers and the text 'Benvenuti' on its wall. The entrance has a wooden door labeled 'Proloco Castelluccio.' Nearby equipment and parking vehicles are visible under a partly cloudy sky.
A picturesque view of a stone building with decorative windows and a small outdoor seating area, surrounded by greenery and a cloudy blue sky.
A scenic view of a small village nestled in a green valley, surrounded by hills and trees under a partly cloudy sky.
A busy outdoor area with tents and vendors, featuring two people conversing in the foreground, motorcycles parked nearby, and a construction site with a crane and buildings under development in the background, set against a mountainous landscape with blue skies.
A wooden signpost with directional arrows in a green meadow, surrounded by rolling hills and a bright blue sky with fluffy clouds.
A woman wearing sunglasses smiling for a selfie in a colorful flower field with a black dog beside her, under a blue sky with fluffy white clouds.
A vibrant wildflower meadow featuring bright red poppies, blue cornflowers, and white daisies among lush green grass.
A scenic view of rolling hills with a small village on top, surrounded by green fields and a colorful wildflower meadow in the foreground.
A vibrant landscape featuring rolling green hills under a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds, adorned with colorful fields of wildflowers in yellow and purple. A distant farm and a few vehicles are visible in the foreground.
A lush green landscape featuring vibrant red flowers in the foreground, with a large, grassy mountain in the background under a partly cloudy blue sky.
A scenic view of a small village on a hilltop surrounded by green mountains, with a vibrant field of red poppies in the foreground under a partly cloudy sky.
A couple sitting in a colorful wildflower field alongside their black dog, with mountains and blue sky in the background.
A woman sitting on a colorful picnic blanket next to a black dog, with a cooler nearby. A road with grass and roadside signs is visible in the background.
A panoramic view of rolling green hills and mountains under a blue sky with scattered clouds.
Panoramic view of green mountains under a blue sky with scattered clouds.
A scenic view of a winding road leading towards a lush green mountain under a partly cloudy sky.
Wooden sign showing 'Forca di Presta 1542 m' at a scenic location, with parked cars and grassy area in the background.
A hand holding a bitten piece of fried food with a mountainous landscape in the background.
A flock of sheep grazing on a grassy hillside under a partly cloudy sky.

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To see a short video of this trip, check it out on YouTube here: https://youtu.be/HPgJvQzDDU4?feature=shared

Reflections on Cinque Terre and an Unexpected Find

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

by Daren Anderson

There is a place in Italy where mountains plunge straight into the sea and colorful villages cling to cliffs and tiny coves along the shoreline. Houses painted in shades of yellow, orange, and ochre cling to cliffs over the water. Above them, terraced vineyards and olive groves produce crisp local white wines and flavorful olive oil. There are five towns in all—Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso al Mare. Together they comprise Cinque Terre (Five Lands), one of the most stunning and scenic places in Italy. If you’ve ever seen a screensaver or postcard featuring a picturesque Italian seaside village, chances are it was depicting one of these five special towns.

Hoping to see Cinque Terre before summer tourist season was in full swing, we headed to Liguria, the coastal region we have come to love. Here you’ll find the fabled Italian Riviera, the great port city of Genoa (the birthplace of Christopher Columbus) and, of course, Cinque Terre.

The towns of Cinque Terre were, in days past, reachable only by water, leaving them isolated and heavily dependent on the sea for food and transportation. Today, a train line runs straight through the mountains and emerges at a station in each of the five towns, making a visit remarkably convenient. Travelers can easily move from town to town by train or arrive from one of the many nearby cities and villages outside the region.

In addition, a well-maintained network of hiking trails connects the towns and provides an opportunity to walk along the cliffs, through terraced vineyards and olive groves, and enjoy spectacular views of the Mediterranean. These trails are not for the faint of heart or the out of shape. The climbs can be strenuous, although the paths are in excellent condition and exceptionally well-marked.

While we failed spectacularly in our effort to avoid tourists, we were nonetheless completely enchanted by the beauty of the towns and the magic of this special part of Italy. In a year filled with superlatives, Cinque Terre stands out as one of the very best places we have visited, and perhaps our favorite so far.

To experience Cinque Terre, we chose to stay a few miles north of the region in the seaside town of Chiavari. The five towns themselves offer limited and often expensive hotel options. In retrospect, I think we would enjoy staying in one of the villages for a few nights, allowing us to experience the early mornings and evenings before and after the day-tripper crowds descend.

On our first day, we took the train from Chiavari to the southernmost town, Riomaggiore. Koji joined us, and we planned to walk from there to Manarola, having learned that this route was the shortest and easiest. Koji is feeling his years and is probably no longer up for a difficult hike involving steep climbs in the hot sun.

Fortunately for all of us, the path connecting these two towns, known as the Via dell’Amore (Way of Love), was not really a hike at all but rather a beautifully paved walkway high above the sea, offering incredible views without any significant climbing. The sea was rough, and waves exploded against the rocks below us, sending plumes of spray into the air. The constant roar of the surf added to the unforgettable vista and provided some of the best photographs of the trip.

We enjoyed a light lunch in Manarola and spent some time wandering through the town. These villages are difficult to describe. You have to see them. Even photographs struggle to capture their charm and scale. After some gelato and a bit more exploring, we returned to Chiavari to enjoy the hotel pool and a great dinner at the hotel restaurant.

A woman standing near a railing with a scenic view of colorful buildings along a coastal cliff and a bright blue sea.
A black dog sitting on a train, looking out the window, with a colorful collar, next to a blue seat.
A coastal train station with a view of the ocean, featuring a bench on a platform with yellow markings and a small shelter. Lush greenery and a rocky cliff are visible in the background under a blue sky.
Entrance of the Cinque Terre National Park visitor center, featuring a colorful facade and information signs.
Colorful ceramic tiles arranged on a wall, featuring various intricate designs, with a sign reading 'Via dell'Amore' in the center. The wall is made of light-colored stone with a gray floor beneath.
A bustling market street in an Italian seaside town, featuring colorful buildings, pedestrians, and a fruit stand.
Narrow pathway lined with colorful boats, leading to a rocky shore by the sea, under a bright blue sky with scattered clouds.
A small grocery store entrance with a striped awning, featuring the sign 'coop 5 TERRE.' There is a display of fresh fruits and vegetables on a metal stand outside.
A black dog standing on a cobblestone path near a flowering tree, with red blossoms in a sunny outdoor setting.
A picturesque coastal view overlooking colorful buildings and lush greenery, with the ocean in the background under a partly cloudy sky.
A scenic view of colorful houses on a hillside against a backdrop of lush green mountains and a blue sky with clouds.
A coastal view featuring a rocky shoreline, lush green hills, and a small town with colorful buildings near the water under a blue sky with scattered clouds.
A person walking a black dog on a paved path near the coast, surrounded by greenery and a blue sky.
A vibrant narrow street scene in a coastal town with colorful buildings and balconies. Many people are walking along the street, some stopping to explore shops. White boats are visible along the sides, and the sky is bright blue with some clouds.
A metal container with the words '5 Terre Gelateria' and 'Sorbetteria' painted on it, topped with a lush green plant. In the background, there are signs advertising gluten-free and vegan crepes.
Colorful buildings on a hillside with a blue sky and boats in the foreground by a marina.
A scenic coastal view featuring colorful buildings on cliffs above rocky shoreline with waves crashing against the rocks.

We had planned this trip around the travel schedule of our good friends Cheryl and Mike, who were spending a week exploring Provence. We arranged to meet them, along with their traveling companions Greg and Suzanne, in Ventimiglia, a Riviera town located right on the French border.

We drove north that morning, passing through Genoa before arriving in Ventimiglia for a leisurely seaside lunch and an enjoyable afternoon with friends from home. The road along the Ligurian coast is a remarkable feat of engineering. At times it felt as though we spent more time in tunnels than out of them. Italy has built an extraordinary network of highways through some very challenging terrain. The drive provided a good demonstrated how dramatically geography has shaped Italy’s history. Mountains separated regions for centuries, helping create the strong regional identities, dialects, and traditions that still define the country today. The vast network of tunnels, highways, and rail lines have been revolutionary in connecting, for the first time in history, these disparate regions and fostering a deeper unity that existed before.

Group of six people smiling together outdoors by the seaside on a sunny day.

Back in Chiavari, we decided to return to Cinque Terre to see a few more of the towns and tackle a more ambitious hike. This time Koji remained at the hotel, and he did not seem particularly disappointed when he learned how strenuous the route would be. He held down the fort and guarded the room from his travel bed while we headed out to the train station.

We began in Monterosso al Mare, the northernmost of the five towns and the only one with a true beach. Our first glimpse featured the classic Italian seaside scene: perfectly arranged rows of colorful umbrellas and hundreds of people enjoying the warm weather from lounge chairs or the water itself.

While it is technically not yet summer, Italy is already warm. Days have been sunny, with temperatures in the 70s and 80s—perfect beach weather.

Monterosso quickly became our favorite of the towns we visited. It featured a beautiful church, narrow winding streets, colorful flowers, and a relaxed atmosphere that encouraged lingering. We spent quite a while exploring before beginning our hike.

The trail out of Monterosso wastes no and immediately starts climbing straight into the hills above town. We ascended for at least an hour, passing through terraced vineyards while taking in views of the Mediterranean far below. There were plenty of fellow hikers on the trail, ample shady spots for rest breaks, and clear signs directing us toward Vernazza, the next town along the coast.

The highlight of the hike comes when Vernazza suddenly appears below you. Hundreds of feet beneath the trail, the village is tucked into a narrow opening between the mountains and the sea, its colorful buildings clustered around a small harbor. A medieval tower overlooks the town, and later in the day we climbed it to enjoy yet another remarkable perspective on the coastline.

We had a mediocre pizza for lunch—proof that there is bad food everywhere, even in Italy. Food was not the highlight of our visit. In heavily touristed destinations like these, finding an exceptional meal can sometimes be difficult. Restaurants catering primarily to tourists do not always meet our increasingly finicky standards.

Even so, despite the crowds and the dozens of languages we heard around us, including plenty of American English, we thoroughly enjoyed both the towns and the region. We will undoubtedly return, perhaps a little farther outside the high season next time.

A sign requesting people to feed homeless and unloved cats using food from a nearby container. The sign is written in both Italian and English.
A scenic view of a colorful coastal village surrounded by hills and trees, with a small beach area and boats in the turquoise water below.
A stone pathway leading down to a blue sea dotted with boats, surrounded by lush greenery and flowers.
Panoramic view of a coastal village with colorful buildings by the water, featuring a sandy beach, boats in the turquoise sea, and a clear blue sky.
Narrow street lined with colorful buildings in a quaint village, featuring plants and tourists walking.
A historic clock tower with a dome and decorative tiles, surrounded by greenery and mountains under a clear blue sky.
A stone tower surrounded by greenery, with steps leading up to it and a clear blue sky in the background.
View looking up a spiral staircase inside a stone tower, featuring metal steps and a central support pole.
A panoramic view of a coastal town with colorful buildings nestled along the shore, surrounded by lush green hills and a clear blue sky.
Narrow alleyway between colorful buildings with laundry hanging between them and a clear blue sky above.
A narrow cobblestone street lined with colorful buildings and vibrant flowers, featuring a woman in casual attire posing confidently in the foreground, while tourists stroll in the background.
A vibrant street scene lined with colorful flowers and plants, featuring pink and orange blooms, rustic pots, and a sunny atmosphere. Shoppers can be seen browsing clothing stalls along the pathway.
A man and a woman taking a selfie on a hiking trail with a scenic ocean view in the background. The woman has curly hair and is wearing sunglasses, while the man is wearing a cap and sunglasses.
A wooden sign for a restaurant named 'Lapo S' located in Monterosso, Cinque Terre, displaying rustic design and wheels.
A scenic beach view featuring two large rock formations, with people swimming in the turquoise water, colorful umbrellas lined on the shore, and boats in the background against a partly cloudy sky.
A charming outdoor setting featuring a wooden bench in front of a flower display with colorful blooms on shelves, and a pizzeria sign above, creating an inviting atmosphere.
A narrow cobblestone alleyway lined with vibrant flowers and greenery, featuring a decorative white chair with a red and white striped pattern.
A view of two striped buildings in a narrow alley, with a group of people gathered in front. One building features ornate architectural details, while the other has a simpler design. The sky is clear and blue.
A person stands on a path with a railing, overlooking a scenic coastal view featuring a beach, colorful buildings, and lush hills in the background.
Wooden directional signs on a stone wall indicating the distance to Vernazza and Monterosso.

I cannot end this blog without talking about Chiavari, which somewhat unexpectedly has earned a place on our short list of favorite towns in Italy.

We selected Chiavari simply because of its proximity to Cinque Terre and because we found an attractive hotel at a reasonable price. What we discovered was a gorgeous and authentic town featuring a seaside promenade, fountains, parks, a beautiful piazza, rocky beaches, a marina, and miles of elegant porticos.

We knew almost nothing about the town before arriving and spent many hours wandering its streets and stumbling upon beautiful surprises. The town was clean, well maintained, and refreshingly authentic. There were relatively few foreign tourists. Instead, the streets and promenades were filled with Italian families, babies, teenagers, parents, grandparents, and people with disabilities, all sharing public spaces together. We saw circles of teenagers chatting on the beach. Groups of elderly gathered on park benches together, families with strollers, and dogs everywhere. There were small dogs, large dogs, elderly dogs, puppies, all walking, running, sniffing, tugging, and occasionally barking. Hands down this was the most dog-friendly town we’ve seen in a country that is renowned for its dog-friendliness.

The combination of such a rich mix of people, a lovely and well-kept city, and a relaxed seaside atmosphere created a great sense of energy and vibrancy. Chiavari felt alive in the best possible way.

A scenic view of a marina filled with sailboats and yachts, surrounded by buildings and mountains under a partly cloudy sky.
View of a marina at sunset with numerous boats and yachts, a person leaning on a railing, and mountains in the background.
A couple stands on a seaside promenade, smiling for a selfie. The woman has long hair and sunglasses, while the man wears a t-shirt and glasses. Behind them is a pebbly beach with people and buildings along the coastline under a partly cloudy sky.
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View of a beach with blue umbrellas and lounge chairs set up on pebbly shore, with a calm sea and cloudy sky in the background.
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A beach scene with colorful red and yellow umbrellas set up over lounge chairs, along a pebbled shore with gentle waves lapping at the waterline and yachts visible in the distance.
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A dock with striped blue and white boats, featuring a visible Italian flag, and a scenic view of the water and harbor in the background.
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A person walking a black dog along a waterfront promenade with cloudy skies in the background.
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Evening view of a coastal promenade with striped beach umbrellas and a Mexican flag, under a cloudy sky.
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A circular window frame embellished with vibrant purple bougainvillea flowers against a textured white wall.
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A picturesque street view featuring colorful buildings, with a focus on a pink church dome in the background. Motorcycles are parked along the cobblestone street, and outdoor cafes with red umbrellas line the area.
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A scenic square in Chiavari, Italy, featuring a decorative fountain, a statue, and colorful historic buildings. People are gathered around, and there are flowers and greenery in the foreground.
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A winding pathway bordered by a wrought iron fence, leading towards a terraced garden with lush greenery and tall palm trees in the background, showcasing a scenic architectural structure.
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A street view of a charming Italian square lined with colorful buildings, outdoor cafes, and trees, with a glimpse of the sea in the background under a pastel sunset sky.
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A serene pathway lined with flowering plants and a green fence, under a clear blue sky adorned with distant purple blooms from trees.
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A bowl of mixed fruit including melon, kiwi, and cantaloupe on a table, with a view of the sea and cloudy sky in the background.
A beachside view at sunset, featuring lounge chairs with blue umbrellas lined up on the pebble shore, a calm sea, and distant mountains under a pastel sky.

As always seems to happen with places we love, our days in Liguria passed far too quickly. We returned home with sore feet, hundreds of photographs, and a growing conviction that Liguria may be our favorite region of Italy. We came for Cinque Terre, but in some ways it was Chiavari, the unexpected discovery, that lingered most in our minds.

Either way, we’ll be back!

Talk to us – add a comment, email/text… we’d love to hear from you too!

Feel free to check out the Instagram posts from this trip:

What “Made (or Grown) in Italy” Really Means

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Daren Anderson

I’ve always been fascinated by transportation infrastructure and knowing where things come from, particularly food. The American supermarket is a modern marvel, featuring every imaginable food available all year long. I am amazed at how there can be strawberries and blueberries or fresh lettuce and cherry tomatoes in the middle of the winter. How does a fresh artichoke get to the vegetable section of your grocery store in January? If you look at the label or the price tag sticker, you will see that our food comes from all over the world.

Shopping here in Italy I have continued to nurture my interest in where food comes from. But it has been quite a different experience, at least so far. Nearly everything we buy in the large, modern grocery store in our town is grown or produced in Italy. Nearly all the fish are caught by Italian fisherman in Mediterranean waters. All the fruit and vegetables, with few exceptions, come from Italy. Of course bananas still come from Central and South America, and coffee comes from Asia, African, or South America. But most of the meat and produce that we buy comes from Italy.

And not just Italy, but from a specific region of Italy, often proudly displayed on the package or tag. In fact, some foods have a specific designation, D.O.P., which stands for Denominazione d’Origine Protetta (Protected Designation of Origin), certifying that the product and its ingredients came from a specifically designated region with specific quality standards. Common D.O.P. products include cured meats like Prosciutto di Parma, a wide range of cheeses, Balsamic vinegar, San Marzano tomatoes, and even some arborio rice varietals.

Tracking the source of origin of food in an Italian grocery store is a veritable lesson in Italian geography. Anyone who has watched Stanley Tucci’s “Searching for Italy” series will be well-familiar with the importance of local food traditions and how local climate and soil conditions contribute to the taste and quality of a food product. Grape varietals grown in the area around Modena turn sour much too quickly to support wine making, hence Balsamic vinegar became a signature product from this region in the 1600’s. Volcanic soil on the slopes of Vesuvius produces the perfect flavor and texture for tomatoes used to make sauce (San Marzano). The combination of history, geography, and culture creates a geography lesson that you can literally taste.

The other thing that I’ve enjoyed in Italy is the countryside. We’ve now traveled through about 2/3 of Italy, from Milan in the north to Calabria in the south. One of the most striking things that we’ve noted is the heavy predominance of farming and agriculture in nearly every region we’ve seen. There are some areas with huge farms and fields that stretch to the horizon. But there are also small farms and plots, even right here in our neighborhood. Whether these smaller plots grow produce that ends up in our local market or grocery store I don’t know, but their presence here and across the country contributes to the beauty of the landscape. It also keeps food interesting and varied and avoids some of the uniformity that characterizes American grocery stores. I am sure that products could be sourced from other places and bring cheaper prices and perhaps more steady supply.

I know that the European Union maintains trade policies, agricultural subsidies, and geographic protections that help support farmers and food producers, and that Italy has been a strong advocate for preserving those traditions. And I am certain that this contributes somewhat to higher prices. But that higher price is paying for many things that society values, such as preservation of tradition and culture, freshness, local variety, jobs in agriculture, and regional pride, to name just a few.

I am no expert in farm policy or EU tariffs, but I will say that shopping in Italy is interesting and fun, and the food is in fact fresher, as people often state. This is one stereotype about Italy that has proven to be true.

The contrast between food and manufactured products has been particularly striking. In food, local production, regional identity, and protected designations seem to produce tangible benefits in freshness and quality. In other categories, however, my observations have been more mixed. Before arriving, I associated ‘Made in Italy’ with high-end fashion, sports cars, pottery, and other luxury items. I assumed it was almost synonymous with craftsmanship and quality. Yet many of the everyday consumer products we encounter, from household goods to inexpensive clothing and miscellaneous items sold in markets, are no better, and sometimes worse, than what we would find in the United States.

I don’t know whether this reflects protectionist policies, different consumer preferences, lower purchasing power, or simply the fact that every country produces both exceptional products and mediocre ones. But it has been a useful reminder that a national label is not a guarantee of quality.

After only three months in Italy, I am far from an expert on agricultural policy, trade, or manufacturing. But living here has made me think differently about the relationship between price, quality, and value. In America, we often assume that lower prices are always better. Living in Italy has reminded me that there are other things worth preserving: local agriculture, regional traditions, distinctive foods, beautiful landscapes, and jobs that keep small communities alive.

None of those things are free. They show up in prices, regulations, and consumer choices. Whether the trade-offs are worthwhile is a question reasonable people can debate. But the true value of a product extends beyond the number on the price tag. The cheapest option often carries costs that are simply paid somewhere else, by someone else, or at some later time.

Wheat growning in Umbria for making local pasta and bread
A small farm garden in our neighborhood
Olive Oil from the hills above our town
Olive grove in Calabria
Amalfi lemons
Sheep just down the hill from our house whose milk is used to make the local Pecorino Toscano cheese

An Unexpected Encounter with Socialized Medicine

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Daren Anderson

Standing at a hospital checkout desk, credit card in hand, can be nerve-wracking. How much will it cost? Is my credit limit sufficient? Will there be more bills later when they calculate the radiologist’s fees or blood tests? Will I need to dip into a home equity line of credit to cover the costs?

But wait — we are in Italy. Maybe healthcare is different here.

We waited in line at the cashier’s desk for about 10 seconds before being called up. A few keystrokes later, we had a bill for $177, paid for with our Visa, and we were on our way.

What, do you suppose, do you get for $177 in an Italian hospital? A glass of orange juice? A CBC?

In Italy, $177 was the total charge for an ambulance ride on a backboard, an emergency room assessment, an X-ray of the lumbar spine, a head CT, an electrocardiogram, and an orthopedic telehealth consultation from the University Hospital in the nearby city of Perugia.

All of these services were provided for Esterina after she slipped on wet pavement in Assisi and fell hard on her sacrum. The fall itself was painful, but the shock, pain, and stress of the event caused her to faint, prompting an ambulance trip to the ER.

You might wonder whether you get what you pay for. Joking aside, in the US this entire event would likely have cost thousands of dollars, some covered by insurance and some not. Would the care have been thousands of dollars better?

The entire experience lasted about four hours. The ambulance took roughly 20 minutes to reach us on streets designed for mules, not advanced life support vehicles. Upon arrival in the ER, Esterina spent about 15 minutes on a stretcher in a hallway before being wheeled into an assessment room where an ER physician sat at a desk asking questions while a nurse relayed them and performed a cursory exam. An ECG was quickly performed and found to be normal. An X-ray of the lumbar spine was ordered. Although we were all certain she had not hit her head, a CT scan was ordered nonetheless for a fall associated with loss of consciousness.

After the consultation, we were back out in the hallway. We waited about 30 minutes for the radiology room to free up, watching several more seriously injured patients appropriately move ahead of us for imaging. Finally, lumbar films were taken, followed shortly afterward by the CT, and once again we returned to the hallway.

We spent much of the next two hours there, staring at a few bad pieces of art on the walls and watching patients, some bleeding, some moaning, some stoic, come and go. Eventually we learned that the CT was normal, but the spine film showed a “cortical irregularity” in the S3-S4 region. In other words, there may have been a small sacral fracture, though the findings were equivocal.

The ER physician was not comfortable discharging her without an orthopedic consultation. The orthopedist was in the operating room, and no one knew when he or she would be available. There was even discussion of transferring her to a larger hospital.

This was a dark moment for both of us.

I try very hard not to “play doctor” when family members are involved. Judgment can be clouded by emotion, and I have not actively practiced clinical medicine in over 10 years. Still, the concern about transfer felt disproportionate to her clinical condition. She had no neurologic findings, minimal pain, and no clear fracture. Rest, movement as tolerated, and some ibuprofen seemed the likely outcome.

Fortunately, soon afterward an orderly came out and explained that the orthopedist had reviewed the films remotely, spoken with the ER physician, and cleared her for discharge. Ibuprofen as needed. Nothing further.

Ten minutes later we were at the cashier, Visa in hand, and a few minutes after that we were on our way back to our hotel.

Once the trauma, fear, and emotion of the event settled, we had ample time to reflect on our healthcare experience in Italy and to compare it with our own system back home. All in all, the right things were done. The ECG and CT scan made sense. The diagnosis was appropriate, and she was triaged correctly from the start. Getting an orthopedic consultation for a marginal finding may have been somewhat excessive, but it happened quickly enough that the reassurance was probably worthwhile.

In Italy, we got the basics, without the frills. The hospital has no shareholders and earns no profit from our visit or anyone else’s. There was no prior authorization process and no insurance intermediary standing between patient and physician. The radiologist, ER doctor, and orthopedist earn far less than their American counterparts. Yet we still received the essential components of appropriate emergency care, and the outcome was entirely appropriate.

So what might more money have bought?

Better artwork on the walls, certainly. Better bedside manner as well. The physician never actually spoke directly with us, and the nurses and orderlies, while professional, were fairly scarce and often brusque when relaying information. More money might have purchased a more thorough exam. I was somewhat surprised that Esterina was never placed in a hospital gown or given a complete physical examination. She remained in her street clothes and sneakers the entire time — admittedly making it easier to get up and leave.

More money also might have bought a blanket. Throughout the experience Esterina was cold. I covered her with both of our coats along with a thin hospital sheet that I had to request. Perhaps more money would have bought us a curtained exam room like those seen on The Pitt instead of a dingy hallway.

It also could have purchased better facilities and groundskeeping. Many of the hospitals we have seen in Italy, including this one, feel austere and physically underinvested, more functional than welcoming. Tall grass and weeds surround institutional-looking concrete buildings that appear to receive little attention beyond what is necessary to keep them operational.

The biggest thing we did not receive, however, was kindness or reassurance. Everyone was professional, but there was very little warmth. No smiles. No expressions of concern. No one paid much attention to Esterina’s non-life-threatening symptoms or comfort. She was nauseated, dizzy, cold and scared. No one asked. No one checked.

Still, it is important to remember that we were technically uninsured in Italy, even though we carry international coverage that will reimburse us for the charges. An Italian citizen likely would not have paid anything at all for the same care. In the United States, an uninsured person experiencing a similar event could easily face thousands of dollars in bills unless they were fortunate enough to qualify for charity care, Medicaid, or other assistance programs.

How much are all these “extras” worth? Are they worth having 5–20% of the population uninsured? Are they worth a system that can leave people financially devastated by illness or accident? Are they worth the inequities that still define so much of American healthcare?

Personally, I do not believe we should have to choose between humane affordability and humane care. Italian healthcare could use more warmth, comfort, and investment. American healthcare could use far less profiteering and inequity.

Most surprising of all, however, we have not received a single call or card from an injury attorney. And I have not seen a single billboard advertising one anywhere in Umbria.

Back to travel, back to Italian food, and back to health!

Exterior view of a circular building with the sign 'SUB DISTRETTO CIRCO' on the facade, surrounded by trees and grass under a clear blue sky.

A dingy hospital in South Italy (not the one we were in in Assisi)

The Italy Situation: A Dog’s Perspective

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Koji Anderson

After yet another terrifying, then exhilarating experience yesterday, I believe it’s finally time I tell you what this whole Italy thing has been like from my point of view.

First of all — this is Koji.

Most of you probably know me already, but if not, my mommy and daddy are Esterina and Daren. Mommy is helping me write this because, despite my many talents, typing is apparently beyond my skill set.

It all started with the crate.

I hadn’t seen a crate since I was a tiny puppy. Back then I actually liked it. One day it disappeared, which I assumed meant I had proven myself trustworthy enough not to destroy the house while nobody was home.

Then suddenly, eleven years later, a giant crate appeared in the living room.

This one was sturdier. More serious.

Naturally, I climbed right in because I remembered the assignment. Also, every time I went inside, treats appeared. Sometimes daddy closed the door and left me in there for a while. Honestly? Not bad. Cozy enough. The crate sat next to my dog bed for weeks, so eventually I stopped questioning it.

Then one day the house became chaos.

Suitcases.
Humans moving quickly.
Doors opening and closing.
Stress smells.

And then somehow the crate came too.

I knew we were going on an adventure because suitcases always mean somebody disappears for a while. The trick is figuring out whether I’m included. I watch carefully for clues:

  • Is my food being packed?
  • Is my travel bed involved?
  • Has someone picked up my leash?

The leash is the final confirmation. Once the leash appears, I allow myself to emotionally commit.

That day, I knew I was coming.

But something felt… suspiciously large-scale.

We all got into a huge car with a driver. Me, mommy, daddy, bags, and somehow the crate too. I sat between them while the world rushed by outside the windows.

A close-up of a black dog with a happy expression, sitting in a car with people in the background.
A black dog lying on wooden floors near a couch and a doorway, with a rug in the background.
A person carrying a large black bag exiting a garage with luggage on the floor, while a van is parked outside.

Then we arrived somewhere unlike anywhere I had ever smelled before.

Let me tell you something about airports:
Outstanding smells.
Absolutely incredible.

Thousands of humans.
Thousands of shoes.
Old crumbs.
Fear.
Coffee.
Perfume.
Mild panic.
One abandoned french fry.

A sensory masterpiece.

Close-up view of an airplane at an airport gate with a jet bridge attached, with ground support equipment visible nearby.
A black dog on a leash walks along the pavement in front of an airport terminal, with visible signage for airlines in the background.
A black dog lying on the floor of an airport near check-in counters and a pet carrier.

At one point, some men took my crate away while mommy and daddy walked beside me telling me I was a good boy in the tone humans use when they are pretending not to worry.

That’s when I realized:
Something weird was about to happen.

Eventually they guided me into the crate and suddenly we were separating.

I squeaked a little. Not dramatically. Just enough to register concern.

Then came many loud noises, strange movements, rolling, lifting, waiting, more rolling, more noises, and an extremely long period of time where absolutely nothing made sense.

At some point the whole world tilted upward.
Later downward.
Then loud again.

Frankly, I decided the best strategy was acceptance.

Eventually the crate started moving again and suddenly — THERE THEY WERE.

Mommy and daddy.

I cannot adequately explain the relief.

I exploded out of that crate emotionally and physically although I tried to remain composed.

They tried to get me to eat and drink and use the potty, but I was simply too overwhelmed to focus on bodily functions.

Then we got into another car — this one just for us — and after a long ride we arrived somewhere quieter.

There were two ladies there.
And another dog.

His name was Rhum.

We sniffed each other thoroughly and professionally. He informed me I was welcome to drink from his water bowl, which I appreciated because suddenly I realized I was incredibly thirsty.

That was the moment I understood:
We were staying here.

Soon I was introduced to what appears to be my new life.

A pathway leading to a green lawn with a black dog walking towards the horizon, framed by tall cypress trees and pots with bare plants, under a cloudy sky.
A black dog standing beside a luggage cart at an airport, with travelers and baggage in the background.
A man standing next to a pet carrier and luggage in a parking garage, with a dog lying on the ground nearby.
A man sitting on a patio with a cup of coffee, next to a black dog on the ground, overlooking a valley with hills and trees in the background.
A black dog sleeping on a blanket in a cozy room with a fireplace and a patterned armchair.

Honestly?
I like it very much.

There are hills everywhere, which is admittedly a little tough on my hips, but the tradeoff is excellent smells.

I have now smelled:

  • olive groves
  • vineyards
  • medieval streets
  • beach air
  • outdoor markets
  • approximately twelve thousand years of accumulated Italian dog pee

Daddy likes to say I am smelling “medieval urine.”

I don’t fully understand what medieval means, but I respect the depth of the scent.

The most shocking part of Italy is this:
I AM ALLOWED EVERYWHERE.

Stores.
Restaurants.
Outdoor cafés.
Little shops with meats and cheeses hanging everywhere like some kind of fever dream.

The humans speak in different words now, although honestly I never understood English either, so this has not been a difficult transition for me.

People here love dogs.

Sometimes they bring me water.
Sometimes treats.
Sometimes they bend down and call me “bravo cane,” which apparently means I am an excellent citizen.

I already knew this.

One of my favorite things is going to restaurants with mommy and daddy. They sit for very long periods of time while I rest under the table like a furry security detail.

The only issue is other dogs.

When another dog walks by, I do feel it is important to announce myself loudly so everyone remains aware of the situation.

This has not always been appreciated.

Still, overall I believe my public behavior has been excellent.

We also visit many piazzas, which seem to be giant outdoor human gathering zones filled with conversations, footsteps, pigeons, espresso, and confusion.

They are exhausting.

I often collapse directly in the middle of traffic flow to recover.

A woman stands in a busy square in Florence, Italy, holding a leash attached to a black dog lying on the ground. The backdrop features a historic cathedral with intricate architecture, while groups of people walk and gather around the plaza.
Duomo in Florence
A black dog standing on a cobblestone street in a rustic alleyway, with a stone wall and red door in the background.
A woman in a purple jacket stands with a black dog in a busy square surrounded by people, with historic statues and a building in the background.
A black dog lying on the floor of a colorful store, surrounded by bright merchandise including clothing and accessories.
A person walking a dog along a pebbly beach near the water, with a scenic view of the ocean and hills in the background.
Dipping paw for first time in the Med
A man wearing a beige jacket and light pants walks through a bustling market with a dog beside him, browsing items at a vendor's stall, with clothing racks and other shoppers in the background under clear blue skies.
Markets
A black dog on a leash walking through a brightly lit shop filled with colorful pottery and decorative items, including bowls, vases, and unique trinkets.
An actual china shop!
A person holding an ice cream cone reaches out to a dog sitting nearby in an outdoor cafe setting. The dog looks up with curiosity as people converse in the background.
Gelato
A cup of dog-friendly ice cream topped with two dog bone-shaped biscuits, resting on a glass table.
More gelato (dog specific!)
A black dog leaning against the back of a car seat, looking curiously out of the window.
A man standing on the roadside with a black dog, holding a small cup, in front of a red car.
A black dog sitting on the ground in front of a busy public space, with people walking by in various directions.
A man in a blue shirt walks along a beach with a black dog, near gentle waves and a clear blue water surface.
A black dog on a leash stands at the bottom of a set of white stone stairs in a narrow alley, looking upward.
A black dog lying on a pebbly beach with the ocean in the background and people swimming.
A smiling man and woman are sitting with a black dog, enjoying a sunny outdoor moment with a scenic background.
A person walking away towards the ocean while a black dog stands on a rocky shoreline, observing the water.
View of a relaxing poolside scene with two pairs of feet visible in lounge chairs, a black dog nearby, and a woman lounging by the pool in a pink swimsuit.
A black dog lying on a red mat outdoors, resting its head on an open book, with green foliage and stone planters in the background.
A black dog on a leash gazes at a colorful display of various foods and jars visible in a shop window.
What dog heaven is like
Two men engaging in conversation on a dirt path, with one gesturing while the other listens. A black dog sits beside them, surrounded by greenery and wildflowers.

Yesterday, however, was the strangest experience yet.

We arrived somewhere with an alarming number of stairs.

An unreasonable number.
A hostile number.

I was already emotionally preparing myself for the climb when I noticed something horrifying:

The stairs were moving.

I immediately lay down on the ground because clearly this was a terrible idea.

But mommy and daddy reassured me with pets and encouraging voices, which usually means they are about to force me into personal growth.

Daddy gently dragged me onto the moving stairs.

At first I trembled.

Then suddenly I realized something incredible:

THE STAIRS WERE DOING THE WALKING FOR ME.

Honestly?
Revolutionary.

By the second escalator I was uncertain but cooperative.

By the third one I trotted right on like an experienced commuter.

I have changed as a dog.

Mommy later told people this story and her friend Sarah — Chester’s mom — apparently said, “You can teach an old dog new things.”

I was very proud to hear that.

Anyway, I thought it was time I explained what this whole Italy experience has been like from my perspective.

Terrifying.
Confusing.
Beautiful.
Exhausting.
Delicious-smelling.

And honestly?

I’d do it all again tomorrow.

A person walking a black dog on an escalator, with another person visible in the background.

Ok — this is Esterina now.

I want to pause for a moment and say how incredibly lucky we are to be able to bring Koji along on this adventure. And honestly, he’s pretty lucky too.

Koji is a rescue dog from a high-kill shelter in Tennessee. On Friday, May 15th, he turned 12 years old. As a larger dog, we’re starting to see signs of age creeping in a bit, but he is still unbelievably happy, curious, loving, and as healthy as we could hope for.

Because Daren, Koji, and I were fortunate enough to find one another — thanks to my son Tom, who originally petitioned for us to adopt him — I’ve been thinking a lot lately about giving back to other dogs and to the organizations that make stories like this possible.

That bumper sticker that says “Who rescued who?” really is true.

I recently created a small section on my website (Digital Downloads) where I’m sharing collections of digital iPhone wallpapers. Some are favorite older photos from the U.S., and others will be small collections inspired by our time here in Italy.

They’re simple instant downloads that cost just a few dollars, and all proceeds will be donated to the Cosgrove Animal Shelter in Branford, Connecticut.

If you’d like to support the joy, comfort, companionship, and second chances that rescue animals give so freely, feel free to download a photo you love.

Digital Shop

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

10 Weeks and Some Newfound Spontaneity

Posted on by Esterina Anderson
A bright yellow lemon placed on a wooden table, with a view of greenery and a double door in the background.

Yesterday morning I woke up and decided to make lemon ricotta pancakes using the second-to-last lemon my family from Calabria had sent home with us. Saturday or Sunday morning pancakes have become a nice little ritual for us. There was still a thick fog hanging over the hills outside our patio doors, that was just beginning to burn off under a warm, bright Tuscan sun.

As I was fiddling around in the kitchen, Daren was on his phone telling me about an art festival that had just started in Venice. I asked him to put Venice into the map to see how far from us it was.

“Two hours and fifty minutes,” he replied.

Two hours and fifty minutes?

We both just kind of looked at each other — a little awed, a little excited. We knew we lived close to a lot of great places, and of course we’d looked at the map before, but I don’t think we’d really internalized how close and accessible to us these places were. Venice, one of the most iconic travel destinations in the world was less than a 3 hour drive! Rome is just 2 and a half hours away, and Florence just a half hour. In fact, we realized that nearly all the major destinations in Italy, places that people come from all over the world to see, were a day trip away. Suddenly it felt like we should get out there and see some new things.

So after sitting down to eat these delicious pancakes (a new favorite) we decided to take an impromptu trip toward the Bologna area, only about an hour and a half away by car.

We finished breakfast and hopped in the car: windows down, music up, dog nose out the window. We both felt exhilarated, like we were breaking free of self-imposed constraints. As we were driving down the hill out of our neighborhood we stopped and Daren took this photo. Even as he was taking it he said “the camera doesn’t do it justice”

A panoramic view of lush green hills and valleys under a clear blue sky with scattered clouds.

One of us said something to the effect of, “We really didn’t do much this week,” and then we mentally walked back through the week. What had we done? Do we still need to “do things” in order to feel satisfied? What’s wrong with a slow week focused on more mundane things? Well, here is what a “mundane” week in Italy looked like for us:

Sunday we spent HOURS by the pool talking about how we want to spend the rest of our lives. We don’t have an exact plan yet, and this consulting business feels like a small stepping stone toward something, though we aren’t fully sure what yet.

Monday I went grocery shopping. Before leaving, I typed “art supplies Figline Italy” into Google to see where I might buy a canvas or two. That turned into a much longer outing and a lot more than just a canvas.

The rest of the week disappeared into work, dog walks, a lot of art starts and art projects, and me finally finishing the WordPress site that has basically been an online messy closet since its inception in 2015. I’ll paste the link below. While I did this Daren put in some serious hours on the consultancy work.

We also ordered and received a new coffee foamer this week, along with a Bialetti espresso maker I’ve been thinking about for the past seven months. It was more expensive than I normally like to spend, but its beauty kept calling to me. Doppio macchiatos as a midday break are now a new ritual.

A colorful stovetop espresso maker with a decorative blue and white design, placed next to a tall black container and a small black tool on a white tray.
A plate of cooked fettuccine pasta topped with chopped parsley, accompanied by two pieces of seasoned fish, with a colorful floral border on the plate.
Two glass panels featuring artistic designs made from various colored stones and leaves. One panel displays a branch with green leaves and amber accents, while the other showcases a similar design with a decorative heart-shaped stone.

We planned a trip to Umbria to visit friends from our neighborhood. We found a new pizzeria to order from for our Friday night pizza ritural that was ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY the yummiest pizza we’ve had here for our tastes so far.

But somehow, despite all of that, it still felt like we hadn’t really “done” anything this week.

So we were both got excited and decided to do something spontaneous. Armed with our new realization that all of Italy was laid out before us and not far away, we were on our way out on the road towards Bologna without a clear plan. Not our usual way of doing things, but it felt new, fun, and a bit daring. We had a good laugh as Daren, much more of a structured planner when it comes to travel, struggled to wrap his mind around being spontaneous. Where will we park? What will we see? Do we need reservations for dinner? This time, let’s just see where we end up and figure it out along the way.

We initially started driving toward Parma, but somewhere around the city of Modena I was really thirsty and wanted to stop, so we shifted plans a bit and ended up there instead.

And we proceeded to have the best day!

A coffee vending machine offering various beverages including espresso, cappuccino, and hot chocolate, with a prominent logo from Buonristoro. The machine has a sleek design and is placed next to a trash bin in a well-lit area.
Only in Italy – a vending machine for cafe
A person standing on a pathway next to a patch of grass, with a black dog nearby, and a white building in the background under a clear blue sky.
Our first glance (and sniff) of Modena
A woman wearing sunglasses smiles for a selfie in a bustling plaza with historic architecture and outdoor seating.
A cobblestone street lined with colorful buildings, bustling with people and a black dog in the foreground under a clear blue sky.
Just arriving

First Glances at Modena

A historical building with a large rose window and intricate architectural details, adjacent to a tall bell tower, set against a clear blue sky. People are walking in front of the building, and nearby colorful buildings add to the urban landscape.
A vibrant window display featuring a variety of potted plants and flowers in colorful containers, adorned with a purple umbrella, set against an orange wall.
A charming flower shop entrance adorned with vibrant flowers and greenery. The shop features a red awning and a chalkboard sign indicating fresh flowers for sale. Surrounding walls are painted in warm orange hues.
A man standing with a black dog in a cobblestone street adorned with colorful umbrellas, featuring a tall tower in the background.

We stopped for a little bite. We were going to look up “things to do” but it was so pretty and such a lovely day, having a destination seemed crazy. We decided to wander. No Trip Advisor, no Michelin Guide, no ChatGPT travel recommendations. Just a new, unknown city where, it turns out, balsamic vinegar comes from.

Interior of a historical building featuring a brick wall, an arched window with stained glass, and a decorative table with candles.
Interior view of a historic church featuring arched brick ceilings, columns, and a staircase leading to an altar area with decorative mosaics.
Interior view of a beautifully decorated historical church, featuring ornate ceilings, columns, frescoes, and candles on the altar.
Interior view of a historic church featuring a detailed frescoed ceiling, ornate altar with a tall candle holder and religious decorations, surrounded by red carpets and stone architecture.

We stopped in this gorgeous church. We had to go in one at a time because we had Koji with us. Italy is SOOOO dog friendly, but I think they’d probably draw the line if we brought him inside.

Historic clock tower with a statue and flags in front, located in a town square under a clear blue sky.
View of a historic building with a tall bell tower against a clear blue sky.
Exterior view of the Giuseppe Giusti balsamic vinegar shop in Modena, Italy, showcasing its elegant entrance and display of products.

Next we found ourselves at Piazza Grande. It was the International Red Cross Day and there was a large event celebrating in the piazza. The “Croce Rossa Italiana” employees made a fuss over Koji as we walked around. He was only too happy for the attention. In this square we also found a company store featuring balsamic vinegar that had been in production since 1604. We went in for a vinegar tasting. Who knew that vinegar was such “a thing”. I cannot (cannot) believe how delicious these vinegars were. One of them had been aged for 25 years! We left with a large bag and one too many ideas of how to use it!

A man browsing through vinyl records in a music shop, with a dog sitting patiently in front of him. Another man is seen working at the counter in the background.
A picturesque street lined with colorful buildings in various hues, including yellow, green, and orange, under a clear blue sky.
A vibrant market scene showcasing an array of fresh fruits and vegetables displayed on stands, with colorful crates in a bustling indoor environment.
A black dog lying on the floor of a market, surrounded by fruit and vegetables in wooden crates, while shoppers browse a deli counter in the background.

Some more shopping and browsing. We stumbled upon an excellent food market. We bought some cheeses and tortellini (what the region of Emilia Romano is known for).

Outdoor café scene with people sitting at tables, overlooking a bustling street and a banner for Museo Della Figurina.
Interior of a cafe featuring a wooden bar, chandeliers, and patrons enjoying their time. Various drinks are displayed on the counter.
A hand holding an empty espresso cup with a saucer on a countertop, with a background of a cafe setting.

Our unplanned wandering found us strolling down cobblestoned streets and under countless porticos (for which this region is known. As we continued along Daren stopped and pointed out the cutest coffee shop. We stopped in for a quick espresso at the counter. We were feeling very Italian. As we’ve come to learn, Italians stop into to cafes like these throughout the day and order espressos which they down quickly while standing at the counter. While there, we met and chatted (in Italian) with one of the Red Cross staff who was taking a break. Check out the year of this coffee shop on the little espresso cup! We love how old and full of history everything is.

A woman standing confidently in a narrow, urban alleyway, wearing a navy blue top, beige cargo pants, and sandals. She carries a pink bag and sunglasses, smiling at the camera.
A pedestrian walks a dog along a yellow arched corridor, with shops and decorative lanterns visible, creating a quaint urban atmosphere.
A narrow, cobblestone street lined with colorful buildings, featuring bustling pedestrians and a cyclist, with a historic building visible at the end under a blue sky.
A decorative storefront featuring a glass display framed with purple flowers and dried twigs, showcasing elegant bedding products inside against a yellow wall.
Historic building facade with ornate architecture, featuring sculptures and detailed carvings, set against a clear blue sky. People seated at outdoor tables in the foreground.
A close-up view of two windows on an orange wall, featuring brown shutters and a small green potted plant visible in one window.
A man in a checked shirt stands next to a bronze statue of a cheerful figure with outstretched arms, located outside a historic building. A black dog sits beside him.

The day concluded with a bit more meandering and a stop at the Pavarotti statue. Pavarotti, among the greatest opera tenors ever, is from Modena. Koji was starting to get tired. I think we all were, so we heading back home where we had a lovely sunset appetizer dinner with the cheese we bought, our favorite bread (from Lidl of all places), the vinegars we purchased and the very last of the olives that we brought back from my family’s olive grove in Calabria.

A final dog walk, some showers and a little TV/couch time closed out the evening and the week. Today marks 10 weeks that we have been here.

Meanwhile – check out the cleaned up wordpress site where this and all the other Italy blogs live, along with a lot more stuff. A brief explanation is below.

esterinaanderson.com

Take a look around by clicking the link above that says esterinaanderson.

The site now opens directly to our Italy page, where we’ve organized the writing into our individual perspectives along with our shared travelogue (including posts like this one).

If you explore the other tabs at the top — Reflections, All the Flavor, and the Digital Shop — there’s a lot more tucked in there too.

Here’s a little mock-up below – which isn’t clickable, but shows what you will see when you open the site and what each tab is. Or feel free to wander through the site yourself. It’s finally starting to feel connected, organized, and a little more like home.

Website navigation menu with options for Italy travel experiences, blog reflections, recipes, and a digital shop for smartphone wallpapers.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

A Two-Week Tour of Southern Italy

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Daren & Esterina Anderson

We’ve just returned from a two-week swing through southern Italy and have plenty of reflections to share. Our itinerary included some of the country’s most iconic destinations—Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast—as well as lesser-known areas in Calabria, including Tropea and the region around Crotone.

We knew there was a North/South divide in Italy before this trip—but only because we had started looking into it when we were planning our move. Before that, it really wasn’t something we understood or thought much about, despite having been here, watching movies about Italy, and knowing plenty of people with Italian roots. What we didn’t realize is that it’s not exactly something people talk about openly here.

It seems to fall into that category of topics that carry some weight. Not necessarily hidden, but not casually discussed either. And that makes sense, given how much history—and reality—is tied up in it. At the same time, if we didn’t really understand it until recently, we’re guessing a lot of our family and friends don’t either. So we’re going to share what we’re learning!

Part of the reason this divide isn’t widely understood—especially from an American perspective—is because, from the outside, Italy is presented as one cohesive, romantic place. And if you’re just visiting, that’s how it feels. Most trips hit the same highlights—Rome, Florence, Venice, the Amalfi Coast. They’re all beautiful, welcoming, and very used to tourists. It ends up feeling like one seamless experience rather than a collection of very different regions. The deeper differences—economic, cultural, even linguistic—aren’t obvious on a short trip.

Then there’s the version of “Italian culture” many of us grew up with in the U.S., which was largely shaped by Southern Italian immigrants. Over time, that became its own blended identity—food, language, energy, traditions—and it’s easy to assume that’s what all of Italy feels like.

But it’s not that simple. The divide here isn’t dramatic or immediately visible. You can be in both the north and the south and still see stunning towns, have incredible food, and enjoy everyday Italian life. The differences show up more subtly—in how things function, in opportunities, in infrastructure, and in the pace and tone of daily life.

A lot of this traces back to history that most of us were never really taught. Italy only became a unified country in 1861. Before that, it was a collection of separate regions, and they didn’t all develop in the same way. The north industrialized more quickly, while the south faced longer-term economic challenges.

We also tend to generalize countries a bit. We’re used to thinking in big terms. But Italy is incredibly regional—it’s almost like visiting very different parts of the U.S. and calling it all the same experience.

Before we made the move to Italy, we watched a documentary on Italian immigration patterns. It wasn’t until then that we realized that almost all the Italians we knew in the U.S. just happened to have roots from the Naples area, Sicily, and Calabria. It always felt like a coincidence—one of those things you hardly notice so never question. But it’s not a coincidence at all.

We learned the earliest large waves of Italian emigration began in the late 1800s—roughly the 1870s through the early 1900s. At that time, many of the immigrants leaving Italy were from the northern regions, like Piedmont, Veneto, and Lombardy. Many went to South America, particularly Argentina and Brazil, where there was a strong demand for labor and a culture that, in many ways, felt more familiar. But over time the trend changed.

Northern Italy started to industrialize and become more economically stable, while the southern regions—areas like Campania (Naples), Calabria, and Sicily—faced deeper, more systemic poverty and fewer opportunities.

By the late 1800s into the early 1900s, it was southern Italians who began leaving in large numbers. Many still went to South America—again to places like Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay—but by then those regions were becoming saturated with immigrants. Again the migration patterns changed.

This is when large numbers of Italians began immigrating to North America, particularly between about 1880 and 1920. They came to cities like New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago, settling into tight-knit communities that many of us still recognize today.

However, unlike earlier migrations, they weren’t always welcomed. Southern Italians, in particular, faced significant discrimination and had to work incredibly hard, often in difficult conditions, to build a life here. Over time, though, they did what immigrants always do—built communities, held onto their traditions, adapted where they needed to, and slowly became part of the fabric of the country.

And so, somewhere along the way, that became the version of “Italian” that many of us grew up with. The food, the energy, the family dynamics—the pizza, the pasta, the loud kitchens and big tables. It’s such a strong and beautiful culture. But it’s also just one part of a much bigger, more complex story.

When you step back and look at Italy overall, you can start to see how all of this may have shaped the divide that still exists today. Entire generations left the south in search of opportunity, while the north continued to industrialize and build wealth. Over time, that created two very different realities within the same country—something that doesn’t just disappear, even after more than a century.

This divide is rooted in history, geography, and economics. Exploring it could easily fill its own blog post, but it’s worth noting that southern Italy is generally less affluent, less developed, and less urbanized than the north, with distinct cultural differences.

What it may lack in infrastructure, however, it more than makes up for—with dramatic scenery, stunning coastlines, rugged mountains, exceptional food, and deep historical roots… most of which we’re only just beginning to explore.

An artistic arrangement featuring a wooden map of Italy, surrounded by traditional Italian dishes such as pasta, risotto, pesto, and fresh tomatoes, set against a backdrop of red, white, and green wooden planks, symbolizing the Italian flag.

So enough on this history lesson & let us tell you about our trip!

Southern Italy

Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast

Our trip began in Sorrento, often considered the gateway to the Amalfi Coast. Perched on a peninsula just south of Naples, Sorrento sits in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, whose looming presence feels especially ominous if you’re familiar with the story of Pompeii.

Reaching Sorrento involves driving through Naples and then through a series of long tunnels cut through the mountains. Our first impression wasn’t especially favorable: heavy traffic, tight roads, and a seemingly endless swarm of scooters operating by their own unwritten rules. They zipped past us on both sides—even crossing into oncoming traffic on narrow two-lane roads—creating a constant, buzzing chaos that made the drive more stressful than scenic.

After one night in a disappointing rental, we relocated to a comfortable hotel just outside of town. Over the next few days, our impressions improved. We found spots to take in the stunning clifftop views over the Bay of Naples and toward the island of Ischia, enjoyed a few excellent meals, and spent time relaxing by the pool.

Sorrento itself is undeniably touristy. Even in mid-April, the streets were crowded with tour groups, and the narrow shopping lanes were often packed.

One unmistakable theme of the region is lemons. They are everywhere—growing in groves tucked into backyards and terraced along steep hillsides. Many trees are covered with wooden frames and green netting to protect them from the elements. In town, lemon motifs appear on everything from clothing to ceramics to linens. And Esterina just had to buy a pair of lemon pants that she is wearing every few days now.

We took two successive day trips to the Amalfi coast starting with Positano, the first major town on the Amalfi Coast when traveling west to east. The drive alone was unforgettable: narrow, winding roads climbing over mountains before descending toward the sea, with breathtaking views at every turn.

Positano itself is a nearly vertical town cascading down toward the water. It’s undeniably beautiful, though heavily touristed. Still, it charmed us. We had one of the best meals of the trip there—gnocchi and fresh local fish—while Koji rested contentedly under the table. Linen clothing is practically a uniform in the Amalfi towns, and I (Daren) couldn’t resist adding a few pieces to my summer wardrobe.

The beaches here are dark and rocky, shaped by the region’s volcanic origins. Even in April, people were sunbathing and swimming. Koji braved a quick dip; we, lacking swimsuits, did not.

On a second day we came back to see the town of Amalfi itself. While undeniably picturesque from a distance, we found the town smaller, more crowded, and less appealing than Positano. Its narrow spaces felt more congested and shaded, and the density of tourists diminished its charm. In contrast, the journey along the coast—with its dramatic cliffs and buildings perched impossibly above the sea—was the true highlight.

On the way back, we stopped in Maiori, just a few miles away but worlds apart in atmosphere. With a long beach, a relaxed promenade, and far fewer tourists, it felt more authentic. After a leisurely seafood lunch, we spent an hour simply lying on the beach, listening to the waves.

Overall, we left the Amalfi region with mixed feelings. The scenery is undeniably spectacular, but even in shoulder season, the crowds, traffic, and overtourism detract from the experience. It’s hard to imagine what peak summer must be like.

A highlight of our trip was a guided visit to Pompeii which sits between Naples and Sorrento and was easily reached by a ½ hour ride on the regional commuter rail line. With an archaeologist as our guide, the ancient city came vividly to life. Though roofs have largely collapsed under volcanic debris, the layout of streets, buildings, and public spaces remains remarkably intact. We were especially fascinated by the bathhouses, with their distinct hot, warm, and cold rooms, as well as the preserved mosaics and roadways. Our guide’s insights into language—particularly the connection between Latin and modern languages—added an extra layer of interest.

Calabria: Tropea and Beyond

After five days in Sorrento, we headed south to Calabria. The drive itself was a highlight, passing through rolling farmland, green hills, and fields dotted with wildflowers. As we moved farther south, the landscape became more rugged and developed.

Our destination was Tropea, often called the “jewel of Calabria.” Perched atop cliffs overlooking a striking white sand beach, it’s easy to see why. There, we met Esterina’s brother Frank and his girlfriend Mary, who joined us after spending several days in Rome.

Tropea is small but charming, with lots of nice restaurants and a relaxed pace. While still a tourist destination, it felt far more local, with relatively few international visitors. It was beautiful, but a bit rough around the edges. We spent our time enjoying seafood, relaxing on the beach, staying active, and learning about the region’s famous red onions—renowned across Italy for their sweetness and featured prominently in local cuisine.

Family in Crotone

Our final stop was with family in and around Rocca di Neto, near Crotone. As on previous visits, we were welcomed warmly and treated to incredible food and conversation. It was also our best opportunity yet to practice Italian, as few family members speak English.

This visit held special significance: Esterina and Frank brought their father’s remains to be placed in the family mausoleum alongside previous generations.

We spent a day exploring Crotone’s old town and its quiet seaside promenade before gathering for one last family dinner. Crotone, like Tropea, was a mix of historic charm and grittiness. The next morning, we began the long drive back north to Tuscany.

Esterina wrote a lot more about this section of the trip a few days back. You can read about it here: https://esterinaanderson.com/2026/04/26/home-can-be-more-than-a-place/

Final Reflections
Each place we visited had something to offer—and something that didn’t quite land. Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast are undeniably stunning, but also incredibly crowded. Tropea’s beaches are beautiful, but the town itself felt a bit worn, with visible garbage and public spaces that seem overlooked.

But what stayed with us most was the time we spent with family. It was a simple reminder that keeps coming back to us—where you are matters, but who you’re with matters more. And in the end, that’s the part we’ll remember.

Thanks for taking the time to read. We’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

Home Can Be More Than a Place

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This week was all about family.

Long before our move to Italy, we had planned a trip to Rocca di Neto for April of 2026. I turned 50 in February and wanted to go to Italy to see where my father grew up and connect with my relatives. At the time, I was even hoping my father would be able to come too.

My father hadn’t been back to Italy in about 20 years. For his 70th birthday, my brother Mario and I helped him renew his green card so he could get his passport and travel again. This April would have been the perfect time.

Running in the background of all of this since 2018 was my effort to obtain Italian citizenship.

I had worked with a lawyer for a few years who suggested that the fastest path might be to move to Italy temporarily and apply from here. At the time, that didn’t feel realistic. We had kids still in school and jobs that wouldn’t allow for that kind of move. Who has the luxury of just packing up and heading to Italy “for a while”?

So I gathered all the paperwork and began the process through the Italian consulate in the United States. Because we live in Connecticut, that meant going through the New York City consulate. The wait time for an appointment there is several years long. After years of gathering and translating the correct documents, I added my name to the list in June of 2022 and still haven’t received an appointment.

Then last year, everything shifted in ways we couldn’t imagine.

I unexpectedly retired. Not long after, my father passed away in August. The months surrounding that were a whirlwind of family chaos and change. Daren was still working full time, but we started talking about what we really wanted next.

We both wanted to keep working—but in a way that allowed for more flexibility, less stress, and more control over our time.

And suddenly, moving to Italy for a year didn’t feel unrealistic anymore. It felt right.

After my father passed, the three of us—his children—made the decision that Pops would still go to Rocca in April. We cleared it with the family in Italy, who thought it was a great idea. This week, we carried that plan out.

Before moving to Italy, we had even considered settling in Calabria to be closer to family. We visited the area last October. I had met many of my relatives before in the United States when they visited.

When we arrived last fall, we were welcomed at the small airport in Crotone by my uncle and two aunts. The airport is so small they were practically at the gate. Even though it had been many years since we had seen one another, we all recognized each other right away.

And then came the welcome.

It was like the movies—one long table, full of food, constant conversation, introductions, laughter. We spent a few days with them, fully immersed in it all.

For me, it truly felt like home.

I lost my mom when she was 49, and my dad last summer. For the past 15 years or so, my father didn’t really have a place of his own, so “going home” meant going to newer places that were fine, but didn’t have a deep connection to me.

But in Italy—even having not been there since I was very little—it felt familiar.

My relatives’ homes were decorated the same way my parents decorated. The same types of frames, candy dishes, the same overall feel and aesthetic.

My uncle Joe and his wife even had the same dishes my parents had. My aunt said it was because she and my mom bought them at the same time.

My aunt Sarah’s food tastes just like my mom’s did. It’s uncanny—especially the rabbit sauce. When I told her this, she said it was because her mom (my grandmother, and my mom’s mother-in-law) taught them both how to make it.

We don’t know each other well, but my cousins—especially the men—have the same mannerisms as my father and brothers. The same humor, the same playful energy. They laugh and carry on with the same joy we had when my father was alive.

The language barrier was there, but it was also strangely fun to navigate. We made it work.

When we visited last fall, we seriously considered moving closer to them.

There are real benefits. It’s much easier to practice Italian when people are patient and willing to wait while you find the words or look them up. Learning feels more natural that way.

But Calabria is far south and not close to major international travel routes. With four adult children and family back home, we felt more at ease staying connected and accessible. Being that far away made us feel just a little too vulnerable.

And even though we didn’t move here, we are driving away, having carried out the plan to bring Pops back to his hometown on Rocca.

Thursday we packed into few cars and made the short trip up the road to local town cemetery where the family has a mausoleum. We placed my father’s ashes amongst the other relatives that have passed alongside his parents (my grandparents). 

My brother Frankie and his partner Mary were with us this time, and Daren and I took immense joy in seeing how quickly they were welcomed and made to feel at home—that they were with family.

It was special to see the experience we had before through their eyes, and to be back in it ourselves—this time understanding just a little bit more of the rhythm and the sounds around us.

Calabria feels like home. Not because I had been there before—but because so much of it already lived in me. The way people gather, the way meals are shared, the way homes are filled with the same small details I grew up with.

It made me realize that home isn’t always a place you return to. Sometimes it’s something that travels quietly through generations—carried in traditions, in mannerisms, in the way people connect with each other.

Being with people I barely know, in a place I had never lived, somehow—and truly—feels like home. It All Clicks.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

Not Everything Is a Postcard

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I can’t believe it, but today marks 7 weeks in Italy. It feels longer than that, but also shorter than that!

There’s something that has been building for a long time, but being here has finally brought it into focus.

When choosing destinations or lodging, we’ve been fooled by photos more times than I can count. Places that look beautiful online—carefully staged, thoughtfully cropped, filtered just right—often don’t match the experience of being there. Once you’re at a location, you can picture where the photographer stood and what was intentionally left out, and even why.

The reviews have been just as confusing. I’ve struggled to understand how so many places end up with five stars when my experience would be nowhere near that. It’s made travel harder than I expected. At least one in every three places has been a real disappointment, and it’s not just accommodations—it’s entire locations. People we know and trust say a place is beautiful, blogs rave about it, and then we arrive and it just doesn’t land the same way.

Daren and I have been traveling together as a couple for 16 years now, since crowd-sourced reviews first became popular. We were early adopters, but over time it’s become clear that something doesn’t quite translate.

A winding path through a lush garden lined with trees bearing yellow fruit, leading to a green wooden gate in the background.

Italy has brought this into even sharper focus for me. Before we started looking seriously for a place to live here, my experience of Italy was limited to places like Milan, Venice, Lake Como, and Siena. In my mind, everything was beautiful, everyone spoke English, and the food was always incredible.

Last fall, when we came back to explore more deeply, that image started to shift. Italy isn’t a postcard. It’s where people live. It’s normal in the way any place is normal. There are stores, trash, things that are broken. Some people take care of their surroundings beautifully, others don’t. There are pockets that are stunning, and long stretches that are just average. It felt surprisingly familiar.

A train station platform with tracks, featuring a sign for 'Pompei Scavi Villa Misteri', surrounding greenery, and a tall tree under a clear blue sky.

We chose Tuscany for practical reasons, mainly access to Florence and Rome if we needed to get home quickly. And it has been wonderful. When we visit places like San Gimignano, Lucca, Portofino, Chianti, or Pienza, they are every bit as beautiful as the photos suggest.

But they are also just one version of reality.

Right now, we’re staying outside of Sorrento, and it’s been a very different experience. Sorrento itself is a step up, but only slightly. Pompeii felt chaotic and overwhelming. Even parts of the Amalfi Coast, which people rave about, felt more worn than I expected.

And yet, I can still take a beautiful photo almost anywhere. I might be able to find the right angle, the right light, the right frame. I can create something that looks magical, even when the broader surroundings aren’t.

Someone commented on Facebook recently that they never thought Italy was beautiful until they saw my pictures, and that really stayed with me.

A scenic view of Positano, Italy, showcasing colorful hillside buildings, a beach area, and the Mediterranean Sea under a blue sky.

It made me realize that beauty isn’t just about what’s there—it’s also about what we notice and how we frame it. That’s where crowd-sourcing starts to fall apart. We all have different baselines. Where we live, what we’re used to, and what we value shape how we experience a place.

Back home, we live in a shoreline town with both beautiful and less appealing areas. Our neighborhood happens to be one of the nicer ones, and we take pride in keeping our home clean and comfortable. So when I see a five-star rating, that’s what I’m expecting. But I can see now that not everyone is measuring against the same standard.

Historic red brick church with a tall white steeple and clock, surrounded by bare trees and greenery.

Lately, I’ve started taking different kinds of photos. Not just the beautiful ones, but the honest ones too—the train stations, the trash, the lemon groves covered in worn green mesh along the highway. Not to be negative, but to capture a fuller picture of what we’re actually seeing.

A view of traffic on a winding road next to a rocky hillside, with various cars and a white van visible alongside lush greenery and a stone wall.
Traffic
Interior view of a crowded train with passengers standing and sitting, holding onto handrails. Several individuals are engaged in conversation, while others are looking at their phones. The walls are lined with windows and red railings.
Bored ppl on their phones in crowds
Construction site with scaffolding around a building under renovation, surrounded by a fence.
Construction everywhere
A street view of a gelateria and bar with outdoor seating, featuring a sign that says 'Bar Gelateria Pasti' and lush green plants near the entrance. Two people are seen walking past the establishment.
What 9 out of 10 Pasticceria’s really look like
Facade of a restaurant named 'Il Ruttin' with colorful decorations and a sign indicating 'Garden Inside', located on a street in Sorrento, Italy. Nearby signage shows directions to local attractions.
Look close – a baby drinking beer & this “sailor” always at the door here

Where I’ve landed with all of this is pretty simple. The world is beautiful, but not always in the way we expect. It isn’t constant, and it isn’t evenly distributed, but it is there. Sometimes it’s obvious, and sometimes you have to look a little harder for it.

This experience hasn’t made me appreciate Italy any less. If anything, it’s made me appreciate it more. Seeing it as a real place—not just an ideal—has made it feel more honest and more human.

And maybe that’s the point. Not to chase perfect beauty, but to learn how to recognize it wherever you are.

There is beauty everywhere in Italy. But the truth is, there is beauty everywhere when you look for it—even in a flowering weed growing up through the rubble.

A close-up view of an ancient stone wall with a large archway, featuring vibrant yellow wildflowers growing from the top.
A large crowd of tourists gathered at the entrance of ancient stone ruins under a clear blue sky.

Becoming Figlinese: Taxes, Pet Passports, and the Perfect Gelato

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This was an important week for us. No grand excursions, no Michelangelo, no thousand-year-old walls or frescoes. Instead, we focused on the more mundane, but essential, tasks of daily life: registering our dog, establishing residency, and, perhaps most importantly, finding a local gelato spot.

Some of you may be wondering how we were able to pick up our lives in the U.S. and move to Italy. Were there major bureaucratic hurdles? Was the Italian system difficult to navigate? As of today, Koji and Daren are officially residents of our comune here in Italy (similar to a township or municipality), and Esterina is well on her way to becoming an Italian citizen.

So how did we do it?

As Americans, we can enter countries in the European Union without a visa and stay for up to 90 days within a 180-day period. After that, you must leave what’s known as the Schengen Area—a group of European countries with largely open borders. Staying beyond 90 days without a visa is not permitted. Based on this, we would normally not have been able to contemplate a year or more in Italy without going through the lengthy process of getting a visa before coming here.

Our situation, however, is a bit different. Daren’s brother, Keegan, successfully applied for Irish citizenship several years ago by documenting his Irish ancestry through their grandfather. That eligibility extended to Daren, who followed the same process and obtained an Irish passport. When he left the U.S., he exited using his American passport but entered Europe (via Frankfurt) using his Irish one. As an EU citizen, he now has the right to live and work anywhere in the European Union indefinitely including Italy.

This week, we visited the local comune office in Figline to formally declare residency. Armed with an Irish passport, proof of income, an Italian tax ID (secured before arrival), and a signed lease, we entered the building, took a number and prepared for what we expected would be a long wait. Based on the stories we had heard about Italian bureaucracy, we braced for the worst. Instead, our number was called within five minutes.

The language barrier proved to be the biggest challenge. English is not widely spoken here. But after some effort, an English-speaking clerk stepped in and helped complete the process. The final step was what they call a “police check,” where a local officer visits your home unannounced to confirm that you actually live there. We stayed close to home for several days, not sure what to expect. to our surprise, the officer showed up just three days later, on Friday morning. After confirming our residency, he simply said, “Congratulations, you are Figlinese.”

Esterina’s path is a bit more complex but also progressed this week. She is applying for citizenship under jure sanguinis—“right of blood.” Because her father remained an Italian citizen, she is eligible to be recognized as one as well. With the help of a lawyer, she has gathered extensive documentation—birth certificates, marriage records, and more—to prove her lineage and her father’s uninterrupted citizenship. Her application process is now underway. Once formally submitted, she will be allowed to remain in Italy while it is processed, even if it exceeds the 90-day limit. The timeline is unpredictable, anywhere from a few months to much longer, but we’ve cleared an important hurdle and the police check confirmed her presence at the registered address, so we are now free to travel and are happy to have overcome this important hurdle.

Koji, too, needed to become a resident of Figline. Fortunately, his process was straightforward. Before leaving the U.S., we obtained a required USDA health certificate with help from our local vet, ensured his microchip was in place, and confirmed his rabies vaccination. With these documents, along with our tax IDs and passports, we emailed the regional public health veterinary department and were offered an appointment within two days. At the visit, his chip was scanned, paperwork reviewed, and within ten minutes he was officially registered. He now even has a pet passport, allowing him to travel throughout the EU.

We spent a great deal of time preparing for these processes and expected significant obstacles. So far, however, everything has been surprisingly efficient and manageable.

A wooden window with a curtain, featuring a colorful sign inside that reads 'Benvenuti a casa nostra, Anderson' against a backdrop of a stone wall and outdoor terrace.
Clearly Marking our door – advice we got for the Police check
A house number sign featuring a painted jalapeño pepper above the number 5, next to a vintage intercom mounted on a stone wall.

There were, of course, other administrative tasks, particularly around taxes, that proved far more complicated. Establishing ourselves in the Italian tax system as self-employed “digital nomads” required the help of both an Italian/U.S. accounting firm and an Italian tax lawyer. The short version: all our 2026 income, even what was earned before we moved, is taxable in Italy. While a U.S.-Italy tax treaty prevents double taxation, Italian rates are higher, making our eventual tax bill somewhat uncertain. We won’t have clarity until we file in Italy in September 2027. For now, we are legally set up to live, work, and pay taxes here. Fun indeed.

Amid all this, we’ve also spent more time exploring our new home base of Figline. At first glance, it felt a bit gritty—not exactly Siena or San Gimignano. But it has everything we need: grocery stores, a weekly market, pharmacies, restaurants, and easy access from our apartment just a few miles away.

And over time, it has grown on us.

The “grittiness” seems to be part of the Italian landscape. Public spaces can feel a bit worn, but Figline has a beautiful central piazza, complete with church bells and outdoor cafés, all surrounded by ancient walls. It’s a real Italian town, with very few tourists. We’ve started to settle into daily life here—haircuts, pharmacy runs, casual meals—and it’s beginning to feel familiar.

Last night, the piazza came alive with a Latin Festival—music, food, and drinks from Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Venezuela, and a host of other Latin countries. This was even more exciting than it might sound because in Italy, finding non-Italian food is a bit of a challenge. In many towns, including Figline, it hardly exists at all. Finally, a burrito and a taco! We can’t say that the food was great, but it was something different for a change. And the scene in town was lively and fun. Children were playing in the square. A DJ played Latin music. Italian women spontaneously broke into dance, and it seemed as if the entire town was in the square strolling, dancing, laughing, and enjoying the evening.

And then, to our delight, we discovered an exceptional gelateria right in the piazza—one that had been closed during our previous daytime visits. On a Friday night, it was buzzing, with over 40 flavors on display. There’s even a “doggie cup” for Koji. To our surprise, some of the best gelato we’ve had in Italy is right here in our own town. Chocolate fondant, hazelnut cream, and cream pistachio are our top 3 favorites so far. We’ve already gone twice and fully intend to work our way through the entire menu.

Promotional poster for the 'Sabor Latino' event featuring a couple dancing, vibrant colors, and details about the event in Figline Valdarno, Italy, including dates and location.
A cup of dog ice cream topped with two dog-shaped biscuit treats, one brown and one yellow, placed on a glass table.

Another truly amazing thing is how amazingly beautiful the spring is here in Tuscany. There are wisteria and wildflowers all over the place. We wish we could share the smell of the Wisteria through this blog. These are some photos from a walk just this afternoon and outside of the piazza last night.

Narrow pathway flanked by walls covered in greenery and purple flowers, leading towards a rustic house with a chimney and satellite dish under a clear blue sky.
A grassy field filled with small flowers, including white and yellow blooms, with trees in the background. A person and a dog are walking in the distance.
A man standing on a path in a grassy area with trees and wildflowers, holding a leash with a walking black dog.
Sign on a stone wall reading 'Residence Il Gavillaccio' in decorative blue lettering.
A vibrant red poppy flower growing among green foliage and pink flowers against a textured stone wall.
A dirt path winding through a scenic landscape featuring lush greenery and a blooming tree with white flowers, alongside a stone wall adorned with various flower pots.
Lush green hillside with flowering plants and trees, featuring a rustic shed partially visible among the greenery.
Scenic view of rolling green hills and valleys under a cloudy sky, with a stone wall and greenery in the foreground.
A cobblestone street with two houses on either side, one white with brown shutters and another yellow with a garden. A black dog on a leash is visible in the foreground.

Our apartment has also proven to be a great choice, though finding it was not easy. We spent weeks researching and traveling, deciding between urban vs. rural, north vs. south, coast vs. hills, before settling on Tuscany. It felt like the safe, perhaps even cliché, choice. But the infrastructure is excellent, the location is central, and the presence of both tourists and expats adds a layer of comfort.

Our place is part of a converted stone farmhouse, now divided into about a dozen apartments. Ours spans two floors, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. It sits on a hilltop with sweeping views of the surrounding countryside. We have a small porch where we can eat outside, a pool with lounge chairs, and beautiful gardens to walk through. With sunny days and temperatures in the high 60s this week, we’ve already spent time reading by the pool and enjoyed our first dinner outdoors.

That said, adjusting to a much smaller kitchen and refrigerator has been a challenge. As two people who enjoy cooking at home, we’re learning to adapt to limited space and fewer appliances, but not without some grumbling.

These are the kinds of details you don’t think about when imagining a move like this. Our trips around Tuscany have been picture-book worthy. But the rolling hills, historic towns, and unforgettable meals are only part of the story. The real experience is built from the everyday: haircuts, paperwork, grocery runs, and evening gelato in the piazza. These are equal parts of the tapestry we are weaving as we build this new life here in Italy.

Some more photos of our place that we are falling in love with more and more each day.

A cozy kitchen featuring a wooden table and chairs, a tall storage unit with bottles, a refrigerator, and warm-colored walls. Natural light illuminates the rustic decor, including a rug and wall art.
A cozy kitchen featuring wooden cabinets, a dining table, and a tiled floor, with a staircase leading to another room in the background.
A cozy living room view featuring an arched brick doorway, rustic wooden furniture, a sofa with colorful cushions, and a warm, inviting atmosphere.
A cozy bedroom with a wooden wardrobe, a bed dressed in striped bedding, and a warm color scheme. The room features a small desk and a floor lamp, with large windows opening to a balcony adorned with a small plant.
View from an interior window showing a stone wall and greenery outside, with a planter box and a radiator in the foreground.
A cozy bedroom featuring a wooden bed with striped bedding, a side table with a lamp, and warm-colored walls. A mirror is visible reflecting part of the room, which includes another doorway leading to a hallway.
View from an open doorway leading to a balcony with potted plants, revealing a scenic landscape of green hills and mountains under a cloudy sky.
A cozy bedroom featuring two twin beds with red bedspreads, wooden headboards, and decorative pillows. There is a window with wooden shutters allowing natural light, a nightstand with a lamp, and a radiator in the room.
A bright bathroom featuring pink tiles, a sink with decorative items, a toilet, a bidet, floral patterned flooring, and a washing machine.
A cozy patio overlooking a lush green valley, featuring potted plants, a wooden chair, and a black dog resting on the terracotta floor.
A wooden wardrobe with double doors and a decorative keychain, situated in a room with tiled flooring and nearby household items.
A loaf of bread in a paper bag on a wooden cutting board, accompanied by a glass vase filled with colorful wildflowers, in a cozy kitchen setting.

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