I’m Elisabeth, the oldest sister to “Erinina.” At least that’s the nickname I gave her as a child. You see, I gave her this name for two reasons. 1) She’s the baby girl of the “3 E’s” - “nina” translates to “little girl” in Spanish. While physically Erin was only little to me for a short time, she’ll always be my baby sister. 2) As kids, we tried to make Erin not so… Irish. Yes, Irish. Erin believed she was the only one in our family that got to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Apparently having an Irish name, automatically makes you Irish. So, there you go.
So why am I guest blogging on “Returning to the Motherland,” Erinina’s blog? Because I’m doing just that - Returning to the Motherland, with Erin Giulia.
In anticipation of our upcoming trip, I’ve been revisiting journal entries and notes from my maiden voyage to The Motherland with Erin in May 2015. The upcoming posts are retold from these entries. Enjoy!
May 21, 2015
This is it! I could burst out of my body I’m so excited. As I am less than a year into my job at the Chicago Tribune, my vacation time is still somewhat limited, and in order to get every, last, bit, of, time in Italy, I worked a half day this morning. Erin took the Metra into town and met me in the Loop mid-day. In doing so, we could easily hop on the Blue Line and head to O’Hare together. I love Chicago for its transit. Except for maybe today and the extra large suitcases we both have in tow. I don’t usually pack this much and am thinking about all of the unnecessary things I probably packed and the things I’m probably missing. Stupid suitcase. Your size makes me think I need to fill you at the start of the trip, when I know its to reserve space for Italian purchases.
After getting through security at O’Hare, Erin and I decided to take advantage of the International Terminal. Read – THE BEST FOOD O’Hare has to offer. Erin, having never eaten at a Rick Bayless restaurant, we grabbed our last land meal at Frontera Grill. We were also trying to avoid some food options, rationalizing that if we’re going to be eating Italian food for two weeks, kick off the trip with a Chicago celeb-chef. And margaritas. Oh, the delicious margaritas. Erin and I finished our meal, paid for by Mom & Dad – a little send off cash they sent with Erin on the train, and headed to our gate. Unable to contain our excitement, we made final calls to the parents and sent some obligatory selfies via Snapchat.
I’m not excited about the small airplane seating I’m about to be in for the next 10 hours. But LETS DO THIS! ITALY HERE WE COME!
Somewhere over the Atlantic
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!? I’m hot. I’m cold. I’m sweating. My heart is racing. What did I eat? What did I drink? Was it all the free wine on Alitalia? No. The plane pasta dish? Maybe? Oh! The margaritas at the airport! Yes. That’s it. Has to be. But, that was like... 3 hours ago… 4..??? That couldn’t make me feel this weird…
I’ve woken up from my first attempt to sleep on the plane. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour. Erin is awake too. Wide awake.
Erin said to me, “This isn’t working!”
No shit. Wait. What? Damn. She’s right. This is when I realize I’ve made a mistake. I’ve seriously failed my natural medicine experiment. In an attempt to trick my body into the time change and get ahead of inevitable jet lag, I’ve taken advice from one of my co-workers and purchased melatonin vitamins for Erin and I. They clearly have had an adverse effect. We’re over the middle of the Atlantic ocean. It’s 2:00 am in Italy, and I’m nowhere near sleeping. I’m wide-awake as if I’ve just run 8 miles and consumed coffee and I feel like jumping out of my skin. NEVER. NEVER AGAIN. Damn you melatonin.
*Note: If anyone wants a 2-year old bottle of melatonin vitamins, I’m happy to share. Barely used.
May 22, 2015
We made it! I’m breathing in Italian air for the first time and it is magical! Our cousin Gianni picked us up at the airport and I was so excited, I botched the cultural greeting I’ve known since birth – a kiss on each cheek at embrace. Upon meeting Gianni, he ushered us over to the stand to get “un café!” I’m glad for the caffeine too. If this trip is anything like my last trip overseas, I know I’m going to be functioning on LOTS of coffee. (Pretty sure the number of naps I took in Norway and Sweden made up for all of the naps I ‘faked' in grade pre-school.)
Gianni drove us to his home and we made a stop at a store on the way. It seemed like a long wait while he was in the store, but I didn’t care. I was taking it all in. Just like other countries I’ve visited, I feel more alert, more aware of my surroundings, feeling more like a tourist than when traveling in the US. Not only are the sights different, but the sounds and smells too. I love all of it. My excitement and emotions are all over the place – mixed with joy and disbelief that I FINALLY made it. I’ve only been dreaming of this place since I was 8 years old, and 20 years later, I’m finally here.
We arrive at Gianni & Antonella’s home, greeted by: a picturesque and inclined drive, building architecture I’ve only ever equated to “mid-century mod” but I know this is its own design, and a very talkative dog, “MIA!” I still don’t know whether she likes strangers, or if Antonella is simply the “Mia Whisperer.”
After we got settled and took in the view from Gianni & Antonella’s balcony, we drove into town and walked around Turin. I couldn’t have asked for a better first day in the Motherland. Complete with the soft chocolate hazelnut treats from Guido & Gobino and Gianni’s homemade risotto and sausage.
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