I Am a Product of Immigrants

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My great grandfather Vincenzo and great grandmother Michelina.

Like the Irish before them, Italians became scapegoats for economic difficulties as jobs became fiercely contested. Pseudoscientific theories derided them as inferior to Northern and Western Europeans because of their “Mediterranean” blood, and Nativist elements blamed them for everything from domestic radicalism to organized crime. Italians living and working in towns and cities across the United States were subject to physical attacks by anti-immigrant mobs or organized groups such as the Ku Klux Klan.
– Library of Congress, Immigration: Challenges for New Americans p. 2 [1]
Both of my great grandfathers arrived from Italy in the early 1900’s to start a new life in America. They were, nonetheless, worlds apart . Like most of the 4 million migrants of Italy during the Italian diaspora which began amidst the Italian Unification [2], my great grandfathers fled the economic decay of southern farmlands and the corruption of rampant organized crime. But, most importantly, they were seeking a new and better life chasing the “American Dream.” They both took different paths to achieve this.
The American dream, that has lured tens of millions of all nations to our shores in the past century has not been a dream of merely material plenty, though that has doubtlessly counted heavily. It has been much more than that. It has been a dream of being able to grow to fullest development as man and woman, unhampered by the barriers which had slowly been erected in the older civilizations, unrepressed by social orders which had developed for the benefit of classes rather than for the simple human being of any and every class.
– James Truslow Adams, Epics of America, 1931. [3]
Historically, Italian immigrants had not always been welcome. They too, were distrustful and wary of government institutions, having themselves seen their land invaded by conquerors both foreign and criminal. Isolating themselves made assimilation into American culture difficult as Italians banded together to protect themselves, trusting no one but family. [4] Some of them didn’t speak a lick of English and many never became citizens.
The downside was that Italians often chose to wait to become naturalized citizens, delaying their full inclusion in America’s political and civic life. One finds many Italians becoming naturalized in the years 1939 to 1941 as war erupted in Europe. The Second World War would find the United States in conflict with Italy, as non-naturalized Italian immigrants would find themselves briefly branded “enemy aliens.”
– Vincent J. Cannato, 2015, Humanities: The Magazine of the National Endowment for the Humanities, What Set Italian Americans Off From Other Immigrants? Vol. 36. [5]
Like my great grandfathers, some Italians arrived without formal education or having dropped out of school as pre-teens. They competed for low-wage earning jobs and housing, which threatened Americans who saw them as economic thieves. And they were Catholic, a religion at the time which was lambasted and hated by a largely Protestant citizenship. [6] Italians were targeted by the Ku Klux Klan [7], prejudiced police investigations and mistrials [8], and one of the largest mass lynchings in New Orleans’ history [9]. During World War II, Italians were also subject to internment camps and labeled as “enemy aliens” [10] while some, like my grandfather James, joined the army and fought for America.
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A derogatory cartoon depicting Italian workers, like my great grandfather Vincenzo.

Vincenzo arrived at Elise Island alone in 1910 when he was only 19 years old. He didn’t speak English, he didn’t have any money, and all he had with him was two potatoes in his shoes and a grape stem in his sock. He ended up obtaining a job in the iron mines in northern Minnesota where he worked hard enough to send for his wife back in Italy. They had many children and owned a family farm and butchery, many of them still residing up north in Minnesota today. Christano was 23 when he arrived in 1913, but unlike Vincenzo, lived a life of crime and became embroiled with Chicago mobsters during the height of bootlegging during the Prohibition Era. He settled down just long enough to have my grandmother but was frequently missing in all other family aspects. Last he was heard of, he had been wanted for murder in Las Vegas, Nevada in the 1950’s. Both men embodied two different realities and stereotypes of Italian-American immigrants. Vincenzo was the hardworker who pulled himself up by his bootstraps to earn a respectable living and was absolutely proud to be a citizen of this country. Christano lived a life of lawlessness, worked professionally with hitmen, abandoned his family, and defended criminal institutions in power.

Without them both, I would not be here today.


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Propaganda targeting Italian, German, and Japanese speakers.

In 1924, barely a decade after Vincenzo and Christano migrated, Congress passed The Immigration Act which meant to curb the number of immigrants allowed entry into the United States by enacting a quota that ensured that only 2% of a total number of people of each nationality were allowed entry. This act also excluded Asian immigrants, regardless of quota, with an ‘Asiatic Barred Zone’. Chinese immigrants were already excluded at this time with the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 which barred entry. President Calvin Coolidge had said of its passing, “Biological laws tell us that certain divergent people will not mix or blend.” [4]

Had my great grandfathers not been lucky enough to immigrate a decade prior, one or both may not have been able to gain entry to the United States at all.


The Immigration Act was not overturned until 1965 with the passing of the Immigration and Nationality Act. This new act changed the way quotas were counted, giving preferential treatment to those with U.S. citizens or resident family members by eliminating restrictions. It also abolished the counting of national origin as a basis for limiting specific immigrants.

It’s important to remember where you came from. I am a descendant of immigrants, some honorable and some less so. Because of anti-immigration legislation, fear, and racism towards Italians and others, I may not have even been born at all. Perhaps if fear of the foreign others or those evading war-torn and politically deviant ideology had been successful in barring entry to the United States, I would also be without my great love and boyfriend. If a certain family of refugees had been rejected entry, I would have never met my lifelong childhood friend of 20 years. If another family had not been granted access to the United States, and who now must face legislation prohibiting them from seeing their family and loved ones, I wouldn’t have met another close friend and loved one.

I may no longer be facing the discrimination of my ancestors, but I am still effected by it today. I see my loved ones fearing the same dangers my family faced back when they were not considered “decent” enough to be Americans and I will not stand by and be complacent of it. I will never turn my back on their struggles or ignore those of my family because I myself may be considered safe.

 

We are all of America and they are all part of my famiglia.


Fact check it, yo!
[1] Library of Congress, Immigration: Challenges for New Americans. PDF retrieved here: http://www.loc.gov/teachers/classroommaterials/primarysourcesets/immigration/pdf/teacher_guide.pdf
[2] US Citizenship, Italian American History and Culture. Retrieved here: https://www.uscitizenship.info/italian-american-history-and-culture/
[5] Cannato, V., Humanities: The Magazine of the National Endowment for the Humanities, What Set Italian Americans Off From Other Immigrants? Vol. 36. (2015) Retrieved from: https://www.neh.gov/humanities/2015/januaryfebruary/feature/what-sets-italian-americans-other-immigrants
[6] Mark S., Massa S., American History Oxford Research Encyclopedia, Anti-Catholicism in the United States. (2016) Retrieved from: http://americanhistory.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199329175.001.0001/acrefore-9780199329175-e-316
[7] Library of Congress, Italian Immigration: Under Attack. Retrieved from: https://www.loc.gov/teachers/classroommaterials/presentationsandactivities/presentations/immigration/italian8.html
[8] Frankfurter, F. The Atlantic, The Case of Sacco and Vanzetti. Retrieved from: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1927/03/the-case-of-sacco-and-vanzetti/306625/
[9] Falco, E. CNN, When Immigrants Were the ‘Other’. (2012) Retrieved from: http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/10/opinion/falco-italian-immigrants/
[10] Branca-Santos, P. Pace International Law Review, Injustice Ignored, The Internment of Italian-Americans during World War II. (2001) Retrieved from: http://digitalcommons.pace.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1207&context=pilr
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8 Things I Learned While Traveling in Italy!

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I’ve always been proud of my family heritage. Since I was young, I delighted in being asked whether or not my family once had ties to the Mafia (they did) or how many times we ate spaghetti and meatballs in a given week (a lot). I’d throw around my grandfather’s old slang (like ‘Bacowzoo [sp?]’ which meant bathroom) like a badge of honor and claim the achievements (and embarrassments) of the Roman Empire in my historical comparison discussions on who was more badass. As far as I was concerned, I was Italian and presumably more authentic than Olive Garden.

I was so very very wrong.

You’re Not Italian; You’re AMERICAN!

Surprisingly, no one was really impressed with the story of how my great grandfather came to America with a potato in each shoe and a grape stem in his sock–not when there are literally native Italians everywhere. What makes you feel special in America because you’re one of maybe 15 million is inconsequential in Italy. Fact is, your family LEFT and even if you still have some that stayed behind like me, you’re more different than you are similar. As an Italian-American in Italy, don’t be surprised when no one understands your Italian or when locals can smell the tatertot hotdish on you and immediately try speaking to you in English. They’ll ask you about George Clooney as if he’s your next door neighbor and offer you a spoon (which is uncustomary to an actual Italian) to eat with your pasta because you seemed to be suffering with your fork twirl. They’ll hastily explain away that you’re an American when you embarrassingly order the same flavor scoop for your double gelato and they’ll giggle at you when you knock back your first Italian Digestive like a fool assuming it’ll go down as smooth as Pepto. And you know what? That’s okay. Going to Italy as an Italian-American is your chance to learn about the culture your family left behind and realize that, in its absence, you’ve created and reclaimed your own back home–one built on meatballs and tommy guns, Rocky Balboa and wooden spoon beatings, “gabagool” and Cesar salads. Own it.

“It’s Not Dinner Unless There is Pork on the Table!”

I thought the worship of bacon was an exclusively American concept but I’d be willing to wager that Italians love their pig more than we do. If you don’t believe me, let’s take a second to run down the list…prosciutto, capicola, cacciatore, soppressata, guanciale, spalla, bologna, panchetta, speck, culatello, salt pork, etc. You’d be hard pressed to find a menu or a table that didn’t have pork included–in fact, I’d say it was the meat of choice for most dishes and pasta (and even fruit!). It’s hanging everywhere in the market, it’s in nearly every sandwich, and most rural areas you can smell it wafting among the streets as if there was a little piggie walking right next to you.

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Do You Speak Inglese?

Don’t go to Italy assuming everyone speaks English–they don’t. We were lucky to run across a number of helpful folks who could speak a little, but it was mostly trying to figure out which words we knew in each other’s respective language in order to construct a sentence the other could understand. Most waiters and waitresses in high tourist cities can speak enough to provide you with excellent service but please don’t try to order an American alcoholic beverage like my travel companions did and try to explain to them, in English, how to make it. Things descend into confusion fairly quickly. Your best bet is to learn as much conversational Italian as you can before going, this way, you can gesture along and try to explain what you need using words both of you understand or just rely heavily on Google Translate like we did when we needed some extra help to explain ourselves. It’s true that most Italians have taken English in school, but do you remember much of your world language of choice in high school if you didn’t go on to study it in college? Exactly. Try to learn and use Italian, it’s their country after all.

Driving is for Lunatics

It shouldn’t come as too much of a shock that the Land of the Ferrari likes to squeal its wheels and ignore most roadway etiquette. For every Nutella croissant I ate, I feared for my life in equal measure on the road. The Autostrade or major highway is merely a place of suggested speed, there aren’t many stop lights so don’t expect an easy navigation through an intersection, double parking is the norm, and incessantly honking at backed up traffic that has no place to go is just common practice. Save yourself the heart attack and take the train.

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Pretty much it

Ain’t Nobody Got Room for Breakfast

Italians don’t really eat breakfast–not like we do in America. You eat a croissant and enjoy a cappucino, that’s all you should give yourself room in the tum tum for. We’re, of course, used to far more protein than that in the form of eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and lard but in Italy, you should save the real feast for later. When we ate with our relatives, we learned that it was common to start eating for real around 12pm and work your way through the courses for the next 3 hours over family time and conversation with that being the main meal of the day. Ultimately, you eat big once, saving room throughout the day with eating and drinking only what was necessary to survive. And if you’re having trouble keeping away from delicious food until dinner? Don’t worry, everything with food closes in the afternoon and doesn’t re-open until 7:30pm. Get ready to be hungry and lose some of the American fat around the waist you brought with. Also, don’t forget the Italian Digestive!

Coffee is the Real Deal

Knowing my extensive professional background in coffee, I was completely prepared for the kind I’d experience in Italy. My travel companions, on the other hand, weren’t. Assuming you’re the type to drown your coffee in creamer or are prone to taking your dose of caffeine blended in ice with syrups and sugars–the coffee offerings in Europe are going to be quite a culture shock. I spent most of my time assisting my companions in ordering what I thought they’d be able to drink or creating a mutant concoction at the self serve that would be sweet enough for them to enjoy. It’s all about espresso, espresso, espresso and it is DELICIOUS! Unfortunately, the espresso that comes out of the machine at your local coffee shop is a bit more bitter and unrefined than the variety they serve in Italy–for example, it’s completely possible to drink it straight up and not gag. Espresso in Italy is slightly bitter but not overpowering, sweet but not overly so, a bit heavier in body, and savory in the aftertaste. You can order with milk if you wish, but there is no need for syrups and sauces like back home–in fact, good luck finding the option!

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Stray pup knows what’s good

This Place has Really Gone to the Dogs

Italy has an interesting relationship with dogs. It’s normal and encouraged to bring your pooch with you everywhere–from shopping malls to restaurants and as long as they don’t poop anywhere (which I was unfortunate enough to waltz into at a shoe store) they are more than welcome. You’d think then that a place which clearly treats dogs as a part of the family would be prone to sticking together–but for every family dog you witnessed happily accompanying their owners on errands, there was also a stray dog prowling around for food and the kindness of strangers. It’s ordinary enough for passerbys to toss food their way as if they were homeless beggars and smart strays who know which patio is attached to a tasty restaurant will visit in routine–waiters merely side-stepping the four legged guests. No one shoos them but everyone gives a little from their table to the dog in need. It was really hard for me to not just adopt every single dog I saw–they were always polite and sweet and responded to commands like sit, stay, and lay down. Clearly, these dogs have gotten used to their life on the road but I couldn’t help but ache for them to find a good home.

Nutty About Nutella

And last but not least, let me just confirm that Italians really are obsessed with Nutella. No joke. It’s in EVERYTHING.

FINAL days in Italia! 🇮🇹

Alright, so I’ve been home for a few days already and I apologize for the late update. There are a few reasons for this, one being that obviously it’s hard to write the last one because this means it’s all over. Two, our last night included no sleep as we arrived and stayed at the airport for 9 hours before our layover flight to Amsterdam. Because of this and a now weakened immune system, I picked up a nasty chest cold during the flight and returned home with the inability to do much of anything aside from sleep and cuddle my puppies.

So now that I’ve recovered a bit, here’s the last bit of my Europe extravaganza trip!


Our last day in Cosenza was a bit more uneventful–our relatives were busy working as it was no longer a string of holidays in Italy (All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day) and so we spent our final night packing, shopping for last minute trinkets, and eating some really good pizza.

One thing I didn’t dedicate myself to, was a real try at accidentally stumbling across the tomb of Alaric I and his treasure. For those unaware of Alaric’s achievement of sacking Rome…that’s probably for the best. By the time Alaric hit Rome, it was already a crippling mass limping to collapse. What he served to do, however, was prove that Rome was vulnerable and not invincible–he opened the door to further turmoil and attacks until the Western seat of the Roman Empire fell in 476 AD. After sacking Rome, Alaric I, king of the Visigoths, sailed off with his spoils and headed south where he intended to bombard Africa because he was clearly on one helluva a winning streak. What happened instead was not an epic ransacking maneuver ala the game of Risk. On the way, his fleet was run aground by a storm forcing Alaric and what remained of his army to try and catch their breath in Cosenza. Alaric caught more than that, however, and died of a fever leaving the Visigoths to shrug themselves off to Spain. Legend has it, that Alaric and his treasures were buried somewhere in Cosenza with his gang temporarily diverting the Busento river to hide his burial. Obviously, I’m no Josh Gates of Expedition Unknown (Josh, if you miraculously receive a Google Alert and are reading this–TAKE ME WITH YOU!) but I certainly entertained a day dream or two where I stumbled across the find and jump started my career as Indiana Jones.

Once we left Cosenza without any Roman treasure to speak of, we headed up to the actual Rome where we’d eventually be flying out and returning home. We arrived late in the afternoon and were unfortunately unable to tour the Colosseum which was closing when we made it.

The Colosseum is about as marvelous as you can imagine. It’s massive–able to seat well over 50,000+ guests and certainly makes you gap in awe at it and not because of all of the weird Gladiatorial battles you can picture having caked the ground inside. I would love to come back and get a proper tour–mostly so I can be pointed out where our favorite jockstrap Emperor Commodus attempted to slumber nude during his reign of idiocy.

After walking around the amphitheater and waving at the Arch of Constantine as we passed, we ducked into a local restaurant to feast on our last Italian meal before walking about what we could of Rome before heading to the airport.


One thing I didn’t expect of Rome is how much of it is STILL in ruin. Everywhere we turned, there was an excavation or a reconstruction occurring and I can say with confidence that I hadn’t seen this in any other city we had visited in Italy. Rome’s history has a city is obviously extensive, and the amount of layers that exist under your feet as you walk is a bit overwhelming to imagine. I can’t wait to see what everything looks like once it’s completed (if ever though, honestly)


Night had quickly fallen and our rental car was due for return, so we quickly headed off to visit the Trevi Fountain before leaving. The fountain itself is a more modern marvel, having been completed in 1762. But sooooo worth it, even at night when it is all lit up. Unfortunately, pictures can’t do it justice.


All in all, my trip was a blast! If you’ve been following me since the beginning, then you know there was a lot of things missed in our travels but what we did get to see was 3 weeks of French and Italian country that is hard to get with an exclusive stay in a big city. We were exposed to all kinds of people and experiences, and I can now say I’ve been all across France and Italy. Our trip serves as a sampling snapshot of two wonderful and storied countries and when I return, I’ll know where and how to see the things I’ve missed on this particular trip.

The other main event of this trip was meeting our Italian relatives and that’s something I’ll never forget. They were warm and welcoming, taking it upon themselves to show us the sights of their home cities and making sure that our stay was fruitful and full of plenty of wine and pasta. They’ve empowered me to take up learning Italian here at home so that I can communicate with them better one day and join our local cultural center as well. One thing that will stick with me always was when I was embraced and told, “To use imagination is most beautiful. Write! Never stop writing!”

I promise to follow this advice for the rest of my life.

Thank you for following along with my adventures in Europe and I hope these have been informative and entertaining. If you enjoyed hearing from me, stick around and I’ll be updating this blog with history musings like before but with a special emphasis on some of the things I’ve experienced or seen on my travels now that I have a reliable internet connection and access to JSTOR.

Grazie e io scriverò presto! 🇮🇹

Day 16-17 in Italia! 🇮🇹


The perpetual chocolate croissants and coffee caught up with me on Day 16 and I was as sick as a dog. Moving on, Day 17 with the relatives brought us to Scalea, a coastal town in the Calabrian region about an hour and a half to two hours away from Cosenza. 

The ride up was amazing because for the first time, ruins were littered across the countryside on hills and entombed by modern buildings in a way we hadn’t witnessed before. Scalea was apparently a big port for the Byzantine Empire, and many of the structures and walls are still standing. So much so that I often wondered if some of the ruins we saw were even excavated, one in particular was sitting on top of a hill and looked to be shattered remains of a fortress of some kind but was completely alone with no protection or life of any kind nearby.

This is a different fortress and is possibly Turkish and there for Pirate Protections


And where there is water, there is most definitely piracy. I’ll have to do a more extensive search when I get home, but apparently there, naturally, was some medieval pirates gallivanting the high seas because heck yes there was. Most of the outposts and fortresses residing along the beach were there to help ward off the rum guzzlers looking to bank ashore.

Pirate cave if I ever saw one!


And why not? Because the beach is GORGEOUS!


After we toured Scalea for a bit, we headed over to another house owned by our relatives so we could feast and drink homemade wine and be merry! It’s going to be really hard to go back to America and not have fresh homemade sauces and pasta every day. 

They keep a stash of pomodoro sauce in the basement

Gelato cake! (I maybe had two slices of this…)


Wine cellar! They have over 350+ liters left for the year!


We have one more day in Cosenza before we head off to Rome and the end of our trip. GAH!

Day 15 in Italia! 🇮🇹

40 or so minutes away from the heart of Cosenza is the mountaintop Scigliano where our relatives here have built a country home and, down the street, my great grandfather once lived.

This house has been built and added to for generations and it shows! Pieces of the homestead clearly date back and offer a glimpse of the history pre-Unification–you can see parts of the old garden here where the family still grow fresh produce:


Once inside the patio, you can immediately find a large brick oven where the family can bake fresh bread or pizza:


And to the immediate right from here is a recently built Terrace with an awning covered in grapes (which they pick and use to make the family wine every year!):


Inside the house is a wrought iron fireplace which is stocked with chopped wood from out back–creating a cosy and authentic feel to an old house with the clash of new marble laid stairs.

I absolutely love the look and feel of this house. It is unique, handmade, and full of character–a far cry from America’s suburban conformitive neighborhoods. I spent many moments walking around every inch of the house trying to commit it all to memory with the hope of visiting this place again in my dreams. If there is ever a place to live one day, it is somewhere like this.


Once we were all settled, we helped ourselves to even MORE food! Homemade lasagna with foraged mushrooms from the garden, freshly grilled bacon, tossed spinach, beef stew, lemon and oil dressed peas and carrots, baked bread, and a dessert soaked and powdered in honey with white wine.


After becoming extremely full again, we topped it all off with another coffee and were introduced to our first Italian Digestive. They explained that there is coffee and then this kills the coffee–gesturing as if sullen with heartburn, miming a swig of the digestive, and then bursting with ease and comfort…or a burp, whichever makes more sense. It’s a light liquor that reminds me slightly of the taste but nothing of the texture of Peptobismol which is mixed with medicinal herbs to aid with digestion. Which, after the big meal we just partook in, seemed like a good idea to try as we hastily took a drink. 

After eating, we drove down the road to find the old house where my great grandfather lived before leaving for America.


Above is the old home and our beautiful patriarch from my last post. None of our relatives live there anymore, but many of the neighbors still remember and so he tried knocking on everyone’s doors with the intention of asking but it seemed like everyone was out for the afternoon.

Great grandfather’s old garden


He was not so easily defeated, however, and after traveling further down the road, was able to find his cousin who was more than eager to meet us! Ultimately, we were able to become acquainted with all of the remaining relatives at once this day, meeting another sister and her daughter and family as well.

I am so overwhelmed with love and affection for these relatives who have been so hospitable to us on our journey through Italy. Today we return to Cosenza in the hopes of touring this city’s history!

Day 14 in Italia! 🇮🇹


Cosenza in the Calabrian region–the homeland of my mother’s side of the family. Her grandfather left this beautiful little town to start a new life in America, passing through New York City before settling in Northen Minnesota to work in the iron mines. As the story goes, all he brought with him was two potatoes, one in each shoe, and one grape stem from the family vineyard hidden in his pant leg. He was alone and determined–working hard and saving up money so that he could send for his wife back home. Since then, our family has grown and spread all over the United States but a large number of us still reside back home in Calabria. 

This journey so far has had a number of travel woes, usual tourist attractions, and delicious food–but the real magic starts wth the rediscovery of our family heritage and meeting, for the first time, our Italian relatives. We met a few of them already in Bologna, but in Cosenza we had the pleasure of meeting the patriarch of the family. Related by blood, he is the nephew of my great grandfather who left for America–my mother’s second cousin. He was a spunky and calm man who was nothing but smiles! I had never met my grandfather as he passed away before I was born, but I have seen pictures and heard recordings of his voice and his nephew is the spitting image. He only spoke in Italian, but we were able to learn a bit about his life.

He has traveled all over the world in his life, talking excitedly about the work he did in Nicaragua and Mexico, about how he visited New York and telephoned my great grandfather in Minnesota, and how he even participated in a war in Saudia Arabia–showing us a black and white picture of him as a young man reminiscent of Lawrence of Arabia. He was also a delightful little trouble-maker who kept stealing everyone’s wine glasses to refill with the family’s own homemade bottle of red and white as well as a brandy made from the family grapes!

We enjoyed a 7 course meal (pasta with meat sauce and Parmesan, salad, breaded veal, fried potatoe chips, broccolitini, fruit, and pastries paired with a long shot of coffee steeped in sugar!) and spent hours communicating with our extended family. With my great grandfather’s nephew at the head of the table, we also met his two daughters and their husbands as well as the father of one of his son-in-laws. There wasn’t much English to go around the table but we made do with Google Translate. Some of the highlights of our conversation included a detailed explanation about George Clooney and his Nespresso commercial–Italians have taken interest and were curious what his involvement was and what the catchphrase “What Else?” meant. They discussed Whiskey and what they knew of Jack Daniels and one of the husbands hilariously showed us a picture of The Duke’s of Hazard–I’m happy to say that America is clearly representing itself well abroad! 

After dinner and conversation, they brought out the old photo albums and we were able to see how our entire family.

Next, we head to the country to discover where my great grandfather lived!

Day 13 in Italia! 

Yesterday was the final leg of our road trip through Italy until we need to drive to Rome for our return flight home. We are now in Cosenza and since it was another day of travel, I have little in the way of an adventure to share for this day. However, since traveling through Italy, I’d like to share with you the soundtrack I’ve picked up and appreciated from the radio, tv, and locals in Italy. It’s not road tripping without travel music and the Italian artists and songs I’ve had the pleasure of hearing and discovering are a revelation in their own right. Below are my top 5 Italian songs so far from Italy–music that anyone can enjoy and listen to regardless of language barrier!

1) Vivere a Colori by Alessandra Amoroso

Vivere a Colori or “Living Color” has got to be the most popular song in Italy at the moment. I actually discovered it before even coming over to Italy, falling in love and buying it on ITunes in preparation. Imagine my surprise that I actually hit a genuine goldmine with this find. It’s all over Italy–from constant radio airplay, to game shows on TV, to hearing the locals singing the chorus in the street! As for Alessandra herself, you can find her CD in rest stops all over the country too–this woman is on top of the world! She made it big 7 years ago on an Italian talent show similar to The Voice but as a more broad artistic catch all for youth aspiring to be singers, dancers, actors, presenters, etc. and attending an academy of sorts. Alessandra won and has since gone on to be the first female Italian artist to win the MTV Europe Music Award for Best European Act. I highly recommend the rest of her CD (Vivere a Colori) and especially Comunque andare or “Still going” if you dig this tune!

2) Sofia by Alvaro Soler

Okay so technically this song is Spanish but I promise that Italians don’t care and this song is all over the radio as well! I’m also not saying that Alvaro wrote this song for me but he totally did. Sure I may be a little biased to finally have a song written after me (I guess I just needed to search in Latin countries this whole time!) but this one is super peppy and catchy complete with that typical whistling thing that pretty much every alternative act copies back home. Alvaro is younger than me and kind of a big deal–he’s handsome, a Spaniard, and making bilingual hits in Spanish, Italian, and has even been messing around with Jennifer Lopez on one of his hits for the U.K./USA. Keep an eye on this one–oh, and his music I suppose.

3) Senza Fare Sul Serio by Malika Ayane 

This one I discovered on the Italian version of MTV and holy crap am I obsessed with it. First of all, it doesn’t take Goggle Translate to understand and identify with the monotony of a 9-5 work week and the excruciating way we all tend to fall into a mind numbing habit. Malika in this video looks freaking fabulous doing it though (I’m totally pumping gas in that get up when I come home) and the end of the video is pretty much exactly me and why I’m even typing to you from Italy in the first place. There is hope, everyone! Check out Malika if you love this, she reminds me of the Italian version of P!nk.

4) Eterni by Zero Assoluto

Mmmkay. I don’t even know if Italy has access in their region to Stranger Things on Netflix but if they don’t then they’re lying. And if this song wasn’t created for and inspired by the show then they are ALSO lying. What’s amazing to me about this video is that it seems that Italy as the same cultural and nostalgic yearning for the 80’s that we do–and it even looks the exact same way! …unless this is literally just Stranger Things. The lights and the letter decoder gave it away. Bah, this one is for you nerds!

5) Due Giganti by Alessio Bernabei 

I don’t really know what to say about this one other than I really want to jump around in a pool with a dude who looks good in a wet suit and maybe sounds a little like Justin Bieber meets something actually decent.