It has been quite some time since I have taken the time to write this. I have had a lot of time to remember, to reflect, to redirect, and to recommit to my feelings about this journey. I want to take this time to share these thoughts and feelings with the readers. I will talk about many things: Italy and Italians generally, my family in Italy, my friends in Italy, a few of my favorite things and some not so favorite, my faith, my country, and my hopes and dreams for the future.

First, let me say that in no way am I being critical of Italy. I love the country and the home of my mother’s ancestors. And Italy has all of the same issues that America has. We are more alike than different! In fact, if you were to view a photo from a slum of Naples against Detroit, or Rome against Pittsburgh, you may not know the difference between the two. And without the ancient ruins or famous monuments in Rome or the United States being in the picture, nothing could distinguish between the two. So the bad is bad, and the good is good, no matter where you are. I am just attempting to describe what I saw. These are not judgments, just observations. Please try to understand that. I would not want to be described as generalizing of a whole population, and I certainly do not want to be seen as bigoted, for this part of my heritage is what I am most proud of.

Italy

First, let me talk about Italy, one of the most beautiful countries I have seen in person or in pictures. And understand, I only saw a very small part of Italy; some of the more popular sites that showcase the beauty of Italy are place I have never seen.

From the blue water of the sea to snow-capped mountains, big cities like Rome and Naples to little ones like Pietrastornina and Campodimele, from ancient ruins like Pompeii to modern cities like Sperlonga, all the sites I was able to see captivated my eyes and my heart like no other place I have ever seen. But there is a seamy side to Italy as well.

The cities seem to have their main routes of entry filled with slum-like mass housing complexes where most any flat surface (buildings, bridge supports, tunnels, etc.) are covered with graffiti. Trashcans and trash are commonplace along just about any road you traverse to get to tourist destinations.

But each of the cities we visited had their unique strengths as well. For instance, Rome is one of those cities that has it all – great attractions, history, great food, beauty, shopping, night life, etc. Sperlonga has great beaches. Gaeta has some wonderful medieval sites and great views. Campodimele has some wonderful views and great food. Pietrastornina has an untapped mystique. Tufo has charm and great wine. Naples has pizza!

Italians

I had always heard and have read in several places that there are two things that are important to most Italians. The first is family and the second is the kitchen (food). I found this to be absolutely true.

Let me address the first. Almost everyone we met on this trip was all about family. Even our relatives in Naples who argued and fussed for an hour with each other were hugging and friendly at the end of the argument. It was apparent that family will always come first and the love that they have for each other was demonstrated over and over. Now understand, family does not always mean a blood relative. We became family to many of the people we met. To this day, we communicate long distance with several of the people we met as if we were part of their family.

The second fact is that everything revolves around the kitchen. By that I mean everyone will offer you food. Each place we went we were given great food to enjoy. It was as if there could be no conversation unless you had something to put into your mouth. Now I am not complaining as I love food, but there were times when I was eating way too much for my own good. What I did not understand at the time is that it was not about the food, but about the company. Having the food was like an icebreaker to stimulate conversation.

Sticking with the food theme, there are benefits to the way that Italians eat is courses. Having a little bit at each course allows time to digest and satisfy hunger so not as much is consumed. Pretty smart I think, and I would love to see something similar adopted as the dining standard in the United States.

Crime and suspicion are quite common in Italy. Italy is the birthplace of the Cosa Nostra (the Italian Mafia) which has a notorious reputation of cruelty, evil, and indifference for all things that interfere with their ultimate goals – money and power. People in Italy are not trusting (maybe rightfully so) of strangers. Many are suspicious and always think that there are ulterior motives for others behavior. And for some (not all), while they hope and dream for a good life, they do very little to achieve it short of leisure and pleasure. They do that very well, and personally, I would like that lifestyle if I could afford it. The economy is horrible, and maybe hope has been lost for many.

Just about every person I saw withdrawing money from an ATM in Italy covered their free hand over the keypad while typing in their PIN number. We were warned to do that as well. Not just because there is the possibility of a small camera recording your information, but because there were always people in line behind you that could use the number in the event you failed to log out properly or the machine malfunctioned.

I guess the take-away message here is that tourists should take the good with the bad. Italy has so much to offer that is good, but there are some parts to Italy that will make you think twice. For the most part, I did not experience any of this. Everyone I was introduced to was genuine and warm to me. I think that a friend or family member of an Italian instantly becomes a friend or family member of their associates.

All this being said, the people are friendlier than anywhere I have ever been, including in my hometown, state, and country. Every Italian I met was wonderful and kind to me.

Family

I have two close families in Italy. My cousin, Vito Coppola lives in Gaeta. He was born the only child in Naples to Aniello Coppola and Rosetta Russo. Vito works full time as a social worker with the disabled and challenged in Gaeta. His job is difficult, but rewarding personally for him. Vito has told me several times that he and I are very much alike, dreamers. He is right as I have dreamed of love, a happy life, and a desire to travel to see the world. Vito is married to Wilma Mitrano, the sweetest woman he could ever be with, and they have a daughter, Giulia. I love these three so much. It is my fervent hope that in my lifetime I will get to see them often.

My second family is in Naples. Gianna is my mother’s first cousin and she reminds me of my grandmother. Gianna is married to Luigi, a quiet man with a focused determination. And he is a great driver. They have two children, Antonio and Giuseppe. Antonio speaks very good English and teaches English to school boys in Naples. Giuseppe works in quality control for Napolina pasta manufacturing company. He speaks no English. Sabatina (we call her Tina) is Gianna and mom’s other cousin. She lives at home with Guglielmo, her husband, who is retired. This part of my family is closer by blood, but I am just now beginning to know them better. Still, they are family and I love them dearly.

Armando Urciuolo and his son Biagio are the proprietors of a restaurant and pizzeria in Pietrastornina. The last time my mother was in Italy she stayed with them, but Armando was a teenager then. They are related on my grandmother’s side of the family. I am very proud of my Italian heritage and my family in Italy is a testament to where I have come from. The thing that makes me happiest and most proud of my family is that their values are my values. Family is very important to me, and they reciprocate those feelings for me. The closeness I have with them after this trip is stronger than any other bond with extended family I have had during my entire life. It has also inspired me to want to reach out to other family here in America and strengthen those bonds that have weakened through the years.

Friends

Wilma’s parents are Erasmo Mitrano and Marissa Paoli. Erasmo is a quiet and kind man that is sensitive, but does no show it outwardly. On the other hand, Marissa is outwardly emotional and very kind as well. Their daughter Jessica is a sweet girl that is much like her father, but once you get to know her I suspect she can be quite a good friend. Her boyfriend and fiancé, Anthony Salemme is a very personable gentleman that is quiet at first, but once you know him better he opens up and is very vocal. Nicola Tarallo is a very personable gentleman that is passionate about his city and promoting it. I suspect he would make a great marketing person. His mother, father, and nonna, Maria D'Agnese Magliocca, are also very nice people who love to meet visitors and tourist who come to Gaeta. They are some of the most hospitable people I met the entire time we were there. Erasmo DiPerna and his wife Marisina Stefanelli were genuinely nice people and Erasmo has become one of my very best friends in Italy. He is a broadcaster and his hobby is electronics and music. We hit it off instantly. Marisina is a housewife/opera singer and is very proud of her family. She has a sensitive nature that was evident even though it was never vocalized that we could understand as she speaks no English. Giò DiPerna, their oldest son is very polite and serious about his music. He is a great guitar player and I suspect we will hear from him in the future music industry. Gabrielle DiPerna, their youngest son is shy, but has a great personality. He has an interest in futbol and is much less serious than his older brother.

Damiano Ciano, a friend of Vito’s who we never saw outside of Tapas is a nice man that has an opinion about many topics from sports to politics. He is a very personable person in a very professional way.

Stefano Muto, another friend of Vito’s loves to have fun. At Tapas, he was the life of the party and welcomed us into his life with open arms – literally. His wife, Leda Viola, was a very classy woman who did speak some English which made her instantly a hit with us.

Alex Milone is one of Vito’s very best friends. He works with Vito as a contributing reporter and editor for their online futbol magazine. Rosa Paretta was his girlfriend at the time we were in Italy, but they have since split and gone their separate ways. Both of them became great friends of ours.

Gianluca Bronco and his wife, Pamela Costabile, are both great friends to Vito and Wilma and their daughter Federica Bronco will likely grow up to be good friends with Giulia since they are a mere two weeks apart in age. Their hospitality was greatly appreciated by both of us and their cooking skills are excellent.

Antonio Montella, owner of the Kilroy travel agency in Gaeta was one of the nicest men we met on our stay. He is well connected and is a respected member of the community. I will hold him to his promise to throw a great party for us when we return.

Paolo Perrone and Fulvio, the father and son team that run Tapas Bar, were very kind to us. They have hung flags in their bar for both the East Carolina University Pirates and the University of South Carolina Gamecocks. They treated us like royalty while we were there and I cannot wait to see them again.

Marco Ianotta, another broadcasting friend of Vito’s is another one of those “life of the party” personalities that absolutely loves talking sports, and yes he speaks some English.

Mary (Marie) Picano lives in Campodimele. Her kindness in welcoming us to her hometown and making sure we were well-informed to the cuisine that is common from Campodimele was greatly appreciated by all of us who ate together. She is a genuinely nice person who has even befriended our mother via Facebook.

Massimo Taiani, our taxi driver and Vito’s friend made sure we were safely delivered to and from Gaeta. His kindness will never be forgotten by either of us.

Assunta Parella has become a friend to Mark and I through one meeting, but more so through Facebook. Her story and devotion to family in the Italian way were recorded in a book she wrote and she suffered both mentally and physically from her lifetime ordeals as detailed in writing. She has continued to remember us and we are thankful that she cares enough about her city to make sure that corruption is not the order of the day.

Paola DeVillis is the proprietor of the jewelry store that I shopped at. She has the personality that knows no strangers. When we first met, she kissed and embraced me like we had known each other for years. She speaks very good English and I will value our friendship forever.

Evgeniya Smolikova became a good friend through the language similarity. She was fluent in Italian and English, in addition to her native Russian tongue. When we struggled to find the right words, she was able to do so. Having a larger group that frequently separated on the tour was a benefit for translations.

Francesco La Rana, another good friend of Vito, and his wife, Silvia Dolcino were kind to us while we were in Gaeta. Along with their daughter, Aurora La Rana, we were able to spend one of the better times we had in the city with them – relaxing.

I can count both hands the number of close friends I have here in the United States. When I think about the friends I have made since this trip I would need four or five hands to count them. These are not just casual acquaintances, either; they are good friends that I write to, I call, I send greeting cards to, and that I SKYPE with. These are lifelong friends that will forever hold a place in my heart and one day will I will hold in a friendly embrace with a kiss to both cheeks. Enough said!

My Favorite Things

Old Gaeta was probably my favorite thing to witness while in Italy. Not so much the houses or the narrow streets, although they were like a maze of very European delights that you only see in pictures until you go, but because around every turn the view of the sea was as spectacular as any I had ever seen in my life. And the fact that it was on the side of a mountain made it even more spectacular as we ascended to the monastery at the top. There the view was a fantastic as one could ever imagine with all the seaside villages visible from Gaeta to Naples. It was one of those places that you could stay at forever.

Sperlonga was much like Gaeta in that the views were wonderful, but much of what you saw were the beaches of a more modern community from a medieval vantage point. Sperlonga did offer spectacular waves crashing against the cliffs below and a more open vista to see the landscape from on high when you were along the outer parts of old Sperlonga. Seeing Grotta di Tiberio from a distance was interesting as the opening to the cave looks much smaller from the city than it actually is.

I had spent countless hours studying the city of Campodimele, even reading a book about why the city had so many centenarians. And I heard from Mark numerous stories about his visit there a few years ago. So going to Campodimele was one of the things I looked forward to more than anything.

The sites of the city did not disappoint me, especially the views from the mountaintop down into the valleys filled with farmland. Seeing this was one of the main highlights of my trip.

Walking through the city was like walking through a fantasy I had in my mind from the book I had read and while I walked I wondered if some of the people I saw were some from the book, and if some of the places we saw were highlighted in the stories. I pictured myself there making the recipes from the book, seeing the farmers harvesting their crops grown not only for each season, but for each month of the year.

Pietrastornina, the homeland of my family, was an emotional, almost spiritual, experience for me. Visiting this city and walking on the land that my grandfather owned nearly a century ago was surreal. This was land that he had farmed and where his family before him had trod upon. To think that I was here and saw what he saw was an incredible experience.

I would have loved to have more time to spend in Pietrastornina so that I could have explored more of my family roots. Since being home, I have searched and found many relatives, though distant, that I would have like to put a face to. One of my goals is to enjoy a meal prepared by Armando at his restaurant. Another is to climb the rock in the middle of town so I can enjoy the 360 degree view of the valley below.

Had I had more time, I would have visited shops and purchased more souvenirs of the city. One of the things I regretted about my trip after arriving back in the United States was not really having anything for me to remember the trip by except for the post cards I collected. Pietrastornina would most definitely be a longer visit in the future.

I also enjoyed visiting Vito’s house there. Knowing that he had spent numerous hours as a kid there playing and that his mother and father were known residents to the area, albeit during their stays there away from Naples, made the kinship to him much stronger.

The call Roma the Eternal City. I will eternally want to visit Rome again and for much longer when I go back. And I hope that the legend of tossing the coin in Trevi Fountain is indeed true. Rome was fantastic. The typical tourist sites were great, but not nearly as great as walking down the streets and looking up. I feel that in Rome you get a better sense of what the city is really like if you look up to see the life above the streets.

Least Favorite Things

Probably the one thing that disappointed me most was the excessive graffiti on building walls, bridge supports, abandoned vehicles, trash cans, etc. Most any flat surface seemed to be covered with graffiti, primarily in Naples and to a large degree in Rome. I did not see any of this in Pietrastornina, Campodimele, Sperlonga, or Gaeta. I can only speculate that the reason why is that the population of Campodimele is largely older, more responsible citizens. In Pietrastornina, there is an older generation as well. Sperlonga and Gaeta are resort cities and I suspect that there is a greater effort to have a more aesthetic look to the city so as not to deter tourism.

As I have said previously, it seems to me that there could be a concentrated effort to “clean-up” the cities and make them more attractive to tourists. With the economy the way it is and unemployment at a high percentage, it is my opinion that the changes would bring more tourists into an area that is focused on having a clean, visually pleasing country to complement the ancient ruins and attractions that they come to see. If the problem is that the Italian people are not motivated to work, then there should be more of an incentive to seek employment. Maybe because the country is a socialist government has something to do with that, but honestly I never saw anything that led me to believe that Italians are any different than Americans.

In Naples, the large amount of immigrants who have escaped the countries in Africa that are either terrorist countries or have extreme poverty is excessive. Antonio called them "clandestines". In January 2013, there were 4,387,721 foreign nationals resident in Italy. The fact that Italy accepts there immigrants who are coming illegally on a humanitarian basis when the country does not have enough resources for their own people is beyond me. What I witnessed in Naples is that these people are very intimidating and would likely rob from you if given the opportunity. I would not walk alone in Naples; in fact, I would only do so if I was with a resident who would take me to neighborhoods where crime was minimal and in larger groups. I am not trying to generalize about a particular population, but I did not feel safe when these immigrants were around. Just a gut feeling I had.

Like any traveler that is visiting a land that they have always wanted to, I was anxious to see as much as I could in the time we had. Dodging the weather was something we did not build into our plans for what we wanted to see. Being able to see everything that we wanted to meant that we were forced to rush to some degree. After re-reading my blog, I see that there was a fair amount of time devoted to resting when we could have been seeing more instead. But the rest time was needed, especially for me as I had the most difficulty adjusting to the time change. Rushing is not something I enjoy doing, but was forced to several times.

There is a benefit to not seeing everything that I wanted to on this trip – planning a return trip to make up the difference. And the next time will be during a warmer, less rainy month.

Crowds are another of my pet-peeves. Much of the rushing we did was to avoid the excessive crowds we experienced in Rome after the election of Pope Francis. Not only do the crowds make for a mad rush to see the sites, but aggravates an OCD photographer like me who is always trying to get that special shot that would be talked about when viewed by family and friends.

It is not any wonder that many of the places that I enjoyed the most were places where there were fewer people – Campodimele, Pietrastornina, Sperlonga, and of course, Gaeta.

Street vendors in Rome were another one of the issues that I had hoped would not be the case. Not the fact that they were there, but the fact that 1) most were not Italian, 2) most were not friendly, 3) a few were actually rude, and 4) the merchandise was not of high quality. Having said this, I must clarify the last one – when you shop like this you get what you pay for and that I do understand.

One vendor was absolutely rude to me. The sad thing is that I was prepared to buy several items from the man, but he would not allow me to examine the items (scarfs) I wanted to buy for length and quality. If I wanted to buy, I was to look only. That is not what I do when I spend my hard earned money. He did not get my business and I let him know that I was not happy. He was not Italian or I suspect he would have been much nicer. Others street vendors were indifferent about me buying anything or just did not give me the time of day. As an obvious tourist, they should have known that I was planning on buying. Most tourists do.

My last and least favorite thing to complain about was Philadelphia. I have never, ever in my life had a good experience flying through Philadelphia’s airport, and I have done so several times. Delays, disorganization, and indifference from the people are my main complaints. I realize that the delays were from legitimate concerns, i.e. weather and mechanical failures, but it was as if the people working there are accustomed to that and that travelers would have to live with it without even a hint of an apology. Live and learn!

My Faith

I have always considered myself a moderately religious person, not an extremist for sure, and like all of us I slip from time-to-time, but being in a land that played a significant role in the early days of Christianity stimulated a significant amount of thought and reflection on my spiritual being. Knowing that I was walking in the land where both believers and non-believers walked made me think about my own commitment to my God.

The fact that there were so many churches and religious artifacts that were part of our tour also played a major role in my mindset during and since our trip. Seeing centuries of our Christian history in person made what I had only seen and heard in literature or from lessons in church made my lifelong experiences a reality.

Lastly, the fact that I was able to experience this pilgrimage to my family homeland and arrive and return safely also gave me reasons to praise my maker. With His grace and blessing on our travels the trip was everything I had hoped it would be and more. I am truly grateful that I was able to have this experience.

My Country

One may ask what my country has to do with a trip to Italy. More than you know! When I think about how this country, America, came to be with immigrants from all over the world, there is a connection. I think about how many Italian Americans there are all over the United States, there is a connection. When I was younger I read the history books and know that Americans helped to liberate family, the very countrymen that were occupied during World War II, and because of this there is a connection. When I see two countries struggling economically at the same time, there is a connection. When I see a healthcare system evolving in this country that is similar to the socialist system in Italy, there is a connection.

We’re all immigrants! Every one of us in America that is not from a Native American heritage is an immigrant. It just happens that my heritage is one-half Italian. I have always been proud of both Italy and America. They both have their beauty and wonder, and both have their trials and tribulations.

I hope that the reader of this blog does not see me as being critical of Italy or America, especially Italy. If I was forced to be critical, today I would be more critical of my country than Italy. My aim is to point out observations I have made, opinions I have formed based on facts from actually being there.

Hopes and Dreams

Friends were made through association and that was enough for them to accept us. I am grateful for the many friends I now have and I am committed to keeping those friends for a lifetime.

This trip was one that my wife described as the trip-of-a-lifetime. She was right. Subsequent trips would only reinforce my initial impressions and add to them. I cannot imagine that anyone would doubt that this was indeed that. I met my family for the first time. I saw my family home place. I walked the land my family farmed. I experienced the food, the culture, the history, the passion of the people, the kindness, the caring, and was able to hold my newest cousin in my arms and hush her cries.

For one month following my visit, I dreamed every night about being back in Italy. I dreamed I was in the Colosseum in Rome, on my grandfather’s land, in town at Pietrastornina, old Gaeta, and in Sperlonga at Grotta di Tiberio. I would wake up after these dreams and after a minute or two when reality set in I would be sad that I could not finish the dream, or that I was not back in Italy. If dream interpreters told me that the meaning behind these dreams was that I wished I was back, then they would be right.

One day I will return, and I am not going to let a lot of time go by when I do. My hope is to convince Susan that she can fly overseas and be away from home for two weeks to go with me. I would hate to be away from her for a long time again, but I want to return to see the things that I have already seen and more of those that I have not seen. Since being home, not one day goes by that I do not look at my pictures or research what I can about where I have been and the places I want to go to. I talk about my trip to anyone who will listen. I will go back, but for now, I will dream!

It isn’t the sites, the history, the food, the wine, or anything that most people go to Italy to experience that was what I love about Italy. It is the people – people who are kind, generous, welcoming, and friendly. E.M. Forster said “Love and understand the Italians, for the people are more marvelous than the land.” I cannot say enough good things about the family I spent so much time with, or the friends that I made while I was there. My hope is that these friendships will be lifelong relationships and that I will one day see them all again. Italy gave me so much more than I ever imagined it would and I would not trade this adventure for the world.

Breakfast was early as we wanted to get on the first shuttle to the airport. I was ready to go and my OCD nature wanted to be there first to get through the security and not have to wait.

After a quick breakfast we loaded our luggage into the airport shuttle which dropped us off at the US Airways international terminal. We were the first ones there and at the first sign of the ticketing agent’s appearance at the desk we queued up in line, first and second. It was not long before the line became very long.

Checking in required our pre-printed ticket and our passport. Our luggage was taken (minus our carry-on bags) and processed and we were on our way to security.

Passing through security meant scanning our bags, opening our laptops and cameras, removing our shoes, belts, watches and any metal in our possession, and walking through the x-ray scanner. Once through, we proceeded to our gate for departure. We had about a two hour wait before boarding, so we shopped at some duty-free stores to get some souvenirs and to pass some time.

When the crew came to get on the plane, one of the flight attendants noticed that we were twins and carried on a short conversation with us. And then it was time for us to board. We descended an escalator down to the boarding area and before we knew it we were on the plane. Nothing could dampen my spirits except for the fact that I was leaving a country that I had grown to love and respect. But my only concern and my main thoughts and emotions were that I was going to see my wife that I had missed so very much.

The plane was much nicer than the one coming and this flight back had separate movies that could be selected for viewing at each seat. Additionally, it had a GPS tracking system at each seat that would allow you to see the progress of the trip. We each watched a movie of our choosing on the way back and we were treated very nicely by the flight attendant who had befriended us in the airport terminal.

Our flight back was very long; longer it seemed than the flight coming to Italy. But it was during the day and when we finally were across the ocean the excitement was even more apparent. Seeing the coastline of Nova Scotia and New Foundland in Canada was great, and in a while we saw Boston and New York City. Our destination, Philadelphia was looming ahead very soon.

Landing in Philadelphia was a welcome event; that is until we had to go through customs. What a mess! We were herded down a long hallway to a series of lines where all International flyers were required to go through. It was a mass of humanity and given the fact that there were about a dozen screeners, the line moved very slowly.

We passed through different screeners that check your passport, ask you questions about what you purchased and brought back into the country, and processed your paperwork. When we were both through, we were herded to the baggage claim which was jammed with travelers coming into the country looking for their bags. We finally found ours and proceeded to the baggage check line for our trip to Raleigh/Durham airport. This line went quickly as there were waiting planes for passengers that were rushing to get through. They did not even weigh the bags. Then we had to go to our check-in counter to get our tickets processed. Following check-in, we were sent to security to process our carry-on bags and scan our bodies.

Finally, we were in the terminal where our plane would depart. The gate was very crowded and when the time came for us to start boarding, a heavy rain started. But the plane was changed due to mechanical problems (I commented that if there was anywhere that a plane would originate that would suffer mechanical problems, it would likely be Philadelphia). We were sent to another gate at the other end of the terminal for a replacement flight, but the plane had not even arrived that we were going to take to RDU. We were already an hour late in taking off before the new plane arrived.

While waiting in the terminal, the new flight crew arrived. We talked to the pilot of the plane and politely mentioned that we were heading home from a trip to Rome. When it had de-boarded the previous passengers and the new flight crew had boarded, we were finally allowed on our plane. Sitting next to the window, I could see the bags being loaded onto the conveyor belt to load onto our plane. I saw my largest suitcase thrown from about ten feet away onto the belt. All I could think about is there goes all the wine and fragile items I was bringing back.

We finally got in the air and we were on our last leg to getting home. It was an uncomfortable flight for me because the man in front of me reclined his seat back and there was no room for me to stretch my legs after the long international flight. As we were getting ready to land in Raleigh, the pilot thanked everyone for their patience and understanding with the delay. He then wished all on board a good evening, and especially the folks on board traveling all the way from Rome.

We arrived in Raleigh and proceeded to the area where family could greet their loved ones as they left the terminal. Susan had brought her best friend, Sandra with her and they were there to greet us. Seeing Susan was the best sight I had ever seen in my life, even better than anything I had seen in Italy. I had missed her so much that I could not let her go. Tears filled my eyes and I was so glad to be home and in her arms.

Retrieving our bags was the next, and last, big obstacle to overcome on this journey. I fully expected to have a wine-soaked suitcase, and when I was able to find it on the conveyor belt, the first thing I did was unzip it and reach my hand inside to see if it was wet. It came through unscathed. I guess packing my wine bottles inside several layers of socks was a smart thing to do.

Once all of our bags were accounted for, we proceeded to the parking lot. Our journey was essentially over. My heart was home with my love, but a large part of my mind and my spirit were left behind in Italy. I decided that when I was recovered and had the time, I was going to write my impressions of our Italian adventure that I had with Mark on this journey in addition to this blog and make it an epilogue.

We arrived home, tired and worn out, but happy to be back where we belong. Sleep was still tough for me. My first night back was filled with dreams of Rome, being in the Colosseum, and it was restless. But I was laying in my bed with my wife next to me. The journey was wonderful, but not near as wonderful as being with the love of my life!

Today was our last day in Italy. The excitement of going to The Vatican was as exciting as getting home in two days tomorrow night to see Susan. First, we had to have breakfast in the hotel lobby, a wonderful buffet of mostly American food.

Following breakfast, we went upstairs to retrieve our cameras and get to the shuttle to catch the train. It was much easier to navigate the train and subway today compared to yesterday. But the foot traffic with the tourists was much heavier today following the conclave and election of the new Pope, most likely because many of the Catholic pilgrims were staying to hear his first mass on Sunday.

There were three Vatican exits and one of them was closer than the other three to the entrance to the Vatican museums. We picked the wrong stop, but had the opportunity to walk through part of Rome about six blocks to get where we needed to be. When we finally arrived, the line for tickets was long, but Mark had pre-ordered tickets that allowed us to jump the line and get ahead.

Entering the Vatican means you are entering another country and security is pretty tight. To get to the museums, a tall escalator (I would estimate 4-5 stories) was the required entrance to get to the first museum. I was fascinated with the thousands of sculptures, paintings, mosaics, frescos, and the intricate designs on the columns and ceilings.

The museums seemed endless and I could not get enough. I tried to photograph as many of the exhibits as possible, but it was not possible as the crowds were getting heavy. And the further we went into the hallways of relics, the thicker the crowds. In one room filled with paintings on all walls and the ceiling that was absolutely beautiful the visitors were so thick that you were shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of people speaking every language under the God’s heaven. Mark and I were separated, so as I made my way to the exit, I was snapping photographs as I could and left the room through a hallway and into a room with some additional sculptures that was not so crowded to wait for Mark. It was a good five minutes later before he finally emerged.

Vaticano’s museums were absolutely wonderful. My only wish is that we had been able to see them with fewer people and could take our time. Finally, we were ready to leave and go to Piazza San Pietro (St. Peters Square) and St. Peter's Basilica. Leaving the exit, we walked down a long sidewalk around the museum to the back side where entry to the square was very easily accessed.

Walking under several brick arches into the square gives one the feeling of walking on sacred ground. The square was huge, but not as large as it appeared on television. I could easily imagine the square filled with people shoulder-to-shoulder just two nights before. The two looming structures are the basilica and at the center of the square is an Egyptian obelisk, erected at the current site in 1586.

Around the basilica sides of the square at the top of the museums were sculptures of each of the popes through the centuries. There was netting and scaffolding around several due to recent renovations to the buildings, but they were beautiful. The square was filled with tourist, several in tour groups, and much to my surprise there were younger people than I had expected.

The line to get into St. Peter’s Basilica wrapped around the outer circle of the square and was estimated to be around a three hour wait to get it. Mark and I were disappointed that the wait was so long and we were tired from the museums, so we decided to forego the tour. And getting into the Sistine Chapel was not possible because of the recent conclave. The Sistine is closed for several days following conclave because the election of the pope is conducted there with none of the Cardinal’s being allowed to leave during conclave.

The whole Vatican experience was great, but could be even better without being rushed. As we left we followed the signs to the nearest Metro and passed a pizzeria with outdoor seating. We stopped to have a pizza and some wine. While we waited for it, I purchase a few souvenirs from a nearby vendor. Then we proceeded about four blocks to the nearest Metro stop, took the subway to Termini Station, went to the Trentalia and headed back to the hotel.

Resting at the motel was a priority for us until it was time for dinner, again in the hotel lobby. Tonight was caceo e pepe and wine. The dinner was very relaxing and we both were sad to be leaving Italy. But Mark understood that I was still anxious about seeing Susan. We finished eating and went back upstairs to pack for our return trip to the United States in the morning.

Today is Rome day. As we leave Gaeta, we are filled with both sadness and with excitement. Excitement that we are going to see Rome, and excitement for me that we are two days away from seeing departing so that I can see Susan again.

We woke up to cloudy skies this morning and once again, for the last time, we ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant before Vito and Massimo came to pick us up to take us to our hotel in Rome. The trip was much like the trip from Rome, but in reverse. Mountains, vineyards, olive groves, and hot houses the led to flatland, and then to industrial parks, apartments, and then the houses near the city. Our hotel was near the airport where there was a hotel shuttle that would easily take us to the airport train station to get into town.

Saying goodbye and thank you to Vito was very difficult for me. The emotion I felt was extreme sadness. I missed him instantly as the pulled off from dropping us off, while we entered the hotel lobby to check in. Following check in, we went upstairs to our room to quickly drop off our belongings so we could get into town for a full day of sightseeing. First, we went to the ATM in the hotel to get money for our day.

We arrived in the lobby to catch the shuttle to the airport. We did not have to wait long and we were at the train station within a few minutes. I was in awe of how the organization of the trains (Trentalia) as they arrived and departed, and after purchasing our tickets into town we were on our way, cameras in tow.

Riding into town was rather disappointing to me, much like the feelings I had in Naples with the graffiti, poverty, garbage, and the poor general condition of the city. Once in the downtown part of Rome, things changed instantly. Old buildings and busy streets were visible looking out both sides of the train. We started to see signs of some of the monuments and ruins that we would soon visit as well. It was not long before we were in Termini Stazione, Terminal Station, a well-organized train and subway station. The subway is called Metro.

We departed the train only to have to buy tickets at an ATM-like machine for the subway to our first destination, Colosseo, the Colosseum. After our purchase, we headed down underground down several flights of steps to get to the appropriate stop that would get us to our destination. The train runs on a very tight schedule and was there almost immediately. But the crowds were huge with the large number of people in Rome for the installation of Papa Francesco. We moved quickly and were able to board the train together and within a matter of minutes we were arriving at our destination.

As we exited, we climbed up several flights of stairs in the crowd of people to the street level where we instantly saw the ruins of the Colosseum in front of us. The sight was amazing. Ancient history right before our eyes was a sight I had always hoped I would see. We walked across the street to the entrance to the Colosseum where we purchased tickets for a tour in English. Within fifteen minutes, our tour started with about twenty people. Our intent by doing this was to be able to “jump the line” of the general admission visitors.

We entered at the bottom were Roman citizens would also enter. There were fallen columns of concrete and stone lying on the ground all around. Completely surrounding the stadium beneath the stands was an arched-shaped hallway that would have housed the vendors and where spectators would have gone for shelter when needed.

Entering the main structure through a stone and brick walkway that led us to the main level of the grandstands, much like stadium construction is today. The panoramic view of this building and the level of detail that the ancient Romans constructed this to amazed me. There was a lot of ruin within where walls and floors were missing, and grass or weeds grew from many of the stands.

Below was the main amphitheater where the games would take place on a platform atop a series of rooms and hallways where the show preparations would occur with gladiators and animals. We learned that the upper decks would be covered with a cloth tarp that was hoisted overhead by an elaborate series of ropes, posts, and pulleys to help protect the patrons. Walking around to get different perspectives of this massive structure, we could see many angles of the stadium that was built nearly symmetrical all around.

The most visited site in all of Rome, the Colosseum was an amazing architectural feat that we were certainly glad to see, but we had much sightseeing yet to do, so we exited the stadium where we entered and saw the Arch of Constantine. The Arch of Constantine was erected in the year 315 in commemoration of the victory of Constantine I in the The Battle of Milvian Bridge. And on the hillside next to the arch was part of the ruins of the Roman Forum called Palatine Hill.

Walking away from the Colosseum, we walked along the street that paralleled the Roman Forum until we were at a vantage point above the ruins that made for great photographs. At one time, this was the center of Roman culture and government. Everything happened in this area that was surrounded by the Seven Hills of Rome.

Everywhere we looked we saw buildings with architectural marvels built into them, street vendors, tourists with cameras, and traffic. The drivers in Rome are as crazy as they are in Naples. Everyone does whatever they can do without hitting anyone or anything to get the very best position they can to get ahead.

Amongst the ruins were modern-day buildings that enveloped them as if to protect or devour them. There were many churches and statues along to the way to the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II (or as my parents call it, the Typewriter building because if you look at it straight-on it looks like an older typewriter). This was opened in 1911 and is the equivalent to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in America. This building sits right in front of the busiest piazza, or square, in Rome. It is much newer in comparison to the other buildings that dot the landscape for tourists to visit. People are tempted to sit on the steps to rest, but guards do not allow it and will let you know in an instant that you much not sit there. Crossing the street here is taking your life into your hands and while cars zipped past us quickly, none dared to hit a person with many braking suddenly to avoid any mishap.

We walked down Via del Corso, one of the main streets until we saw a courtyard within a building on the side of the street known as Palazzo Doria Pamphilj, the best-known private gallery in Rome. Of course, I had to stop for pictures, and Mark was patient with me wanting me to see all the sites he had seen a few years before when he last visited.

After walking a few more blocks, we both commented that we were hungry. It was well after 2:00 pm. There was a pizzeria on a side street (Via del Montecatini) with outdoor seating that we decided would make for a quaint, Italian lunch stop. We asked for wine and if they had pasta, specifically caceo e pepe, pecorino cheese and pepper on spaghetti noodles. They were happy to make if for us and we thoroughly enjoyed eating our meal in the streets of Rome.

The map we had showed that we were only about four blocks east of the Pantheon. We walked down a narrow side street (Via del Seminario), too narrow for cars, until we reached the monument that was once a pagan temple and a church, now a museum and the best preserved building from ancient Rome. The inside has the exact same height as the diameter of the entire rotunda. The inside is lit only with light from and opening at the top of the dome. As you walk into the entrance, tall columns welcome you into a rotunda that is entirely surrounded by frescos, statues, and paintings from Roman times. At the far end of the entrance, there are seats for worshipers if they desire to do so. At the altar, you are asked to remain quiet so those who silently worship can do so without the noise of the crowds nearby. Guests are asked to register their name and location from where they originate near the end of the circle around the rotunda.

About six blocks away, we found Fontana di Trevi, or Trevi Fountain, probably the most famous fountain in the world which dates back to 19 BC. The crowd around this fountain made it difficult to take pictures, but we were still able to take advantage of satisfying the legend of the fountain.

The myth, originating in 1954 with the movie "Three Coins in the Fountain," goes like this:

• If you throw one coin: you will return to Rome.
• If you throw two coins: you will fall in love with an attractive Italian.
• If you throw three coins: you will marry the person that you met.

In order to achieve the desired effect, you should throw the coin with your right hand over your left shoulder. We each threw just one coin, me because I am already in love and married to the person I love. As for Mark, well, he can tell you his story. Trevi was fantastic!

We back-tracked the same way we came from having lunch so that I could buy an Italian print for Susan. I wanted to also buy a scarf, but the vendor rudely would not allow me to touch the scarf I was interested in when I wanted to see how long it was. I asked if I could so I could see if this was what I wanted to buy and we denied the opportunity, so I left a very dissatisfied customer because I had every intention to buy the scarf.

Our next stop was at Piazza di Spagna, or The Spanish Steps, named because the Spanish Embassy is at the bottom of the steps. These are undoubtedly the most famous steps in the world. Finding them was not easy as we walked on the wrong street. We did end up at the steps, but at the top which provided a great view of all of Rome from high up on the hill.

Tired from the long day, and wanting to beat the rush-hour on the subway, we found the nearest Metro stop and headed back to Termini Station to catch the train back to the hotel near the airport.

Once we were back at the hotel, we both decided we needed dinner and rest. We went to the hotel restaurant and had some drinks and hamburgers and fries (we missed those). And then we were ready to hit the sack for the night.

Today was predetermined to be a day of rest and visiting. It was a good thing as it rained nearly the entire day.

After breakfast, Vito came to visit with us at the hotel for a while and we went to his apartment for a while. It was good to just relax, sit, and talk after the many days we had on our feet for the past week-and-a-half.

After lunch, we went back to the hotel and waited for Nicola to come to pick us up. He took us to visit with his nonna (grandmother) who had a spacious apartment in Gaeta that was lavishly furnished. The floors were made of marble and the living room was filled with books. Nicola told us that his grandfather and grandmother were both authors that had written several books about Gaeta between the two of them.

She was a small, frail woman that reminded me of my grandmother – she had spunk. She spoke not a word of English, so Nicola translated for us. She seemed genuinely pleased to meet us.

Nicola asked her to read from one of her books for us in Italian; not just Italian, but in the Gaetano dialect of Italian. She read to us from a book in the kitchen at her table for about fifteen minutes and offered us some dolce which we kindly accepted.

When we bid her goodbye, Nicola took us to his parent’s apartment where he also lived. They also had a lavish apartment that was well furnished, but again they did not speak English. However, you could tell, just as you could with his nonna, that they were genuinely nice people. They also offered us some dolce and a small glass of wine.

Nicola showed us around the apartment and was proud of two things in his room. He was proud of his collection of the license plates from all over the world that he displays on the wall. The one thing I was most impressed with was the landscape of the city of Gaeta in a framed picture. I promised myself that when I returned home and had to change my license plate (which was my intent) that I would send Nicola my old one to display on his wall.

Meeting Nicola and his family was a treat. Having friendships in a faraway land like Italy is a special feeling for me, and having nice friends who treat you good is even better. I can honestly say that the Tarallo family is special to me. Following our stay there, Nicola took us back through the pouring down rain to our hotel.

We called Vito to come to pick us up to take us to our next stop – celebrating the thirteenth birthday of the son of Erasmo DiPerna. Vito was there to pick us up within about thirty minutes and we left in the pouring rain.

Arriving at Erasmo’s, we learned that we were going to have to walk up four flights of steps since there was no elevator in the building after walking through the rain in the parking lot.

Erasmo was kind and welcoming as we went into their apartment. We greeted his wife, Marisina Stefanelli, Giò, and the birthday boy, Gabrielle. They were all very kind, but the only one who could speak to us was Erasmo.

We visited with all of the family for about an hour. Giò had his guitar and was strumming lightly on it and tuning it for the entire time. He was designated to play happy birthday song for us when it was time to sing to Gabrielle and wanted to be right in tune.

The time came for the celebration. With candles on the cake, we sang “Tanti auguri a tè” to the shy, happy younger son, Gabrielle. There were other dolce snacks for us in addition to the cake. Erasmo poured each of us a shot glass of Meloncello, a cantaloupe flavored vodka that was exceptionally delicious.

After the celebration, we walked out onto the balcony to witness the view of the sea they had from up high over the newer part of the city. The view was something that I could get used to every day if I lived there.

But the surprise of the early evening was when Erasmo gave Mark and I each a bottle of wine. But not just any wine, but some of the most expensive Italian wine (Montepulciano) you can get in the United States. I was surprised and honored to get this gift from someone I just met and apparently my expression must have surprised him because he explained that he could tell we were good people, we were family with Vito, and he wanted us to be good friends of him and his family.

The hospitality of this family was overwhelming and very emotional for me. I had made so many good friends on this trip in the land where my family originated. The Italian culture is may have its faults, but we were not exposed to anything but the very best on this trip and I am grateful for all the good friends that I have made, especially those in this family.

It was sad that we had to leave, but we had one more stop. So after taking some photographs to remember the occasion, we bid out goodbyes to our friends and descended to the rainy parking lot where it was not dark to go for our next visit. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks! Tonight was our last night in Gaeta.

Our next stop was at Wilma’s parent’s house again for a goodbye dinner. They wanted to have us over for one last visit with all of them – Erasmo, Marissa, Jessica, Anthony, Vito, Wilma, and Giulia. It was an emotional visit, but there was also some excitement that we would not expect to come out of it.

We ascended to their apartment and were treated to a buffet of finger foods – meats, sweets, vegetables, wine, and more. The television near their dining room was on and quickly became the center of focus for everyone, including Mark and me. A new Pope had been selected in a weeklong conclave that had been going on at the Vatican in Rome. Waiting to see who the new Pope would be and what name he would choose had the attention of everyone. Finally, Papa Francesco (Pope Francis) was announced to the world. This was exciting to be here in Italy for this occasion and to know that in two days we would be at the Vatican where this history was being made.

After the excitement started to subside a bit, there was time for us to say our goodbyes. It seemed that each of us had a speech to make. Mark was very emotional making his comments. And I was emotional, but held it is as well as I could. They gave us gifts, souvenirs of Gaeta, to remember them by. They even sent a gift home with me for Susan. Erasmo wanted Vito to translate every word we said.

The evening would not be complete without photos. We laughed harder than I ever had in my life when we had to put Marissa on a stool to be taller in the photograph. No English need to be translated, and no Italian needed to be translated for anyone. The laughter transcended the language barrier for all.

We hugged them with tears in our eyes as we said our goodbyes knowing it would be a long time before we saw them again. It was a sad moment for me. As much as I wanted to get home to my wife, I hated leaving all these good people I had met. We left and the rain was still coming down. It was as if Italy was crying for us.

Vito took us back to the hotel and as we said goodnight to him, he reminded us that he and Massimo would be by in the morning to pick us up to take us back to Rome where we would spend the next two days before coming back to America. The excitement of going to Rome would be the only thing that would be good about this night as we fell asleep.

Today was as clear-as-a-bell when we awoke for breakfast and another exciting day was on tap as Vito was planning on taking us to Sperlonga just up the coast where we had passed on our way to Gaeta after arriving. This was the place where Vito had taken Wilma on their first date, and also where he proposed to her.

Sperlonga is famous for being a vacation spot for the Roman emperor Tiberius. There is no real landmark for the city other than the grotto where he stayed when he was there. Famous for the architecture and beaches, Sperlonga is a resort that caters to a younger generation.

The drive to Sperlonga takes you back through the scenic tunnels that are carved into the mountain. As you approach the city the expansive beach is the first thing that captures your attention. Turning off of the main road into the city is a very short drive to the parking area where you can overlook the northern-most beach and the modern city that lies behind it. The view allows you to see city, beach, and mountains for miles and miles.

There is a peninsula that juts out slightly into the ocean that separates the north beach from the south beach. A piazza (square) welcomes you to the medieval part of Sperlonga perched high on the cliff of the peninsula. Walking through this part of town is much like walking through Campodimele. There are quaint shops, narrow streets accessible only by foot, coffee bars, and restaurants. The views looking out over the sea from the openings in the buildings will take your breath away. And the photographic opportunities did not disappoint us either.

Looking down from high to the south beach you can see Mt. Orlando in Gaeta in the distance. But even closer you could see the grotto where Tiberius relaxed as he was catered to by slaves for whatever he desired to make him happy. Only the piazza was modern.

When we had finished walking through the old town, we drove down to the new town to park and walk along the promenade near the north beach. I stopped to buy some postcards for my collection. We walked along a paved path at the base of the peninsula toward a triangular-shaped structure that sat at the point of the rocks. Strong waves from the Tyrranean crashed against these rocks and splashed high into the air.

The path continued around the peninsula, but a second path rose up toward old Sperlonga where a second, lower observation area existed. This is where Vito first kissed Wilma and where he proposed to her. On the way up, I was amazed at the number of stray cats that were lingering in amongst the rocky cliffs. My understanding is that there are many people in Italy who feed these cats and do not consider them pests; maybe because they hunt and destroy rodents.

Reaching the top of this path literally left us breathless. It was steep and hard to climb, but well worth it for the photo opportunities. We sat on a bench, barely noticing the lemon and orange trees that were growing out of the spaces between the rocks.

Clouds were beginning to move in from the sea and there was still much to see. We headed back down to the car and drove south to the entrance of Grotta di Tiberio (Tiberius’ Cave). A museum at the entrance where you paid for admission was filled with artifacts that had been excavated from the site and removed from the cave. There was a lot of information about the site and current excavations still taking place.

To get to the cave, you had to walk down a hill on a winding path to the bottom between groves of olive trees. When you emerge from this grove, there are ruins of a small, slave village that greets you and a pathway that walks you through the area. Parts of the path were paved with small bricks very much like you would see today. You could see the remains of pits where cold food was stored, furnaces where food was cook, slave living quarters, and pools where fish would wash in from the ocean, but through an engineering marvel could not get back out. This pool was the source for much of the food for the emperor. It was also a punishment for the disobedient slave as man-eating lamprey were also present. Do one thing wrong and you were pushed into the pool for the fish to devour.

With waves still crashing nearby in the ocean, we walked along a narrow, slippery rock path into the cave. It was cool inside, a pretty good reason to want to relax on a hot, Italian summer day. The pool of water was carved out under the cave into a semi-circle surrounded by rocks that were carved into benches for relaxing. And at the center was a large bench that was likely meant for the emperor himself. I sat on the bench and said, “Bow before me, your emperor, you slaves!” Both Mark and Vito bowed as I snapped a picture of them with the cave opening in the background, one of my favorite shots of the trip.

Because of the moisture inside of the cave the rock walkway was very slippery. One could easily imagine anyone of any social class, aristocrat, politician, or slave walking and slipping to fall into the pool for an untimely death.

At one end of the cave was a small opening that led to where the slaves would enter to serve their master. That opening went right to the main food preparation area of the time. It was neat to think that they could be so ingenious and efficient in those days.

As we exited we started to move a bit faster as the clouds were building for an obvious shower to come, and because the thunder in our stomachs was rumbling from hunger. We headed back to Gaeta where Vito took us to a restaurant right on the lungomare (promenade) of the Gulf of Gaeta, not far from Tapas.

Vito knew the owners of the restaurant well and introduced us to them. They showed us their wood-fired oven where pizza were made (primarily at nighttime), took our order, and left us to chat. In a very short time, a loud rain storm with hail was pounding the awnings and rooftop outside where the door was open. We had made it indoors just in time.

We were served our lunch. Mark had a dish with pesto sauce, while Vito and I ate seafood and olives. Vito tried his best to steer him away from that telling him that frequently people would get food poisoning from unclean vegetables used to make the sauce. It was not long afterward when Mark became sick. He insisted it was not from that, but I am not sure.

The rest of the day was spent with Mark relaxing at the hotel. I went with Vito to his apartment as Wilma had said that Giulia had been fussy all day. Vito had a hard time calming her and Wilma seemed a little frustrated as well. I offered to hold Giulia and rock her in my arms to get her to sleep. She calmed down after a few minutes and they were amazed. I continued to rock her so Wilma could have a break to do some things around the house while Vito drove back to the hotel to check on Mark. After about thirty minutes of rocking that sweet, baby girl, I laid her down in her crib to sleep. Wilma was amazed and told me in her best English to stay in Italy!

Vito was not gone long and when he came back he said Mark was feeling better, but sleepy. So I asked him to take me back to the hotel to retire for the night as well. Maybe a good night sleep and we would all feel better – Mark, Wilma, Giulia, and even Vito and me.

Today we woke up to a cloudy day, but the rain held off for the most part the entire day. After breakfast and photo uploads, Vito picked us up at the hotel for a second trip to Pietrastornina. This time was to see his house that his father built for them when he was alive.

We headed south through Formia toward Naples and then took the expressway to Avellino where we exited, a familiar site to us now. Up the mountain we went and this time we knew exactly where we were going. About halfway between Avellino and Pietrastornina, we stopped for an espresso and Coca-Cola for me as I was thirsty. It was a bar in the style of a Swiss-chalet and very quaint.

Moving on to Pietrastornina was a little slower this time so that we could take better photographs along the way. When we entered the city we turned on the same road behind Urciuolo’s restaurant, past the Boccia house, and down the mountain a few more twists and turns. Along the way, Vito pointed out the church where he and his mother, Rosetta where married. He also showed us olive groves that belonged to him; land inherited from his father Aniello Coppola. Finally we arrived at Via Coppoli, Vito’s house that was named Casa Rosetta (signed in iron on the entrance gate pillar) in tribute to his mother.

We parked in a space across the road that was on property of Vito’s and walked to the electronic gate where Vito entered a code to get in. Two olive trees sat in the front yard on either side of the steps leading to the arched entry. The house was beautiful on the outside, decorated with flower pots on the covered front porch made of tile.

Vito motioned for us to go to the side of the house where the driveway ended at the top of a hillside. A few years earlier, part of the hillside had slipped down the mountain about forty feet taking a log railing and some accent lighting with it. Vito had not had the yard fixed and it was sad to see that something that Aniello had worked on so hard by hand falling victim to nature.

The back of the house was beautiful as well and a similar phrase was mounted in iron on the stucco wall of the back of the house that said “L’importante è amore”, or “the important thing is love”. All this was built by hand by Aniello for his bride, Rosetta. A stained glass window caught my eye about halfway up the house that was stunning. But the spectacular sight was the view from the back yard. One can see the countryside for miles-and-miles.

On the opposite side of the driveway was a caretaker shed with a terra cotta roof and clay pots for garden flowers. It was built into the hill that also had a moss-covered stairway up the hillside with wooden log railings. On either side of the stairway path were dozens of rose bushes, each growing up an arched trellis, all with different varietals planted to honor the mistress of the house, Rosetta (which means Rose).  The pathway leads us to a stone patio at the top of the hill on the property with a statue of Jesus and another log shed.

At the base of the hill was a brick patio with an engraved fountain (Tutti vince l’Amore, or Love Conquers All) and a pond with coy fish. Vito checked the fish food in the automated feeder that was occasionally filled for him by a paid caretaker.

Olive trees and a few palm trees dotted the yard. And the front porch floor was made of porcelain tile that was colored to complement the stucco on the house nicely. Shutters covered most of the windows.

We entered the house through the side door next to the driveway. Inside was dark, but once Vito flipped on a light switch the interior was gorgeously decorated. The house was immaculately maintained and the furniture, vases, paintings, and accessories fit the style of an Italian mountain home. The walls were made of stone and plaster, and decorated with paintings of fruit, while the roof was supported with large, dark, wooden beams.

A stone fireplace sat in the living room and the furniture was made from real leather. A wooden chest sat behind the sofa and I wondered to myself what treasures it must hold. There was a china cabinet on one side of the living room that held glass and clay knick-knacks as well as hand-woven, lacey doilies. Vito saw me admiring one and gave it to me to take back to Susan. I became emotional to have something special of sentimental value to take back to Susan. It embarrassed me to shed a tear in front of Mark and Vito, but I could not help it. Vito, a sensitive, but not outwardly emotional person put his arm on my shoulder to comfort me and let me know it was alright to take this token of his family memories back with me to Susan.

In the far corner of the room was an old, tall safe. Vito said his father used it for valuables – liquor. Mounted on the stone walls on either side of the fireplace nearby were musket pistols.

The kitchen was small, but well equipped for cooking with a green, tiled countertop that wrapped around three sides. I was struck at the antique, counter balance on the countertop that was used to weigh food, something one would not see in most kitchens in America. Even the nearby laundry room and downstairs bathroom, though small, were well decorated.

Vito took us into his father’s office/study. The room was full of notes and books. On the wall was a shelf with a balance that his father had built for weighing the mass of small items. As an engineer, he was always full of ideas to make things better. The walls were lined with diplomas, certificates, blueprints, and old photographs of family members. There were dozens of carousels of 35 mm slides of family, including Vito, growing up in Pietrastornina. What I would not give to be able to convert these to photographs. He showed us a booklet of his father’s associates business cards he had kept, and even his own.

It was in this office Vito gave me a sample of literature that his father had kept about Pietrastornina, a document kept by his father for several years, another gift that Vito hoped would be appreciated by his American cousins.

The bedrooms upstairs were roomy, and felt like a home. One room he showed us is where my mother had slept when she visited there. Vito’s room was facing the rose bush hill and also had a view of the valley below. A white stand had a globe of the world on it and on his desk was an opened book on astronomy in Italian. He reminded me that one time he told me he was a dreamer and he often dreamed of the stars. There was also a baseball glove (hardly used, I might add as baseball is not popular in Italy).

At the top of the stairs was an old, Singer sewing machine. The stairway was lined with clay pots, glass bottles, and photographs of him, his father, and his grandfather on the walls. And there were shutters that opened from the inside to reveal that stained-glass window I had admired from the back yard.

Some museums would love to have a chance to come into house and search for treasures that were part of everyday life growing up in their family’s mountain retreat. I glanced at Vito every once in a while and could see that he was playing back memories in his head of times past spent there with his mother and father. He seemed almost forlorn at times.

We took one last look in the house and then went back outside as Vito secured the door. Then, we took one last look at the view from the back yard. I will forever savor the sight of this place in my mind.

After getting in the car, we proceeded down the mountain into the valley. I had no idea where Vito was taking us, but I would soon be very pleased. At the bottom of the mountain, a light but steady rain began, enough to wet the roads.

In the valley below we could see other mountaintop towns above. The winding road carried us along a riverbank. Soon we began to see cement walls on the berms of the road where the road had been cut into the hills. After rounding a bend, we saw a sign that said Tufo. I remembered that Vito had told us that the white wine whose grapes were grown here and the wine that was made here was called Greco di Tufo. This was the town where the wine originated. And up on the hillside above us and below us were vineyards full of new growth of leaves that would produce grapes for this pale, yellow wine in the fall.

Tufo is a small town with narrow streets barely big enough for one car, but somehow two cars managed to squeeze by each other. We passed through town from one side to the other in a matter of minutes and then turned around. A few feet later we stopped on the side of the main road where space permitted and parked before getting out in front of a butcher shop and market.

It was time for some lunch and we were all hungry, so we put our hunger in Vito’s hands to satisfy. While he placed an order for some pannini sandwiches with prosciutto, Mark and I shopped for a while. There were lots of different kinds of pasta and I was particularly looking for Pastina, small star-shaped pasta our grandmother had fed us when we were young kids. I was unsuccessful in my search. Mark found a large bottle of lemoncello and purchased that to take back with us to the hotel. Vito’s order was served to us wrapped in paper. He also purchased a package of chocolate, cookie wafers with small white stars on top to accent them. The sandwich and cookies were delicious and hit the spot for us.

We left Tufo by the same road we entered and proceeded northward to Benevento, a fairly large city on the north side of the region of Campania. A ride through a tunnel and bypass kept us away from the city traffic and took us past lush green fields and vineyards as far as the eye could see. The houses seemed much more lavish near the larger vineyards, all in the style of Italian homes with terra cotta roofs. Occasionally, the sun would peak through the clouds and make the green fields glow near Sassinoro. The mountains became increasingly numerous and steeper as we entered the Lazio region on our way back to Gaeta. These were some of the prettiest farm landscapes I had seen to date.

At one stretch of straight road, we found ourselves following four large tractor-trailer trucks that were slowing us down, so Vito hit the gas hard on his Volvo and we passed all four like they were standing still. Typical of the driving style for many Italian people (aggressive), it was a first for us as passengers with Vito. Yikes!!

Eventually, we arrived back in Formia, familiar roads to us. And then we were in Gaeta, just in time to arrive at the hotel for another spectacular sunset enhanced and accented by rainclouds over us, but sun over the ocean.

Before dinner, we went to Tapas for some espresso. Paoli was working and gave us each a shot. I asked if he would give me a shot of limoncello also, and he poured one for both Mark and me. We joked about tasting grappa (Italian moonshine) and while Mark declined, I had a shot just for a taste. Vito suggested a Belgian beer for me us try as well. It was called Blanche de Namur and was delicious, very smooth.

While we were there we met some more of Vito’s friends. Stefano Muto and his girlfriend Leda Viola were there. Alex Milone came from Terracina to spend some time with us, and Marco Iannotta, another broadcasting friend came to meet us. A short time later, Erasmo DiPerna and Massimo Tajani came to spend some time with us. We had a great visit with all of Vito’s friends with a few drinks.

Hunger got the best of us, so we walked to Via Indepenzia to a very small pizzeria called Pizzeria Rustica at the entrance to the street. The pizza was fantastic and the owner was glad to make some special for us. We spilled into the street with pizza in hand to eat and share some time together. While we were there, I noticed an old gentleman with a cap and raincoat walking away from us. His dark profile was in stark contrast to the light from the street lamps. It was a rare occasion that I did not have my camera with me, but Mark did. I took his camera from him and photographed the man in the light. This turned out to be one of my favorite photographs from the trip. I said it was very European

When we were finished and everyone started to go their separate ways we got into the car and headed to the hotel where Vito dropped us off for a night of sleep.

I still was not sleeping well. The combination of jet lag, missing Susan terribly, and the excitement of this trip-of-a-lifetime was keeping me awake. I was getting up early nearly every day to text Susan, upload pictures, and sometimes even calling Susan at home in North Carolina.

Today we ate breakfast at the hotel as we had been every day we stayed in Gaeta. And we uploaded lots of the pictures we had taken from yesterday. But, we took our time getting ready today as we did not have to leave for Campodimele quite so early.

Vito and Wilma met us in the hotel parking lot and more friends of Vito’s joined us there a short time afterward. Alex Milone and Rosa Paretta drove Alex’s mother’s van down from Terracina to help to shuttle us to Campodimele and celebrate our birthday with us. Vito, Wilma, and Giulia rode in Vito’s car and led the way.

Leaving Gaeta, we travelled in the direction of Itri, a small town on the north side of the aqueduct I mentioned earlier. We did not have a lot of time to see the sites of the town as our destination was up in the mountains to a small community on a mountaintop called Campodimele. This town was built with a wall completely surrounding the town to protect it from invaders in medieval times.

As we drove up the winding roads toward Campodimele, I was particularly struck by the fact there was no fences around the mountain side pastures where cows and steers roamed freely. Some were even grazing on the side of the road and without care one could easily round a bend and hit one with their vehicle. There were also many cyclists riding the roads on their bike. How they could do the uphill ride was a mystery to me since the roads were exceptionally steep. Of course, if you looked at the physiques, especially the calves, of these riders you could tell they were accustomed to the steep mountain roads.

Up and up we went, until…… on no! The van we were riding in was starting to overheat. Mark called Vito and at the earliest opportunity we had he pulled onto the side of the road followed by us. We turned off the cars and got out to exam and evaluate the problem. As we got out of the van, I asked Vito to tell Alex to open the hood latch so I could see just how bad it was. Steam was not too bad coming out of the radiator, but significant enough to warrant the stop. I quickly saw that the overflow tank for the radiator was empty.

Thinking fast on my feet, and having had experience with cooling overheating race cars in my past, AND remembering that Vito was keeping bottled water in the trunk of his car in the event we were out touring and needed quick liquid refreshment, I ask him for two of the bottles and a towel if he had one. He handed me the waters and fortunately he had a towel.

I emptied one of the bottles of water slowly over the top of the radiator and the cap. While it was cool, I slowly opened the cap on the top of the radiator so that the pressure was slowly released. Eventually, I had it opened. The second bottle of water went into the radiator. By this time the temperature had lowered significantly. I asked for a third bottle of water to put into the overflow tank and then asked Vito to ask Alex to start the car. The temperature gauge was now reading much lower, so we all got into our cars to proceed to Campodimele which was one more mountain away. Fortunately, we had no additional problems.

When we arrived at Campodimele and parked our vehicles, both Vito and Alex shook my hand and thanked me for saving the trip. I was just glad to finally see this town that I had heard so much about.

Campodimele is known as the City of Eternity. Best known for having the highest number of centenarians per capita of any city in the world, it is known for its healthy living and food. Mark had been here before when he came for Vito’s wedding and raved about its beauty and the food from a restaurant called “e Spunta la Luna” which means the “rising of the moon”. Vito recognized a friend of his who was from Gaeta that worked there and told him to expect us for lunch in about an hour.

We had a couple of hours before the restaurant would open for lunch by design, so we walked through the city, the only way you can get around once inside the walls. But on the outside of the walls is a view not to be believed. From the mountain top you can see several other mountains surrounding Campodimele, and the valleys below with paved and unpaved roads, terraced hillsides with stone walls to keep them from falling, houses with terra cotta roofs, farms with wells for water, and lush, green fields. But first, the walking tour.

Walking through the cobblestone streets of the city, many only wide enough for one or two people at a time was like taking a journey back in time. The houses were all side-by-side with common walls, planters hanging from windows, old-wooden doors, lots of potted plants, terra cotta roofs, stone steps, and narrow. We walked across to the scenic overlook and town amphitheater (like a town common area) and saw why the residents were so healthy and lived so long. The fields where they farmed their crops are at the base of the mountain on a flat plain. They farm the land below each day, and walk up the mountain when they have completed their days work. The combination of healthy foods from the numerous vegetables and the exercise keeps them fit. We did not see the first obese resident in the entire town. The pictures were phenomenal.

Vito had his priorities before we proceeded on the rest of the tour. ESPRESSO! We found a bar nearby and we all went in to get and espresso, except Wilma who remained outside with Giulia in the stroller. We had already told Vito that we intended to live by the Italian tradition where the person whose birthday it is pays for the celebrants. I set my camera down to get some Euros to pay; we drank our coffee, and then left. About two minutes later the attendant at the bar was running after me with my camera in hand. I had forgotten it when I paid. I was grateful for her honesty and inconvenience.

We walked in and out of many narrow streets. At one point, Vito saw the owner of the restaurant in a narrow, stone-covered street. There was a door there that he led us into that took us into a cellar where he was making various wines and liqueurs, kind-of-like a laboratory. It was dark and damp with a skylight, and two windows to lighten the room. The walls were lined with shelves with jars of “experimental” concoctions for aging.

After we left the cellar, we proceeded to walk the other streets of the city. One street we happened on had a stone, crushing wheel that was used for grains or tomatoes. Another was named Via Pasquale (our grandfathers’ name).  There was a church with a service in progress (after all, it was Sunday).

Finally, it was time to go to the restaurant for lunch. Mark and I had been communicating with a Campodimele city representative about the city named Mary Picano. She served as a tourist representative for the city and ambassador. We invited her to have dinner with us at e Spunta la Luna. It turned out that she was related to the owner by marriage. She was kind enough to bring us gifts and literature about the city. My favorite was a quart of Campodimele-made olive oil.

She met us at the restaurant and we all sat down for dinner in the main dining room in front of the fireplace. One of our first priorities was to order some wine, the house wine for the restaurant that had their logo on the label, artistic mountains with a moon rising overhead. Mark had it when he was here before and loved it.

Vito and Mary both made suggestions for what we should eat. We had our meal in the traditional Italian way, with an antipasto, primo, secondo, contorno, dolce, and a digestive. We had wild boar, chicken, beef, and we even had tripe, parts of the stomach of cows. Again, I participated in everything. The dolce was fantastic. It was a great dinner for the eight of us and I was happy to pay for our birthday meal.

Before we left, I asked the owner if I could buy four bottles of wine to take with me. They were more than happy to oblige. It was a great birthday for both of us. After saying goodbye to Mary, we left the restaurant just as a light rain began to fall. The trip back to Gaeta was mostly downhill, so overheating of the van was not an issue. Such a fantastic day!

Back in Gaeta, we went to Vito’s apartment and before we said our goodbyes to Alex and Rosa, they gave us each a bottle of white wine from Terracina. They were such great people and instantly became such great friends, even though we do not speak the same language.

After visiting with Vito, Wilma, and Giulia for a bit, Vito took us back to the hotel for another night of sleep. Each time he would take us back would be using a different road so we could see more of Gaeta. Time to sleep, hopefully!

We awoke to a sunny day, and Mark insisted his knee was much better. We went to the hotel lobby to upload pictures and to have our usual breakfast prior to Vito coming to pick us up.

Today was a big day. Vito had made arrangements with Antonio Montella from the Kilroy travel agency to get us into two places that were not open to tourists at the time. The first was San Francesco church where we had gone before. We met Antonio and two other friends of his for the tour inside the church and monastery. One was a girl from Gaeta whose name I have forgotten that spoke no English, and the other was a girl from Russia, Evgeniya Smolikova, who was fluent in Russian, English, and Italian.

We arrived at the church and we were greeted by the caretaker who met us on the front steps of the church. The caretaker was an older gentleman who spoke no English. He described the history of the church to all present in Italian and a bit about the architecture. He spoke so fast that neither Vito nor Evgeniya could translate fast enough. From this location we had a much better vantage point for taking some of the most spectacular photos I have ever taken.

The tour started at the monastery behind the church. He took us through several chapels, classrooms, and a courtyard that contained several statues. The hallways were made with several arches that led to other areas of the monastery. From the courtyard you could look below to see an enclosed futbol field for athletic activity that was also part of the monastery. Then we walked back around to the front to enter the church.

Antonio pointed out several architectural features that he asked me to photograph for him because the detail was so fine. He thought he would be able to use these for future promotions. The caretaker cautioned us as we entered the church was for the fact that it was still undergoing renovations, so there were some areas we could not get to. The inside was much more modern than I had expected for an old cathedral. But the sculptures inside were fantastic. Each of Jesus’ twelve apostles was represented with a statue around the sanctuary. The ceiling was very tall and it was bright inside. There were a few scaffolds off to the side in the back that were part of the renovation project.

The church had two sides of pews that are common in the Catholic Church with kneeling benches for each. Stained glass windows lined to top of the walls next to the ceiling rather than the traditional ones that are near floor level. At the front was a statue of Jesus sitting on a throne. Off to the side of the altar was an eight-foot tall crucifix with Jesus on it and on either side of the horizontal cross were framed photographs of Mary and Joseph. The carvings on the wall were intricate, but symmetrical throughout.

When our tour was finished we went back out onto the steps and snapped dozens of photographs of the city, the statues, and the gulf below with clouds in the mountains off in the distance, and each other. The sky was blue, the water was blue, and the color contrast from the city was bright and warm. I did not want to leave this paradise. But we had another spectacle awaiting us a short walk away further up on the mountain.

Angevin-Aragonese Castle’s played an important role in Italian military history. Its foundation and the building of the first fortifications can be traced back to Roman times. Traces of the period are still visible today and are an integral part of the town's landscape, like the mausoleum of Lucius Munatius Plancus, a Roman general from the 1st century BC. The mausoleum is located at the top of Monte Orlando near the castle. The fortifications of the town were strengthened and extended in the 15th century. Over the years several changes were made to the structure of the castle depending on who occupied the city through the centuries. Through the years, it has even been used as a prison. These large, looming structures are maintained today by the Guardia di Finanza, a maritime protection organization.

There is a lot or renovation taking place here as well. Walking up a long, steep ramp and across a bridge that covered a long-ago drained moat got us to the entrance. And yes, there was a door that would drop down like one would expect from a castle. We met a guard who summoned what appeared to be a supervisor, a middle-aged man who spoke no English, to take us on our tour which started by climbing a series of cobblestone steps that led us into a courtyard. Here we saw a square surrounded by three story buildings with balconies. There were cannons, anchors, bells, flags, etc. from what looked like a military compound.

We were taken to the chapel first. I was surprised to see that some of the frescos and paintings were damaged from vandalism. It was a small, round chapel with a simple altar.

Our next stop was in a small, maritime museum with articles from centuries of maritime protection, models of boats, uniforms, guns, old electronic communication equipment, flags, and many other items that told the story of the Guardia di Finanza.

Following the museum, we proceeded upward to the top of the castle walls were we had another spectacular view of the city and beyond. In fact, we could see Mt. Vesuvius in Naples in the distance. But our treat was to get even better. Upward still we went into the tower, a steep, narrow stairway large enough for only one person at a time to ascend or descend to the highest point we had been within the city.

The views were outstanding. I could easily take thousands of photographs of the landscape below and beyond that would not do the scene justice like standing there and seeing it in person. The waves crashing against the rocks below from the Tyrannian Sea, the multi-colored buildings and rooftops against the blue sky and sea, the mountains in the distance with snowcapped peaks, and the beauty as far as the eye could see. No wonder these castles were here; protection from invaders from the sea.

All this beauty we were able to witness because Antonio Montella, a great friend now, had made it happen. I did not want to leave, but we had to descend. However, the tour was not over. We visited the cells that were used for prisoners, including solitary confinement cells and primitive bathrooms. We even saw offices that were used by WWII politicians.

Downward we descended until we reached the street where we were parked. We said our thank you to our host, our goodbyes to our new friends, and gave Antonio two bottles of wine from Pietrastornina as a small token for what he had done for us.

The rest of the day we would relax and visit. When we arrived back at the hotel, Vito received a call from Gianluca Bronco. They were going for a walk on Serapo beach and wanted Wilma, Giulia, and Mark and I to join them

We agreed to meet Wilma and Giulia at the beach and she drove her own car. Gianluca’s family was waiting for us in the Hotel Serapo parking lot with their German Shepherd as well. It was great to see them again. We walked on the beach for just a short amount of time when we ran into another friend of theirs, Francesco LaRana, his wife Sylvia Dolcino, and their daughter, Aurora. I should take this time to explain that in Italy, wives do not take the surname of the husband, but the birth children of the marriage do.

Walking down Serapo beach made me miss my wife, Susan, very much. Susan and I spend hours-on-end walking our favorite beach in North Carolina. But the company today was great and the time was relaxing. It gave us another vantage point for photographs and allowed us to not only make more friends in Gaeta, but a peak into the life of our cousin and his family.

We met several other friends of Vito’s on our walk. He seems to know everyone in Gaeta! One of them was a gentleman named Erasmo DiPerna. Erasmo is a freelance broadcaster of futbol much like Vito is. He was a kind man and invited us to his son’s 16th birthday party on March 13. Vito graciously accepted on our behalf, but we could have very easily since Erasmo speaks very good English.

When we were about to leave the beach for a shot of espresso at a bar nearby, we again saw Antonio Montella and his wife, Luciana Salvato, walking hand-in-hand along the promenade. Walking and taking life easy was a common theme in Italy. Dolce far nienta; the sweetness of doing nothing!

Following our espresso, we decided to show Mark the top of the mountain north of Gaeta where Vito had taken me for the wonderful view of the entire peninsula. Once again, we climbed the mountain in Vito’s car. I had told Mark what a spectacular view it was that I had seen when he was recuperating with his hurt knee. I am sure he will be the first to tell you that I was not fibbing. The views from high atop the mountain were much like I had seen since clouds had moved in and embraced the lower levels of the mountains around. But the city and the sea could still be easily seen and there were more photo opportunities for us.

We descended toward Itri, and this time Vito took us to get an up-close look at the aqueduct on the way to Itri. Soon, rain started to fall from the clouds and it was not just a light rain, but a much heavier rain than we had seen since arriving in Italy. We left to rest at the hotel for a while before going to Wilma’s parent’s house for dinner.

Erasmo Mitrano and Marissa Paoli, Wilma’s father and mother, Jessica Mitrano (her sister) and Anthony Salemme (Jessica’s boyfriend) were also there. Leaving the car in the rain to walk to their apartment left us wet, but we arrived to their apartment building early enough to visit for a while before dinner. I cannot remember all the dishes we had (there were many and they were served in courses like Italians do), but I remember well the main dish.

Vito and Erasmo struggled to light the grill on the outdoor patio under a tent. Not because of the rain, but because in Italy they do not us charcoal or gas for grilling fires, but rather wood. The wood would not easily light and after about twenty minutes of attempts, it finally took. We laughed about it jokingly for a while because Vito is proud of being able start a wood fire with not trouble.

While we waited for the fire to get hot, Mark and I gave Erasmo and Marissa their gifts we brought to them from America.

Our main course was grilled shrimp. I was excited to hear this as I love shrimp. And when they showed us the raw shrimp and the size, I was even more excited. But what I did not know is that they shrimp was the whole shrimp, head, tentacles, legs, vein, and everything. Remembering that I agreed to try everything, this is exactly what I did. I ate the entire shrimp. On the other hand, Mark cut the shrimp open and ate only the meat.

Our visit was capped with two cupcakes with large, lit candles in each in honor of Mark and me. The following day was our birthday and they turned out all of the lights in the dining room and sang “Tanti auguri a tè, tanti auguri a tè, tanti auguri Mark and Greg, tanti auguri a tè.” We were very pleasantly surprised and touched by their kindness and generosity. We left thinking that this was such a wonderful family. The only thing that would have been better is if Susan had been there and we were able to speak fluent Italian.

As we left, the rain continued to come down. Vito took us back to the hotel so we could get some rest as the next day, our birthday, we would be traveling to Campodimele (at my request) to celebrate our birthday. We would also meet some more friends.

We awoke early once again to a beautiful ocean side view of Serapo Beach even though it was cloudy. Mark’s knee seemed to be a little bit better, but was still sore.

After breakfast in the hotel lobby, Vito came to see how Mark was. We spent time in the room together for a while talking about what we would do that day and decided we would not do anything that involved a lot of walking so Mark could heal properly.

A friend I had made on Facebook from Gaeta, Nicola Tarallo, an author of several books, mostly cookbooks about Gaetani food, came to the hotel to visit us. He was very nice and extended an invitation to us to come to his apartment where he lives with his parents to meet them, and to visit his nonna (grandmother) who was also an author of books about Gaeta in the next day or two. It became apparent to us that his entire family was ambassadors for their city and the tourism that it is famous for. We accepted to invitation for that afternoon as long as Mark’s knee was better.

After about an hour visit, Nicola left. Vito insisted on taking me to Via Indepenzia in downtown Gaeta, a narrow street that is filled with shops and accessible by foot. Mark had seen the street on his previous visit to Gaeta, so he agreed to stay in the hotel.

The experience of walking down Via Indepenzia was amazing. Small, locally owned shops that were quaintly decorated on the outside in the Italian motif were filled with everything from leather goods to jewelry, fresh produce to Nutella, clothing to shoes, just about anything you could imagine.

We stopped at my insistence at a leather store where I could purchase some gifts to take back to America. Many of the items are engraved by burning into the leather. I also coaxed Vito to take me to the jewelry store where I could buy something special for my wife and stepdaughter. He took me into the store where he bought Wilma’s wedding ring and I met Paola De Vellis, the owner. She was very warm and friendly and greeted me with kisses on both cheeks since she was good friends of Vito’s. Paola spoke good English and assisted me with buying some nice pieces for the gifts I was seeking.

Soon after, the rain came and we made our way back to the car to go check on Mark. Seeing that he was doing better, Vito suggested another sightseeing trip by car, but Mark declined for this one.

The rain had subsided and Vito took me up on a mountain to the north side of Gaeta between Gaeta and Itri. The climb up the mountain by car was steep and on a winding road that was not paved very well. The elevation was such that the pressure in my ears was affected much like going up in a plane.  Vito did not tell me what we would find at the top, but the sight was unbelievable. When we stopped the car and got out, it was absolutely quiet. Some low clouds were hugging the mountains very close to where we were. Looking south you could see the entire peninsula of Gaeta from the Gulf of Gaeta to the Tyrannian Sea. The view was spectacular. Visually, it was a masterpiece to the eyes. But what struck me as even more amazing to my senses was the peace and quiet. If I lived here I would come here often for solitude and reflection.

When we were ready to retreat to the car, Vito said he would take me down the mountain in a different way. We passed fields of olive trees and property that had been owned by Wilma’s father high on this mountain. We descended down a road no better than the one we had come up and ended up near Itri where there was a Roman aqueduct running between the mountains, a sight we would see closer in a few days according to Vito.

Driving back to the hotel, Vito shared some of his personal thoughts and dreams with me that I will keep private. I felt as though we had known each other for a very long time and could share these things as family often does.

We went back to the hotel and Vito decided that the best thing we could do was to get dinner to bring in for Mark and the two of us. Besides, the rain had returned and we were concerned that Mark would further injure his knee on the wet, cobblestone streets. Vito drove me to a German hamburger restaurant and ordered take-out hamburgers and French fries, a very American meal. But these burgers were outstanding and the meal was satisfying to each of us as we devoured it back at the hotel.

Vito left us in the hotel for the night to make sure that Mark could recover some more as tomorrow was to be a big day of touring. While we were worried whether or not he would be able to walk, we were moving ahead with the plans. So he left us to rest for the night.