Italian Summer
Stories accompanied by photos of my trip to Italy this summer. I spent MayMester in Spoleto, which lies between Florence and Rome. We took numerous trips… We went to Assisi, Montefalco, Rome, and Sperlonga. Join me in my adventure!
My classmates, professors, and I, on a tour of the old city. This photo was captured by my dear friend and classmate, who has an eye for photography. This moment depicts us engaging in subtle conversations, getting to know each other whilst we walk down the mountain and into the main town.
I decided to enroll in a travel writing program abroad for this summer. Spending my time in the Italian countryside, I was able to truthfully immerse myself in the culture and the locals. For three weeks, I took light classes, taking my learning from experience. This opportunity was amazing. I got to take in so much rich history… I got to learn the history of Spoleto, I got to see Rome, I got to swim in the Mediterranean Sea; heck, I even got to experience the Italian club scene. Join me on my Italian summer experience. It was a blast!
Touring the City
My first day there, we took a quick tour of the town. Even though I had just gotten off an eight-hour flight, I was in awe. Old buildings that have stood tall since long before me lay before my eyes. It was unreal. The tour did not last long as all the girls were jet lagged; however, it gave me a glimpse into the life I’d be experiencing over the next three weeks.
Old apartments in one of the squares of downtown Spoleto. Walking through the historic city, taking the same footsteps of those who would do so hundreds of years ago, you get the feeling of what life was like long before your time.
Our first night there, the other girls and I decided to go and get food. Only girls had attended the program. We took this as an opportunity to get to know each other and go out together.
We went to the most popular restaurant in town, Pandemonio. It’s probably the closest establishment you could find to a nightclub in the quiet city of Spoleto. We did not know it then, but we would be spending a lot of time here.
The girls chose me as the designated one to speak to the waiter, though I probably knew the least Italian. I waved over a man, the owner of the restaurant. He told us that he could only serve all thirteen of us without a reservation if he brought us whatever the kitchen would make. We were so starved we immediately said yes, and he sat us.
Right away, they brought out beer and French fries for the Americans. By the time they started bringing out pizzas, a group of guys our age was seated across from us. There was only one boy who spoke good English, and he sat there translating between his friends and us. He instructed us to sing Happy Birthday to his friend… His name was Filippo.
The French fries that they brought out for us. We got eight bowls of them. They were the best French fries I had ever had in my entire life.
It didn’t take us long to learn that Thursdays were Karaoke Nights at Pandemonio. The owner came around with a music box attached to him and brought us a chip to slide into it. The chip allowed us to cue any song we wanted.
We then spent the night singing, dancing, and engaging with the Italians and their culture. They played songs from popular American musicals for us. Tables of Italians encouraged us to sing louder, watching our spectacle. They told us we had pretty voices and got up to join us and dance.
Just one of the twelve pizzas we were served. It was unreal. You can taste the richness of the flour in each bite of food over there. I was, my taste buds were in heaven.
The next morning, we had language class. At ten… For five hours. It was a drag. We then set off with our professors for a tour of the old town, within the mountains of Spoleto. Needless to say, it was beautiful.
We first took the escalators up to the top of the mountain to La Rocca, the old fortress. This historical relic overlooks all of Spoleto; Almost the entire region of Umbria, for that matter… At least on one side. On the other hand, green. Mountains reside, connected by an old aqueduct, providing clean water for those of Spoleto.
Two of my friends, sitting, admiring the view from the fortress. I, too, sat there for a while, staring out the window. Green has always been my favorite color… Here, I was surrounded by it. I couldn’t believe what was in front of me; the power of nature right before my eyes.
Our translator told us old stories of the fortress and its purposes. At one point, it was used to house family members of old Popes. Around another, it served its purpose as a prison. I wouldn’t have minded being trapped in there, I thought, surrounded by walls depicting stories from hundreds of years beforehand.
This was my first time in a foreign country. I had never ventured beyond U.S. territory up until now. I was astonished by the architecture, the warmth of the people, and the ways of life. The more I learned about the Italians, the more I wanted to live like them.
They’d bring their pets to work. Their stray animals consisted of cats; friendly cats, for the most part. Coming from someone who is allergic, it still brought me such happiness to see them.
Me, pointing at one of the cats who would quite literally join us for class. This cat would walk into class and sit in attendance with us. This was our first time meeting him. He would never travel alone. There are cats everywhere in Italy.
Making our way from the top of the mountain, we then gave ourselves a tour of the Duomo di Spoleto. Walking through the church, each girl and each professor remained in awe. Our souls were stagnant. We could feel each person who had worshipped there before us.
The Duomo Di Spoleto. Built in the twelfth century, the Duomo stands tall and in service still today. People gather in light of the Lord to worship his grace and thank him for his blessings.
Both religious and agnostic proceeded to light candles. For some reason, it felt as if it symbolized something. The warmth, the brightness of the light, signifying our presence there. Signifying the fact that we were one with those within the church, one with the world that we all have inherited.
The paintings inside the Cathedral depict the life of Mary herself. The artist, Filippo Lippi, included both his wife and son in the painting. It is unreal in person. I could have admired it all day.
We then made our way down to the main square of the old town. Here, it was bustling with cheer. People were gathering for aperitifs, a snack before dinner, roughly at six, accompanied by a drink and companions.
Locals engaged in their daily activities: shopping, aperitifs, etc. We watched over their lively routines with awe and a tad bit of jealousy. Life was so simple for them; so slow, so remarkable.
My classmates and professors went to go and get gelato, whilst one other girl and I split off from the group. We went over to the jewelry stores that had caught our eyes on our way into the square.
“You’ll be here for the next three weeks!” Our professor said, when we engaged in a conversation about it beforehand. “You’ll have time to shop later.”
So, we waited until he was fully engaged in his gelato to sneak off. He had advised us to wait, though we couldn’t contain ourselves. We were so excited to see the creations of those across the globe.
I picked out a silver bracelet with heart lockets. During my conversation with the shop owner, I told her I was from Boston. She immediately expressed her fascination with Martha’s Vineyard through broken English.
“Their language…” She said. “It's different on the North and South half of the Island.”
She enlightened me on the different pronunciations on the opposing sides of the island before we joined the group and made our way back to Villa Tota, the place we were staying.
The next night, I found myself back in the old square, roaming around with some of the girls before our welcome dinner. We decided not to take the escalators, to give ourselves a challenge, in order to explore the city.
Walking up seemingly hundreds of steps, we stumbled upon a beautiful old stone home. A little fluffy dog greeted us. We stopped, in awe.
The house from a fairytale. Located on the side of the mountain, this house, and its owners, reside peacefully. I wanted to know about the lives of those who have ever lived inside that home. I wanted to hear the stories of the walls, of the land it lays on. I was intrigued by its beauty.
We continued up the steps and stumbled upon a leather store that we had heard about. I stopped and bought my dad a nice wallet with a horse engraved on it. It had caught my eye right away. It was only 42€.
“45 years I've been here.” The shop owner told me.
He tried to explain a life’s worth of tribulations through a foreign language.
“Bellissimo!” I said, slowly spinning around the store, trying to acknowledge everything he had to offer. He smiled, and I continued on with my evening. I showed off my new purchase to everyone at the welcome dinner. I carried the weight of his story for the rest of the night.
Sunday was our first free day. After that, we’d begin class on Monday. I rested up and prepared for the week ahead, trying my hardest to be rid of the jet lag.
We only had class on Monday and Wednesday, as other days of the week were more tailored to our learning experiences. These excursions brought our skills as writers to a broadened cultural perspective through hands-on learning.
The Classroom Abroad
We took two classes: one on advanced travel writing, the other on digital media. When we met, we’d discuss our writing, our digital content throughout the trip. It helped me engage with multimodal travel writing and media through both the professor's teachings and the differing projects between my classmates and me.
A photo my dear friend and classmate took of me, roaming the backyard of the bar/hotel where we’d have class. The patio and garden are filled with bees, butterflies, and poppies, overlooking the aqueduct. We’d sit outside to eat and write during our given lunch and class time.
Another photo, picturing me walking back to the patio to continue writing. The mountains line the landscape in the back. Poppies fill the wall next to me. The birds would sing to me, the butterflies would swarm me, and the bees would speak to me here. I was filled with the utmost feeling of inspiration here.
The next day, we set out for Assisi. Here, we had time to go shopping; I bought my sister a nice, cheap leather bag, and managed to get her monogram engraved on it for free.
The ancient streets of Assisi. My classmates and I were in awe of the buildings, of the view. This particular shop caught my eye… I think I aspired to be like the mannequin.
We also visited the Basilica di San Francesco d’Assisi. It was quite literally the most mind-blowing thing I have ever seen. The coolest human creation that I have ever witnessed by far.
I was not able to take pictures inside the church, but I will explain its significance to you. San Francesco was an important member of the Catholic church in the thirteenth century. He was told to be led by God to protect the animals and do good to all living beings through Catholicism. He is worshipped and praised by many.
The church was crafted into two stunning stories. On the left side of both stories, the tale of San Francesco is told through the frescoes. On the other side, the story of Jesus is portrayed.
These were the most beautiful paintings I had ever seen. They were created long before widespread literacy. Latin was the primary language. Therefore, these were created for those to understand the stories of the Bible whilst attending church.
The next excursion we went on was on the following Thursday. We spent the day in Montefalco and got a tour of a winery, followed by a tasting.
A photo taken of some of the girls and me overlooking the greenery of Montefalco. Overlooking the countryside and the fields of grapes, we admired the point where the mountains met the skyline.
A group of us went for an olive oil tasting before our winery excursion. We learned of why they do not have much salt in Montefalco; and more so, that particular region of Italy in general.
We then set off to our winery experience, touring the production facilities. It was so cool. We were brought to the warehouse where they store gallons upon gallons of wine; for years.
We then got to taste it, as they served us four different kinds of wine. Each had a different taste, a different occasion. You could taste the richness of each grape used for crafting the wine in each drop. It was delicious.
Each time we had a meal, we vegetarians were served a separate, meat-free dish for each round of food. In Italy, they first come out with an appetizer. This often included plates of meat and cheese, though we’d be served something else; oftentimes it was vegetables, accompanied by something like bread with spinach and cheese.
Then they’d serve us another dish. I’m not sure what to formally call this one. It was like the tease for the main dish. You wouldn’t expect the food to get better, but it would by the next serving; every single time.
Then, they’d bring out the main dish. Normally, this was the meat dish. However, for the vegetarians today, they had served us none other than my absolute favorite dish ever: pesto pasta.
Pesto pasta has a special place in my heart. My father and I used to make it homemade. I used to tell him he should open an Italian restaurant. He’d chuckle, knowing it was my favorite meal. I do, however think this was the most delicious pesto pasta I have ever had in my life, considering the fact that I am an experienced pesto connoisseur.
I was ecstatic. I ate it all in two minutes. I then waited for the last dish, dessert, and prepared to travel back.
All of this food was served during a span of around two hours. By the time lunch was over, I was stuffed; I was ready to head back and take a nap.
We found a trampoline in the yard, and some girls proceeded to jump on it. We took photos together, frolicked in the yard, and then knocked out on the car ride home.
When roaming around the yard, a ladybug, a sign of good luck, landed upon me. Ladybugs have always been my favorite creatures, my token of hope. Growing up ginger, my mom would associate me with them. I was a ladybug my first Halloween. This image depicts the moment that I became one with a ladybug, as she and I are the same.
One of my last and favorite excursions was definitely the cooking class. The vegetarian group and some of our friends set off with our professor to go to a local restaurant, Locanda Rovicciano. We were greeted by the head chef, Andrea, who would be instructing us through the food preparation throughout the day.
He taught us how to cut and prepare vegetables, make pasta/ravioli from scratch, and even make pies. We got to eat it all after. It was delicious. We were accompanied at the table by his golden retriever, Lola, as well.
Being back home, I’ve implemented some of the skills I’ve learned from the chefs in Italy into my cooking. It has changed the way I eat. Each meal gets somehow more delicious each time I cook it. I’m on the road to opening my own Italian restaurant.
Trips Around Italy
During our periods of rest and free weekends, my friends and I took it upon ourselves to go sight seeing.
The following Friday, my roommate, Mandy and I accompanied by two of our friends took it upon ourselves to spend the day in Rome.
We immediately got food and set off on foot for the Colosseum. I was amazed. We didn’t get to tour it, but it was the biggest structure I have ever seen in my life.
We then saw the Pantheon, and the Trevi Fountain. I couldn’t even process the fact that the sights we were seeing had all been crafted by humans. It was unreal.
We then went walking and shopping. I bought my mom a nice red leather purse. I picked out a scarf with a Claude Monet print to put on my bag at home.
I also bought a shirt of Pope Francis, reading, “Papa Francesco” for my friend. We gave it to her on her birthday. I even bought a shot glass and made friends with a French guy who was there on business.
We then set off on foot to see the Spanish Steps. My mom recently sent me a reel on Facebook of a guy driving over them. I actually laughed out loud when I watched it.
Anyways, they were spectacular. Once again, I was astonished by the remarkable power of human creation. Could this all even be real? Why have I been in America this entire time?
It was not only the architectural wonders that stood out to me, but also the community of the people in Rome. Locals and tourists gather alike; some within their routine nature, living their normal lives. Passing by some of the finest creations in human history, per usual. Others, witnessing beauty unlike anything they have ever seen before.
Despite the side we were on, we continued, as did the rest of the people in Rome that day. We set off to go to dinner, and then ran to the train station by nightfall.
A photo I took of buildings in Rome, apartments overlooking the Spanish Steps. The light had hit them perfectly. The windows of some apartments opened. I wondered if they were watching me. Living on King St, the busiest street in Charleston, I would watch tourists alike each day. I wondered what they thought of us, how they perceived us, and how they lived. I wondered how to be more like them.
I made friends with a woman with a small dog on the train ride home. I missed my animals back home, and her dog reminded me of mine. We spoke in broken versions of English and Italian to communicate. We used Google Translate whenever I had service.
I told her I was from Boston. I told her I go to school in Charleston, South Carolina. I told her I was on a travel writing trip. She applauded me. She had been an English major once, too.
The last and final trip I took was to Sperlonga, Italy, over my last free weekend. I hate writing about it, as it’s one of Italy’s hidden gems, though I must acknowledge it.
Our professor and translator had arranged for a taxi bus to pick us up after our train ride. The driver was nice, and he spoke English fairly well.
He insisted on giving us a little tour of the city before dropping us off at the Airbnb. He went the long way, and I kept my head out the window the entire time… the views were shocking.
It was genuinely the most vibrant place I have ever seen on this planet Earth. The water of the Mediterranean was a light turquoise color. Though, as I learned the next day, it grew clearer up along the coastline.
The stunningly blue, but somehow see-through Mediterranean ocean from the Italian Coast. It was unreal. The water was so soft, so pure. The mountains lining the shore looked like a painting. I was in awe.
I have always been a beach person. I realistically grew up on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I would spend my summers hunting for sea glass with my family from a young age. Therefore, I was so glad to have encountered some on my first day on the beach in Sperlonga.
The old city of Sperlonga, from the other side of the beach. It had such great charm. Coastal shops lined the streets that were filled with happy people. People who loved the ocean just as much as I did gathered here in honor of it. At night, the town, along with the mountain, lights up, and the city comes to new life.
That evening, my friends and I had gone back to our Airbnb to shower and get ready for dinner. We freshened up, and headed back down to a restaurant along the beach for sunset. The view was unreal.
That night, we went out into the old city. I managed to go off from my friends, hunting down margarita pizza. After finding it, I quite literally ran into two boys trying to return to my friends. When giving up on trying to find them, I returned back to the boys
It didn’t take me long to learn that one spoke broken English, while the other was fairly advanced in the language. I talked to them, learning about their lifestyles. I brought them back to hang out with my friends and me at the bar. One of them told me he had been to Boston before.
The next night, I ran into them again. I spent the night conversing with them both, solely speaking to the one who understood English well; he translated for us all. We talked about music, and I bonded with the one who could not understand me over the power of harmony. He taught me that the barrier of language means nothing when you share the same muse.
My Final Days in Umbria
During my final days in Italy, I decided to slow down and take more time for myself. I went on a solo shopping trip, and went to talk to the woman who sold me a really expensive outfit, and a purse that I have used the entire trip, and still do, now.
She caught me right on my way into the square of the old city of Spoleto. She waved me down and hugged me, giving me a kiss on both cheeks; a common Italian gesture.
She said my bag looked beautiful and matched the woman behind it. I showed her pictures of the blue embroidered outfit she had picked out for me on and she cheered.
I went back to visit the leather store man, once again. This would be my fourth time in his shop. Over the span of my time here, aside from my wallet, I also managed to buy a lapis bracelet for myself, a wallet for my mother, a card holder for my sister, and a glasses case and card holder for my father; all from him.
He got so excited when he saw me. Once again, he tried to tell me his story. All I made out of it was that he had started his business in the seventies. It wasn’t necessarily what he was saying, but always, the effort behind these people put in to try and understand me; for me to try and understand them.
Being in a place like Spoleto, Italy, it is the experience of the locals, who wave you down with clothes that look like they were made for you, and their charm that accompanies the specialty of this city. It is the warmth of the locals that brings comfort to foreign regions like these.
We met at Locanda Rovicciano one last time for our final dinner. We were served an assortment of wines and meals. We laughed and sipped as we told stories amongst one another. We played volleyball and frolicked in the yard afterwards. For one of the last times, we were together, as one.
Another photo taken by my classmate and dear friend of ours, all gathered for our final goodbye dinner together. We sat on the beautiful patio of Locanda Rovicciano, one last time. We took in the greenery of the countryside over delicious food. We said goodbye to Umbria and all it has had to offer us.
The girls and I then set off to Pandemonio for our last Karaoke Thursday. We sang our hearts out, danced with Italian men, said goodbye to our favorite bartenders.
The next day, I packed up and journaled. Whilst writing, I came to three conclusions; number one being, I need to own a Vespa. Preferably, a pretty light blue one.
My first week here, I was given a tour of the city on none other than a Vespa. I met a boy at Pandemonio who had offered to give me a ride. I said yes.
Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the idea of owning one. I want to live here. I want to ride around town in a pretty blue Vespa. I need to invest in life here… Bringing me to my second conclusion: life makes more sense in Italy.
Their lifestyle is simpler. Being at home now, I’ve grown to miss my chocolate croissant accompanied by a hot cappuccino every morning. They don’t do iced coffee there; heck, they don’t even do ice in general.
During the middle of the day, they go home from work and rest. Shops are closed during this time period, and so are restaurants. The only establishment open is the grocery store. People go home, make lunch, and relax before taking on the rest of the day.
Aperitifs are another notable aspect of Italian culture. Along with their late, leisurely dinners. Life is just at a much slower pace in Italy. It is calm, it is peaceful, it is remarkable.
My third, and final conclusion, is that the world is brighter when you see it with a child-like wonder. When you see your surroundings not for what they are, but rather, what you could be. When you let the world guide you.
In Spoleto, the birds would sing to me, as if I were their muse. The bees had become my friends. The butterflies would swarm me, watching over me, protecting me.
In Italy, I was brought back to my reason for being, for my connection to the world. I was brought back to my inheritance, Mother Earth. I was brought back to the child-like version of myself; one longing for wonder, for magic. I was brought back to the idea that all I had hoped for already lives deep within me. In Italy, I was brought back to peace.
That evening, most of the girls and I decided to go for one last walk together. We decided to walk the aqueduct. We tracked to the escalators before sundown, hoping to make it in time before they closed.
Eventually, we made it. Us “Spoladies” as we liked to call ourselves, spent our last night together reflecting on memories from the past three weeks whilst gazing over the region of Umbria.
The view from one side of the aqueduct, also known as the Ponte del Torre. Here, you could see mountains, trees for miles upon miles. From the other side of the mountain, you could see the entire region of Umbria.
It is the culture, the Italians themselves, the warmth of my Spoladies that have contributed to the joy I’ve felt and how much I have learned in my time here. Being around such amazing people both in and outside of the classroom has taught me the importance of each interaction. Through slowing down, I have gained greater appreciation for every moment.
I will cherish this trip forever. I will cherish the lady who was educated on Martha’s Vineyard, who first brought me comfort in Spoleto. I will cherish the guy who owns the leather shop, the woman who sold me the bag, and the blue outfit.
I will cherish Andrea, the chef who was always up for a limoncello shot. I will cherish our translator and all that she helped us learn and understand. I will cherish my professors, who took their time to. create such an amazing program and experience. I will cherish each and every one of my Spoladies and what they have taught me.
Most of all, I will cherish you, Spoleto. I will cherish your food, your locals, and your time that I was a part of. I am sad to have left, yet I find myself so grateful, so lucky to have had this opportunity. Thank you, Spoleto, for all you have had to offer us. Thank you to everyone who crafted and became a part of my Italian summer; you will never be forgotten.