Two Days in Matera

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

We are sitting at breakfast this morning at a great hotel in the Sassi of Matera, Basilicata, getting ready to leave after two nights here.

Matera was one of the places I really wanted to visit while we were living in Italy. We’ve heard so many good things about it. It’s one of those places where, when you mention you’re thinking of going, someone inevitably says, “Oh my gosh, you HAVE to go!”

But I’ve been hearing that about so many places in Italy that I’ve learned not to go anywhere with particularly high expectations. Matera, though, lived up to the hype.

A Little About Matera

Matera is in Basilicata, the region tucked between Campania, Puglia and Calabria in southern Italy. What makes it so unusual are the Sassi, the ancient neighborhoods built into and around the rock along the side of a ravine.

People have lived in this area for an incredibly long time. There is evidence of human occupation going all the way back to the Paleolithic period, making Matera one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in the world. Over thousands of years, people took the natural caves here and expanded them, carving homes, churches, storage areas and cisterns directly into the soft stone. Eventually buildings were constructed in front of and on top of those caves, creating the maze of stone houses, stairways, alleys and terraces that you see today.

The result is hard to describe until you see it. A street can be the roof of the house below it. A doorway may lead into a room carved deep into the hillside. Churches disappear into the rock. Today, those same spaces hold hotels, restaurants, shops, homes and spas. The Sassi and the surrounding rupestrian churches have been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1993.

But Matera’s history isn’t entirely romantic. By the first half of the 20th century, many families in the Sassi were living in terrible conditions, often sharing their cave homes with livestock and without adequate sanitation or running water. In 1952, the Italian government passed legislation to relocate residents into newly built housing, and much of the Sassi was emptied during the 1950s. The ancient neighborhoods sat largely abandoned for decades before restoration efforts began bringing people back in the 1980s.

Today, the Sassi feel almost like a giant open-air museum that has come back to life. You can wander for hours through the old streets, but this isn’t a reconstructed historical attraction. You are walking through the actual caves, homes and passageways people used for centuries.

And you really can’t drive around the old part of the town. Access to the historic center is restricted, and even if you were allowed to drive here, I can’t imagine navigate these tiny stone streets in a car.

Arriving at the Busiest Time of the Year

We booked this trip about two and a half months ago, deciding Matera would make a great two-night stop on our way to see my family in Calabria. It wasn’t that far out of our way, so why not?

I was a little shocked — though I probably shouldn’t have been — by how difficult it was to find a place to stay both here and in Calabria. Then we remembered/learned when we were going: Ferragosto.

Ferragosto is officially August 15, the Feast of the Assumption and a national holiday in Italy, but the word also describes something much bigger culturally. August, and especially the weeks around Ferragosto, is when huge numbers of Italians take their summer vacations. Cities get quieter, businesses close, and people head to the beaches, mountains and holiday towns with their families. The stories about Italy shutting down in August aren’t exaggerated. So yes, of course hotels were booked!

The only hotel we could find in Matera that would also take a dog Koji’s size was the five-star Vetera Matera. Vetera is part of Gruppo Bellevue and is also a member of Relais & Châteaux, a collection of independent luxury hotels and restaurants around the world. We stayed at another Relais & Châteaux property in Norcia a couple of months ago and I fell in love.

I fear these experiences may have ruined me. Five-star hotels are very nice. Who knew?

Vetera itself fits perfectly into Matera because much of the property is incorporated into the old stone buildings and caves of the Sassi. Even the spa is carved into the rock.

The Drive South

We left our home in Tuscany around 6 a.m. Monday and drove south, making two stops along the way. We’ve come to love the Autogrill stops on Italian highways. The coffee is reliably good, and we really like the pastries and meals they serve.

With the August crowds I just described, the first Autogrill was out of our beloved Nutella cornetti — basically croissants stuffed with Nutella. Instead (poor us) we had to settle for pain au chocolat with our doppio macchiato. Holy cow, I love those stinking things too and am now fantasizing and hoping that there is an Autogrill on the way from here to Crotone today.

I griped early on about Italian coffee culture and the tiny sip of espresso. I still cannot embrace this tradition first thing in the morning. I need a big ol’ American cup of coffee. But I’ve come to really enjoy and sometimes (sometimes) look forward to an afternoon macchiato.And in the  evening, a little espresso after dinner is divine.

Lunch was another Autogrill stop — just as busy and lots of fun.

Our First Look at Matera

When we arrived, we had to park outside the Sassi and call the hotel about 20 minutes ahead so they could send a car for us. The hotel car picked us up, and by the time we drove into the Sassi we were tired and hot, sitting in a car full of stuff with an excited giant dog squeezing his way around everything.

Check-in was leisurely, with someone showing us around the property and then our cave room (where our bags miraculously appeared). Most importantly, the room was blessedly air-conditioned and cool. The three of us — me, Daren and Koji — seemed to take one proverbial sigh before lying down for a while to cool off and adjust.

Koji was not too keen on going back outside anytime soon, so Daren and I slipped our shoes on and went exploring without him. We took the hotel elevator up to a terrace the receptionist had told us about, and there we got our first real look over the Sassi.

Wow. This was one of those rare times when the view actually was as good as everyone said it would be. And it was the first of many. We thought this one was good!

Next we set out to see the town. About three minutes after walking out the hotel door, I turned around and went back for sneakers with better grip.

Matera is built primarily from local calcarenite, a relatively soft limestone that could be excavated to create the caves and building blocks that form the Sassi. After centuries of wear, those stone streets and stairs are smooth in places — and a smidge slippery.

Take two. We were off.

Wandering the Sassi

It was about 4:30 in the afternoon, a time when we’ve learned that not many self-respecting Italians are out wandering around in August heat. There were enough other tourists that it didn’t feel like a ghost town, though. And the views!

Every corner seemed to open onto another cluster of stone buildings, caves, churches, staircases and terraces. You’d walk down one narrow alley, turn a corner and suddenly be looking across the ravine at the entire city.

That evening we had dinner at 7 — absurdly early by Italian standards — and then wandered through the city after dark. Matera was totally charged! The streets filled with people eating, walking and shopping. Lights came on throughout the Sassi, illuminating all those layers of stone houses across the hillside. The whole place had great energy. There was a string quartet playing at an open air bar high above the ravine, and the music filled the entire section of the city with heavenly music, adding another layer to a magical scene.

Day Two

The rest of our visit was equally slow and beautiful. Yesterday morning, after I did yoga and Daren walked Koji, we put on our sneakers and took a power walk around the ridge of the city before the sun made it too hot.

We came back, showered, had breakfast and then headed out again with Koji to explore the area with more of the shops. Yesterday was basically a repeat of the first with some more shop visits, plus one of the “see how the people lived in the caves” tourist museums; and Daren went to check out the cistern area. There isn’t a giant checklist of things we felt we needed to accomplish here. Matera itself is the thing to see.

Last night at dinner we met an American couple about our age who were here on their honeymoon. They were both on their second marriages, like us, and between them they have five adult children.

It was nice just to sit and speak English with other Americans for a while. It was also interesting listening to their impressions of Italy after being here for only a short time. I could hear in their observations some of the same assumptions we made when we first arrived, and it made me realize how much our own perspective has changed over the past several months. I think we all agreed that two days in Matera feels about right.

So this morning I’m sitting here at breakfast, looking out at this strange and beautiful stone city one last time, and I feel completely happy and satisfied with this stop.

We came. We wandered. We ate. We slept in a cave.

And now… off to Calabria.

Up before the sun today – then watching it come up this morning-

Veneto & Friuli Venezia Giulia

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

It’s been a few weeks since we last blogged. Mostly because we’ve been traveling, but also because it’s been so hot that it’s harder to be motivated to do much more than sit in front of a fan (yes, a fan, because A/C is a lot less common here than in the US)!

Before I write about our recent trip, I want to step back and tell you about the regions of Italy.

Italy is divided into 20 regions which are, in some ways, like our states. Many of these regions you’ve probably heard about, like Tuscany, Campagna, Piedmont, or Sicily. Five of the regions have a sort of special status. They are fully part of the country of Italy, but they are considered “autonomous regions”. Unlike Italy’s other regions, these five have a little more control over their own affairs because of their geography, history, or cultural identity. Some have strong French, German, or Slovene influences. Others are islands with strong local traditions and culture. The reasons for this special status are historical and cultural.

I was excited to learn about these regions. I am not technically able to travel outside of Italy without risking my residency in Italy. I’ve been here more than the 90 days that are allowed in the Schengen countries of Europe. Because I have a pending citizenship application, I am allowed to stay in Italy past the 90 days. But other countries like France or Germany might not see it that way. So we’ve essentially made peace with the idea of staying put in Italy until things are “official”. Poor us. But in truth, I have been getting a bit tired of Italian food. Hard to believe. And much of what we’ve seen is starting to look a bit familiar; piazza, Roman ruins, hilltop castle. It’s all incredibly beautiful, but I was starting to crave something just a little different. Perhaps these autonomous regions would do the trick. Maybe a visit to one of them would be like leaving the country without actually leaving the country.

Two of the five are a little harder for us to get to—Sicily and Sardinia. We may make it to Sicily this winter when it’s cooler, but Sardinia, while I’d love to go, just might not be in the cards. The other three are close enough to make easy road trips.

So we started out with a trip to Valle d’Aosta a few weeks ago. We wrote about the trip itself, but we not much about the culture. I was genuinely excited as we crossed into this special region. I was hoping to see something a little different and, even more importantly, eat something a little different. The architecture changed almost immediately. The towns we visited looked more like Swiss Alpine villages—which makes perfect sense since it borders Switzerland.

I couldn’t wait for dinner.

Unfortunately, we arrived at our hotel in Courmayeur a little late and many places were already closed. We ended up at a small restaurant that mostly served pizza and the usual Italian staples. It did have fondue on the menu. Fondue and polenta were about the only things that felt new (and honestly, polenta isn’t exactly that “new”). And the fondue came with the standard cured meats for dipping, and the rest of the menu followed the familiar antipasti, primi, secondi, and contorni format. The other restaurants we looked at were much the same—maybe one or two dishes that weren’t on menus elsewhere in Italy, but not much beyond that. The homes and building definitely looked different, and the mountain scenery was a major change, but the food was solidly “Italian”.

So last week we set out for the regions of Veneto and Friuli Venezia Giulia. The latter is one is another of Italy’s five special autonomous regions.

Below is a photo of the Italian regions. The pins are where we have pin and the blue circles highlight the 5 special regions.

VERONA

When we got to Verona, I was seriously surprised at how much international stuff there was. There was an international pharmacy that specializes in helping foreigners. There was food other than Italian! Of course Italian food still dominated the scene, but there were more options than we’d found in Florence. It wasn’t always obvious, either. What looked like a typical Italian restaurant often had burgers, wings, salmon, potatoes… no Thai or deli sandwiches, but things… options. Exciting! You can tell from my writing that I really am craving some non-Italian food!

Verona itself was just… pretty. I get why Shakespeare set Romeo and Juliet there. We used an app for a self-guided walking tour and were quite impressed with the history that was visible and beautifully preserved. When strolling through Verona you move seamlessly amongst well preserved Roman ruins, including a large coliseum, Medieval buildings, elegant palazzos, and lots of lovely piazzas. The town felt vibrant and well preserved without feeling run down.The squares were probably the coziest and most inviting we’ve seen yet. Other cities have squares that are more architecturally impressive, but Verona had a warmth to it that we just loved!

One medieval square had an ancient fountain from which Koji was delighted to take a drink, and a host of buildings colorfully decorated wiht frescos from the 1400’s. It contained a market, just as it had 600 years ago, although todays “market” featured refrigerator magnets, hand held fans, and granitas, rather than mutton or grain.

My favorite evening was one when we left Koji behind in the hotel to recover from the heat, and just wander the city as dusk fell. We stumbled onto Castelvecchio just as the sun was setting and slowly walked across an ancient medieval bridge that connected the castle to the other side of the river. It was truly magical. Unlike some of the other castles we’ve visited, this one felt like a place people had actually lived in—the kind of castle you imagine in fairy tales. It even had a moat and a drawbridge. We didn’t rush back. Instead, we meandered along the river, enjoying in the fading light and watching people enjoy the cooler evening air. Magical!

We thought two nights might be too much for Verona. Instead, we left wishing we’d stayed longer and are already hoping to come back.

TREVISO

Next we went on to try out our first stay at an agriturismo. Think of it as somewhere between a bed & breakfast, an AirBnB, and a farm stay. There are agriturismos all over Italy. Many are working farms that have converted part of their property into guest accommodations, often serving food made from ingredients they grow or produce themselves. They’re scattered throughout the Italian countryside and are a great way to experience a quieter side of Italy.

I was not expecting air conditioning, a large space, or almost anything really—and whoa what a surprise! It was hands down one of the nicest places we’ve stayed. This agriturismo was part of a working family winery making Proseco, along with a few red and white wine varietals. We literally walked out of our room and into a vineyard. And it was inexpensive as heck! It wasn’t close to much, so driving was a must, but it was absolutely perfect as a stop between cities.

Our main objective in coming to this part of Veneto was to check out Treviso and, of course, to try tiramisu. What we didn’t realize is that we would discover unexpectedly, one of the most beautiful regions we’ve seen in Italy. But first, Treviso.

Treviso is sometimes called “Little Venice” because it has canals that wind through parts of the historic center, although on a much smaller scale than its famous neighbor. More importantly, from our perspective was that it is widely credited as the birthplace of tiramisu, with several cafés claiming to have created the dessert in the 1970s. Whether that’s completely true or not, it was reason enough to visit.

Well, a mini Venice is a S-T-R-E-T-C-H, but I can see how one might say that. The canals were scenic and beautiful in their own right, but had little in common with those in Venice. I actually think Treviso would be wise to drop the comparison to Venice and instead just promote itself as a beautiful town on a river with many lovely little canals running through the historic town center. Think swans and weeping willows rather than gondolas and serenades.

We did our research ahead of time on the place where tiramisu was supposedly “invented”: Le Becchieria, an old and respected restaurant that now, with its tiramisu fame, has added a bakery café for those seeking this famed dessert.

I had a twinge of missing my dad here. For some unknown reason, when he met Daren back in 2010 over breakfast one morning at my brother’s house, he was already talking about what we’d have for dinner. Like many Italians, food was never very far from his mind. He didn’t know Daren from Adam, but somehow decided Daren liked Fra Diavolo. Later that evening, when we picked up Italian takeout, there was the Fra Diavolo for Daren and tiramisu because, apparently, “Daren & Gabby like it.”

This was quite funny to all of us at the time—my dad deciding who liked what. The funny part was that Daren had never even had Fra Diavolo before that night, although he did end up really liking it. Gabby, on the other hand, never liked tiramisu, and while Daren certainly wouldn’t turn up his nose at it, he’d never have called it a favorite. Well now, after nearly five months in Italy, Daren claims that tiramisu is in fact one of his favorite deserts, and the one at this little restaurant in the small town of Treviso, is the best!

So here we were in the birthplace of tiramisu… and I thought of Pops. As I said, I’m not a fan, but this was truly the best tiramisu I’d ever had. We usually share desserts, but we each got our own piece, and it was 100% worth the calories—and getting completely full.

Later that day we took a drive and discovered the unexpected highlight of the trip: The Proseco Hills, the place where the famous Italian bubbly is made.

The hills between Asolo and Valdobbiadene are a UNESCO World Heritage Site, recognized for their centuries-old vineyards and the unique landscape shaped by generations of winemakers. This is the heart of Prosecco country. While wines labeled “Prosecco” can be grown and produced from a wide range of places across north-eastern Italy, only Prosecco from two small regions, Valdobbiadene and Asolo, can be designated “DOCG”, indicating the highest quality and strict adherence to the ancient methods of growth and production.

We drove through several of the towns. Each one we came to was more beautiful than the last. The views were drop-dead amazing. Rolling hills covered with vines. Proseco grape clusters hanging down from the vines. The Alps themselves looming in the north. Farms, churches, and houses dotting the hilly landscape. We had the windows down, Koji had his head out the window, it was the golden hour, and it will forever be one of the more memorable drives I’ve taken in my life. Daren mapped out the entire route, and I’m so thankful he did.

TRIESTE

Our last stop was the autonomous region of Friuli Venezia Giulia where we hopefully would find some hearty Eastern European food. On the way, we stopped in Aquileia, another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Once one of the biggest and wealthiest cities of the Roman Empire, Aquileia is home to remarkably preserved Roman ruins, one of the world’s first Christian churches, and among the largest and best-preserved mosaic floors in the world. It’s considered one of Italy’s most important archaeological sites.

And yet… it was here, walking down the street in the burning sun on our way to another church, and I thought, I don’t think I can walk into one more dimly lit church, crane my neck to look at another fresco, and pretend to care why or how it got there. I had officially hit historical site overload.

So I sat outside with Koji in the shade and urged Daren to go geek out on this stuff. According to Daren, the mosaic floor was truly spectacular. The basilica was first built in 313 AD, but the current structure dates from the 11th century. However, the floor is the thing that visitors come to see. You enter the church on a raised plexiglass floor and look down on an enormous expanse of mosaic floor perfectly preserved from the 300’s, showing scenes from the bible as well as animals and fish and complex Roman designs. It’s amazing to learn that some of the original structure was destroyed by the Huns, yes the Huns, but the floor remained intact.

After Daren finished viewing the church, we were getting hot, hungry and cranky, so after an unremarkable (truly terrible) lunch, we hopped back in the car and headed for Trieste.

Trieste has an interesting historical and cultural background. It only became part of Italy after WWI. Prior to that, it was a major port city in the Austro-Hungarian empire where goulash, schnitzel, and beer were more likely to be found than pasta, pizza, and red wine. It’s history, culture, buildings, and traditions share more in common with Vienna and the Balkans than with Italy.

We arrived smack in the middle of a Sunday afternoon in July, not far from the famous Miramare Castle. Right on the water at a cute(ish) hotel on the Adriatic where it looked like Spring Break: Trieste Edition.

There was no beach to speak of—just a few miles of stone and concrete waterfront where hundreds of people were stretched out in the sun or under the trees. There were stairways leading down to the water and the whole city was swimming, or so it seemed. It was a scene! I wasn’t sure I was going to like this place. Too crazy? Too busy?

So we headed into the city and left Koji back at the hotel enjoying what turned out to be the best thing about it—the air conditioning. Naturally, we started with gelato and coffee. We went straight to the recommended gelato shop, but the line was so long you had to take a number, so we skipped it and found another place in the main square where we could sit in the shade.

The gelato was more like ice cream, and my Americano (I think) tasted like classic drip coffee. I don’t know for sure, but it smelled and tasted unlike any coffee I’ve had so far in Italy. I loved every drop of it. Maybe things were different in Trieste. Afterward we wandered through the canal area and walked up to Castello di San Giusto for views over the city.

When we got back, the crowds had thinned enough to allow us to walk along the waterfront with a dog, so we took Koji for a walk. For dinner we stopped at one of the permanent food kiosks along the way. I wasn’t expecting much, but my sandwich was one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in a long time. Daren got a burger that he said was great, and we finished with Nutella crêpes.

By evening the crowds had thinned further, the air had cooled, and suddenly Trieste felt completely different. The place started to grow on me.

The next morning I went for one of the most pleasant runs. Monday morning was a completely different world; sun, cooler temperatures, and no crowds. Later we grabbed Koji and walked down to Miramare Castle. That ended up being my favorite place in all of Trieste. With my historical site overload still in full force, I insisted Daren tour the castle while Koji and I enjoyed the shade and people-watching. I went back by myself the next day and wandered the grounds for a long time.

We went back into the city one more time before heading home, but I think we’re officially “citied” out for a while. Instead, we spent most of the afternoon reading and talking along the waterfront before ending the day at an American restaurant that looked like something straight out of the Old West.

You’ll likely sense a bit of travel exhaustion if you read between the lines above. We are incredibly lucky to be able to have these experiences, and we have seen and done so much. But there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and I think we may have hit that point during this trip. It’s not black and white. We loved so many of the things we saw and did, but some of the little annoyances that you either don’t perceive, or don’t assign much weight to on a brief vacation, can start to grate a bit more after many months. It’s also very apparent that the heat is has a major negative impact on our enjoyment. It’s just very hard to escape the hot sun and the air conditioning that we are so accustomed to in the U.S is not as ubiquitous over here. That is where we are. We are taking a bit of time off back “home” in Gaville to rest up. But we’ll be back on the road next month with a trip down south to see the family and spend some time on the beach.

Until we blog again!

A Milestone & Some Mountains

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I was afraid to say anything last week for fear of jinxing it, but I had my Italian citizenship appointment last Tuesday. It was an unexpected surprise, and in this instance alone my immigration attorney was worth his weight in gold. I should have been able to register as a resident nearly from the moment we set foot in Italy, but due to a myriad of issues, the comune (city hall) somehow lost my residency application. We are still waiting for one final document from the U.S., but because the comune dropped the ball, my lawyer was able to negotiate an appointment anyway.

Below is a photo of me with the mountain of paperwork I’ve been gathering since 2018, just before heading down to the comune. From here, I’m still awaiting approval of the residency application, and I still need to submit that final document. Assuming all goes well, citizenship should hopefully be completed in the coming months. Fingers crossed.

Right after the appointment, we hopped into the car and headed NORTH. In case you haven’t heard, Europe is in the middle of a serious heat wave, so escaping to the mountains sounded pretty perfect.

Our first stop was Valle d’Aosta, and wow—it felt very different from the rest of Italy we’ve experienced so far. Tucked into the far northwest corner of the country and bordered by both France and Switzerland, Valle d’Aosta is Italy’s smallest region. It’s also one of Italy’s five autonomous regions, meaning it has more self-governance due to its unique geography and history. French and Italian are both official languages here, and you can feel that blend everywhere—from the road signs, to the architecture, to the food.

And the food? Definitely mountain food in the best possible way. Think polenta, fontina cheese, wild game, cured meats, and hearty dishes designed to fuel hikers and skiers. I’m not a cured meat gal, but I can definitely appreciate it!

We spent four absolutely beautiful days in this mountain region—mostly hiking, a little shopping, and of course eating.

The first night we arrived fairly late since we got a delayed start after the comune appointment. We dropped our bags at the hotel and headed straight out for dinner. It was late—which is when Italians eat—and for once we fit right in. We are usually the first people at a restaurant when they open at 7:30, but this night the town was buzzing.

We had to try a polenta dish, of course. We also met a lovely couple from New York City and spent the evening enjoying easy conversation in English, which always feels comforting after always making attempts at piecing together Italian.

The next day we headed up to Monte Bianco (or Mont Blanc in French). There is a cable car that takes you up the mountain to Pointe Helbronner, one of the highest accessible points in Italy. Pets are allowed, so naturally Koji joined the adventure. This was a new experience for all of us. We went all the way up to 11,371 feet, the highest altitude myself, Daren, or Koji had ever been. When we stepped out into the open air at that height, it was exhilarating. One of us may have cried a little from sheer amazement.

The temperature was incredible too—just 9°C (48°F). After the heat we’ve been living in, it felt absolutely amazing. We were surrounded by serious hikers and climbers preparing for much bigger adventures than ours. The station sits so close to the French border that part of the complex is essentially in France. The border crossing area was closed, which was fine by me since while waiting for citizenship I’m not supposed to cross borders anyway.

After reaching the highest point, we took the cable car down to the midpoint where there were easier trails, family areas, and food. We had lunch with a spectacular view and then went for a leisurely hike to a beautiful waterfall with fresh glacial water flowing through.

That evening we wanted something hearty and casual, and there was a burger place right in the middle of Courmayeur. Daren and I had fantastic burgers with fresh fontina cheese and fries. Koji got a few scraps. None of us had had burgers in ages and they were SO good. We took a long walk afterward to burn off some of the indulgence and explored even more of the beautiful town.

The following day we laced up our hiking shoes and headed toward one of the local rifugi. A rifugio is basically a mountain refuge or alpine hut—part shelter, part restaurant, and sometimes part lodging for hikers tackling longer routes through the mountains. They’re a huge part of hiking culture in the Alps.

The trail itself wasn’t supposed to be very long, so we brought Koji. But when we arrived near the trailhead, the road was closed for 3 km leading up to it. No problem, we thought. It was hot, but there were plenty of glacial streams and shaded areas to cool down. One of the coolest parts was passing cows and sheep everywhere.

When we finally reached the trailhead, the sign said 50 minutes. I honestly thought that had to be for slow people. Everyone around us had hiking poles and serious gear. We had a backpack, hiking shoes, and Koji—who, of course, was completely naked. The trail was marked level E. I’m actually glad I didn’t know what that meant beforehand because I may have chickened out.

We instantly understood the 50-minute estimate.

The climb was steep. Really steep. But it was also jaw-droppingly beautiful. We let Koji off leash and he had the time of his life despite the heat and climb. He was an absolute trooper.

When we finally reached the rifugio, it was completely worth it! This particular rifugio sits fairly close to the Swiss border. It’s about halfway up to the border crossing trail. Before leaving in the morning, we considered continuing all the way up, but with an aging dog, tired legs, and the extra 3 km to and from the car, we wisely decided halfway was enough.

We rewarded ourselves with a hearty lunch of more polenta and cinghiale (wild boar), then spent time cooling down and taking in the views. Hikers from all over the world were there in various stages of their journeys. Languages filled the air, though French and Italian were the most common.

After resting and refueling, we were ready to head back down. The descent was much faster and much easier. Koji slowed down during the last couple of kilometers, but he did so well. Such a good boy!!

The next day we needed a break from the mountains and rugged hiking, so we headed to the capital city of Aosta. We did a little shopping, gelato eating, lunching, and site seeing.

Aosta is often called the Rome of the Alps because ancient Roman ruins are scattered all throughout the city. Unlike Rome, though, there’s almost no heavy tourism around them, which makes it feel especially cool.

The Roman theater was under renovation, but we still managed to peek through construction barriers. We also saw arches, gates, and the Criptoportico Forense, an underground Roman structure that once surrounded the sacred area of the forum and helped support the complex above. The whole day was steamy hot.

On the way back to Courmayeur, we stopped in the town of Fénis to see its famous castle.

Castello di Fénis is exactly what comes to mind when you picture a fairy-tale castle—towers, battlements, stone walls, and all. Built in the 13th and 14th centuries, it’s one of the best-preserved medieval castles in the region and somehow looks even more magical in person.

That last night, we left Koji relaxing in the cool hotel while Daren and I returned to the burger place one last time. After dinner we wandered through town again, this time down side streets and little shortcuts, discovering charming homes, tucked-away parks, and quiet corners we hadn’t seen before.

The next morning, after a brisk run and a complimentary breakfast buffet, we packed the car for the next leg of our trip.

But not before one final stop in Bard.

We wanted to see the impressive Fort Bard, a massive 19th-century fortress built by the House of Savoy on a rocky cliff overlooking the valley. Historically, it guarded one of the most strategic mountain passes into Italy and famously slowed Napoleon’s army for nearly two weeks. It is an imposing structure.

We opted not to tour inside the fort and instead wandered through Bard’s medieval streets and soaked in the atmosphere. Koji seemed especially happy to find a fire hydrant in the middle of a medieval village and drink from one of the old public fountains.

This little town sits close to the border of Piedmont, our next destination. So we said Arrivederci—or Au revoir—to Valle d’Aosta and headed onward to the next adventure.

Thanks for reading! Would love to hear from you too, we love hearing your comments ❤️

To see some video, check out the YouTube video we made of this week –

https://youtu.be/3buB_D3XkrY?feature=shared

What Italy is Teaching Me: What Remains

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Esterina Anderson

A few weeks ago when we were in Chiavari, we walked the promenade there over and over. Drinks for aperitivo were advertised all over the place, and next to the usual Aperol Spritz I kept seeing something called a Hugo Spritz.

Last night I finally decided to look up what it was and make a non-alcoholic version at home. We happened to have the right ingredients, and Oh My Gosh, it was delicious –  Light, refreshing, and perfect for sitting outside on a hot summer evening!

We were out on our back balcony enjoying the drinks and the view when I noticed my glass was halfway gone. My immediate thought was that I should go inside and make another.

But I caught myself. That thought felt very familiar. For a long time, I thought this was just part of my drinking problem. But I’ve come to realize it’s bigger than alcohol. The deeper issue is scarcity.

If I love the taste of something, the moment I notice it’s running out my mind shifts. Instead of enjoying what is still there, I start thinking about how it’s going to be gone and how I can replace it. If it’s replaceable, half full becomes a signal to refill.

What’s interesting is that this didn’t disappear when I stopped drinking alcohol. I noticed the same pattern with seltzer, soda, and other NA drinks. The object changes, but the thought pattern stays the same.

As I sat there looking at my glass, I thought about the saying: glass half full or glass half empty.

I’ve always kind of thought of myself as a glass-half-empty person, though that never fully made sense. People who know me often describe me as optimistic, sunny, and positive. So why have I always identified more with half empty? I think I finally understand.

This isn’t really about optimism or pessimism. It’s about how quickly my mind shifts from enjoyment to scarcity. The moment something reaches halfway, I stop experiencing what’s still there and start focusing on what’s disappearing. And that mindset can insidiously steal joy.

Way back in 1992, someone told me something that left a deep impression on me. Her grandfather always said to think of the gas tank as empty once it hits halfway. If you fill it before it drops below half, and you’ll never risk running out. That idea embedded itself in me.

I developed this strong need to prevent depletion. Refill early. Stay ahead. Don’t run out. In many ways, that mindset has served me well. I’m organized and prepared. I rarely get caught off guard. But it doesn’t work everywhere. Especially not with life.

When it comes to personal consumption—food, drink, time, energy, even joy—constantly trying to refill or stay topped off can actually rob me of the experience itself. Instead of enjoying what’s here, I’m focused on what’s going to be gone.

Turning 50 and moving to Italy has shown me how much my thought patterns are changing. I know I retired young. And if I live to be 100, I still have half of my life left. That feels very different from thinking half is gone.

I am seeing this now a lot in the recovery community or in conversations with younger people who feel like they’ve messed everything up. They get stuck in thoughts like: I wasted so much time. I’m behind. I ruined things. That’s half-empty thinking.

But the shift happens when you start looking at what remains instead of what’s gone. You still have time. You can still change direction. You can still create something meaningful with what is ahead of you, whether you are 30, 60, or 90. Why not live the remaining years with purpose and be proud of every minute of it?

I’ve spent much of my life focused on avoiding depletion—refilling before things run low, staying ahead, making sure nothing runs out. That mindset can be useful in some areas, but it has also robbed me of presence and joy because I was hyper-focused on what was disappearing instead of appreciating what remains.

The Hugo Spritz ended up being a reminder. Half empty doesn’t always mean lacking. It can also mean there is still plenty left.

Maybe the better question isn’t what’s gone. Maybe the better question is what remains, and whether we can appreciate it before reaching for more or mourning what was lost.

So I sat there and enjoyed the remainder of this Hugo Spritz slowly, savoring it and reminding myself that I still had half left. And when I reached the end, I didn’t want more. It was just right. It was enough.

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!

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