We woke up today somewhat better rested. Showering today was a little bit different, i.e. we removed the toilet paper from the bathroom first. Otherwise it was a similar routine to yesterday until we were ready to leave the hotel. Luigi paid for our stay there. We were grateful to him for his hospitality.

We were picked up both Luigi and Antonio who then drove us to Pompeii. It was a trip that was mostly on the expressway, so there were not a lot of close calls with other vehicles and the trip went quickly. But the weather was threatening all day long with on-and-off showers. Driving on the west side of Mt. Vesuvius provided a different perspective. The top half of the volcano was embedded in a layer of storm clouds all day.

Arriving in Pompeii, I was amazed at how commercial the surrounding area was and how near it was to the ruins. When we arrived there was rain, so we decided to stop at a bar to get some pastries first. I had a cannoli and Mark had baba. Italian Rum Baba is a light yeast cake flavored with rum, vanilla, and apricot preserves. The shop also sold gelato, which looked extremely delicious, but since it was so humid and I had already eaten, I passed on the opportunity to have some. But I did photograph it. And I was able to stop at a street vendors stand to get some Pompeii souvenirs.

Next to the ruins is a church called The Sanctuary of the blessed Virgin of the Rosary (sometimes called the Sanctuary of Pompeii). We went into the church to look around despite the fact that there were renovations taking place. Mark went to the altar to kneel and pray since he is Catholic. The architectural features inside the church were stunning. Frescos, paintings, and statues adorned the sanctuary on the order of some like I have never seen before in any church. The fact that this sits right next to the ruins where thousands of lives were lost is amazing, particularly with the decadent and heretic lifestyles that so many in AD 79 Pompeii had. Here there was holiness and a place to come for forgiveness in this day and age within a stone’s throw.

Luigi and Antonio made the decision that since we would be pressed for time, and since there was more rain threating which would cause us to risk falling on the lava rock streets in Pompeii that we should skip the tour. Disappointing as I was, I certainly did not want to be late to catch the train at 5:00 pm. On the way back to the car, I was able snap a few photographs of the ruins through the gates that were street side.

We headed back to the Boccia apartment where Gianna had made us a fine lunch of penne pasta with tomato sauce, baked Italian sausage and beef in tomato sauce, and bread. After our lunch, we sat in the living room looking at photographs of family members and visiting some more until it was time for us to leave.

The drive to the train station was sad as I hated to leave my family there, but I was still so excited to complete the remaining itinerary that we had for the next week ahead of us. Luigi parked his car and we unloaded our luggage. Rushing to get into the station, Mark stepped on the cobblestone sidewalk crocked and badly sprained his knee.

We got into the station only to find we were unsure of what track our train was on. Mark (limping) and Antonio went into a gift shop so Mark could buy Antonio a Napoli futbol shirt (and something for him) while Luigi, Gianna and I found the correct train. We said our goodbyes to our loved ones, boarded, and sat resting for the entire trip back. Mark was in tremendous pain.

When we arrived in Formia, Vito met us on the train platform. We both had to help with carrying Mark’s luggage while he had to lean on us to be able to walk out. It was a struggle for us all, but we finally got to Vito’s car.

On the way back to Gaeta, Vito stopped at a pharmacy where they had an over-the-counter medication that is not available in gel form in the United States – Naprosyn 10% gel. I purchased this for Mark and Vito took us back to Hotel Serapo. We had retained our room there for the bulk of our luggage that we did not need in Naples.

After we got Mark settled in the room, Vito went to pick up some dinner for all of us to eat. He brought back some Italian finger foods that were absolutely delicious and some Coca-Cola. He brought: 1) arancini with sausage, which is two fried risotto balls filled with mozzarella, peas & sausage, 2) fried mozzarella balls with marinara sauce, and 3) panzerotti, which is fried potato croquettes stuffed with prosciutto and mozzarella. Let me tell you now, these were absolutely delicious, and I am certain that Mark felt better just eating these.

We made sure Mark was comfortable and had the gel on his knee. I went with Vito back to his apartment to spend some time with him and his family before he brought me back to the hotel. Mark appeared to be doing better and we settled in for another night of sleep.

The next morning, we awoke early to shower for the planned day’s events. The Boccia’s, minus Giuseppe who had to work again, were taking us to Pietrastornina, about a one hour drive from Naples. Pietrastornina is the home of our grandfather and seeing this place was one of the primary reasons we came to Italy. Our grandfather immigrated to America and left his farm abandoned in this community. His house is now owned by Tina and Guglielmo, but they were very secretive about sharing details or allowing us to go into it to see our grandfather’s old home. When our grandfather left Italy, he sold the property he owned across the street to the city to have the money to travel. There is now a cemetery on that property that even has some relatives buried there in the mausoleum. Tina and Guglielmo paid the taxes on the house for years and claimed it as their own. I have no problem with that, but wanted to see the inside. We were told it was run-down and in ruins so we would not be able to.

Getting a shower was an experience to remember. The bathroom was small. It had a sink, commode, bidet and the shower head was installed over the mentioned fixtures. So when you showered, everything got wet. Even the toilet paper was soaked. And there was nowhere for the water to really drain. The floors were wet standing in front of the sink to brush your teeth, etc. It was funny, but different and very confusing to us. But apparently that is the way it is in much of Europe.

After showering, we had some time to wait to leave for Pietrastornina. I watched a little bit of Italian television to see if I could pick up on the language. A soap opera was on that was rather risqué and the language lesson I had hoped for did not happen as they characters talked too fast. The news channels were a bit easier to understand as there were pictures as part of the story to help with illustrating what the commentators were saying.

Mark went to the front bar and was able to get some espresso and pastries for us to have for breakfast. And soon after eating we were summoned to the car by Antonio.

The drive to Pietrastornina took us by the north side of Mt. Vesuvius and along the expressway to Avellino. We exited there and started up into the mountains on a very narrow and scenic roadway to Pietrastornina. Arriving in my grandfather’s home village was emotional for me. To think that I was on land that he once was on made me proud and sad at the same time since I was very young when he died.

When entering Pietrastornina, there is a hotel (Urciuolo Ristorante Pizzeria Hotel) on the right where my mother has stayed on visits in years past. The Urciuolo family is also related to us. The road that turns right behind that is where Luigi and Gianna own a home. If you do not turn there and go straight toward town about ¼ mile you will see the cemetery that is on my grandfather’s old land and right across the street is his old house. Further on and you would come into town.

We made the turn to go to the Boccia house which was about 100 yards down the road from the hotel. Luigi parked the car and we carried food inside for meals later in the day. It was getting chilly and threatening rain, but I did not care as I wanted to see my grandfather’s house from the outside at the very least.

Across the street from their house was a scenic overlook of the area and a bench. I sat alone for about 30 minutes photographing the area and thinking about my family roots. This is the land where half of me originated since both my grandfather and grandmother came from Pietrastornina. I became very emotional and shed some tears thinking about all that had transpired in the century that made me who I am today.

The area was beautiful, even under clouds. And from the overlook I could see the top half of my grandfather’s house. Mark joined me, and within a few minutes Antonio and Gianna also joined us and suggested we walk up the road to see our grandfather’s house.

We set out on foot as the temperature dropped significantly. Gianna was too cold to proceed after we were about half-way there, so she returned to the Boccia house. We arrived at our grandfather’s house. Again, I was emotional just seeing that this is a house that was built by his hands. It was disappointing that we could not go inside, but I had to deal with it. We walked around the sides (the back was fenced in and inaccessible) to look in, but the curtains prevented us from doing so.

I had a plastic bag that I had brought so that I could get some soil from the property to take to mom. I filled it up and placed it into my pocket knowing that she would love to have some.

We walked across the street to the cemetery only to find it closed. We wanted to see where some of our family members were buried, but that was impossible on this day, so we started back to the Boccia house. A short way down the road was a store and I wanted to buy a souvenir or two. I bought a scarf that was made there as a gift and some postcards. We then trekked out again, but ran into Armando Urciuolo, the owner of the hotel and restaurant on the street. My mother had seen him last when he was a teenager on a visit and stay there.

We explained who we were and how we were related. He invited us into the restaurant even though it was not opened. That meant more photos with my camera. The restaurant was great inside with lots of seating, a large kitchen, televisions for watching futbol (soccer), and a bar with lots of varieties of wine. We visited for a few minutes and then his son Biagio joined us. Another cousin to see! When we were ready to leave, Armando gave us six bottles of wine to take back to America with us, all locally grown grapes and wine. We were very happy to have seen this place were our mother once stayed and ate.

Antonio called Luigi to pick us up and take us into town by car. When we arrived into Pietrastornina we saw narrow streets, multicolored houses tucked into the mountainside, some shops, a piazza (town square), and the Pietra, a rock mountain structure that stands in the middle of town like a pointed tower.

The town was quaint and we parked and walked through much of it. One store we saw was run by the Urciuolo family, so we went in to inquire about some of our relatives from that side. The language barrier was a hindrance to us even with Antonio translating. They people were very nice, nonetheless. We bought some post cards and a few other items and left to tour the rest of the town. Luigi went into a butcher shop to buy some meat. Again, the emotion overcame me as I was walking the same streets that my family has walked on for more than a century. I wondered if the people I saw there were related somehow to my grandparents, and thus to me. After taking several photographs, we left town for our temporary home base.

After arriving at the Boccia house, we all agreed that it was very cold. The temperature had dropped outside about 30 degrees in just a couple of hours. Antonio took us to the back of the house and showed us his basketball hoop surrounded by a very tall fence. Thank goodness there was one or a stray rebound would have traveled down the mountain for miles and miles.

We all ate a hearty meal of pasta fagioli, mozzarella di bufala, prosciutto, and strufoli (a dessert made in Italy for Christmas) made special by Gianna just for our visit. And of course, Luigi made us each an espresso.

The wind and the rain had picked up outside and on the mountain top it was bitter cold. Inside was as well as they had no heat on prior to our arrival. Antonio used the bathroom and took a nap (a great defecation and forty winks as he calls it) while we all sat around a gas stove in the living room all bundled up with our coats on to keep warm. After about an hour we packed up the car and left to go back to Naples.

The drive down the mountain was as exciting as going up. I even took video of the trip back to be able to capture more. You don’t capture a lot in a car riding around the turns. And we were happy to get back to Naples, if nothing more than to warm up.

At night, we went to an authentic pizzeria in Pomigliano d’Arco, thankful that Giuseppe could join us after work. Oh, and he brought us pasta from where he worked! Pizza margarita is as close to authentic as it gets in the city where pizza was invented. Great pizza, great wine, Coca-Cola, and futbol on the television. I could have stayed much longer and eaten more, but everyone was ready to call it a day, so they dropped us off at the hotel.

Tired, yet anticipating a great day tomorrow visiting Pompeii, I was still hoping to sleep much better than I had since arriving in Italy.

Another restless night of sleep and an early-morning internet session to upload pictures for the family and friends back home to see. The jet lag has really had an adverse effect on my resting, but the excitement is another possible reason for the sleeplessness.

After an early breakfast in the hotel restaurant and packing a small bag for the next two days, Vito picked us up to take us to the Formia train station for our journey to Naples. With tickets, bags, and camera in tow, we said our goodbyes to Vito who gave us warnings about carefully protecting our belongings on the train and in Naples.

I had never been on a train for lengthy travel anywhere so this was another first to log on my bucket list. Riding the train through the countryside was very interesting. The train moved much quicker than I realized and the windows had a bit of a fog on them, so photographs were not possible.

I was surprised at the flat farmland that was nestled between the mountains to our left and the sea to our right. There were farmers tending their fields and greenhouses (hothouses in Italy) were very numerous for the entire journey.  Winding around the Gulf of Gaeta from Formia to Scauri, our first stop, was more rural than I had imagined. The second stop was in Minturno (where Jessica and Anthony were living). After this stop, the farmland was much more abundant, but you could still see the mountains in the distance.

We eventually approached a tunnel that was deep into a mountain. When we appeared on the other side, the train stopped at a town called Mondragone. Vito warned us that this was a very bad town for crime and to be especially careful here. In fact, I had already stowed my camera and had no intentions of showing anything valuable near this town. Next stop – Aversa.

Approaching Naples, I was surprised at two obvious facts: 1) the large number of apartment buildings, and 2) the excessive amount of graffiti on just about everything. It disappointment me very much to see this graffiti everywhere in such a beautiful country. I was saddened that this was the homeland of my family and that it had been neglected and abused in such a way. I wondered why the government of the country, region, and city would allow this to tarnish a country that is one of the most visited in the world for tourism. Vito had explained that the countries financial crisis had been hard on its people, but why could they not put people to work to clean up the obvious destruction of such a beautiful land?

Napoli Centrale (Naples Central Station) was our next stop. I was amazed at the convergence of train tracks all into one area for people to board and debark to and from their destinations. And I was excited to meet our family from Naples.

When we left the train, we walked for about 50 yards on a platform between tracks toward the main terminal. I had never met our Naples family, but Mark had. He recognized Luigi and Antonio Boccia, our cousins, from a distance and they recognized him. We greeted with embraces and kisses on the cheeks as Italians do. It is uncomfortable to do as they do when you are not accustomed to it, especially with strangers (even family you have never met), but having been in Gaeta for a few days prior and experiencing this ritual made it easier for me.

Antonio speaks English very well. In fact, he teaches it in the Naples high schools. But Luigi does not speak English at all. However, with Luigi I was to find out, you always know how he feels by his hand gestures. I had always heard that Italians used their hands to express themselves. It’s true!

We gathered our bags and proceed out of the crowded station to Luigi’s parked car across the street. Cars were “sandwiched” into the parking lot much like in American lots, but these were all compact cars and much closer. Our bags, small by our standards, barely fit into the trunk of the car. And traffic was horrendous, but Luigi seemed undaunted by it all. If he was mad at someone cutting him off, he simply held his hand, palm up, into the air as if to say “What the heck?!” And the driving was awful with no attention to lane markers, no etiquette, no right-of-ways, and no manners. But this is how I had been prepared for Naples drivers. The best way to describe the traffic and driving habits is mass chaos that works. Everyone is jockeying for their best position with pedestrians and scooters darting in and out of whatever open space exists. You have to be aggressive or you will be run over.

Our destination was the hotel that Luigi had arranged for us to stay in for the next two nights. We stopped in front of bar (remember that a bar is more than a bar in the United States) and got out of the car. The hotel was through the bar and in the back. I was skeptical about our safety here, but Mark had stayed at this hotel previously and I had to trust that this was OK.

There was a discussion with Luigi and the attendant in the bar that made Luigi a bit irritated. It seems that they only had made the reservation for one night and not two. Luigi left the bar and left us standing on the street. He told Antonio he would be right back. He drove around the corner and we had no idea what was happening. But while we were standing there some immigrants from Africa were standing on the street and I felt very uncomfortable being there with all of our belongings for the two-day trip.

Within about ten minutes, Luigi returned and loaded our bags into his car. We drove around a couple of blocks to another bar similar to the first with a hotel in the back. I still felt the same regarding our safety, but was reassured we would be alright by Antonio. Apparently, having a hotel in the back of a bar or other businesses in Naples is quite common.

We left our bags there (except my camera) and got back into the car to go to the Boccia residence. The drive was only ten minutes away, and was much less stressful with less traffic in the suburb of Pomigliano d’Arco where they live. We parked on the street in a space that was not much bigger than their car and walked into an apartment complex that was about eight stories tall. To get to their apartment there were two options: 1) six flights of stairs, or 2) an elevator big enough for only two people at a time. We took the elevator in two trips.

The elevator was right across the hallway from their apartment. We entered the nicely furnished apartment into a foyer between the kitchen and living room where we were met by Gianna, mom’s first cousin. She also spoke very little English, but knew a few words as she was taking a class to learn. Gianna was a kind woman that greeted us with hugs and kisses, and then quickly returned to her cooking as she was making dinner for our arrival. She told us in Italian (translated for us) that “the heart of an Italian family is in the kitchen and that is where she was happy.” She was celebrating her 66th birthday the day we arrived in Naples and I honestly felt guilty that she spent it cooking for us. Giuseppe, Antonio’s brother was at work at the Napolina pasta and sauce factory where he is a quality control inspector.

For about an hour before our dinner we toured Antonio and Giuseppe’s room and the rest of the apartment, and then had conversation about our trip and Naples with Antonio on the balcony. We saw all of the Napoli futbol team souvenirs (swag) they had collected and talked about their love for their favorite team. For dinner, Gianna had made a beef, rice, pea and tomato sauce casserole, Italian sausage with spinach, bread, and of course wine. Dessert was sfogliatelle.

Giuseppe also came home from work and had some dinner. He is thinner and resembles Luigi, where Antonio is more like Gianna. He has a happy-go-lucky personality and loves sports.

After dinner, we received an unexpected visit from mom’s other cousin Sabatina (Tina) and her husband Guglielmo Maltese who brought another tray of dolce for all to share. When I say unexpected, I mean that Tina and Gianna were not exactly on good terms with each other over a family dispute regarding Tina’s health (we were told she was a hypochondriac). She suffers from aches and pains all the time but looks very healthy.

Guglielmo was full of life and seemed very happy to see us. His personality is such that he probably has never met a stranger and if you were, you weren’t for long. He was funny and showed us “magic” tricks with a napkin that was hysterical. This called for video, not just still shots. But the reunion would soon take a turn for the worse.

It was not hard for Mark and me to figure out the conversation that ensued between Tina and Gianna, and then Guglielmo, even if it was in Italian. We sat speechless, motionless, as we watched and heard them argued about Tina’s health. Some parts even brought tears to Tina’s eyes and shouting from Guglielmo. We listened and watched for almost an hour, with Guglielmo saying the most, obviously standing up for his wife Tina’s position in the argument. And then, like in Italian families in America, they all hugged and on the surface everything seemed fine. We exchanged gifts with everyone, said our good nights, and then Luigi and Antonio took us back to the hotel for the night.

I had hoped to sleep well, but next door was a loud African immigrant who was on the telephone yelling at someone on the other end. Mark and I discussed the events of the day, particularly the argument we had witnessed a short time before. Eventually that stopped and we drifted off to sleep, albeit a restless sleep.

This morning we awoke to a mostly cloudy morning, but there were peaks of a half-moon through the clouds. This reminded me of our March 10 planned trip to E Spunta la Luna restaurant (the rising of the moon) in Campodimele.

Sleep eluded me for the most part last night. I am having trouble adjusting to the time difference and severe jet lag. So I was up early to go to the hotel lobby to upload photos, the only place in the hotel with a good internet connection.

Breakfast at Hotel Serapo is good, but breakfast in Italy is nothing like what it is in the United States.  Prosciutto, cheeses, pastries with honey, toast, cereal, milk, juice, fresh fruit, and espresso are the standards for a full breakfast. No sausage or bacon, no eggs, no grits, and no potatoes. And the portions that most people eat are very small. Maybe this is why I have yet to see anyone who is what I consider to be fat. My understanding is that much of what we like for breakfast is not even appetizing to Italians.

After breakfast, Mark and I showered and waited for Vito to pick us up. When he came, he brought Rosetta with him as she was returning home to Naples. Massimo was going to take her there in his van. It gave us an opportunity to embrace her one last time, to say Ciao, and to wish her the best. It provided a great photo opportunity for us to be with her as well.

Of course, to start the day required a trip to Tapas Bar for an espresso and some conversation with some new friends. And it gave us an opportunity to withdraw some Euros for the first time from the ATM. ATM’s are located at the post office where most government business is conducted, and they are not plentiful in Gaeta. It is not unusual for a line of 10-15 people to be standing waiting to do their banking. And since crime is plentiful throughout a large part of Italy, Vito advised us to cover the keyboard with our hand to prevent PIN number theft. But we needed to make the withdrawal since we were getting ready to travel to Naples the next day. And I wanted to have cash to be able to purchase souvenirs and gifts.

Our first sightseeing stop was the top of Monte Orlando. The weather had cleared considerably and the sky was a bright blue. The panoramic view of Serapo Beach and the city was fantastic in the light of day. You could see for miles the beauty that I had seen in photographs prior to coming here to see with my own eyes. The water from the sea was a bright blue such that I have never seen. The color from the buildings in the city was a beautiful contrast to the sea and sky of blue. I commented to both Mark and Vito that this was paradise! And I had fallen in love with this beautiful place and wanted to share it with Susan. I quickly took a photo with my cell phone and texted it to her (knowing she was still asleep) so she could witness the beauty as close to real-time as possible.

Monte Orlando (Orlando Mountain) is where Montagna Spaccata (Split Mountain), the most visited site in Gaeta, is located. The Church of Annunziata where Vito and Wilma were married, Santuario SS Trinita, and The Crucifix Chapel sits on top of the mountain. And it is houses the entrance to Grotta del Turco (Turk’s Grotto). We were a bit early for the gift shop to open, but only by a few minutes, so we peaked into the church for a quick self-tour and some photographs. This was one place I was interested in for specific religious gifts for some family members. The selection was overwhelming, but my goal was to find some handmade nativity sets. Success! And I was able to purchase a few postcards, something else I vowed to do at each location we visited.

The legend of Montagna Spaccata is that when Jesus was crucified on the cross, the earthquake that rocked to world at the time of His death caused the mountain to split. Below the split in the mountain is where the sea crashes against the rocks where the split occurred. And yes, we climbed down (and back up) the hundreds of steps to sea level to witness this miracle from the bottom.

 At the top of the mountain is an observation deck (with a lighthouse) between to split in the mountain. The landscape is beautiful and the awesome wonder of the legend makes it more exciting. And of course, there were great photo opportunities. I was very moved by the rosary and cross that were attached to the railing overlooking the sea between the mountains.

Following the climb back up to the top of the mountain, we rested a bit longer at the observation deck before getting into the car to go to our next stop, San Francesco church. This church is old, but not medieval even though it is on the edge of old Gaeta. And it sits high on the mountain overlooking to Gulf of Gaeta. A magnificent sight, its front steps go down into the city and there is a statue of Mary holding a cross overlooking the harbor. The ornate carvings of stone and marble, and the fuchsia/cream color makes for a beautiful church. Unfortunately, due to renovations on the interior of the church there was not an opportunity to see the inside which I suspected was just as visually appealing as the outside.

Looking down once again on the rooftops of the buildings and houses presented another colorful contrast against the blue water from the gulf. The statue that stands guard over the city made for some great photos for both of us to snap and the shutters from our cameras were both active. Getting there meant driving the narrow streets of old Gaeta, a series of S turns winding around the buildings with room for only one vehicle at a time. Meeting another meant backing up into spaces that were wide enough, though rare to find.

When we left, we proceeded down through old Gaeta to go to purchase train tickets. Vito took us to a travel agency called Kilroy Travel where we meet the owner, a friend of Vito’s, Antonio Montella. He spoke minimal English, so Vito arranged for us to purchase our train tickets for 3/5 and 3/7 from Formia train station (next to Gaeta) to Naples and then the return trip. Antonio was a very nice man and apparently well connected in Gaeta. He told us he would make arrangements for us to tour San Francesco church and the two castles in Gaeta the following Saturday, both places he had never been in himself and places not open to the general public for tours. His only request was that if we took outstanding photographs that he would love to have copies to use for his advertising. I welcomed the offer and made sure he would accept a friend request on Facebook to preview the photos he wanted for higher quality shots to e-mail to him.

Lunch was at Vito’s apartment with Wilma and Giulia. We spent a good part of the afternoon (siesta time) visiting there and resting before Vito took us back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. When we arrived we were able to witness and capture a fantastic sunset over the ocean.

In the evening, Vito, Wilma, and Giulia picked us up to take us to Gianluca and Pamela’s apartment for dinner. The apartment was very well decorated with fine furnishings. Most of the buildings we saw in Italy had either porcelain tile or marble floor. Their floors were marble and the apartment was very spacious.

The dinner table was set and we ate in the typical Italian fashion with five courses. Now forgive me for not knowing everything I was eating; I just ate “as an Italian would” as I had intended to. There was a tiella (a thin, filled pie) for the antipasto (just something to nibble on), the primo (a pasta dish), the secondo (our main course) which also had vegetables (the contorno), and the dolce (dessert). In Italy, oftentimes there is a salad following the secondo which supposedly aides in digestion. And of course we had a red wine with the meal. Everything was delicious! One notable moment occurred when a dried, hot red pepper was placed before us (rather than a pepper shaker) for seasoning. The idea is to use a knife to scrape-off the pepper onto the food. Too much and you would need lots of water to cool your mouth. I took a bite of it not really knowing what to do at first, and yes, I needed copious amounts of water. I am glad I did not ingest the whole thing at once.

The company and the visit with everyone was great. Gianluca, Pamela, and Federica do not speak English, but with Vito’s help we were able to communicate and become great friends. They are warm people who have become great friends to my cousin and his wife. And their daughters are one month apart in age, so I trust they will grow up and be great friends as well. The evening regrettably ended with our goodbyes and thanks for their hospitality before heading back to the hotel to retire for the night.

Today is our first full day here. It has been difficult to adjust to the time difference, and the only internet connection at the hotel is in the lobby. So when I am not able to sleep and here at the hotel, I will write about the experiences.

We awoke to sunshine lighting the sky over the ocean. The view across the beach of the place we stood when we first arrived was awash in sunlight, and the dawn of our day had begun (in addition to the camera shutter snapping from our balcony).

Aside from enjoying visiting with the family here and meeting new family members I have never met, things that I have found interesting are the architecture, the beauty of the geography, and I am most impressed with the people. They are a genuine, kind, and family oriented community that gets together just because they can and want to. Nothing forced! They are the epitome of dolce far nienta (the sweetness of doing nothing).

The first full day in Gaeta was a walking tour through historic "Old Gaeta", a real treat for anyone who wants to witness breath-taking views, architectural marvels, and historic sites. As one Gaetano said to us, "You will find Old Gaeta breath-taking." Little did we expect it to literally take our breath away as we had to walk up easily as many stairs as is in the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse to get to the top of the city.

After we parked, we fueled up with a cappuccino at a coffee shop at the bottom of the medieval city. Starting at the harbor on the Gulf of Gaeta, we walked the steps and upward streets, most no wider than the width of two people to pass each other on foot. Along the way, we frequently stopped to take photographs of the architectural marvels we encountered and the very European scenes of buildings, flowers on balconies, vines, statues, memorials to the dead, columns, and views of the city and sea.

Along the way, we were speaking in English. A woman approached us who spoke to us in English. We introduced ourselves to her and exchanged pleasantries with her, even took a photograph of this English speaking woman who professed to be the keeper of all good in Gaeta. Daily, she walks the “streets” we traversed that day to note things to report to the city to make sure that her city was worthy of the tourists that would come to visit. Her name is Assunta Parella, and she lived with her husband in Pennsylvania for several years before moving back to her home in Gaeta. She directed us to go to the monastery at the top of the hill for the best view of the Gulf, and maybe we would be able to see Mt. Vesuvius across the water if the skies were still clear.

We arrived at the monastery and her recommendation was absolutely correct. What a view we had! And the weather was cooperative for us to see Naples and Vesuvius in the distance. A caretaker was working in the garden outside, and Vito knew the man. He allowed us to go into the monastery where the remains of several monks were entombed on the condition we not photograph those remains out of respect for the dead.

The view from here was phenomenal. The fishing boats, the blue water, the seagulls, and the mountains in the distance, as well as the height from atop the cliff below us to the water splashing against the rocks was breath-taking.

When we had our fill of the beauty above the city, we trekked down the street (camera’s still active) to sea level, just in time to head to Tapas for another coffee.

Fueled up once again, we headed back to the hotel to rest. As luck would have it, one of Vito’s friends Gianluca Bronco, his wife Pamela Constabile, and their new baby girl Federica, had just parked to walk along the beach with stroller and dog in tow. They graciously extended an invitation to us for dinner the following evening at their apartment.

Vito took us on another drive out into the outskirts of Gaeta to see some of the city on the north side. From here you could see mountains to the north and east, Gaeta to the south below, and the sea to the west. He said he would take us up high on the mountain another day.

We went back to Vito’s to spend some more time with Wilma, Giulia, and Rosetta. Giulia was being a bit fussy as she had colic, so Wilma and Rosetta declined to go out to dinner with us that night. It was Vito’s birthday celebration and they did not want Giulia to spoil it by being uncomfortable. We exchanged some gifts with Wilma, Giulia, and Rosetta before we left to go back to the hotel to clean up. What a spectacular sunset we experienced from our balcony!

In Italy, it is a tradition that the person celebrating the birthday treats his/her guests to dinner. Vito took us to a fine restaurant to eat called Masaniello’s. We had a seafood salad (octopus, whole minnows, calamari, and shrimp), pasta, some dessert (dolce), and some great white wine. Mark did not eat some of the seafood, but I had made up my mind I would try everything that was suggested to me so I could fully immerse myself into the Italian culture and cuisine.

A long day behind us and Vito took us back to the hotel for another night of hopeful sleep. But not before we received a visit at the hotel from Wilma’s sister, Jessica Mitrano, and her boyfriend, Anthony Salemme. It gave me an opportunity to give her the gift we brought from America. Jessica was sweet and emotional that we would think of her with a special gift. And Anthony was just as nice as he could be. But without Vito to translate we would not have had a good line of communication.

Eventually, we reached the Mediterranean Sea, and then the Tyrannian Sea, that borders the west coast of Italy. We actually flew over Sardinia, too. Seeing the boats far below us made the excitement more real that I would be in the land of my ancestors from my mother’s branch of my family tree.

Breakfast was served shortly after sunrise, but I could not even remember what we had. There was nothing else on my mind except landing at Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport in Rome and seeing my cousin Vito greeting us at the baggage claim. I remember thinking that I wanted to be able to control my emotions when I saw him, and all my Italian relatives. I also remember thinking that the language barrier was going to be a problem for me, even though I had Mark there that could help some, and Vito who spoke English well.

As we were landing, I was fixed on the direction we were coming into the airport. We approached from the South, and that was what I had hoped. We flew directly over Ostia Antica, an ancient harbor city, the Roman ruins that are on the mouth of the Tiber River that is similar to Pompeii, but better preserved since they were not buried by the ash of a volcano.

Finally, we touched down in Rome. No sleep for me on the plane, not one wink. Mark warned me that we were in for a long walk and a long check-in with customs before we would be able to see Vito. He was absolutely right. His analogy that it was like herding cattle was spot on! Down this hall, down these steps, around this turn, walk this length of hallway, then do it all again. Then, we were before a gate that reminded me of a toll booth on a turnpike where we showed our passports, answered a few questions about why we were there, and then received that coveted confirmation that we could precede – a passport stamp!

Then we were on to the baggage claim. And before us was Vito! What a great site to it was to see our cousin walking briskly toward us to greet us. A big embrace, a kiss on both cheeks, and another big embrace! He also introduced us to his friend Massimo Tajani, who owned a taxi company that shuttles people from Rome to Gaeta (and even Naples) on a daily basis. Massimo spoke no English (I already felt overwhelmed).

While we waited for our bags, we quickly used the restroom. This was my first encounter with a bidet. I thought it was a toilet, so I used it. I would later learn that it was not. Frankly, I was confused.

When I returned to the baggage claim, we had all of our bags within a few minutes and we proceeded to the nearest exit door. I was surprised to find that Massimo had parked very close by with his van (the largest vehicle within sight) to take us to Gaeta. And he was not legally parked, an indication of things to come where transportation is concerned.

After loading our luggage in the van, Mark and I took our seats in the back of the van. First on my agenda for the ride to Gaeta was to make sure my camera was readied. It was a very cloudy day.

Leaving the airport and getting onto the freeway was an experience in itself. Driving in Italy means taking chances, driving like a race car driver, and jockeying to find the best position on the road, even if it means driving on the side of the road to get into a space with just inches to squeeze into. I trusted that Massimo knew what he was doing; after all, this is how he made his living.

What struck me about the drive to Gaeta were the similarities to the big cities in America (except for the driving part). But after getting out of Rome, the landscape was very different. The trees were short, and looked very much like umbrellas with no undergrowth on the tree trunks. And the land was flat! But that soon would change. Out of nowhere appeared mountains on our left, and ocean on the right. And there were olive-colored trees growing up the side of the mountains. Vito explained that these were indeed olive trees.

About halfway to Gaeta, we stopped for coffee (espresso) at a “convenience store”. I got out of the van to take photographs of the mountains and left the door open with my camera equipment exposed. I was quickly scolded by Mark and Vito about leaving valuables in view of Italian strangers (and there were some standing outside of the store). We secured the van and went inside.

In Italy, you purchase the items you want (like our coffee), get the receipt, and then pick up your coffee. This way you cannot be accused of not paying. And tax is included in the price, so there is no need to calculate in your head what the price should be. I like this! The price tag is the price you pay!

Getting back into the van, the first thing I did was to check my equipment to make sure everything was there. Maybe it was a bit paranoid, but the caution I had received shortly before had me on guard. We drove on South, with Vito pointing out many of the interesting things to us. I remember looking at Mark and giving him that expression of awe. Vito pointed out Sperlonga when we passed by saying we would come back to visit there again later. And the tunnels that are built into the side of the mountains with archways that overlook the sea are unique to Italy that is not in the United States.

As we approached Gaeta from the north, Vito told us we would get out of the van to be able to photograph the panorama of Serapo beach and Monte Orlando. The scene did not disappoint an avid photographer like me. Before us was the ocean with a long, sandy beach extending away from us and ending at the base of the mountain. Unlike many beaches I am used to in the southern part of the US where private homes stand on dunes that are oceanfront, this beach had nothing but commercial businesses (most closed since it was the offseason) right on the beach. And nearest us was a rocky structure, known as the nave, with waves crashing against it. Behind the beach was Gaeta!

After about ten minutes of photographing, Massimo took us to Hotel Serapo, our home-base for the next 10 days or so, to check in. Hotel Serapo is at the base of Monte Orlando. From the outside it is pretty lavish, but the inside is modest and the price was right. Vito took us in to the front desk to check in and in Italian explained who we were and why we were there. We had reservations, but he wanted to make sure we were taken care of as he knew the people who worked there. We were given a large, outstanding, corner room with a nice view overlooking the ocean and mountain. There was a double bed and a single bed in the room. Mark gave me the double. We had a television (not that we would watch as everything was in Italian), and a large bathroom with a nice walk-in shower, toilet, sink, towel warmer, and a bidet. This is when I first learned about how to use one.

We left our luggage in the room and left to go to Vito’s apartment to meet Wilma (Vito’s wife), Giulia (their daughter), and Rosetta (Vito’s mother) who had come to Gaeta from Naples to see us. But on the way, Vito took us on a quick car tour of Gaeta. The city sits on a peninsula (promontory) and is surrounded on three sides by water (Tyrannian Sea and the Gulf of Gaeta). I was amazed at how medieval Gaeta and modern Gaeta meshed so well. The resort city is a paradise for travelers.

And then we left for lunch where I met my cousin Giulia for the very first time and her grandmother Rosetta. We had a wonderful, relaxing lunch with mozzarella di bufala, pasta, bread, and eggplant. I was skeptical of the mozzarella di bufala, but found it to be delicious as well as healthy. Dessert was sfogliatelle, an Italian pastry that comes in the form of a cone or shell with a layered texture. Typically, an orange-flavored ricotta filling is used. Variations include almond paste or candied peel fillings.

Vito had a commitment to announce the starting lineups at a regional volleyball game. He took us to the gymnasium along the street where Serapo Beach is and took us in to witness some of the finest volleyball matches I have witnessed in my life. These men were Olympic quality players.

Following the match, Vito took us to his favorite bar. A bar in Italy does serve alcohol, but that is not their primary business. Coffee (espresso) is the main draw to Tapas Bar. You can get beer, lemoncello, grappa, and other alcoholic beverages, and even pizza. The people were great there, and good friends of Vito’s. We met Damiano Ciano, a friend, Paulo and Fulvio, owner of the bar. None of them speak English, but the warmth and friendship easily translated from them through Vito to Mark and I. In addition to an espresso, I had my first ever lemoncello and grappa (shot glasses are enough).

As the sunset fell upon us, Vito drove us to the top of Monte Orlando where we were able to view and photograph the city at dusk. Because we had a long day and the jet lag was starting to befall us, Vito took us back to our hotel where we retired for the night with the sliding door to the balcony open for a nice breeze and the sound of the sea to lull us to sleep.

The excitement was certainly present as we arrived at Raleigh/Durham airport. But for me, there was a touch of sadness as well since I knew I would be leaving Susan for two weeks. We had never been away from each other more than a day prior to this trip.

Checking in was pretty much hassle free, except for the recently adopted charge on baggage that was overweight. A shift of items from Mark’s bag to mine solved the problem and saved us about $75. Once we were checked in with the bags, we went to exchange our dollars for euros. Because of the fees, we decided to only exchange $100 with the intent to get more euros once we arrived in Italy.

When we were able to go through security, which was surprisingly hassle-free, we went to our gate for our connecting flight to Philadelphia. The wait was only about 90 minutes, but seemed like a whole day to me. Finally, we boarded the plane for Philadelphia. The flight was late taking off due to weather conditions in Philadelphia, but fortunately we had a long layover before our connecting flight. Otherwise it was an uneventful flight, but sitting next to the window (one of my favorite things to do) was not at all interesting. Flying into Philadelphia meant flying over New Jersey; not much to see that isn’t industrial in nature.

After debarking, we proceeded to the international gate. What awaited us was a bit disturbing, and at the same time comforting. US Airways had a plane at the gate that had mechanical problems (several of the seats were broken) that significantly delayed our flight (about 90 minutes). The airline had another plane in the hanger that was brought in to replace the “defective” one had to be cleaned, serviced, and inspected prior to us boarding. OK, so the inconvenience outweighed the risk of a mechanical failure. I was over that!

In the terminal was a crowd of students from Italy that were part of a tour group that were returning home. These teenagers spoke no English and for that I was grateful as it gave me a preview of what I was about to experience.

Finally, we were allowed to board. The excitement and adrenaline was more that I needed. I was so wound-up that the entire flight was sleepless. And it was extremely uncomfortable sitting for the better part of nine hours. The on board dinner was pasta with tomato sauce, salad, bread, and a dessert of a chocolate brownie. Probably the best part of the flight was the “broken” card-reader for paying for drinks. So the two glasses of wine each of us had were entirely free!

The flight was rather boring, and the in-flight movie (a James Bond flick) was annoying. We did meet a college student that was from High Point University who was on his way to Rome to see his girlfriend for two weeks that was there doing foreign study. And the flight attendants were great to us. I did get up once to stretch my legs. The TED hose I wore were constricting my calves so bad that I had to move. I made a trip to the bathroom near the back of the plane to extend my stretch, grabbed a cup of coffee, and then proceeded back to my seat.

Having a window seat out over the ocean is useless at night. Red-eye flights are for sleeping; not the case for me. After leaving the coast of Newfoundland, Canada, it was total darkness for the better part of the trip.

The window seat was the best in the house for the sunrise. And soon after the sunrise we could see land, although we had no idea exactly where we were. We knew we would fly over the Alps, but we were not sure whether it would be over France or Spain. Turned out it was Spain. Seeing the mountains below with snow-capped peaks was a wonderful experience. Remember, these are some of the tallest peaks in the world and they were miniscule from the air.