Most travel lovers have an ideal destination, a place they long to visit that fills their dreams and speaks to them of adventure and of that “other” life they might have lived. For me that place has always been Italy.

I spent a year planning my first trip, wanting to be sure I got it right. I took language classes, researched cities and hotels, restaurants and train schedules, Italian culture and art. I arrived in Italy that summer of 1996 a somewhat nervous, caffeine-free, nondrinking, novice traveler. I left Italy 14 days later a lover of good wine and espresso, of all things Italian, and a full-fledged travel junkie. To say that trip changed my life is an understatement.

After that first trip I returned to Italy many times (and now I live there). Over time, I’ve learned to love travel for the escape from the routine, from the ordinary, along with exposure to new people, food, and ways of thinking and the new, different me that comes with every trip. I know that the same is true for many of you! And now, in the time of the Covid-19 pandemic, travel to anywhere in Europe, even to other areas of Italy outside of Tuscany, is not possible. And though I have remained in Italy through the crisis, I know that if I return to the U.S. this summer to see my family, it is possible that I will not be allowed to return to Italy until sometime in 2021. That is a painful possibility and it started me thinking of another time, many years ago, when a trip to Italy was impossible for me (although for very different reasons). Here is the story of the trip I couldn’t take then:

More than a decade ago, I was planning a much anticipated return trip to Italy. As the time approached to finalize plans it became clear that the trip would not be possible. For starters, I’d spent the miles I needed for a “free” ticket earlier in the year to get my son home for Christmas (which proves how much I love that kid, because I am famously stingy with miles). Being short of miles meant I would have to purchase a full-fare airline ticket, something my budget then just didn’t allow. Being a true travel junkie I knew that I needed to find another adventure, a smaller less expensive one. Enter a friend and travel buddy who proposed that if I couldn’t go to Italy I should instead travel with her to …. Texas. Texas? This hardly seemed like a good alternative to Italy. But as we talked more about it I realized there were some things that were appealing. I’d long wanted to see San Antonio – every American should stand in the Alamo at least once. I also love antiques and good old-fashion junk, so the Roundtop Antiques Fair was a real draw. My friend, who is from Texas, also told stories about wildflowers and painted churches. Not quite Italy, but it would be a good trip she assured me.

That spring we flew to Texas where we were met by my friend's brother and sister-in-law. They were a couple of real-deal native Texans, a species in some ways just as foreign to me as Italians. But all of the qualities that I love in Italians were present, starting with being outgoing and friendly to the core. They loved their land and were proud to show it off to this “foreigner.” They loved good food and wine and knew where to find both. They took me in and made me feel like family. And, just as important, if they talked slow enough, I could understand most of what they said even with my limited grasp of the Texan language. I learned new words like “Luling” (a place worth driving to just to eat barbeque at City Market), “pig” (which I’d always thought was an animal on a farm but, come to find out, is a whole food group), “jeeping” (this city girl thinks of Jeeps as big road vehicles, imagine my delight in learning that when jeeping the vehicle is open, the roads are dirt, the wind blows, and the wildflowers surround you along the back roads of the most gorgeous countryside), “cow” (something for milking and definitely not the animals I was seeing in the fields which I learned were cattle) and “margharita” (ok, so I already knew what a margharita was, but it takes on new meaning when drinking one along the Riverwalk in San Antonio). 

There are unique experiences to be had when visiting a foreign country, which turns out to be true when visiting an unfamiliar area of your own country as well. I’ve always loved the small village churches in Italy and was delighted to discover the beautiful painted churches of Fayette County, Texas. They are living works of art and tell the story of those early Texas settlers and their immigrant roots.

Just as in Italy, many of the painted churches bear the name of Saint Mary (Santa Maria in Italian). The church of St. Mary’s in High Hill (which, due to my limited translation of the Texan language I initially thought was the church of St. Mary’s in High Heels), and of St. Mary’s in Praha, were both lovely, serene, and beautiful. Seeing them was a perfect excuse for a drive through the countryside.

Small towns are a cultural experience in and of themselves. I knew that I’d be visiting my new friends’ small hometown, but in truth I had no idea what small really meant. Small in this case meant fewer than 300 people. Small as in no espresso cafes (none, zip, not one, which, I admit, was my biggest adjustment), no malls, no gourmet groceries (who needs imported cheese or olives anyway?). Small as in everyone really does know everyone else. Small as in a picturesque town square, safe streets, an amazing sense of peace, and profound quiet except for the reassuring sound of a train passing through each night. One thing that was very big in this small town was the Round Top Antiques Festival.

Round Top is an antique lover’s dream whether your thing is high end or “junk.”  A day and a half of wandering wasn’t enough to visit all the stalls in the several towns that play host. Thankfully I had a native Texan and accomplished shopper to guide me to just the right places to find what I needed. I use the word “needed” loosely as it seems what I needed was a pair of silver sugar tongs, a beautiful silver and moonstone necklace, and a vintage carved bird as a gift for my father-in-law. I also learned to bargain and haggle, which seems to make any purchase just a little more satisfying. As it turns out my friend was right all along, this was a great trip and Texas, with its perfect combination of the familiar and the foreign, was a real adventure. The things that make any trip rewarding -  experiencing a different way of life, eating new foods, trying new things, making new friends, learning a little something new about myself – were all there. I didn’t miss Italy so much, other than those few minutes longing for a really good espresso, and since that trip each spring I remember Bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, and lovely painted churches.  Sometimes our travel plans (and our lives) don’t work out quite the way we planned - but if we look for a Plan B, we just may find something wonderful. I wish everyone a wonderful Plan B until the time when Italy once again draws us in.        -post by Joanne