I am constantly amazed at how the world has changed so much in the last 50 years to create a world which air travel and distances mean nothing anymore? To me, the world has always seemed an accessible place in which I viewed as a wonderland of travel destinations for me to explore with never as so much as a thought that I would have to leave my homeland never to return or see it again. Travelling by water as my Nonno Antonio, Nonna Maria, Zio Joe and Mother did, you get a sense of time, space and the enormity of the voyage in which you have just taken. But by plane, once you are seated in your seat you are enclosed in a sterilised neutral environment in which time does not exist and the space around you becomes a tunnel in which to transport you from one country to another without understanding the distances travelled.
Without even knowing it, I found myself holding my breath. On the other side that plane flight was the place I had heard about my entire life. From the time I was able to understand the water lapping on my homelands shores also met other shores in distant places, I dreamt that I would one day be a part of the place which my parents and grandparents talked about and told me many stories of. Its chaotic brilliance instilled in me through tails of past lives lived in its streets and life in its simplest forms. I dreamt of its’ piazza’s, rolling hills, olive groves and pasta! From as young as I could remember I had been fed other peoples experiences, thoughts and views about Italia, but finally I was going to see it for myself.
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