I never thought I would visit Italy one day, even though many people have it on their bucket list. Italy is said to be the land of la dolce vita, or “the sweet life” or “the good life”, a life full of simple pleasures, mundane events, and the quiet beauty of daily life. When the opportunity arose, I embarked on a trip that would be etched in my heart for a very long time.
My first stop was the village of Cisterna, a quiet bedroom community just an hour outside of Rome. I stayed in a cozy bed and breakfast, whose landlady replenished the kitchen with a fresh supply of baked goods every day. I found friendly locals and genuine hospitality, and my first introduction to authentic Italian cuisine. Mama mia!
I visited the Garden of Ninfa located in the commune’s territory. It is an oasis of flowers, streams and ancient ruins. It’s considered one of the most beautiful gardens in the world. I am looking forward to visiting again!
Cisterna was the town where the “Battle of Cisterna” happened in January 1944 during World War II. It led to the eventual Allied capture of Rome, and marked the liberation of the Italian capital from German occupation.
Many centuries prior to the infamous war, a humble saint but pillar of Christianity appeared in Cisterna. St. Paul stopped at Tres Tabernae (“Three Taverns”). Although the original Tres Tabernae no longer exists, it is so interesting to learn about the historical significance of this place, where the apostle paused during his journey to Rome.
On my 41st birthday, I trained back to Rome with friends and fellow travelers. The city pulsated with history and art and the excitement of tourists from all corners of the earth. The Coliseum standing tall against the sky, whispered tales of gladiators and emperors. I imagined the roars of the crowd and the clash of swords as I walked past its ancient corridors. I also imagined the persecuted Christians singing hymns as they faced death and martyrdom, setting their face like a flint, following after the sorrowed steps of Jesus
Across the ancient edifice is a pizza place of which I forget the name. I didn’t get pizza. Instead, my friend who resides in Italy suggested I try carbonarra, cooked right as only Italians could. Toward the end of the day, we visited the Trevi Fountain, where people tossed coins over their shoulder and made a wish. I did not do so, but I continuously marveled at the dedication, precision and skill of ancient builders and artisans as I stared at those mythical figures and wild horses. We do not see this sort of intricacy in our modern architecture any longer, I thought.
The next day, we visited the imposing Vatican. I trembled thinking about the sheer magnitude of opposition the Reformers during the time of the middle ages must have faced from Rome. Nevertheless, it was a sight to see the priceless artworks on every corner, wall, ceiling, and door. I stood before Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel and wondered at the genius of a single man.
No trip to Italy is complete without a taste—or two—or more!—of gelato! Oh, the gelato! I thought I had the best ice cream in my little world in America. Well, this stuff is next level. Suffice it to say, you should just travel there, sit by the Spanish steps, and savor every spoonful of gelato as you watch the sun set over the Roman city. La dole vita, indeed.
As I trained from Cisterna to Fiumicino Airport on my trip home, I carried with me a mosaic of memories, laughter, faith, and friendship.
Grazie, Italia, for an unforgettable journey!
