How I Was Shocked When I Was Exploring My Italian Heritage?

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Introduction: Embracing Italian-American Heritage

Growing up as a third generation Italian-American from Staten Island, NY, came with some pretty distinctive characteristics. Talking with my hands, loud family parties and the smell of Sunday sauce and meatballs, was a natural part of my life. My neighborhood was full with those of similar background, making a living here, but dreaming of visiting our Motherland one day.

My grandfather used to tell us stories of his trips “back home” and how simple life was there. All four of my grandparents’ parents came from Italy, with practically nothing and worked very hard to build a life here in America. Setting us up for a good life and all the freedoms that the US has to offer. And yet, still, I have longed to touch the soil of where it all began.

Fulfilling a Lifelong Dream: Arrival in Milan

So you can only imagine the surrealness of the moment I finally got my passport and set flight with my family into the real life manifestation of a dream come true. I felt as if I was floating through air as I took my first steps off the plane and into the welcoming city of Milan. Immediately, I was faced with the realization that I wished my grandparents taught me the language, but I was grateful that my daughter, also fascinated by our ancestry, took it upon herself to learn how to speak Italian.

Discovering Milan’s Charms: Mercato Centrale and More

The cab ride took us through the bustling city streets, and dropped us off in front of a cold, flat building with a large iron gate that led into an open courtyard. There we found Hotel Midway, our first night’s stay as we embarked on our two week European adventure. Our screenless window from our hotel room gave a full view of the Milan Central Rail Station, reminiscent of Manhattan’s Grand Central Terminal.

This NYC vibe of Milan came with easy access to classy designer stores, quick subway rides and delicious food. Mercato Centrale was where I had my very first afternoon espresso. This massive warehouse is a food lover’s dream. Aisles of pizza, meats, fish, cheeses, cannolis and rich desserts reminded me of the Salumeria’s back home. A one stop market of Italian delicacies that we were happy to indulge in several times during our stay there.

Journey to Florence: Conversations and Cultural Exchange

Boarding the high-speed train to our next stop in Florence was exciting. We passed the time engaging in conversation with passengers from Sweden, comparing lifestyles, learning from each other, all with the same passion to explore what Italy has to offer. The late June touristy feel of Florence was apparent when we arrived.

Hotel Annabella was hidden down an ordinary street behind a huge wooden door. Its beauty remained unseen up until after several flights on a shaky, old, antique metal elevator. That’s where the familiar smell hit me. My grandmother’s house in Brooklyn was covered in the same style of furnishings and art. I was rushed with memories of childhood as I walked through lavish ornate rooms, up along a winding spiral staircase, and onto the rooftop blanketed with flowers and the most vibrant view ever.

The sights of the Renaissance architecture, the sounds of the church bells from the Duomo, and the fresh summer air called for my presence as I stood there in awe. “I am in Italy,” I whispered to myself. And here in this same spot, two days later, we witnessed the most beautiful display of fireworks in the sky. A tad more elaborate than the ones my cousins would perform when I was teenager, but just as heart pounding.

Embracing Roman History and Culture: Exploring Rome’s Charms

Soon after another train ride, the rubber soles of my sneakers hit the cobblestone pavement of the streets of Rome. I wondered how many feet walked this path before. This ancient city had a feel of its very own. Streets filled with tall buildings, nestled alongside historical monuments, ancient sculptures, restaurants, quaint little shops, and ivy lined canopies crossing over from one building to the next. I smiled when we approached the tall rust colored building. A man sat perched looking out his window watching the people below. A sight I have seen a million times before back at home from the “nosey” neighbors on my block. “Oh, so this is where they got it from,” I thought to myself.

The apartment we rented for the following days was next door, right above a grocery store. Everything was convenient in Rome. Daytime sightseeing of the Trevi Fountain, easy walks down the street for pizza and tiramisu, riding motorized scooters around the Colosseum at midnight. We relished in this independent lifestyle, having no sense of time.

Sorrento’s Serenity: A Breath of Fresh Air

I watched the boy in the seat in front of me speaking to his grandfather. His animated face and fast hand gestures captivated my attention. He looked at me as if I understood him. I did, but not through his words. I remembered the same banter with my grandfather and the joy he had when he looked at me.

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The train now came to a stop in Sorrento. The bright blue sky peeked its way through the lush green trees. I swear the air smelt like lemons and sunshine. This southern, beachy city was colorful and bright. Even the women were carefree in their sundresses and sandals.

There were little hidden gems tucked in every alleyway. The intricate formation of buildings and structures right on edge of this mountainous piece of land had me breathless. How have they created this life amongst these beautiful cliffs? You can feel the loyalty and genuine love the people of Sorrento had for their craft and for the traditions they kept. The pride that was similar to those of my grandparents.

Tuscany’s Tranquility: A Culmination of Heritage

The car we rented gave us the freedom to explore. A winding road led us to a charming Agriturismo in Tuscany. The woman who ran the house prepared us a six course meal. The flavors of red wine and fresh tomatoes filled my belly with warmth. I saw my mother through this woman’s eyes as she watched us enjoy this feast. As the sun rose in Tuscany I felt as if I stepped into a painting that hung over my grandmother’s couch. Familiar and lively, nothing short of magnificent. And here, I was home. I pressed my bare feet in the soil under an olive tree. I glanced at my daughter sitting beside me.

Epiphany: The Continuation of Tradition

It suddenly all became clear. We are living the very life my great grandparents created for us. All of their family traditions, morals and ethics passed down through generations, continuing now with my children. Italy lives in us. And as we have settled back at home, I flow through life more simply and I take just a little bit more pride as I stir my sauce on Sunday morning.