My Dad is gone more than a decade now--longer than my 10 year old son is on this planet. He was born in Molfetta, Italy--down in Puglia. He was a simple man--like his roots. I always promised him that someday I'd take him to Molfetta to see his four-year-old memories he always told me about: "Lots of fishing boats and sailboats. All the buildings were white. The smell of the sea." We never made it together.
But now, my little family of three are planning the biggest trip of our lives: 20 days in Italy. First to southern Tuscany in the Crete Sinese clay hills. Next to northern Tuscany and Chianti and its hill towns, history and art. Then onto Sorrento and Amalfi to drive the world's most crazy and scenic roads hugging the cliffs above the Adriatic. After that we'll drive further south through Basilicata and stay in Italy's own Machu Picchu--up in the clouds and cliffs but still inhabited and loved. Next it will be a visit to the caves of Matera and staying in the pointed Trulli houses--straight out of the Land of Oz. Then the most important part of the trip. To pay homage to Dad and walk the streets, smell the air and taste the food of Molfetta. He will be with us.
The last will be a visit to Rome for a few days to soak in the history, the museums, the Appian Way and of course, the food.
Stay tuned. I will be blogging along with Lisa, my wife, Lucas, my son. We will describe not only the trip, but the planning leading up to it all. Of course, Dad will always be a part of this. After all, in finding ourselves in Italy we will also be finding Dad again--and what made him so simple and dolce.