As the summer rolls in, the reality that our time in Italy is dwindling is really starting to hit. Nostalgia, nerves, excitement, anticipation, overwhelmedness are all mixing constantly in the increasingly hot Roman days.
To help combat this melange, we’ve done our best to do what the Romans do, and forget about all of life’s bumpiness with a spritz and splash at the nearest beach.
After two full summer seasons of exploring, we’ve mostly narrowed down our preferred day trip beach spot to Santa Marinella. Conveniently about 45 minutes by train from Termini, with classic crystalline turquoise water, a relatively shallow coastline and wave breakers to keep the waters calm, we barely see a need to go anywhere else anymore.
With my mom in town for a record fourth visit, we saw no better place to take her than the beach. The fact that these world class beaches are a short ride away is quite mind melting for Canadians who are used to having to fly to at least Miami, if not the Caribbean for similar quality beaches. Grandma and Aleksander took some long walks, kicked the ball and even snoozed on a lovely summer Saturday.
After two visits in a row, we tried to go again with Dalia’s older brother in town (our second most frequent guest) but the summer trains were sold out so we reached a bit further south to Sperlonga. The travel was more complicated but the day no less pleasing. The slightly rougher waters made for more vigorous wave jumping and the scenery was probably even more beautiful than Santa Marinella.
With Dalia’s pregnancy approaching full term and the peak of daily heat approaching the high 30’s, we realize that our summer beach days may be approaching a bit of an early end this season. On our Canada Day holiday, we made one more trip to Santa Marinella and enjoyed far fewer crowds than usual. Trying to get Aleksander to sleep was a real challenge so I took him on a walk around the blooming streets nearby and even peaked into some real estate offices to see what a local pied-a-terre goes for.
The bougainvillea breezes eventually knocked our toddler out cold and I picked up some strawberries and ice cream cones on the way back to Dalia and her nine-month belly. Again, grateful to the core for a life that regularly feels like a movie.
After twice postponing a one-week visit to Puglia, all the way down the boot on Italy’s Adriatic coast, we finally managed to get ourselves organized for a visit, as our probable last longer trip within the country and doubling as a baby moon!
Puglia is one of the regions of Italy that we only heard about after arriving. Somehow in the second tier of regions behind Tuscany, Sicily, Sardegna, but as gorgeous and welcoming as any. And maybe slightly more budget friendly.
Since we’ve been sketching out a tentative itinerary for almost two years, we had a pretty good plan of attack to try to maximize our week and get a taste of different parts of the region.
Deciding against the four hour train or five hour drive to Bari, we hopped on a Ryanair flight from Rome and landed on a gloomy Saturday some 45 minutes later.
Rather than staying in Bari or even nearby Monopoli, we decided on an Apulian agriturismo near Ostuni. The countryside location, not far from many of the little towns we hoped to visit, was a perfect launching point for the trip.
Unfortunately the rainy weather continued pretty much throughout our full two day stay. Although this dampened Dalia’s and my mood somewhat, Aleksander was completely undeterred. He played in the wet playground, chased cats and sang with the chickens every moment he could!
Otherwise, since our days couldn’t be spent sunning by the pool, we visited the nearby towns, starting with Ostuni.
As ever, even in the rain, maybe even moreso in the rain, historic Italian towns always shine, inspire and enchant. Ostuni was no different. The slick hilly cobblestones kept things interesting both in the stroller and out and we were immediately satisfied with our decision to stay nearby.
The following day was gloomy but slightly less rainy and so we decided to head to the coast and visit Monopoli, one of the bigger cities in Puglia. It happened to be Mother’s Day and we reflected on the fact that our next similar trip would probably be as a quartet. A lot to consider, take in and reflect on as the afternoon Sunday sun peaked out in the historic harbour.
Being unable to find an available lunch spot in Monopoli, (Italians love to reserve – especially on holidays), we decided to take our chances with a late lunch visit to Martina Franka, on the way back to our agriturismo. We scarfed down not the best lunch in Italy, followed by not the worst gelato and headed for the gates as the heavy clouds loomed once again.
We spent a quiet evening before braving the morning showers for our next stop near Nardo. We arrived at our next agriturismo in the rain and were immediately charmed by the outdoor furniture of Casina Solatia and Aleksander was thrilled to find new cats to chase around.
Our stay at Casina Solatia not only prompted one of my first poems in a while but really provided almost a cinematic backdrop for an intimate few family days. It was more than once, watching Aleksander play piano or run through tall grass in dimming sunlight, that I felt like we were in a Terrence Malick movie. And Simona the host, a costume designer and fairly recent transplant from Milan, really made the place feel like one big open home. Maybe another couple overcast days weren’t the worst turn of events.
Our first free evening, we decided to visit nearby Gallipoli for a windy evening by the sea, visiting the old town castle and having dinner overlooking the water.
Our second day staying near Nardo finally brought some hopeful weather. It wasn’t quite yet beach friendly but with a partially sunny forecast, we made our way to Lecce, the biggest city in the southern part of Puglia.
Lecce was quite bustling and busy with European tourists. We kicked balls through the alleyways and Aleksander made some Canadian friends over lunch and we started to look forward to what the rest of the week might bring.
On our way down the coast the following morning, we passed by a stretch of beach known as the Maldives of Salento. And even though the beaches weren’t quite prepared for summer crowds, we were thrilled to have some sunny clear skies and Aleksander finally got to dig into the coastal sands.
Heading to the southwestern-most point of Italy’s heel, we lunched and lounged a bit more in the small charming town of Santa Maria de Leuca. The seafood fry, white wine and gelato all passed the test in this scenic stop. Also home to maybe the world’s most picturesque natural seaside pool.
As we turned up the coast for a few days near Otranto, our trip finally started to look like what we had hoped it would. The late May weather started to look characteristically as it should in Italy at this time of year. We gratefully pulled into our final stop at the Cuti Mari guesthouse and were not disappointed.
We drove to Otranto about fifteen minutes away to pick up an evening pizza and walk around the boardwalk.
We took our chances the next day and found the nearest (open) stabilimento and even though less than ten of the hundreds of sun loungers were occupied, we were happy to spend a relaxing day by the sea.
Finally energized by the summertime vibes, we even braved the unheated pool at the hotel and had some family laughs and good times.
Being so pleased with the grounds, facilities and staff at Cuti Mari, we extended our stay by one night, opening up an extra day in the area. So we headed up the coast a bit and spent a proper early season beach day in an early season beach town – Torre del Orso.
Even though the restaurants, bars and hotels were still dusting the cobwebs off before the summer hordes arrive, we found the town a perfect little size and pace for our flow. And to boot, the street art had no business being so interesting in such a random and faraway place.
We longingly said goodbye to Cuti Mari, petted all the cats one last time and Aleksander even got a hat and t-shirt from the owner. We hope to return as soon and often as possible.
Our circuit of Puglia was almost at an end. We returned back up the coast towards Bari and stayed in a non-descript highway hotel on our last night to make sure we could easily make our morning flight.
Never ones to let an opportunity pass, we squeezed in a short afternoon visit to postcard perfect Polignano a Mare. Dalia absolutely fell in love with this place while I found the instagram friendly crowds somewhat overwhelming.
The hilight again was Aleksander making a local friend and kicking a ball for close to an hour. Our child is definitely in the right country for a soccer obsession.
Before leaving Puglia, I really wanted to take Dalia to the Basilica of St. Nicholas in Bari. Partially because it made such an impression on me during my last visit, partially because it’s become a global pilgrimage site for Ukrainians since the invasion of their country and partially because I’m fond of the name Nicholas for our next child.
It was a great place to leave our prayers of thanks for yet another incredible trip within Italy; for our growing family; and for two wonderful years living in Rome.
Puglia can finally and joyfully be crossed off the Italian bucket list!
Even though we had almost laughably bad luck after buying a car in Italy and then having it die 10 days later on our first weekend drive out of town, we’ve made the most of Italy’s underrated train system and visited pretty much everything within an hour or so of Rome, over the last two years.
With our final Italian beach season approaching, we set our sights on nearby Sperlonga, one of the few major beach towns that we hadn’t yet visited. Sperlonga features on many lists of Italy’s best summer destinations and as the May Day holiday created a three day weekend, we ventured off for a two night visit with a work pal, his wife and their daughter, almost exactly Aleksander’s age.
The train to Sperlonga is an easy hour away from Rome and we hopped into a taxi from the train station to get to our early season hotel.
The hotel was clean, comfortable, had seaside views and a swimming pool, mostly reserved for foreigners (including Canadians) at this pre-summer heatwave juncture. We enjoyed a seafood lunch at the hotel restaurant before taking the 40 minute or so walk up to the scenic Sperlonga town itself.
The views were typically fabulous, if overcast. The town’s piazzas, patios and alleyways were buzzing with European tourists and lounging locals alike. Aleksander, of course, was entranced with some kids kicking a soccer ball against the wall as we watched for the better part of half an hour. Eventually, Tom and family joined us for an apertivo as the kids chased bubbles spiritedly.
We scored some pizza al taglio as the evening closed in and were glad to share the experience with some adult and toddler friends, our first joint family weekend since arriving in Italy.
The next day, we hoped for a few hours of clear skies in order to enjoy some of Sperlonga’s famous sandy beaches. The stabilimemti were all within an easy ten minute walk and Aleksander frolicked in the sand for a good few hours. The sun peered out from behind the clouds and it looked like the gloomy weather forecast might be proven wrong altogether. Alas, after sitting down for lunch, the clouds and winds darkened and picked up and we had to call it a day on our first beach attempt of the year.
We returned to the hotel, the kids watched some tv as the adults indulged in some vino and convo. We discussed the amazingness of Italy, how every little town seemed worth a visit and how lucky our kids were to get such memorable experiences on the regular.
The next day was even rainier than the others and it felt fully acceptable to return to the beauty of Rome after the long weekend escape.
Again, the Springtime weather is proving to be a bit more unstable than in our previous years but we’re not letting that slow down our exploration. Next stop, our final weeklong Italian trip, to the southern heel of the boot, in Puglia and Salento.
Thank you Sperlonga for a great soft launch of our final Italian beach season!
As we start to approach the twilight of our Italian days, we’ve become more active in getting some bucket list activities done. Even though we visited Ischia last Spring and the Amalfi on our honeymoon in 2017, it just didn’t feel right to leave Italy without having spent a few days on the fabled Amalfi coast this time around. So with Dalia’s sister arriving from Canada via Spain, we zipped down the coast from Rome for Easter weekend.
Although we honeymooned in Sorrento, our two night hotel stay was actually in the cliff-top outskirts of the city and we never managed to visit the town itself. This time we booked ourselves three nights in a comfortable loft apartment in adjacent Sant’Agnello – close enough for scenic walks but far enough to get a taste of the local area.
The Easter Weekend brought lots of crowds to Sorrento but also offered an insight into the deep persistence of religious life in Italy. The contrast of sunny coastline, full buzzing patios and the sombre Holy Friday procession was a sight to behold and we felt very lucky to experience both aspects.
Our Saturday plan to visit Capri was unfortunately rained out and replaced with a rather home-bound afternoon, full of good food, naps and time to reflect. We bought some lamb from the local butcher, stocked up at the village market and enjoyed our indoor day.
Thankfully the clouds cleared up on Easter Sunday and we got on a packed bus to Positano. I’ve always been a fan of off-season travel and Positano is a perfect place to visit before the summer crowds truly start to roar. The town was still busy for a gloomy April day but we made the most of our long walk down from the bus stop to the beach.
Positano is such a distilled jewel of the best of Italy. Amazing views, architecture, food and charm. Aleksander watched boys play soccer on the beach, climbed in and out of dormant fishing boats and even found a slide to frolic on for a while. The sun came out for an absolutely idyllic hour or so and we got to take some pregnancy shots featuring a massive Amalfi lemon.
We caught a ferry back to Sorrento after enjoying a fabulous beachside lunch in Positano and meandered around the rather bumping downtown alleyways of Sorrento before heading home. Although the weather didn’t quite cooperate as much as we had hoped, the long weekend was relaxing, inspiring and enjoyable nonetheless.
We left for Rome the next morning grateful, rejuvenated and with full hearts.
I’m writing this reflection on the winding steps of a cozy airbnb apartment on a rainy Spring Saturday morning in Sorrento, the opposite of the weather one imagines for an Easter long weekend in the Amalfi. Aleksander is napping early because he woke up too early. Dalia is taking a moment to breathe, five months along with our next child. And Dalia’s sister, Christina, who joined us yesterday from Barcelona, as the last of our family members to visit Italy, is asleep since Aleksander started yelling about bananas at 6am to plunge her directly into toddler-auntie life.
We arrived on the coast yesterday, Holy Friday, stopping in Naples for a pizza before taking the ferry instead of the train to Sorrento, our first ever visit to this famous seaside city. It was on Holy Friday two years ago that we landed in Rome, moved into our apartment and began this wonderful Italian adventure that we’ve been squeezing into limoncello ever since.
As these things do, that arrival feels both a blink and an eon ago. Moving to Rome with an infant during a once in a century global pandemic has a way of locking itself into your memory banks. I can still feel the isolation and chaos of the flight here and the tint and glow of the morning blooms on and from our balcony once we arrived.
Aleksander has grown up here. Taken his first steps, spoken his first words, kicked his first few hundred soccer balls, casually, in or around Rome. We have grown as parents, as humans, not linearly and not without struggle, but always somehow finding a caffe, gelato or prosecco as needed. We’ve been able to share glimpses to weeks of our lives here with visitors, all inspired in some way by the beauty, history and dynamism of the Eternal City.
Occasionally people ask the most banal and profound question: so how is Rome? How is Italy? As time has gone on, I’ve developed an unusual timidity answering this, mostly because I don’t want to appear as gloating, but I’ve eventually landed on: there’s almost no downside (that’s too troublesome) about living in Rome/Italy. The weather is great, the food quality is divine, the people are incredibly lovely, the neighbourhood architecture has no business being as unnecessarily awe-inspiring as it is. Coffee costs a dollar, people say hi and thank you to eachother, and nonnas fawn openly and sincerely over our biondino. If I really need to reach, living in a beautiful place and paying for life in euros can pinch; 8pm dinner time nationwide is not particularly baby-friendly; and then another back-handed complaint, Italy has too many worthwhile and amazing things to see and do, and the fact is now obvious that we won’t be able to see and do them all before we leave.
The nature of my job and our lifestyle is rotation and change. Last September, we submitted our top five list for our next posting and early this year, were offered the third choice. At the time, we were considering lobbying for an additional year in Italy, but when our next post was floated over a video call, our backs straightened up and we elbowed and kicked eachother under the screen with excitement. Needless to say, leaving here won’t be easy, but we’re not disappointed with where we’ll go next.
There was a point last Fall, where for the first time since maybe my early teen years in Toronto, that I felt like I was in my forever home. The feeling quietly materialized out of nowhere over a series of weeks. After about a year of Italian lessons, I could manage most linguistic scenarios I found myself in, occasionally even with some charm. Aleksander was loving his daycare life, double cheek kissing his teachers, and bouncing home in the evening mumbling about his pals Ricardo, Margherita and Valerio. Dalia was working regular hours at the Embassy, seemingly in the treasured sweet spot of work-life-mom-wife-woman-adult-human balance. We had hosted a steady stream of visitors who left more full than they arrived. The pasticceria staff knew my daily order in the morning. We had the menu hilights memorized for a half-dozen favourite neighbourhood restaurants. And generally, we moved comfortably and unhurriedly through our moments, days and weeks. Aleksander had a birthday party with his friends when he turned two, we spent a magical weekend in Assisi for my birthday a week later, and my mom and brother joined us for their second Christmas in Italy soon after that. I thought, clearly, I could keep doing this, in this place, until the end. A real, honest and unforeseen rarity for me.
Then. In the New Year. For an equally unapparent reason, perhaps weather related, we felt bored. Limited. Serrendipitously underinspired by the those same exact, endlessly satisfying routines of a few months earlier. Maybe it was our subconsciouses preparing us for the inevitable, slowly encroaching reality, that almost all of our probable future roads will lead decidedly away from Rome.
So two years have come and gone, forever ours. And now we’re counting down to our departure in months. Beginning to take on a thousand and one administrative steps as our end date approaches weeks, days and hours, before we wistfully close our Roman time capsule and throw it in with antiquity. With the millions of others, over dozens of centuries, who have passed through the roads and piazzas of this incredible place, some leaving a mark, most others eternally glad to carry a piece of Rome in their souls for the rest of their days.
Dad In The World 