Italyland

When Denise and I find ourselves in an Italian moment that is so perfectly typical of what Americans think of Italy, we joke that this can’t be real, that we must be in Italyland at a Disney park.  That’s not to denigrate Italy, as we both love the Disney experience (and Italy), but just to note that sometimes it just feels so surreal to be here and we can’t believe our luck. Here are two recent  — and very different — e-ticket attractions that we enjoyed with some old friends.

We aren’t, by a long shot, the first of our friends to emigrate: Holly and Joe left the country around 2000 when Joe took a job in Amsterdam with a US-based advertising agency and, as happens, we lost touch with them for years while we were both busy raising families on opposite sides of the pond. Denise worked with Holly in the 1990s at Joe Boxer — the early years when they were all young and wild. Holly has since gone on to be a successful designer based in Amsterdam.  When we cemented our Italy plans and realized we would be close to their vacation place in the Apennine Mountains, we got back in touch and made plans to visit.

On the trip down, we pulled off the highway to have a little lunch in the seaside town of Lerici, just across the harbor from La Spezia and the tourist crunch of Cinque Terre National Park. We’ve heard amazing things about the area but we’ve also heard it’s wall-to-wall tourists — and mosquitoes — this time of year so maybe we’ll come back in the off-season and ride the trains from town to town. I might be a tourist sometimes but I really hate tourists, you know? Back on the highway, we saw what looked like snow on the mountains to our east: that’s odd, we thought, it doesn’t look like high enough elevation to still have snow in June. A minute later we saw road signs announcing Carrara (forgive the misspelling on the photo) and the lightbulb went off: this is where they get the white marble from! It’s kind of fun to put a place with the name and, if you’re a high-end kitchen designer, don’t worry: there’s plenty of the good stuff left in the mountains, at least from what we could see.

Before heading to their town, we and walked around the nearby walled city of Lucca, stopping for a coffee and biscotti underneath an arch from the Middle Ages. It’s a really beautiful and well-preserved city and the high and thick (four-meter) walls were made into a public walkway in the 1800s by our old friend Napoleon’s little sister.

Thus refreshed, we left Lucca and began our ascent into the Apennines (see map below), following the scenic River Serchio for a while until we took a turn and hit the switchbacks at Val Fegana. After that, the next six miles were some of the most harrowing roads we’ve driven (see map below). Luckily, Joe and his Vespa met us at a fork in the road, mostly to prevent us from taking the wrong turn and ending up on an even worse road, and guided us up the last of the dangerous switchbacks. We arrived in Tereglio after one last blind turn that was so narrow and tight that I swore we weren’t going to make it, and parked the car in the lot at the edge of the village. We took one glance around and looked at each other and said “Italyland.” 

As we walked to Joe and Holly’s house we couldn’t believe how stunning the village of Tereglio is: it’s built on a ridge and consists of one “main” street — Via de Castella — with stone houses from the 1500s on either side, and, below that, the less-populated Via Piana. The roadway is barely wide enough for a car and most village traffic consists of small, skinny work trucks known as Ape. Amazingly, from the parking lot at one end of town to the last building, the town is barely half a mile long and then it’s just forest until the next village, many miles away. Joe gave us the historical lowdown while we walked: Tereglio was an important stop on the old trade route between Lucca and Modena — the road we had followed up the mountain, now paved  —  the place where you paid taxes on goods being transported from the then-independent states of Tuscany and Emilia-Romagna.

Joe’s roots in the town are deep. His great-grandfather had been born there and married a gal from a village on nearby ridgetop. His grandparents lived and died there, but his father left for the United States in the 1950s, settling in Daly City, California, where Joe was born years later. We were staying in what had originally been his grandmother’s house, built hundreds of years ago, and where she had moved after her husband died. Joe and Holly have fixed it up considerably, adding a chef’s kitchen, a modern bathroom, and a loft space above the main floor, while maintaining the structural beauty of the original home. While Holly and Denise got caught up on Joe Boxer gossip, Joe gave me more history of the town and his family here — he’s related to half the town — and I felt something like envy: how great would it be to have such deep roots in such a beautiful and historic place? He had spent many summers here as a boy, playing with cousins and learning the language; my white-bread suburban American upbringing felt dull in comparison. 

When it was time for dinner, we took a walk through the village, stopping at a viewpoint overlooking the valley to watch a thunderstorm move through the mountains, eventually arriving at the best (and only — the other closed during Covid) restaurant in town, Trattoria da Elena. We were shown to a table upstairs, next to a party of revelers celebrating the birthday of what appeared to be the patriarch of a multigenerational family. Joe and Holly picked out a few of their favorite dishes for us and two large and delectable carafes of wine were set on the table: one rosso and one bianco. The meal was incredibly fresh and delicious, featuring one ravioli dish that I would be happy to eat every day for the rest of my life. We sang “Happy Birthday” along with the rest of the family at the next table and, on the way out, Joe showed us a framed, black-and-white photograph of a long-ago boar hunt on the wall, pointing out that he was related to, and had known, most of the people in the fading portrait. We stumbled out into a light rain and, as we walked back to the house along the low road below the village, Denise and I giddily swapped notes: the whole restaurant ride was too good to be true. The family celebrating the birthday: cast members. The family of cooks and waiters: all cast members, hired to give us an authentic 19th-century, remote Italian village experience. Italyland! It all seemed so real but we knew better. Back at home, Joe gave us a taste of grappa made by the 90-year-old guy who lived across the road and we were soon asleep. 

The next day, we took a long walk around town, Joe pointing out the house that the Germans had commandeered during WWII when the Apennines were a key line of defense against advancing Americans — my father’s Army Air Force battalion had been among them. It’s so amazing to visit places that my father had been over 75 years ago. We walked the town, with Joe introducing us to the residents-cast members. We visited the beautifully updated bed and breakfast run by one of his great aunts (link below! book early!) and took a long hike on the road to Modena, turning back in time for a delicious pasta lunch prepared by Joe. While Joe cooked, Holly played the old piano in the parlor and Denise and I sang along — badly — to Carpenters tunes from a songbook. 

Holly had to go into Pisa to teach a class that evening so Joe suggested we drive down the mountain to a rustic restaurant he had recently discovered. The place — I never did see a sign or any identifier — had a bare-bones menu, basically meat and vegetables cooked in the wood-fired oven. The only red wine on the menu was the house red and the carafe they brought us was undrinkable — the only time we’ve struck out ordering the vino della casa. We fared better with the white wine, however, and the food was locally produced and delicious. Mid-meal, apropos of nothing that came before it, the lights dimmed and the speaker in the restaurant started blasting a hard rock song at ear-splitting volume, followed by an even louder explosion and a ball of fire from a wooden barrel suspended from the ceiling. All conversation stopped — the music was too loud to even shout over — and the lone waiter continued serving as if nothing was happening, although I could see him suppressing a smile at the scenario. The whole thing lasted two minutes and contained several of the explosion-and-flame crescendos. It was something you might experience in a themed Las Vegas casino eatery but I was not expecting it in rural Tuscany.  Everyone in the place applauded and went back to their meals as if nothing had happened.

The next day, we reluctantly said goodbye to Joe, Holly, and Tereglio. If you’re going to Tuscany, I’d recommend booking a couple of days in the local bed and breakfast run by Signora Giovanna and taking in the slow pace of Tereglio. It’s a nice change from the bustle of Florence, Rome, and Siena, and the cast members will be happy to welcome you.  We can’t wait to return.

After a week of relaxing in Novi Ligure and some day trips to local towns, we headed back out on the road to Venice and the Biennale. On our first trip to Italy in 2007, we attended the art version of the Biennale and were amazed by both the setting and the work on display. Venice is definitely another Disneyland type of experience: it just seems unreal that this is an actual city and not something dreamed up by an imagineer. This year it was the architecture Biennale — they alternate years — and we weren’t so jazzed about that in advance but it turned out to be pretty cool.  The Biennale takes place in two spots in Venice: the Giardini della Biennale, where different countries have their own freestanding pavilions, and Arsenale, which is a giant structure that was once used for boatbuilding. At 35 euros for a three-day ticket, it’s a great deal, no matter which version you see. 

The plan was to meet up with Rory and Krista, fellow emigrants (Slovenia for them, undecided for us) and old friends of Steve’s from his early San Francisco days, and enjoy the exhibits and the city from the comfort of an Airbnb located just steps from Arsenale. They were delayed by a day but, as luck would have it, Tim and Tara, old friends of Steve’s from his rock & roll days — they are in the excellent band Antietam, which started in the early 1980s and are still recording and playing live four decades later — were in town and free for the night. It’s a small world! We met them at A la Scuela, one of their favorite cicchetti spots, for wine and food and catching up. Tim and Tara are frequent visitors to Venice and know the city like residents so it was great to wander around with them after eating and learn about some of their favorite Venetian buildings and the history of this crazy place. It was like having a Disneyland FastPass+ to get us to the front of the line. 

The next morning, Rory and Krista arrived from Ljubljana and we went straight to the Biennale pavilions to check out what the “Laboratory of the Future” (the official title) looked like. I had really low expectations and was really happy just to be in Venice and hanging out with friends but it was mostly a very impressive show. It’s kind of like the Olympics if they were a science fair, and curator Leslie Lokko did a fantastic job of finding architects who are tackling the challenges of climate change, sustainability, and homelessness while presenting their ideas in interesting ways, so that even a layperson like me could understand. I loved Germany’s conceptual piece (which we almost skipped since we initially took it to be a pavilion still under construction) and Canada’s proactive approach to housing the unhoused. Rory and Krista’s adopted homeland won high marks from us for their presentation about repurposing old ideas towards new solutions. The urgency was driven home when we observed the Acqua Alta, or High Water, flooding St. Mark’s Square when we attempted to walk there: cities like Venice are in danger and we need smart people working on solutions. Oh, and Finland’s entire exhibit was a waterless, composting toilet so I think the planet is going to be okay after all. 

It was great catching up with Rory and Krista over many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners and hearing their stories of adapting to a new land and culture. After years of planning and sharing intel, we ended up leaving the US on exactly the same day. as they did. Coincidence? Yes. Ljubljana and Slovenia sound really cool and we already have it on our itinerary for 2024. Three days was not nearly enough time to take in the beauty of Venice and the Biennale. We’ll definitely be back next year, so plan on joining us! 

On the way home, we stopped off in Milan to see a little bit of the city and attend an outdoor Tinariwen concert. I had bought tickets many months ago before we planned our trip to Venice, and we were pretty beat but managed to stay for the whole transcendent set before heading back to the reality of workaday Novi Ligure.  Not everywhere in Italy is a magic kingdom I guess.

Next, we visit Genoa, Turin, and Milan: just three of the many Italian cities that we change the spelling of in the United States. The list goes on…