Firenze

To be completely honest, I had never wanted to visit Florence. We had an extra day to spend in Italy prior to the wedding and decided to skip a long car ride and go straight to Florence for the evening. We stayed at the Palazzo Vecchietti hotel, a modern apartment in an historic building with Dior and Dolce as our neighbors. I’m a bit embarrassed to say we didn’t do much in this beautiful city besides drink Negronis and shop, which to most Florentines makes sense. We met a delightful native during one of our afternoon aperitifs at Gilli, who claimed the Negroni was created at this very bar. I’m not sure I believed him, but was happy to go along with it.

As chance would have it, our new friend Sandro was somewhat of a mayor in this town and arranged a table for us with the best view in Firenze (his words not mine). The resto, Golden View could arguably have the best view in all of Florence, with a deep wine cellar that made us goofy with romance. Naturally, we started the evening with Negronis and ended it with Limoncellos, with many great vintage bottles in between. By the end of our dinner, we were seeing two Ponte Vecchios and wondering which one to take back home.

Toscana

There are no words to describe Tuscany accurately. Looking around at its rolling hills and sky high Cupressus Sempervirens also known as the Italian Cypress trees, its hard to remember which era I’m in until I hear the swoosh from my email telling me that New York is awake. I loved the stillness in the air and the heat from the thermal pools at our resort Castello di Velona. It made me feel like I was in a dream, a prosciutto and melon filled dream.

Locanda

Now, the reason we had traveled from Jamaica to Italy like crazy irresponsible parents was to see the matrimony of my beautiful sister Sharon to her then fiancé Calvin. It was an untraditional Italian wedding in a very traditional Italian home. With odes to Sailor Moon, Recreational Habits, and board games, it felt perfectly them. It rained in the early afternoon which gave the bridal party more time to drink champagne and take pictures. I found it a little ironic since as soon as the rain stopped the real waterworks started, mine included.

Napoli

A few years ago my aunt and uncle moved to Naples because they are incredible adventurous people. They took up residence in a large home on a gated compound with a guard dog named Sleepy who does nothing but sleep and take treats from strangers. He is very bad at his job, but a very nice dog. It was here in Naples that I felt the least a tourist. Perhaps its because the Napolese were not interested in speaking to us in English and would rather stand very close to us and gesture animatedly while speaking Italian. Either way, we felt at home. On one occasion, Marlon and I adventured into town by ourselves and successfully bought covid tests and plants.

I really loved being in Naples with our family. My uncle Nate who has since retired from many jobs which include a stint as a cowboy breaking horses for a ranch cooked a delicious eggplant parmigiana. Marlon stood nearby while he cooked taking notes and acting as a taste tester.

Il Positano

It was tough leaving Naples, but Positano is a nice place to land. The pictures are so fun and colorful I don’t really want to say much else. Prior to arriving, I felt like everyone had a Positano story which put a little damper on the beginning of our trip, but by the second hour I really was impressed by the colorful kindness of the Positanese especially at Le Sirenuse where we stayed. We had a wonderful time, but it was the characters in Positano that were the most delightful to watch. Its hard for me to express, so I’ll lean on another American, John Steinbeck to describe it for you:

Again, Positano is never likely to attract the organdie-and-white linen tourist. It would be impossible to dress as a languid tourist-lady-crisp, cool white dress, sandals as white and light as little clouds, picture hat of arrogant nonsense, and one red rose held in a listless white-gloved pinky. I dare any dame to dress like this and climb the Positano stairs for a cocktail. She will arrive looking like a washcloth at a boys’ camp. There is no way for her to get anywhere except by climbing. The third deterrent to a great influx of tourists lies in the nature of the Positanese themselves. They just don’t give a damn. They have been living here since before recorded history and they don’t intend to change now. They don’t have much but they like what they have and will not move over for a buck.