Some reflections on Italy:

The Food: Above all, anything with porcini mushrooms was excellent. The minimalist pasta strategy (mostly noodles, few “toppings,” not much sauce — if any at all) was a refreshing departure from pasta in the U.S. (overcooked, oversauced, over-ingredient-ed, oversalted, I’m oversimplifying). The veal was much smoother and tastier than any I’ve ever had. The fruit was unbelievably fresh, like you’d get from a produce stand in California. Breakfast wasn’t really a meal (if you wanted eggs, it was called an “American Breakfast”). The croissants were light. After-dinner cappuccinos were a must. Paying for water and bread was an unwelcome adjustment. Zucchini flowers were unexpectedly prevalent. The gelato wasn’t transcendent. The tiramisu was.

Four-cheese pasta at Felice a Testaccio in Rome.

The Landscape: I’m just talking about the countryside here, not the cities. Tuscany looked like northern California, specifically Napa/Sonoma. Not an earth-shattering observation since they’re both wine-growing regions with comparable climates. But still, the similarities were striking. Cinque Terre and the coastal region approaching from the south looked like the Southern California coast, specifically Santa Barbara and Malibu. The palm trees, the rugged cliffs along the water, the beach culture, stucco buildings — none of it looked foreign. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t have a unique beauty.

The History: Clearly, the sense of history in Italy is immense. Not just history, but ancient history, the history upon which history is based. And I was surprised at how accessible it all was. There were ruins and centuries-old churches on every block. We were walking amid the ruins of The Forum, inside the Senate chambers, inches from Julius Caesar’s funeral pyre, in the Coliseum, through St. Peter’s Basilica. We weren’t looking through plexiglass or at pictures, but we were right there among it all. I felt finite next to such grandeur, but it was also empowering to feel like I was at the other end of humanity from these immortal ancestors. Corny, I know, but that’s me.

The People: Italians were kind, generous, gorgeous. They all spoke English, which made it easy — too easy — on us. Overall, it just seemed like a much healthier culture than we’re used to. Cities were slow to wake up. Dinner was a long, deliberate, relaxing process (if you allowed it to be). No one seemed to be rushing anywhere. Everyone in August was on holiday. Shops were closed. Everyone was out of town, or in town from elsewhere.

It was a great introduction to international travel. I can’t wait to get out and explore some more, and hopefully make myself worthy of bolder adventures.