In the years since then, my tastes have changed a bit. A love of food has supplanted my love of shopping, and my distinct lack of interest in Renaissance art disappeared when I took an art history class while studying abroad in Prague.

Armed with my new interests, I traveled to Tuscany with a completely different agenda than that of my first trip. Thanks to Rail Europe, I took the train from Bologna to Florence, a 40-minute high-speed journey with scenery that mostly featured dark tunnels. It got us there quickly, though, and given how anxious I was to get to Florence, I was glad of it.

When we arrived at the Santa Maria Novella train station in the city center, we walked to our accommodation in Florence. It was an apartment that Roomorama had offered my friends and me for our stay in the city, and its location near the Duomo and the Uffizi was ideal.

Our host met us at the door and gave us an overview of the flat, which was on the top floor of a building on a residential street. The apartment had one bedroom, a huge living room with a second bed and kitchen, and a separate bathroom. It was a good place for us to stay, not least because it was big and a fourth friend joined us for our stay in Florence.

After saying good-bye to our host, we walked down the street to a restaurant called L’Antico Noe. We had read good things about its rustic interior and hearty food, and we enjoyed a feast of fresh pasta dishes and a bottle of Tuscan red as we soaked up the atmosphere.

Leaving the restaurant, we made a quick stop at a gelateria called Vivoli. There we picked up some dessert and a glass of Prosecco on our way to the Uffizi. Yes, this time I was not only excited to see the world’s most famous collection of Renaissance art, but I had even booked tickets well in advance to avoid the massive lines. My 7th grade English teacher, who took me on my last trip to Florence, would be proud.

Really, she would. When my 12-year-old self found out that we would be forced to spend an afternoon looking at Renaissance art, I put up a fight. My teacher turned to me and said: “When you go back to California, you will be embarrassed to tell your friends that you didn’t go to the Uffizi.” Actually, I wouldn’t be. They didn’t know what the Uffizi was. But they do now. And so do I. And I couldn’t wait to visit.

We spent all afternoon at the museum, admiring everything from Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus to famous works by Michelangelo, Giotto, da Vinci, and Raphael. When our legs were tired, we sat in the sun on the roof terrace, which overlooked Brunelleschi’s iconic Duomo dome in the distance.

After walking all over the museum, we strolled through the Piazza della Signoria and treated ourselves to some wine at an outdoor table in front of a cafe near our apartment. From there we went to dinner at Ristorante La Giostra, a restaurant down the street that came highly recommended by friends of mine that studied abroad in Florence.

La Giostra was packed when we arrived. Every diner in the restaurant was American, which made me a bit nervous. I grew increasingly worried when the waiter recommended the most expensive item on the menu when I asked for a recommendation (the dish also contained white truffles, which were out of season). But when the food arrived and I took a bite of my pasta (not the truffle one), I knew exactly why my friends had suggested the place. Everything was delicious.

After dinner we slept off our food comas and woke up the next morning ready to see—er, eat—more of Florence. To that end, we crossed the Arno River to get to a restaurant called Trattoria 4 Leoni. Set in a quiet piazza off a narrow street, it felt like a hidden gem.

It wasn’t. Like La Giostra, it was packed inside, and with good reason. The food was excellent, and the elegant decor in the dining room was a refreshing break from the usual borderline-tacky Tuscan interiors.

After lunch, we walked across the Ponte Vecchio. Completed in 1345, it is the oldest and most famous bridge in Florence. On either side, shops selling gold and silver jewelry beckoned. Thankfully my interests on this trip didn’t include shopping.

Once on the other side of the river, we stopped at a famous gelateria called Festival del Gelato. It offered more flavors than I had ever seen before, and rivaled the famous Fenocchio in Nice for variety, which was quite a feat.

After choosing from the vast selection, we walked up to the Duomo, the famous cathedral that I refused to enter as a 12-year-old (there was gelato calling!). Into the doors we went, and off my to-do list I crossed the inside of the church. To be honest, the interior of the Duomo was a bit of a letdown compared to the dazzling exterior, but don’t tell my childhood self that she was somewhat justified in choosing ice cream over it.

Outside the church were the famous golden doors of the Battistero di San Giovanni. Designed by Ghiberti in the early 1400’s, they were one of the few non-gelato, non-Benetton things I remember from my first trip to Florence.

From the doors we walked to the Basilica di Santa Croce, another of Florence’s famous places of worship. Having read E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View, I was excited to see the building that played such a pivotal role in the novel.

We entered for free thanks to it being Culture Week in Florence. What we found was a much more impressive interior than that of the Duomo. We walked around the church, admiring the tombs of Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, Rossini, and Ghiberti, and standing in awe of Brunelleschi’s famous Cappella dei Pazzi.

Emerging from Santa Croce, we found ourselves in a wide piazza under a gloriously sunny sky. With only a few hours left in the city, we decided to seek out the best rooftop bar in Florence.

And we found it. After some quick Internet research, we discovered the Sky Bar at Hotel Continentale. Located just around the corner from the Ponte Vecchio, the hip hotel had one of the best rooftop bars I have ever been to. Forget a room with a view; this was a deck with a panorama.

As Prosecco gave way to Campari-and-soda, we admired the dome of the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, and the Florentine rooftops below. It was the perfect ending to our trip to Italy, and it made us want to stay forever.

Alas, our train to Pisa Airport beckoned. We made our way to Santa Maria Novella and waved good-bye to Florence with heavy hearts. But as sad as I was to leave behind the great art, beautiful architecture, delicious food, and amazing roof terrace, I was happy to have had a second chance to explore the city. And Mrs. Mell: I’m glad I can tell my friends that I went to the Uffizi.

As with the other places I visited on my Italian odyssey, I didn’t know much about Bologna before traveling there. The tourism board was flaky and unhelpful, and the information online was sparse. Thankfully a few of my foodie friends that had visited the city gave me some recommendations for restaurants in Bologna. Given that food was the main reason for my visit, their suggestions sufficed for a travel guide.

My friend and I arrived in Bologna after a 1.5-hour train ride from Ravenna. Once again, tickets were compliments of Rail Europe and the journey was easy and quick, offering great views of the countryside along the way.

The main train station in Bologna was located a short walk from our accommodation, the Metropolitan Hotel. It was in a great location just off Via dell’Indipendenza, the long arcaded shopping street in the heart of the city. The hotel had offered us one of its apartments in Bologna for the night, and the flat’s sleek contemporary decor and spacious rooms wowed us as soon as we walked in the door.

The apartment had one full bedroom and another area off the living room that contained a large bed. There was a full kitchen (although the appliances had signs notifying us that they weren’t to be used), and a big bathroom. While we explored the rooms, another friend from London arrived to join us. The apartment was a great place for the three of us to stay, and a nice alternative to a hotel room.

After getting settled in, we took a walk to the main city square, Piazza Maggiore, with its grand historic buildings and requisite statues of famous Italian heroes. Right off the square was a narrow street lined with all kinds of restaurants, cafes, gelaterias, and specialty food shops.

One such shop was Eataly. Eataly’s main location is in Turin, but it has become so famous that it has recently opened outlets in Bologna and New York City. We found the former in the upstairs of a bookstore on Via degli Orefici.

At first the concept of a food shop and restaurant in a bookstore was a bit confusing. But once we were seated at a table on a balcony overlooking the stacks, I realized that it was my own personal heaven. Books+food=bliss.

My friends and I ordered a feast of traditional pasta Bolognese and a big bottle of red wine. It was a cliched lunch for sure, but when in Bologna…

The food was every bit as good as Eataly’s reputation suggested, and afterwards we drifted out of the bookstore to continue our culinary adventures in Bologna. We didn’t have to wait long, either.

Next door was a gelato shop, which lured us in with flavors ranging from rich chocolate to refreshing fruit. Oddly, the shop didn’t allow photography (apparently its interior was copyrighted….), but that didn’t stop me from snapping a few photos before the gelato disappeared into our greedy stomachs.

Around the corner from the gelateria was a tiny street called Via Drapperie that was lined with fruit and vegetable stalls, butcher shops, and rustic salumerias. If we hadn’t just eaten, we could have grazed away all afternoon.

But we had just eaten, and so we spent the afternoon walking off the calories in preparation for dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Bologna called i Portici. My friends surprised me with a decadent birthday dinner in the sumptuous dining room, where a live harpist serenaded us while we enjoyed a five-course tasting menu. It was a great birthday present, and the perfect way to end our day in Bologna.

The next morning we were up early to catch our train to Florence. As the train pulled away from the city, I wished we had been able to stay longer to discover more of the culinary highlights of Bologna. And the sightseeing ones, too. After all, I’m sure there’s more to do in Bologna than just eat. Well, maybe.

No, not the Romans that live in Rome today. It’s the ones that lived there a couple of thousand years ago. They constructed churches, baptisteries, mausoleums, and all kinds of other buildings in Ravenna, some of which represent the best-preserved works of Roman architecture in the world.

I fell in love with said architecture when I took an art history class in Prague during my college study abroad days. Ever since then, Ravenna has been on my mind. When I planned my trip to San Marino, it only made sense to include the nearby Italian city in my itinerary.

And that is how I ended up spending my 30th birthday in Ravenna.

After departing from San Marino, my friend and I traveled to Ravenna by train from Rimini. Once again Rail Europe offered me a ticket on the hour-long journey, which ran along the coast and passed through large towns and small on its way through the Emilia-Romagna region.

When we arrived, we walked the short distance from the train station to our hotel, the Albergo Cappello. The manager had offered us a room for the night, and we found the place to be every bit as much of a historic boutique hotel as we had anticipated.

Our room was cozy and comfortable, as were the other rooms and suites we saw. Some contained impressive chandeliers, while others were decorated with green silk wallpaper and beautiful beamed ceilings.

After we checked in, we took a walk through the pedestrianized old town and found a restaurant in a plaza. There we enjoyed a lunch of pizza, red wine, and tiramisu. It was the perfect introduction to Italy, and at less than 30 euros for the whole meal, it was also a great reminder that the less touristy parts of the country offer far greater value than their better-known counterparts.

After lunch we walked to the foremost of Ravenna’s Roman sites, the Basilica di San Vitale. The building’s plain brick exterior belied the sumptuous, colorful church inside. Everywhere I looked there were stunning mosaics depicting Biblical scenes, and by the time I left my neck was sore from looking up at the myriad of tiny tiles.

Speaking of tiny, next to the church was the small Mauseoleo di Galla Placidia. Like the basilica, its low ceilings were covered with blue mosaic tiles depicting scenes from nature and scripture. The only thing not to like about it—and Ravenna in general—was the plethora of loud school children and their noisy guides. Other than that, it was pure mosaic marvel.

Our entry tickets to the basilica included several other sites in the small walled city center, including the next stop on our self-guided Ravenna tour, the Basilica di Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo. Its walls showcased one of the most amazing mosaics I’ve ever seen. The golden tiles of a line of saints sparkled in the sunlight as the white ones of their tunics shone like the light of heaven.

Nearby was the Battistero Neoniano, another small-but-impressive space that was teeming with the tiles of so many mosaics. Adjacent to it was a church and a small museum called the Museo Arcivescovile, which housed some Roman ruins and other excavated items.

After all the sightseeing in Ravenna, we had worked off the calories from our lunch and up an appetite for dinner. This took place at a restaurant called Antica Trattoria al Gallo 1909, which was located just outside of the historic city walls. Despite the modernity of the city around it, the restaurant had a historic interior and a family-run feel.

There we enjoyed a dinner of local meats, heaping pasta dishes, and fresh sorbet with fruits. Once again we were stunned at how good a value the meal was, and decided to spend our extra cash on more good food and wine. It was a good thing, too, because the next stop on our Italy tour was Bologna, a city known for its excellent culinary offerings.

So what did I think of Ravenna? Did I enjoy my time there? Did the city live up to my nine years of anticipation? It did. In fact, it exceeded all of my expectations.

Not only were the Roman sites more impressive than I ever imagined, but the food, accommodation, and intimate feel of the historic walled city surpassed anything I anticipated for a city so far off the tourist trail. And like San Marino, it would be good to keep it that way. In fact, I think we should make this whole trip our little secret. Et tu?

What would a landlocked hilltop principality in Italy be like? It was more difficult to find out than I expected. I couldn’t find much information about it online, the tourism board didn’t respond to any of my emails, and nobody I knew had ever been there.

After awhile I decided to let this tiny mystery country reveal itself in its own time. I flew from London to Bologna with a friend on the day before my birthday, and we took a train from the central station to Rimini. Rail Europe had offered me a train ticket, and traveling by rail proved to be a good way of getting from Bologna to the nearest Italian city to San Marino.

From Rimini we took a bus to the principality, winding our way through the countryside and up a steep hill to reach our final destination. The border crossing was so subtle that we didn’t even realize we were in the country until we started seeing signs for various administrative districts.

When the bus reached its terminus high on the hill, we alighted and walked the short distance to our accommodation, the Grand Hotel San Marino. There we were given a warm welcome by the general manager, Alfredo, who talked to us about the country and encouraged us to see the sights.

We checked into our room, a comfortable one with two beds and a good size ensuite bathroom, then took advantage of the free Wi-Fi before setting off to explore the city.

Given that it was a small place, it didn’t take long for us to see it. But what we saw impressed us. Having arrived with no idea what to expect from San Marino, we were pleasantly surprised to find the romantic ruins of fortifications, narrow streets full of shops and restaurants, and wide plazas offering sweeping views of the Italian countryside.

We visited three medieval towers, walked past the city’s cable car, and gazed out over beautiful orange tile rooftops. We strolled by shops selling more tax free goods than I’ve ever seen (including a disconcerting number of gigantic firearms), and stopped into quiet churches to soak up the atmosphere.

After walking up and down the hills and along the cobbled lanes, we found ourselves in a small wine bar. There we enjoyed some local wine from Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region. We found it surprisingly good to drink and great value, and it took all of our will-power not to have too much of it before dinner.

Dinner was another pleasant surprise. We had passed by a restaurant in one of the city’s squares as we were exploring San Marino, and decided to go back to look at the menu at dinnertime. It had several menus on display, including a run-of-the-mill tourist menu and a tantalizing tasting menu.

Gravitating towards the latter, we rationalized an impromptu fine dining experience. Given that I had completed my 90 under 30 Travel Project that day, it wasn’t entirely unjustified. We walked inside, pointed to our menu of choice, and allowed the host to show us up the stairs.

Righi restaurant’s rustic ground floor area belied the elegance of the dining room on the level above. Gone were the touristy tablecloths and large-print menus. This was all refinement, and just what we wanted for our celebratory meal. We spent the next three hours in a whirlwind of flavors and aromas, with one course flowing blissfully into another as we sipped our wine and talked about future travel plans.

The dinner was a great way to end our day in San Marino. When we finished, we drifted back to our hotel through the narrow lamplit streets under the towering turrets on the high hills above. This fairy-tale country tucked away in the middle of Italy was well worth a trip, and the fact that we seemed to have the whole place to ourselves almost made me glad I found so little information about it before I arrived.

My 90th country may have been located right in the heart of Europe, but it was one of the least known countries I have ever been to. For the sake of future visitors to this mysterious corner of the world, I think we should keep it that way. Don’t tell your friends…

On our last day on the Amalfi Coast we took the Circumvesuviana train from Sorrento to Pompeii to stand in awe of Mount Vesuvius and its power to destroy Pompeii in 79 AD.

We knew that Pompeii was a big place, but it wasn’t until we arrived and got our map and guide booklet at the information desk that we realized just how massive it was.

Over the course of the next four hours, we explored the ruins of temples, houses, theaters, coliseums, and Roman baths in Pompeii.

From huge collections of pottery to well-preserved mosaics, statues, and frescoes, Pompeii was remarkably intact for having undergone both major earthquake damage and a volcanic eruption in the span of 17 years. That’s to say nothing of the fact that the city was buried for the next 17 centuries.

We started our walk slowly, taking in the temples near the entrance and working our way to the massive forum. There we stopped to see some of the collections of household items in a small open-air building. Hauntingly, there were casts of bodies of people that had been killed in Vesuvius’ eruption.

Continuing along the path, we ducked into the recently restored Roman baths, which had rows of statues and remnants of wall paintings.  The floors were covered with mosaics which were covered with rugs to protect them from our intruding feet, but the parts that were uncovered were stunning.

From the baths we explored several houses before making our way to the gorgeous Casa del Fauno, or House of the Faun. With elaborate gardens and a huge intact mosaic depicting a battle scene, the house was one of the highlights of Pompeii.

Moving on, we explored the theaters and the long street leading to the coliseum. By then the crowds were growing thick and we had a hard time maintaining our previous pace. We were able to explore a few more houses and get a glimpse of the coliseum, but our time in Italy was running out.

As we headed back to the Circumvesuviana to start our long train journey to Naples, then Rome, then the airport in Rome, we passed by some bright red poppies among the toppled columns of the once great city.  We hoped that their presence was a sign from the volcano gods that our visit appeased them and no more of our trips would be canceled by volcanic ash clouds.

So far they’ve upheld their end of the bargain, so we hope our travels to Pompeii were not in vain.

Our ferry pulled into the port in Amalfi alongside three or four others.  This already beat Positano’s tiny one-ferry-in, one-ferry-out port for size.  The town of Amalfi itself was a bit larger and more spread out than Positano as well, but didn’t feel significantly bigger.

As for beauty, Amalfi had its share of charm.  There was the moss-covered fountain that reminded me of Aix-en-Provence. Then came the tiled facade of the tower on the Romanesque Cathedral of St. Andrew. Set against the dramatic backdrop of the Amalfi Coast cliffs, it was stunning.  Further east sat the crumbling fortress-turned-hotel Saracen Tower, the medieval protector of the neighboring former monastery.

We spent a few hours strolling through the lanes in Amalfi, checking out the shops and boutiques as well as the cathedral, whose striped arches were reminiscent of those inside La Mesquita in Cordoba. At one point we came across a rather bizarre miniature model of the city, which upon closer inspection turned out to be some kind of giant nativity scene.

After exploring a bit more, we headed to the port to catch our bus back to Sorrento, an event that went much more smoothly than the bus from Sorrento to Positano. This was mostly thanks to the combination of the Dramamine we picked up at a pharmacy in Amalfi and the front seat I managed to wrangle from the scrum crowding the bus.

As we wound around the tight curves back to Sorrento I had a think about whether it was true that Positano was more beautiful than Amalfi.  While the former was full of charming houses and picturesque beaches, the latter’s church won prettiest place of worship and the grittiness we had heard about was seemingly on holiday.  I think I’ll just have to travel to Italy again for a closer inspection before finalizing my opinion on the prettiest town on the Amalfi Coast.

On our second day in Sorrento my boyfriend and I woke up early to take a bus to Positano.  While Amalfi Coast bus drivers have a reputation for driving frighteningly fast on the narrow winding roads in the area, our driver didn’t seem to be in any rush.  Instead, I was the one in a rush.  After developing a wicked case of motion sickness half way to Positano, I staggered off the bus at the end of the ride with a green face and a head as foggy as the hills around me.

A dose of clean mountain air and a picturesque walk to the sea started to cure me.  By the time we found ourselves at the bottom of the hill I was feeling normal again.

We spent the first part of our day trip to Positano window shopping.  As we descended from the top of the cliffs to the beach we passed by innumerable boutiques, tiny food shops selling local produce and limoncello, and restaurants of all kinds.

When we arrived at the shore we ate a delicious panini lunch at the seaside La Brezza cafe, then set out to explore the beaches.

The main beach in Positano is a wide strip of dark sand dotted with orange lounge chairs.  We walked along it for a bit, then noticed a small trail cut into the cliff on the western side.  Following it, we shortly found ourselves at a second, larger beach.

We explored the beach with its beautiful rock formations and white sand, then ventured off onto the surrounding trails. All of them were bursting with green foliage and bright wildflowers, and were lovely to walk along.  From the trails we made our way back to the town in time to take a ferry to Amalfi for the rest of the afternoon.

As our ferry pulled away from the dock, we saw beautiful views of Positano’s seafront and paint-by-number houses nestled in the nooks of the hills.  All along the coast we saw similar towns at the base of sheer cliffs and greenery.

When we arrived at the port in Amalfi, I was eager to see how the town would compare with Positano. Would the latter still prove to be the prettiest seaside town on the coast, or would its larger neighbour to the east take the prize?

To be continued…

I first wanted to go to Capri after my cousin, who studied Architectural History at Brown, made a model of a bright pink house built into a huge cliff in Capri for the Modern Architecture class we took together. I, as a second-semester senior slacker with a job offer in hand, took the class pass/fail. Instead of a model, I wrote a paper on Czech cubist architecture. She won. And her model won me over. I wanted to visit this enchanting rugged isle with pink jeweled houses on steep sea cliffs.

Years later, I finally got the chance to visit. On our first full day in the Amalfi Coast, my boyfriend and I took a ferry from Sorrento to Capri. After exploring the waterfront area with its rows of small blue-and-yellow boats, we took the funicular up to the top of the mountain. High above reality, we found ourselves in a luxury goods fantasy land.

The town of Capri is a spectacular sight. Not only does it offer beautiful views of the sea, but also of that subset of people that takes its Hermes seriously. Long rows of white awnings ran down small sunny streets while red geraniums marked the entrances to Capri’s many luxury hotels and resorts. Add to that the vertigo I felt every time I looked down to the water, and it made for a very surreal experience.

Further down the path, a beautiful public garden boasted a plethora of purple pansies and bright-eyed daisies, not to mention cliff-edge lookout points on the top of Capri’s cactus-lined mountain.

After exploring Capri for awhile, we returned to the main square to get some lunch. While we ate our panini at Bar Tiberio, we noticed that almost everyone else in the restaurant—and all of the neighboring restaurants, for that matter—was enjoying a lunch of the liquid variety. It was then that it made sense that our generously proportioned panini cost only six euro while my boyfriend’s small bottle of Peroni cost nine.

After lunch we decided to explore Capri’s other main town, Anacapri (they are so creative with their names). We hopped on the world’s tiniest bus, a bright orange box whose stylishness paled exceedingly in comparison with the sparkling white convertible taxis nearby. As I shut my eyes while the driver careened around the winding cliff-side roads on the ten-minute journey, I began to wonder if the otherworldliness of the day was due to the vertigo.

Anacapri is about as different from neighboring Capri as can be in a ten minute drive. While Capri was all glamor and see-and-be-seen, Anacapri was much more relaxed and down-to-earth. It even had its own rustic ski-style chairlift to take people to the top of the mountain.

We spent an hour or so enjoying the relative calm in Anacapri, strolling down the narrow streets and up the green hills, before going back to the marina to catch our ferry. We had a bit of spare time when we got there, so we took a walk along the harbor to check out the yachts and other assorted seafaring vessels. Naturally, I got sidetracked by an adorable puppy, but I do recall some pretty impressive boats.

When our time in Capri was over, we got back on the ferry to Sorrento. Passing the short ride in admiration of the views of Mount Vesuvius, I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of regret for not trying to track down the pink house from my cousin’s cliff-top model. But then again, finding the reality might have ruined the enchantment of the tiny isle in the sea.

Following three wonderful days in Rome, my boyfriend and I took a train to Naples, then a ferry to Sorrento. The city is the easiest base on a visit to the the Amalfi Coast, as it has good transport links and a wide variety of restaurants and hotels.

Our hotel was of the great variety. Located right in the middle of Piazza Sant’Antonio in the heart of Sorrento, Villa Elisa was perfect. The hotel offered us an upgrade to their top floor room when I told them that I wrote a travel blog. Even if they hadn’t, I still would have given it a glowing recommendation.

Our apartment at Villa Elisa overlooked the piazza and had both a terrace and a roof deck with lounge chairs and a garden. The interior was well decorated and spacious, and Giuseppina, the proprietress, was delightful.

Of the three nights we spent in Sorrento we had three memorable dinners. First we ate at Ristorante Caruso upon the recommendation of a friend. The beef carpaccio with local walnuts, Gnocchi alla Sorrentina , and giant prawns were all excellent, as was the bottle of local wine.

With all the local food shops in Sorrento tempting us with their goods, the next night we decided to take advantage of the kitchen in our apartment. We went to a local shop called Salumeria Archetto and bought some conchiglioni pasta, tomato sauce, and olives. The next stop was Enoteca Bacchus, the wine shop below our apartment. There we purchased a bottle of local red and some Limoncello to wash it all down. It was delicious.

On the final night in Sorrento we met up with friends who happened to be in town. The food at Ristorante La Basilica was good, and I particularly enjoyed our starter of fried calamari and my Cannelloni alla Sorrentina, but the experience wasn’t quite as good as the first two nights.

Aside from eating, we explored the small winding streets and the beautiful Piazza Tasso. But our own Piazza Sant’Antonio won us over when, on our second day in town, we stood on the balcony of Villa Elisa and watched a huge Semana Santa-like parade spilling out from the church and through the streets of Sorrento.

When we weren’t admiring the beauty of the town and being sidetracked by religious processions, we took day trips to Capri one day and Positano and Amalfi the next. Stay tuned for posts on all three.

When our time in Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast came to an end, we hopped on the graffiti-covered Circumvesuviana train and headed to Pompeii for the final stop on our Italian adventure.

I traveled to Italy last Tuesday with my boyfriend and checked into the St Regis Grand Hotel near Piazza della Repubblica. The hotel was gorgeous, and our room was a far cry from the very basic accommodation I experienced at nearby Hotel Zara as a seventh grader.

Speaking of basics, on my previous visit to Rome, the tour guide had arranged for us to eat turkey every night for dinner. I have no idea why, especially since I’ve never seen turkey on a menu in Italy since then. Either way, I didn’t eat pasta even once in the two weeks I was in Italy.

Fast forward fifteen years and I was in Rome on my own and had social media on my side. I scoured Chowhound before our trip to get some tips on where not to eat turkey in Rome. Our first stop was a restaurant called Vladimiro. When we first arrived I was a bit worried by the prevalence of American accents, but by the time our food came I knew we had made a good decision (I also knew the life story of the couple next to me from Wisconsin). Our caprese salad was delicious, my pasta primavera was perfect, and my boyfriend’s Roman pasta trio had me sneaking bites between sips of vino rosso.

The rest of our culinary decisions in Rome were equally well advised. The highlights included Trimani wine bar, which served great food and adhered to the Slow Food movement, as well as La Vecchia Conca, a local restaurant that served up excellent pizzas and truffle ravioli.

On the Gelato front, we relied once again on social media and used Foursquare to give us tips every time we had a craving. We got great recommendations for gelato at Old Bridge Gelateria near the Vatican as well as Gelateria Corona on Largo Arenula. It was at the latter that I discovered my new favorite gelato flavor: ricotta with lemon and saffron. Amazing.

Believe it or not, we didn’t just eat in Rome. No, we also did a bit of sightseeing. But as opposed to my previous trip to Rome, the sights included more than just the United Colors of Benetton on every street corner in the city.

Our first day in Rome took us on a late night visit to the Trevi Fountain. We figured that the place would be empty at 11pm. We were wrong. It was just as packed as it was when we returned the following morning at 10am, but no less beautiful in its Rococo exuberance.

From there we visited the Pantheon, home of one of the most intriguing ceilings in the world. It was hard to comprehend it as a Catholic church given its name and original purpose, much like the Basilica di Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri with its zodiac marble floors and astrological meridian running through the center.

Other church visits included a trip to the Vatican to see St Peter’s. The basilica was gorgeous. I remembered surprisingly little of it from my last visit save for the Pieta, which I probably only recalled because our tour guide brow beat us into recognizing that it was the most significant thing in the building (we had originally guessed the gift shop).

After standing in awe of all the white marble, glittering gold, and dead popes, we headed to the Vatican museums for a visit. There was no line, so we walked right in, bought our tickets, and started making the rounds. Like St Peter’s, the Vatican museums display an enormous quantity of art. We walked through room after room of sculptures, paintings, and ancient artifacts. My favorite room was the stunning map room, its ceilings bursting with paintings and color.

By the time we arrived at the main event, the Sistine Chapel, I almost thought it would be a let down after all of the other amazing art we had seen. It wasn’t. Michelangelo’s masterpiece was still as beautiful as I remembered it, and I craned my neck for as long as it would crane before finally taking leave.

But the Vatican doesn’t have a monopoly on art in Rome. I also booked tickets in advance for two other great galleries, one being the Caravaggio exhibition at the Scuderie del Quirinale and the other being the stunning Galleria Borghese. The former was a small but very impressive exhibition of many of Caravaggio’s most famous works, while the latter was an amazing collection of art that included several 17th century Bernini sculptures that my boyfriend and I decided were our favorite works of art in Rome.

And if natural beauty counts as art, then the most beautiful spot in Rome was the Spanish Steps. Touristy, yes, but with brilliant magenta azaleas in full bloom, the steps were quite a sight to behold.

Speaking of sights to behold, we also visited the Colosseum and the Roman Forum. I had vague memories of both, but my memories did not do justice to how huge they were. We spent hours walking through the halls of the Colosseum, wandering through the fields and temples of the Forum, and standing in awe of how old it all was.

But Rome isn’t all about ancient ruins, Renaissance art, and famous churches. Just as my taste in Roman sightseeing has updated over the years, so has Rome’s landscape. I wanted to explore some of Rome’s newest additions on our last day in town, so I dragged my boyfriend onto a bus (he only cried a little bit) and headed up north.

Our first destination was a part of Rome that is so new it’s not even finished yet. Zaha Hadid’s MAXXI museum, which is scheduled to open in five days, was on my list of places to see. While it was firmly shut behind closed gates, I was still able to snag some photos of her fluid creation as it hugged the building in front of it. Never had concrete looked so good.

Our second destination was just down the street from the MAXXI museum, and also showed Rome’s contemporary side. Renzo Piano’s Parco della Musica was built in 2002 and is one of the few landmark modern buildings in Rome designed by an Italian architect. We walked around the huge pavilion to admire the space-age pontoons of buildings, and found ourselves in the middle of some sort of food festival. Was this heaven?

Maybe it was, but we didn’t have much time to find out. After making a quick round and picking up some white truffle butter, we caught a bus back to the St Regis and then a train to Naples. As we chugged slowly out of Rome, an ancient aqueduct reached out its long arm in farewell.

I felt glad that Rome had evolved a bit since my last visit, but that it had not changed so much that the treasures were gone. And while I know that I will change between now and my next trip, I will always treasure the memories from my first two Roman holidays (well, except the turkey).

2: Number of days in Venice, one of the most architecturally magical cities in the world.

2: Number of hotels we stayed at in Venice. Hotel Danieli and Hotel Gritti Palace were both amazing, and both right on the Grand Canal.

2: Number of hotel room upgrades we were lucky enough to get (i.e. number of upgrades my boyfriend was persistent enough to coax the hotels into giving us). Amazing suites both nights.

2: Number of museums we visited. Even though I had seen it twice before, the Doge’s Palace is still one of the most awe-inspiring displays of city wealth I’ve ever seen. On the more contemporary side, the Guggenheim in Venice had a great collection of Modern art and beautiful views over the Grand Canal.

2: Number of amazing dinners we had. The first night was at a great restaurant near the Rialto where we ate outside in a little piazza. The second night was at Ivo, a restaurant recommended by a friend. We had great soft shell crabs, stuffed zucchini blossoms, and risotto while we watched the gondolas go by.

2: Number of boat rides we took. One was a late night gondola ride through the canals, the other an afternoon ride to Cipriani for bellinis on the waterfront.

2: Number of evening cocktails we enjoyed from the roof deck of Hotel Danieli and the waterfront terrace of Hotel Gritti Palace. Gotta love the bellinis.

2: Number of purchases I made in Venice. Given my hatred of shopping, it was a big deal, but I just couldn’t pass up beautiful paper goods in Vencie. I came home with two beautiful journals, and my boyfriend even bought one too.

2: Time I arrived at work on Tuesday afternoon after our 7:10am flight turned into a 2pm flight, which got re-booked to an 11:25am flight.

We arrived in Milan early Saturday morning. Our friends picked us up at the airport and we drove north to the town of Como. After a quick snack and a stroll through the beautiful streets, we hopped on a ferry to Bellagio, one of Lake Como’s most famous towns.

The ferry ride was beautiful. Lake Como is nestled between huge mountains that rise up from its shores to awe-inspiring heights. Along the lake are small towns, gorgeous villas, and lots of trees. We were glued to the windows during the duration of the ferry journey, snapping photos and sighing wistfully at the views.

When we reached Bellagio we found a place to eat lunch, then spent the afternoon exploring a few shops, a couple of 10th century Romanesque churches, and the seaside.

Back on the ferry, we soaked up the golden sun of the late afternoon. The ferry zigged and zagged its way across the lake, stopping at big towns and small ones and offering more stunning views of the mountains above.

When we arrived in Como, we headed back to the car for the drive to Milan. An excellent dinner at a restaurant with a gorgeous garden awaited us, followed by gelato from our friends’ local gelateria, Bianco Latte.

We fell asleep that night dreaming of gondolas and Guggenheims, as the next morning would see us off to Venice for the rest of the holiday weekend.

Normally one would expect mediocre Italian food on a bus tour of Italy–your pastas, your veal, maybe a bit of tiramisu if you’re lucky. But not on this tour. On this tour we were fed turkey. And more turkey. And then some more turkey. In fact, we were fed turkey for every single meal of the entire trip. Turkey cold cuts for breakfast. Turkey sandwiches for lunch. Turkey breast for dinner. Eleven straight days of all-you-care-to-eat (and some of us didn’t, by the way) turkey.

It took me years to work up the appetite (no pun intended) to visit Italy again. When I did, I made a mental note to avoid turkey like a bad faux-Prada bag. It wasn’t difficult. They really don’t eat much turkey in Italy. Instead, I discovered the amazing flavors and regional variations that make Italian cuisine so well-loved throughout the world.

Since that trip, I have been back to Italy many times, and I always remember to bring my appetite with me. This weekend was no exception. When you go to Alba, you bring your appetite.

Alba is the home of the tartufo bianco, which can be loosely translated as “the best food on the planet.” Not wanting to miss out on such a delicacy, my boyfriend and I headed to Piedmont for the 78th annual White Truffle Festival.

On Saturday morning we woke up to a beautiful sunny day. The golden brown roof tops of Alba’s old town were basking in the autumn sunshine. When we opened the window of our hotel room, it was like lifting the lid off a plate of truffles; the whole town was redolent with the earthy aroma of the fabled tartufi bianchi.

Our stomachs led the way from our hotel to the official Palatartufo, which in English means “heaven”. Upon arrival, we exchanged a mere ten euro for a wine glass and an entry ticket. We were also given a convenient around-the-neck wine glass pouch, which, like the aqueduct and the arch, was an ingenious Italian creation.

The Palatartufo was somewhat akin to a treasure hunt. Each room gave us a little clue as to what we were there for, but it wasn’t until the end that we found gold. We wandered through exhibitions on world truffle distribution and truffle hunting dogs, sampled copious amounts of sparkling wine, red wine, and grappa wine, and finally found ourselves in a gigantic room full of truffley goodness.

There were truffles and truffle derivatives everywhere. From 4,000-euro white truffles to 4-euro truffle cheeses, the room had everything a truffle lover could imagine. It even had a larger-than-life chocolate truffle pig. It did not have truffle turkey.

We walked from table to table, sampling truffle sausage, truffle oil, truffle chocolate, and truffle brie. We tried local wines, fresh gelato, and hand-made ravioli. We bought truffle butter and truffle vinegar to take home to London with us.

Then we went home and took a nap.

Dinner wasn’t until 9pm, so in the warmth of the evening we headed out to see the town of Alba. Once known as the City of 100 Towers, Alba still has its fair share of turrets and tall buildings.

It also has its share of shops, which sell everything from designer clothing to designer truffle oil. We browsed our way through the main shopping streets and then headed to Osteria La Libera for an amazing dinner of white truffle everything. From the mushroom tart to the white truffle covered ravioli to the amazing chocolate cake and tiramisu desserts, the meal was one of the best I’ve had in a long time.

On Sunday we took advantage of more good weather and started the morning at the Albaromatica market in the city center. Still full from breakfast, our stomachs somehow found room for fresh herb focaccia as we browsed the stalls of spices and teas, wines and cheeses.

Our lunch consisted of fresh egg pasta with truffles at an outdoor cafe in Piazza Rossetti. Afterward we packed our bags and headed for Milan. A good friend of mine and her husband live there, and we were hoping to meet them before heading back to London.

We were in luck. They met us at the Duomo, Milan’s enormous white-marble Gothic church. We spent the afternoon and evening with them, exploring Milan’s castle and eating gelato at Bianco Latte, their favorite gelateria.

Saying good-bye is always difficult, but when it comes to parting with the land of truffles, it is even more so. As I said good-bye to my friends and the beautiful country of Italy, my only consolation was that in my entire gastronomic gander through Alba I never once spotted turkey.

Upon hearing that I was traveling to Nice the next morning, our Italian-born friend told me that the one place I absolutely could not miss visiting was Cinque Terre. Young and foolish, I smiled politely and made a mental note to look into it. I never did.

Two months later my language school organized a weekend trip to Pisa to see the tower of leaning fame. Having spent the past 11 weekends traveling all over Europe, I opted to stay in Nice for the weekend instead. I always had a little thorn of regret about it.

This weekend I traveled to Italy to atone for my past sins. I spent just over 2 days in Pisa and the 5 Lands, and as such I feel that it is only appropriate to share my experience in numbers. Here goes…

1: Number of famous leaning towers I saw

2: Number of good friends that joined my boyfriend and I on our trip

2: Number of times I stopped for gelato on day one

3: Number of times I stopped for gelato on day two

1: Number of times I stopped for gelato on day three (this unimpressive figure was improved upon by my consumption of an amazing tiramisu’ for dessert)

1: Number of whole crabs I consumed for dinner

3: Number of home made pasta-dishes I ate

5: Number of focaccia sandwiches I consumed

2: Number of beautiful coastal towns I stayed in

5: Number of towns I hiked to and from

8: Number of trail segments I hiked between towns

100,000: Number of amazing views I saw along the trails

90: Degrees (F) it was outside every day

30: SPF I slathered all over my pasty-pale London skin 40 times a day

1,000: Number of times I said “these buildings all remind me of Nice”

1,000,000: Number of times I want to travel to Cinque Terre again