FROM ASC TO ITALY, WITH LOVE

I'm sitting on Trenitalia, headed to Rome from Milan at approx 157 km/hr. The time is 14:42, and because I've spent the past five minutes fumbling through translating the display screens aligning the roof down the middle of the train walkway I know it's about 74 degrees Fahrenheit outside.By this time, it's Friday, and Rome is our final destination before returning home to the states.We're riding first class. "This was such a good choice," I say to Dave, and he takes off his headphones to smile at me and nod, "it was."The seats are all leather. I play with two buttons on the side of my seat and realize the seat reclines. Score. In a booth made for four, we've sprawled out our favorite Italian snacks, leftovers and books. Because we made our rail pass reservations online, we somehow always got a booth for four. Haven't figured out how yet.Still breathing slightly heavy from running through the train station to Binario (platform) 4 just in time to meet the train, I take out my rail pass to use as an artificial fan of sorts.Perfect timing, I say to myself, as the conductor comes by our table to check our passes, followed by a somewhat eager woman in uniform inquiring, "dolce?"I politely decline "no, grazie mille", as I realize I ate a pack of the same lovely "dolce" (sweet--cookies in this case) already before boarding the train.Out the window on the left we speed by the most green open fields and hillsides. Almost Sound of Music-like, I hear the tune in my head. It's balanced out by the chatter of two Italian businessmen sitting across the train from us to the right, discussing what sounds like a new business office.I look out the window again to see a scene from "Under the Tuscan Sun"....beautiful mansion-like villas dotting the countryside; a sheep herder and his dog in the field; vineyards drawing permanent lines on the landscape.What could I possibly write about Italy that could encompass this trip? Not just the pretty sites, the fantastic architecture and the best places to eat for your buck (which I will tell you), but the experiences? How do I explain the feeling you get when you look up at or down into the Colosseum, and imagine the things that took place there, or see the Pantheon (older than the Bible btw), or when you walk on the roof at the Duomo and realize that someone, somewhere built this entire intricate structure with the work of their hands?The answer actually is quite simple.It can be broken down in how one defines or describes the point of travel.Traveling for me is about breaking down barriers. Yes, let's be honest. It is with great pleasure that I shopped, rode the gondola, sat on the beach in Amalfi and ate the best pasta I've ever had; but the most enjoyable parts of our travel were the experiences we had while doing all of those things, and the opportunity to make connections that we may never have had otherwise.So if you asked me to describe Rome and what I liked best I would tell you it was the dedication to preserve incredible architecture; it was the fervor they have for recycling even though there was no monetary reward for doing so; it was the trip to the Vatican and even though I myself am SDA, the admiration for the resolve and dedication to personal beliefs that many of us profess but do not exhibit; it was the great care taken for the artistry of meals, and the strength of all of those women's ankles wearing heels and stilettos on those cobblestone streets (God bless them)!In Positano/Montepertuso it was the simplicity of life, and skill of the Sita bus drivers, whipping around the corners of the mountain, never knowing when they might come head to head with oncoming traffic; it was the looks of wonderment and whispers of "tanto Bella" when seeing my husband and I and my hair as African Americans in Italy, and it was our host Antonio's guidance of the best places to experience and eat within Positano.Venice was by far the favorite. A city built by connecting hundreds of tiny islands, its canals serve as both a tourist attraction and the livelihood of our gondolier who told us how he would soon retire and pass the family business of 5 generations to his son. It was meeting Antonio, a photographer who showed us to the best cafe for breakfast, and the cutest, tiniest cappuccino cups I've seen to date.It was meeting my friends whose names I may never know from Argentina on the metro, and realizing I have never been happier to speak Spanish in my life. A simple "¿de donde eres?" led to discussions on life in Argentina, the best places to travel in America, and the agreement that with our current political power dilemmas in both countries, we were better off staying in Italy!In Milan it was meeting Walter, our incredibly polite and curious Uber driver who had dreams of moving to California. I'm sure we don't know what was more puzzling--the idea that California could be more "bella" than Milan (and vice versa in Walter's opinion) or the fact that technology is so advanced that we could use google translate to effectively communicate everything he said in Italian to English and back to Italian in response.It's 15:35 now, and that means in five minutes our final Trenitalia will arrive in Roma Termini. We'll stop at the local Tabacchi to pick up our bus tickets and spend the remainder of the trip in Roma. At this point I'm already experiencing the end of the trip sadness you get when you realize all vacays must come to an end. "Back to life, back to reality" plays in my head.At the end of it all, I'm not really leaving. Because the things and short snippets I've shared with you will always be with me. And therein lies the joy of traveling. The more you see, the more you learn, and I believe the more you learn, the more you love.In Italian, "Ciao" is used as both hello and goodbye. So while I'm saying Ciao or goodbye to the physical place that is Italy in a few days, a big grazie mille (thank you!)for the all of the new experiences I've had here con amore, and Ciao to an even better understanding of the world.To Italy, with love,-ASC