“Why Italy?” people ask me when they find out I’m going back yet again. Why NOT? If you are a lover of food, wine, art, and beautiful men landscapes, is there really any other place to be? I got on the plane to Rome for the first time five months after consciously uncoupling and two months after my move to another town went awry.

I hear, “Oh, it’s like Eat, Pray, Love.”. Maybe. I definitely eat a lot. And I did travel to Italy for the first time post-divorce, so that tracks. But, it’s more like, “Eat, Cry, Regret How Much (or How Little) I Packed.”

Seriously, is there any perfect packing situation? It doesn’t really matter. Worst case scenario: you have to buy another suitcase or offload some of your stuff. Better yet, just learn enough Italian to ask some handsome man to carry your heavy suitcase up the stairs for you.

As for the crying, sometimes I feel lonely, anxious, and tired. More often, though, I shed tears of joy—standing in the Tuscan wheat fields while white butterflies dance around me, sitting on a bench in Lucca as a musician plays in the piazza, listening to the church bells mark the hour . . . I find myself so fully present in the moment that I’m overwhelmed that this could be real life.

Just the other day I caught up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while, and she said, “I have a friend who went to Italy and fell in love with it just like you.”
“Of course she did!” I said, “My guess is that she’s also in love with who she gets to be when she’s there.”

That’s how it is for me. I am Cajun by birth but will be Italian by osmosis if I can help it. I love the way Italians live and the parts of me that come alive when I’m there. All of the striving and planning and rushing—it all stops. Especially between the hours of 1 and 5 PM. Don’t even bother striving for anything beyond a leisurely lunch and a walk (and…gasp! Maybe a nap). Accomplishment takes on a different meaning. Requesting a cab in my limited Italian (and it actually shows up!), having dinner alone al fresco and enjoying every minute of it, buying produce at the weekly market, making small talk with a local shopkeeper. This is time well spent. This is la dolce vita.

In Italy, there’s so much to do and see. I sometimes have to resist the temptation to bounce from one place to the next. Piano, piano, I’m reminded. Slowy, slowly, one day at a time. To hurry through Italy defeats the purpose of being there.

I’ve fallen in love with Italy and am working toward spending more time there throughout the year. I’ve met interesting, passionate people, taken fantastic tours, and stumbled upon beautiful places, all of which I will share with you here. I hope you will visit Italy, go slowly, and fall in love too!