Vacation Photo Gallery

Visitors to this site are familiar with the fact that actually visiting Italy, and getting to experience the sights, sounds, smells and culture of my ancestral home, had been a major goal of mine for very many years. Well, on July 1, 2000, that dream became reality. We departed for Milan on Alitalia flight #605 from JFK, and were on our way.

Having researched this trip to death – as is my custom – for many years, we pursued an ambitious agenda with a number of sometimes-conflicting goals. As a first-time visitor to Italy, I wanted to see as many of the top sites as I could in the major cities, such the Tower of Pisa, Vatican, and canals of Venice. Along the way, I had also developed an interest in the Renaissance masters, such as DaVinci, Michelangelo, Boticelli and Raphael, so the tour we selected had to include these stops as well.

Lastly, our choice needed to permit enough flexibility in our schedule to allow us to visit my ancestral towns, Mezzojuso, Sicily, near Palermo, and Castel Di Ieri, in the Abruzzo region. Therefore, finishing the tour in Rome was an important factor.

After much consideration, we selected the 11-day "Northern Highlights" package with Central Holidays, a New Jersey firm that happens to be the largest U.S. tour operator in Italy. Upon our arrival at Malpensa, the tour would bring us to – take a deep breath – Lugano (Switzerland)/ Milan/Verona/Venice/Padua/Bologna/Florence/Pisa/Assisi/ Torgiano/Rome.

This would allow us to accomplish two high-priority items on my agenda:

1. Arrive a day early in Milan, and see Leonardo’s Last Supper, which was not included in any tour package.
2. Have enough time at the end to visit my relatives Abruzzo and Sicily.

Our flight arrived at 8:00 AM, Milan time, on Sunday, July 2^nd. When we arrived the driver - as arranged by our travel agent, Loretta McMillan of Bentson Travel (who did a fabulous job) - was waiting for us, and drove us to our night’s lodgings, the Hotel Picadilly. This was the only downside of this stop, because the hotel left something to be desired in terms of both location and condition. But since it was only for one night, we lived with it.

After we napped for a couple of hours, we set out for our first destination, the Church of Santa Maria Della Grazie, the site of Leonardo’s fresco, The Last Supper. This was probably the single thing I wanted to see most, and I was not disappointed.

Loretta had made reservations for us, which was fortunate, since we would not otherwise have seen the fresco. We arrived just as our group was getting ready to enter, and would not have seen it at all had we not made it in time. But enter we did, and it was magnificent.

The fresco is 15 feet high by 29 feet wide, and photographs do it no justice. It had recently undergone a five-year cleaning, revealing much of Leonardo’s work for the first time in centuries. The sense of depth can only be appreciated in-person. Because of the perspective and size, Christ and the Apostles appear to be in the room.

Having seen the fresco, we began walking to downtown Milan and the Piazza Del Duomo. We had a brief stop for panini at a little bar, (where Thomas spilled a good amount of Coca-Cola on my jeans), and worked our way to Via Dante, a major pedestrian thoroughfare. There, we had our first gelato, heard a tenor singing arias, called my mom, and did a little shopping. We then walked to the end of Via Dante, the Piazza Del Duomo.

The Duomo is the largest Gothic Cathedral in the world, and the third largest church of any kind, after the Vatican and cathedral in Barcelona. The Piazza was crowded, but not more than I would have expected in the only tourist area open on a Sunday afternoon. It was getting near dinnertime, so we went into the indoor Galleria for our first local dining experience in Italy. Here we found that the pizza and pasta in Italy were always fresh, and also really good.

Next came our first surprise: singing. A lot of local kids were walking around with Italian flags, and their faces painted green, white and red, chanting "Ee-tal-ya, ee-tal-ya". Only then did I realize that Italy was facing France that evening in Euro 2000 for the soccer championship of the continent, and that a TV remote had been set up in the Piazza by RAI for the game. When we reentered the Piazza, there were thousands of young fans who went nuts anytime they were shown on the screen. We returned to the hotel by Metro. Unfortunately, Italy lost the game in overtime. The event was marked by violence in France, which I doubt would have happened in Italy, considering there was none when they lost.

That night, we lost power on our floor of the hotel twice during the game, and the in-room air conditioner leaked. Buona notte: the trip becomes First Class tomorrow.

It’s Monday, July 3^rd. After our first interesting Italian breakfast, the brother of our driver from Sunday (or so he said) picked us up at 11:00 AM for the one hour ride to Lugano, Switzerland. I’m guessing the reason that most of the tours begin in Lugano is the lack of appropriate large hotels in Milan, a city that struck me as grimy.

It was a cool, hazy morning, and Lugano was immaculate. We checked into the Holiday Inn, where we were to join the tour group at 6:00 PM for dinner at a restaurant on Lake Lugano. After some coaxing, I convinced the kids that a ride up the mountain on the funicular would be a good idea, and we were treated to some majestic views of the mountain and lake. Thomas and I ventured to the top, where there was a little monastery. It was gorgeous, but I learned my first photographic lesson of the trip: get a polarizing filter! My best shots of the vistas were lost in the haze.

After a rest and more panini, we began meeting the other members of the tour group in the lobby, and had our first glimpse of our guide and Mama Mia, Emanuella Spadoni. She was a tour guide straight out of central casting, in the mold of a young Sophia Loren. To say that she made this tour would be an understatement. She was perfect! She was helpful in every way, and understood that we were on vacation. We also became acquainted with our driver Antonio, who could turn that large bus on 200 lire (that's a dime at the prevailing exchange rate).

We boarded the bus, and set out for the welcome dinner at Capo San Marino on the lake. They had set up a very nice private room for us with a scenic terrace. The food was good, and the atmosphere light. Since Michelle had been reluctant to go on the trip, my first goal was to try and meet the other families with children, so that we could all enjoy our vacation. The first two groups we met were a family with three boys, Julio and Vicki Egusquiza, pediatricians from Miami, and one with another boy Thomas’s age: Suzanne, Jeffery and Skylar from Rochester. Jeff is a photographer and teacher, and he would be most responsible for my rekindled interest in photography on the trip.

Then, an important and funny moment occurred: they hadn’t given us any grated cheese for our pasta. When I inquired, the waiter retrieved one from another table. Well, those folks were outside, and they hadn’t eaten their pasta yet. It happened to be a family with two daughters, one Michelle’s age. If I was going to maintain my sanity, I would have to meet this family. So in a very literal "Who Moved My Cheese" moment, I returned the shaker and introduced myself to Kim and Alan Miranne of Manhasset, Long Island, the parents of Jennifer and Kristen.

That night, we also met a lot of other terrific people with whom we would spend the next 11 days, and since there were a total 46 on the tour, I can’t mention everyone here. However, I would be remiss if I excluded the New Jersey contingent: Jodie and Ira Ploshnick of Wayne, with whom we’ve also become very close, and the Maher’s, Tim, Lynn and Brian, of Basking Ridge.

This was our first full day on the bus, and also the first time we had been out of the U.S. for Independence Day.

The day began with our return to Milan, which was a little slow for the kids, but included a nice tour of La Scala Opera House. There seemed to be a lot of Italians on the stage arguing and gesturing, with little work getting done. Next, we went to the Galleria again and toured the inside of the Duomo.

We got back on the bus, and drove east on the Autostrada. Our next stop was lunch at the Autogrille, an Italian roadside chain remniscent of Howard Johnson’s. We had a nice meal, which was ruined when a member of our group had her purse stolen. We returned to the bus, and headed for Verona.

When the bus pulled into Verona, I truly had the feeling of going back in time. We had a terrific local tour guide, a teacher named Maurizio. He did a splendid job explaining local history, as well as how everything fit in modern times. There was a smaller version of the Colosseum built by the Romans, which is used in the summer for open-air operas. We saw many other medieval buildings, as well as the balcony purported to be that of Juliet. Yes, that Juliet.

After a number of photo ops in what was now oppressive heat, we re-boarded the bus, and headed toward Venice. The ride was long, and then came another surprise: Venice is on an island. All movements would require use of a ferryboat, gondola, or a small Italian water taxi called a vaporetto.

We would stay in a charming resort hotel called Albergo Quattro Fontane (Four Fountains Hotel) on Lido Island, a lovely vacation spot. It was situated across the street from a clean beach with white sand and blue-and-yellow cabanas, and next door to a casino.

The view of Venice from our ferry into Lido was wonderful, allowing for a number of great opportunities to take pictures. We ate at the hotel that night, which was OK, and then spent more time getting to know everyone. The four of us took a walk on the shore with Suzanne, Jeffery and Sky. After a late drink under the stars on a lovely evening, we retired to get ready for our trip to the most beautiful city in the world.

We got a really early start after breakfast al fresco, and boarded the vaporetto for Venice. Our plans called for a very full morning, consisting of a tour of the Doge’s Palace and St. Mark’s Square, a demonstration of the making of Murano glass (yippee!), and then a gondola ride, with music.

We met our local guide for the day, another teacher named Giovanni. He had a deep, booming voice, and was very knowledgeable about life in Venice during its heyday in the 1300’s. The palace was impressive, as it was the center of life at that time. Equally impressive was the Bridge of Sighs, where convicts breathed their last breath of freedom on their way to prison. The buildings and statues in the Palace had recently been cleaned, and they had an innovative way of scaring pigeons away: hundreds of thin needles attached to the statues and ledges.

After the glass factory (yes, that’s all I’m going to say about it), we prepared for our gondola ride. The detail on the gondolas was impressive, as they tend to reflect the personalities of the individual gondoliers. These men were young, handsome, and strong, as would be necessary in order to negotiate the narrow canals.

We had a real treat, because since the boats held 6 passengers and we were only 4, the musicians (an accordion player and a baritone) joined us in our boat. They added a great deal of atmosphere, singing a nice selection of Neopolitan songs. I must say, however, that I was very surprised that they didn’t know the recently popular Con Te Partirò by Andrea Bocelli, but were all over Hava Negilah!

The boats linked up in the Grand Canal for the big finale, and we headed back. I was surprised how clean Venice really was. The water was blue and clear, smelling of the sea; the streets and structures were immaculate. This was not what I had expected.

At the end of the boat ride, we went off on our own, in search of McDonald’s, (that’s right, we looked for the golden arches in Venice) where I discovered that in Italy, peach iced tea actually tastes like peach. From there, we got lost in the streets when we followed the signs to another St. Mark’s Church. Ultimately, we found our way back to the hotel for a nap before dinner.

That evening was one of the best nights of the tour. We had dinner in a lovely little trattoria called Consuleta, known for its seafood. There was much wine, and a fettucine with fresh vegetables that was just outstanding. It was also here that we learned Jeffery’s wine trick: finish a bottle right before it’s time to leave, then take the full replacement with you. This came in very handy during the rest of the tour.

We purchased a colorful sketch of a gondola in the canals from a local artist. In order to avoid carrying it, I mailed it home, where it arrived safely in six weeks!

After dinner, we spent several hours in Piazza San Marco, and just drank in the atmosphere. We bought roses for the ladies, finished the rest of the wine, bought gelato for the kids, and moved between the outdoor cafés in the square, listening to a variety of live music at each. A youth choir from France began to sing spontaneously on the steps of the Basilica. It was all very lovely.

We caught the last vaporetto at 11:30 PM, and were treated to a fireworks display over a hotel at the dock with a Cinzano neon sign.

It was a very complete day. I love Venice.

Our travel days tended to be long, and this day was not an exception. We woke for breakfast on Lido, and after eating, I took a group of the kids onto the beach to look for shells and get our feet wet. When we were done, we walked to a little inlet a block away from the hotel, and boarded a small passenger ferry that would take us past Venice one last time, and back to the bus for our trip to Tuscany.

This part of the trip was very relaxing, as we got to see a little of Venice off the beaten track. It was very rewarding to have a last look at so much history.

Our first stop on the bus would be Padua, and the Basilica of Saint Anthony. As I would later describe it, this tour was the "Super Bowl" of Italian saints. The exterior of the Basilica was made of a fairly ordinary brick, but it housed St. Anthony's 700 year-old remains, and is a place where many of the faithful leave petitions. His teeth, tongue and vocal chords are on display, because for some reason, they decided to open his casket in the 1970's, and that was what remained of him. Mama told us it was because he must have something to say. It also compelled Michelle to go to confession.

There was an interesting statue of a horse and rider in the Piazza by Donatello, so I took the few minutes of quiet time I had to cross the street solo, sit at a café with an espresso, and watch the world happen before me. There seemed to be a lot of pigeons here.

We retreated to the bus, and began our ride toward lunch in Bologna, a university town. There, we ate in a former wine cellar called Osteria de Poeti. The food was regional and excellent, and featured an effervescent Lambrusco wine from the area. I was never a big fan of this wine, since back at home, it is primarily known as soda-pop wines like Reunite and Canei. Their version had a lot more body and a better taste…and we drank plenty of it to be sure.

We left the restaurant in time to see cars being towed on the tiny street on which it was situated. After a too-short walk back to the bus, we were on our way to Florence. Once there, we made the compulsory stop at Piazza Michelangelo (pictured above) for the mandatory tour group pictures. It was hot, but it was a very nice place to stop, as it provided panoramic views of this beautiful city that was the heart of the Italian Renaissance. We also saw the first of two "fake" Davids here.

We checked into our hotel, the Anglo American, which was just a few blocks from the Arno River, but not really close enough to the main part of town. There was a mark about 5 feet up the wall in the lobby where the waters of the Arno had reached in the flood of 1966, but more about the hotel later.

We had another super evening on our own, when we all took a very leisurely walk along the river to Signoria Square, the heart of the central area of the city. This beautiful piazza is an outdoor museum with numerous statues, most notably a second "fake" David and a lovely portrayal of Neptune and his court around a fountain. It was here that Ira, Alan and I collaborated on an impromptu dinner for 20 in one of the local cafés. They saw Americans and their cash; we saw immediate accommodations for an army.

The evening ended with more gelato, and a walk around the lovely Duomo, which is covered in marble mosaic tile. There are no churches like this in America.

This was a great cultural day, heavy on the museums. In the morning, we would visit the Accademia to see Michelangelo’s David. They had a splendid collection of his sculpture, which included his prigioni, or prisoners of the marble. These were half-completed statues, prisoners because the figures had not been completely freed from the stone. We then entered the room housing David. The statue was larger than I imagined, with extremely large hands and feet (and no, don’t ask about other extremities). Until I was able to walk around the sculpture, I had never noticed David’s trademark slingshot.

Next, we visited the Piazza Del Duomo in daylight, marveling at all of the ceramic work, and then the "gold factory", where we got some great deals on chains and medals for all four of us. We then made the compulsory "leather factory" tour, which was short enough to be painless.

Finally, with a reservation made by Loretta, the four of us entered the Uffizzi Gallery, and viewed a great deal of work by Renaissance masters such as Raphael, Leonardo, and Boticelli. My two favorites were the Boticelli’s, Primavera and Birth of Venus (Venus on the half-shell in Brooklyn). The size of these paintings was impressive, and books do them no justice.

Thankfully, Maureen and I saw what we wanted and got the kids out of the museum. We then began a too-long walk back to the hotel in direct sunlight, on a 95° day. We cooled off and rested to prepare for one of the most fun evenings on the tour.

That evening, we would eat at Villa Viviani in the Tuscan hills. The evening could best be described as a wedding reception, with wine, music, dancing, a beautiful setting, and a seven-course meal. The villa was formerly property of the Medici family, and there was nothing there short of perfect. The revelry continued on the bus ride back, when Vicki and family began dancing spontaneously in the aisle to salsa music.

This wasn’t a great day. It began with one of my least favorite things to do in any country: shopping with Michelle, for which we skipped the optional trip to Sienna. We needed to get her a dress to wear at the Vatican, which had a lot of restrictions. We went to various shops recommended by Mama Mia, without much luck. After about four hours, she finally found something acceptable at a boutique in the train station.

In the afternoon, we went to Pisa for the compulsory photo op at the Leaning Tower. It was fun, it was necessary, but it was so "been-there-done-that".

As if to top off the day an already difficult day, we had our worst meal of the trip that evening, in the hotel. In a tribute to terrible planning, they served swordfish as the only entrée, made matters worse by cutting it very thinly against the grain, and then dried it out. The group was in an uproar, as fish should never be the only choice served to American tourists (Anglo American?). The hotel staff then did everything in their power to exacerbate the situation by being extremely nasty. To make matters worse, there was an inexpensive neighborhood Tuscan restaurant down the block that was rated highly by my Arthur Frommer guide.

To relieve everyone’s stress after dinner, I took a bunch of the kids on a gelato run, and we walked for about an hour. Jeff and Suzanne then graciously treated Maureen and me to champagne, showing that there was still some class in this hotel, albeit imported from America.

This was a really interesting day. We left Florence, and headed for Lungarotti Vineyards in Torgiano, where we arrived at 10:30 AM. It might seem unusual to drink wine at such an early hour, but that didn’t occur to us until we had arrived home in New York. We tried the red, white and rosé, along with a rosemary foccacia. We were really quite content when we drove 2 hours toward Assisi.

Assisi is a breathtaking town in Central Italy with beautiful vistas, and was the home of St. Francis. He vowed a life of poverty around 1280, and walked these very streets. He is a key saint in Italy, protector of animals and livestock.

We had lunch at the Hotel Windsor Savoia, about halfway up the hill. It was a decent meal, with pasta, chicken and veal.

We then took a tour of the imposing cathedral, where St. Francis is buried in the lower church. We made our way up to the upper church, and witnessed Mass in progress, along with some beautiful frescoes.

What followed was interesting, to say the least. When we were in the upper church, I was lagging behind with Jeffery, taking pictures. It was then that I briefly noticed a confused-looking girl of about twenty sort of in, sort of not in our party. However, about 20 minutes later, I heard Alan say, "what do you think you’re doing?" as the same girl was unzipping Lynn’s purse! In the Church, where St. Francis is buried! She escaped, but we detained her male companion for the Carabinieri.

We returned to the bus to begin our 3-hour journey to Rome, but not before Antonio closed the bus doors on me and pretended to pull away when I went to buy bottled water.

For me, Rome was the highlight of the tour. The city was very clean as a result of being throughly scrubbed in anticipation of the Jubilee. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and went directly to the Hotel Visconti Palace, on the West Side of the Tiber, not far from the Vatican. After a brief rest, we got back on the bus for an evening tour of the Eternal City.

Our first stop was to the Trevi Fountain at dusk. There was pizza, gelato, and coins-in-the-fountain. Mama explained that we should throw the coin over our left shoulder, with our right hands. One coin means that you’ll return to Rome someday, two to get married, and three to get divorced (?). We saw a bride and groom taking photos, so I presume that they used two coins. By now, it was dark.

We got back on the bus, and continued around Rome, passed the Colosseum and Forum, and finally stopped in St. Peter’s Square. We had a few moments to walk and take pictures, and then headed back to the hotel for a drink and the end of a busy day.

This was our first full day in Rome, and would begin some important disappointment caused by one person: our local tour guide, Marisa. She was mean, she was condescending, and she was nasty. She had apparently received prior complaints, but they kept her on because she’s "knowledgeable". Her idea of guiding the tour was told hold up a book for too long and keep us in one spot for a maximum period of time. She was also very short with follow-up questions. She reminded me of the woman in Goldfinger who had the knife in her shoe.

Our only stop this morning was the Colosseum. After detaining us too long in its bowels, she finally allowed us to enter the arena, and it was breathtaking. The interior was undergoing renovations to add a stage, but one is taken by all the history and suffering that took place here. There is a large iron cross in the stands in honor of the early Christian martyrs who lost their lives on the site.

Adjacent were Hadrian’s Arch and the Roman Forum, which we didn’t get to see today because of the time spent with the book, prompting Ira to shoot her an evil eye and horns. We left, and had lunch at a little place near our hotel called Café Azzuro, with terrific fresh pasta and a great vegetable buffet, our first experience with vegetation in Italy.

That afternoon, we took the optional tour of the Appian Way, the Catacombs of St. Sebastian, and the Church of St. Paul Outside the Walls, a Papal Basilica. St. Paul is buried beneath its altar. All were impressive, although I was a little creeped out by the Catacombs, as we were far underground, and the area has a history of earthquakes.

It was now time to leave for dinner. On the way however, we were pinned on our tiny street, and our driver Antonio, along with three members of the tour, lifted and moved a small car from our path, and placed it in a new parking space.

We finished the evening with one of our best dinners of the tour at Ristorante Ambasciata L’Abruzzo, which was located in a very fashionable part of Rome. The cuisine, as expected, was Abruzzese, with a wonderful large ravioli made with basil and butter, and rosemary-scented roasts. The maitre d’ was kind enough to give me a dinner plate from the restaurant with a neat Abruzzese bear emblem on it. Also by this night, Lynn had perfected Jeff’s wine trick.

This would be our last day together, and it would be one of the most fun, although it didn’t begin that way, mostly thanks to Maleficent, er, Marisa. We needed to be on our bus at 7 AM for the short trip to Vatican City, where we would wait outside for about an hour before entering. As luck would have it, it began to pour when we got off the bus. Umbrellas were going for 10,000 lire on the open market ($5).

When we entered, Vatican Security wouldn’t allow Vicki to bring in the golf umbrella that she had borrowed from Antonio. Marisa turned this into a 25-minute confrontation, eventually relenting when Emanuella agreed to take the umbrella with her. She then lolly-gagged us through the corridors leading to the Sistine Chapel, wasting more precious time that could have been spent in the Raphael wing. We also lost our position as the second tour group in the queue, for which we had gotten up at 5:30 AM!

When we arrived in the Sistine Chapel, she again raised her book, and about half the group began to drift off, moving away to look around on their own. I’ll never forget the sight of Julio "illegally" videotaping the ceiling with his viewing screen turned off.

Even Marisa could not spoil the sight of Michelangelo’s exquisite ceiling, and its representation of the Story of Creation. Each panel told a recognizable biblical story, and with the recent cleaning, burst off the plaster in a blaze of color.

After we were done in the Chapel, we spent too much time in a minor Papal corridor, and far too long in front of St. Peter’s Basilica, where five additional tour groups passed us. She then tried to speed us past Michelangelo’s Pietà, and on to an uninteresting fountain of an angel. We moved to the front of the Basilica, to a statue of St. Peter, which is famous for being touched on the feet by the faithful as a blessing. When she attempted to move the group along without the opportunity to touch the statue, her authority was broken, and everyone went anyway. Seemingly to punish us, she skipped a tour of the Papal crypt, where St. Peter is buried under the altar with many other Popes, and then left us in the gift shop for 45 minutes so we couldn’t leave her. At last she was gone.

This was our free afternoon, and we needed to make the most of it, since we would leave the next day. The morning rain had broken the heat, so the afternoon was sunny and comfortable. A group of us left the hotel on foot at 1 PM, and walked to the Piazza Navona for lunch in an outdoor café called Ai Tre Tartufi. I could have spent a whole day here among the Bernini fountains, artists, and old buildings. We took the short walk to the Pantheon, a fully-preserved ancient Roman temple. From there we visited Rome’s only synagogue, along the Tiber, a reward to Ira and Jodie for patiently visiting so many Catholic churches. Next we saw the Boca Della Verita or Mouth of Truth, into which Gregory Peck placed his arm in Roman Holiday; the Circus Maximus, site of the chariot races depicted in Ben Hur; and finally, we returned to the Forum and Colosseum.

The Forum was extremely impressive, as much of what has been excavated is from the time of Christ. There were English-speaking college students there conducting very animated tours for free. I suppose we never made it in because Marisa was afraid of the competition. We then walked to the "good" side of the Colosseum, the part we hadn’t seen the day before that still had all of its marble. Finally, we boarded three taxis, and made our way to the Spanish Steps, then walked back to the hotel. We had hit all of our mandatory spots, but I really need two more days in Rome. Arrivederci!

Our farewell dinner would be at the open-air, gas-lit Da Meo Patacca, which is a vulgar name, referring to female anatomy. The food was excellent, and they put on a little show for us. While there, we witnessed a near miss of two jets overhead.

We headed back to the hotel for a very teary-eyed final drink, and said our farewells to those we wouldn’t see after that night.

This was a transit day. We got an early bus back to the airport with the other folks who weren’t continuing south: Ira and Jodie, Jack and Donna, the Maher's, etc. We caught an early one-hour Alitalia flight, which was essentially a shuttle to Palermo. I found Alitalia’s domestic service to be superior to their transatlantic flights, mainly because of the equipment. Coming from New York, we flew on an older 747, which had been heavily smoked-on. By contrast, the flights within Italy utilized new Airbus jets that were put into service since the smoking restrictions were enacted.

Angelo Schillizzi, my mother’s second cousin on her mother’s side, was waiting for us in the airport lobby with a restaurant photo of us from when he was in America several years ago, and a sign reading "DeAngelo".

He drove us about 20 miles to my mother’s birthplace of Mezzojuso, a mountain town with a thousand year-old history. The town was beautiful, as was their home. The houses are old, but have mostly been renovated, and are covered in new stucco and marble, since that’s the family’s business (please, no jokes about cement shoes). The homes are built vertically, with only a room or two on each of 3 or 4 levels.

His wife, Celestina, is my mother’s first cousin on her father’s side, and a wonderful cook. Since we were on an island in the Mediterranean, she prepared us a wonderful meal of seafood, with fried shrimp, and grilled swordfish that put the meal in Florence to shame. I could definitely taste a similarity with the cooking of my mother and grandmother. The bread was incredible, and Celestina was pleased to hear that I also preferred the bread in Sicily to that of the "boot".

At dinner, I met their younger adult children, Rosanna with her toddler Alberto, and Jimmy, who is a political science student in Palermo. My Italian got a good workout, and they were amused by my use of the dictionary.

We then visited Angelo’s sister Lia and her family at their home on the lower part of the hill. Her house revolves around the family home improvement business, Intonacci Billone. He daughter Rita is twenty, and a Xerox copy of my mother. Next we visited Angelo’s son Marcello, whom we had hosted in 1996 on his honeymoon trip to America. His wife Tanina remembered my struggle trying to communicate with them in Italian four years earlier, and was thrilled that I had come such a long way. Angelo then brought us to the hills overhead to photograph the town from above.

Before cena, we took our first walk along the streets of my mother’s childhood. The obvious highlight was her birthplace, the house built by my great-grandfather, emblazoned with a large "SV" for Schillizzi Vincenzo. The house overlooks his farmland, which is known as Scorcia Vacchia. The woman living in the house was quite gracious, and allowed us to come in and look around. The modern conveniences that have been added do not completely mask the impoverished lifestyle led there by my mother's family. The little Church of St. Anthony was nearby, in whose courtyard my mother and her twin sister played as children. Angelo has many connections in town, so we were able to enter the chapel, which is currently being restored. Within the walls of the chapel is the well from which my grandmother drew water. I hope to return and attend Mass there someday.

On the way back, we passed la fontana vecchia, the stone fountain whose construction brought my Schillizzi ancestors from Albania in 1625. The fountain's small size made me wonder about the level of craftsmanship in Sicily before their arrival.

We continued our walk to the town’s Piazza, which consists of two churches and the Banca Di Sicilia, where I told Maureen she could work when we move to Mezzojuso. The bank building is significant, because Garibaldi stayed there when he was garnering support for Italian independence.

Celestina served us what I thought would be a light meal at about 9 PM, but it ended up consisting of grilled veal chops, salami, cheese, olives and wine. It was now time to rest.

This was the day that we spent some serious time in the car, taking the 90-minute drive to and from Agrigento, the birthplace of the playwright Luigi Pirandello. The other notable attraction in Agrigento is several fully intact Greek temples, made of a sandy reddish stone, which date back 2,700 years. We saw construction that pre-dated the ancient Romans.

I had my second camera mishap at this time: my film had jammed, and I couldn’t open the camera because of the glaring midday sun. Incredibly, Angelo had a 27-exposure Fuji disposable camera with 800 ASA film in his glove box. The bad news is that none of these pictures came out, probably because they were severely overexposed in the bright sunlight. Fortunately, Thomas’ camera was loaded, so we do have pictures of the site.

We returned to another one of Celestina’s wonderful meals, and rested until later in the afternoon. Thomas spent the rest of the day learning how to tend bar with my cousin Nino, Angelo's eldest son. Nino lived over his bar next door to Angelo. He somehow saw me each time I peeked out the front door, and invited me into the bar for coffee. He also taught Thomas to make espresso, serve drinks, and work the cash register (in lire), all in Italian, and "paid" him in video game tokens from his arcade.

At dusk, Angelo brought me to the Roman Catholic Church in the Piazza where my mother was baptized, Maria Santissima Annunziata. I wanted to solve the mystery of my great-great-grandfather, Antonino Schillizzi, who died when my great-grandfather Vincenzo was an infant. We found his record of death, learned his age, and also that he was buried within the Church itself, in an open crypt. (No, we didn’t look!) The pastor, Father Cosentino then produced my mother’s baptismal certificate.

Finally, we viewed my website on the rectory computer. They were very moved by photos of the same church in which we were sitting.

That evening, we had a lovely Sicilian barbecue at the home of Angelo’s daughter, Rosanna. Her home is on the outskirts of town, with a terrace overlooking the Piazza, from which I took some night photographs.

This would be our last full day in Sicily, and we accomplished a great deal. Angelo brought us into Palermo for a nice tour of the city. Palermo was impressive, with a strong Spanish influence. It is reminiscent of Havana or Buenos Aires, with wide, open thoroughfares and palm trees.

At the request of the Popes, the Spanish removed the French ruling class from Sicily, the Kingdom of Naples, and the Papal States in the 1700’s. The Sicilians admired the Spanish for restoring the Catholic Church, and for the improved treatment they received. They remodeled the City in the prevailing Spanish style, as evidenced by the City Hall and the Cathedral. We saw the Opera House where Mary Corleone was shot in Godfather III.

We also did two things uniquely Sicilian: we rode in a cart pulled by a donkey, and we ate our gelato in a delicious baba-like sweet roll. But Maureen was the big winner, finding quality leather purses at half price!

At dusk, I took a walk with my cousin Jimmy, who was able to get me into the Greek Orthodox Church next to Annunziata in the Piazza, San Nicola Di Mira. There was a sharp contrast to the look of the Catholic church, as this rite makes great use of two-dimensional icons, using a lot of gold.

I had hoped to visit the village of Corleone, but although it's not that far as the crow flies, it takes 45 minutes to get there along the narrow mountian roads. We instead visited the nearby frazione of Campofelice di Fitalia, which spun off from Mezzojuso in 1948. Amazingly, at dusk, the cows leave the fields and head home on their own! Maureen and the kids really got a kick out of this.

After a nap back at the house, we returned to Palermo with Marcello, Tanina, and the other young adults and had dinner in a marvelous seafood restaurant, Ristorante La Barca, which overlooked the Isole Delle Femine. This restaurant is frequented by vacationing Italian celebrities, and has no menu. They just bring it, and they bring a lot, all types of fish and crustaceans. The featured item is a steamed purple octopus, which tasted a lot better than it sounds. As guest of honor, I had the privilege of eating the head, and it was delicious.

This was a surreal evening, because two of my Billone cousins, Marcello and Rita, are carbon copies of my grandfather and my mother, respectively. It was very strange indeed to have a young version of my late grandfather stare back at me during dinner.

We said our good-byes to Celestina and Jimmy, when I watched one of my master plans crash and burn. We had brought gifts from home for my relatives in both places: a large stars-and-stripes water jug for each host family, jars of Skippy Peanut Butter for everyone else (my friend Alberta's suggestion), and assorted baby gifts from my mother, all of which fit in an extremely heavy carry-on bag that I had lugged all across Italy. The plan was to empty the bag and have room for souvenirs, but our hosts promptly filled three bags with jars of olives, anchovies, and loose oregano, which made my luggage and rental car smell like pizza for the rest of the trip. Now sufficiently weighed down, Angelo drove us back to the airport in Palermo.

I was very sad to leave, but we had another mission ahead of us: drive (!) on the Autostrada, and get to the city of L’Aquila in Abruzzo, the home of my second cousin on my father's side, Eva DiVenanzio.

We had an uneventful flight to Rome, and then spent what seemed like an eternity getting our car, a really nice Alfa Romeo. The drive took us about 2 hours, and included another stop at the Autogrille. I made a key mistake here: I didn’t buy more film when I had the chance, which became a problem because Thomas was using as much film as I was. We made it to L’Aquila at about 3:00 PM local time, where it occurred to me that while I had an address and phone number, the town was much bigger than I had imagined.

We found a pay phone, and a lady who was nice enough to explain to Eva where we were (well I was lost, and my Italian is not that good). But they came and found us, and we followed them back to their apartment. There we met her husband Piero, and her children Emiliano and Antonella, both students in their early 20’s. Eva is the granddaughter of Donato DeAngelis, my grandfather’s brother. She grew up in Castel Di Ieri, birthplace of my father’s parents.

Eva had prepared a very nice dinner of cannelloni (there is no manicotti in Italy) and some of Piero’s wine ("non e forte come Sicilia"). After dinner, we watched videos of the Feast of San Donato, which has turned into an early-September pilgrimage for those born in the town. This gave us an opportunity to see more of our relatives in preparation for the next day’s journey.

This was a very special day, when we would walk the streets of my grandparents in Castel Di Ieri. We awoke at Eva's, ate biscotti with sweetened tea and espresso, and drove along the foggy, winding roads of the Apennine Mountains for about 30 miles. The ride was beautiful, although unnerving because the road was rarely straight. We arrived at about 10 AM, and met another second cousin, Giambattista Pizzochia, with whom I had been corresponding. At this time we also saw Eva's childhood home, where we would spend the evening.

We were then introduced to the DiBenedetto brothers, Mario and Antonio. Antonio is the church rector, and Mario is an expatriate to Australia who returns each year in the summer. Mario was my lifeline, as he spoke English. The only sign that he was living "down under" and not in Brooklyn was his use of the word "bloody". Antonio was kind enough to send me home with two copies of an artist's rendereing of San Donato, one of which was for my grandmother, who was in the hospital that week.

We attended 11 AM Mass in the church of Santa Maria Dell'Assunta, Saint Mary of the Assumption. It is the church where my grandparents received their sacraments, and also the burial place of San Donato, an early Christian martyr. I met the pastor of the church, Don Eugenio Zuegg, who told me that there were no records remaining before 1700 because of fire.

We were treated to dinner in the Osteria Da Mario, the only restaurant in town. Here, we had a meal of cannelloni, tagliatelle, and pork, fragrant with rosemary and garlic. The cooking was very reminiscent of that of my grandmother.

The highlight of the day was the walk we took up the spiraling streets to the Castel. We began by walking through the stone gate, and were able to enter both the DeAngelis and DiGiovanni homes. Most of the architecture in the town dates back to the 1500's, including original doors and hardware. The houses were made of a sandy stone.

Imagine my surprise when a squat gentleman resembling my father pulled up in a car! His name was Valerio Succo, which is a surname on my family tree. I was home!

We marched up the hill, and next to the Castel, saw a 1,000 year-old church which is being restored. Then we entered the Castel Di Ieri, and climbed the 5 spiral staircases to the top. This opened to breathtaking vistas of the Superequana Valley and lovely Mount Sirente. Since Mario couldn’t make the climb, it was a great opportunity to work on my Italian conversation; we covered local history, geography and agriculture. It was at the top of the tower that I ran out of film, and since the tobacconist was closed on Sundays, there would be no opportunity to purchase more. Fortunately, Thomas still had about 5 shots left.

The trip back down was equally eventful. On a back street, I found a steel door emblazoned with the name DeAngelis, and a Coat of Arms. The emblem was a blue over red shield, with a depiction of the Castel below, and a pair of crossed serpents on top.

When we arrived at the bottom, I met a great-aunt, Concetta, daughter of Angelo DeAngelis, another brother of Rocco. She comfirmed that an old photo that I had received from our cousin Anita in Pennsylvania was indeed Marco DeAngelis and Anna Mucci, Rocco and Angelo's parents. I had accomplished a major goal by identifying my great-grandparents.

We were then dinner guests of Eva’s brother Luigi, who has a beautifully renovated house at the bottom of the hill. He is a real character, playing classical "Name that Tune" with us. At the end of the meal, Giambattista and his family joined us. We discussed our families, and Tom Hanks' filmography.

Exhausted, we spent the night in Eva’s childhood home. The temperature dropped to about 40°. We slept well in the fresh mountain air.

We woke up early in Castel Di Ieri. That morning, I met Giambattista’s mother Luigina, another great-aunt. Luigi handed me two 1.5-liter water bottles filled with homemade wine, one red, and one white. We had breakfast, bid farewell to Luigi, and followed Piero, Eva and Emiliano back to the Autostrada via Avvelino.

We drove back toward DaVinci airport in Rome, stopping again at the Autogrille to get lunch and souvenirs, and then for gas ($4 per gallon!). We made it back with a little time to spare, and then found that our flight would be delayed almost 2 hours. Alitalia, however, did the right thing: they provided another meal at the Autogrille, this time in the airport.

We had a very long flight back, 8 ½ hours, and were wide awake. We saw a movie with David Duchovny and Minnie Driver that was set in Chicago and Rome, and covered a lot of the sights that we had just left. We arrived at about 6:30 PM at JFK, and were found by our driver, which was a very important consideration, since they had opened a new International terminal while we were gone. We were home by 8 PM, and tired.

God, this sucks! I woke up at 1:30 AM, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I was a zombie for a full week.

We made a lot of great new friends on the tour, and have managed to get together since the trip. We hope to continue this in the future, and to travel with them again. We also look forward to when our relatives can come visit us here in America.

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