I’m a sucker for salt water. Having grown up close enough to the Atlantic to have the air smell briney when the wind blew a certain way, I am always going to seek out a salt-water destination if the opportunity arises, even a slightly cheesy one like the Jersey Shore. My all-time favorite, of course, … Continue reading 214. Tale of Two Beach Towns
I am fascinated by Fascist architecture. This building helpfully has a Fascista label You don’t have to be an expert to identify them; they are everywhere in Italy and you can’t miss them. Massive, hulking, solid, graceless: they hit you over the head with a comic-book version of strength and masculinity. (I can think of … Continue reading 213. Fascist buildings
2025 will mark the year that I fell in love … with Rome. I tried to count how many times I’d been, and came up with fourteen since 1965, when I spent a week there with my parents. There have probably been more. There have been several trips in the winter, when it’s drizzly and … Continue reading 212. Tale of Two Cities
On Thursday afternoon, when my daughter Lizy texted me “American Pope!” followed by “Villanova grad, from Chicago!” I thought it was the set-up for a joke. After all, we had been in St. Peter’s Square just a few hours earlier, and it looked like a normal day. I had expected to see priests engaged in … Continue reading 211. We Have a Pope!
Whenever I am going to be in Rome, I always reach out on Facebook to my cousin Clara in the hopes that she will arrange a get-together with my relatives. Clara learned English in high school 65 years ago, so she comes the closest in the group to being competently bilingual English-Italian. (If you’re wondering … Continue reading 210. Family
I come from a long line of artists. My Aunt Rose Casella went solo to Perugia in the 1930s to study painting, an endeavor I’m sure was highly unusual for an American young woman. My Aunt Gloria Casella was a graduate of the Art Institute in Chicago, arguably the best art school in the country. … Continue reading 209. Tiny Pieces
I love a routine. When I’m home, you can nearly set your watch by me. I know that many find the daily grind oppressive; I find the yawning expanse of time on the weekend to be a little depressing. I am a TGIM person: Thank God it’s Monday! But this experience of having a full … Continue reading 208. The Gift of Time
I had the great good fortune to be in Bologna for 25 Aprile, a national holiday that marks the anniversary of the day that Italy was liberated from Nazi occupation and the remnants of Fascism. This day is especially resonant in Bologna, the last Fascist stronghold liberated by the partigiani, or partisans. It took the … Continue reading 207. Liberation Day
When I first started coming to Italy with some regularity in the 1990s, nearly everyone looked like me. Yes, you would see young men from Africa selling counterfeit purses laid out on blankets on the streets, and women dressed in traditional Romani dress with their children, often begging, but they were visible and notable exceptions … Continue reading 206. Immigrati
I don’t consider myself a spiritual person. I don’t even understand what people mean when they say they are. But there is something about doing one of those long pilgrimage walks, the most famous being the Camino de Santiago through Spain and France, that has always intrigued me. A while back, I learned about the … Continue reading 205. Walking the Walk
Gigi's Italia 