Big Wishes For Italy

You might say the best I’ve felt lately is “Abbastanza bene” – good enough, just like my attempt to pick up another language.

I’m five classes into Beginner’s Italian, the only guy in a class of women from their early twenties to middle age. Don't take that as a complaint - most are exceedingly friendly, even though I definitely reside at the class' socioeconomic low-end.

The language is great, even if the verb forms haven’t sunk in and the German translation for everything pops into my head before the Italian. Gott in Himmel ....

But the character of the class is undeniably Italian – we bring in bottles of wine and Italian books to share. At times, the classes feel closer to a gathering of Italian lovers than . I introduced them to primitivo from Puglia, and next week I’ll see how close Petrarch brushes to modern Italian.

My instructor hangs out in the two towns I must visit – Caserta and Foggia, the hometowns of my paternal grandparents’ families. While my grandmother surname became English in America, the Inglizis hailed from Foggia in Puglia, which runs along the western bootheel. My grandfather's family, the Pagliaros - now the Palmers - came from Caserta, just north of Naples in Campagna.

Our guest in class, Marco the soccer coach, told me Caserta’s palace is the equal of Versailles. The palace’s interiors are better known than people realize – George Lucas borrowed them to serve as the queen’s palace in the Star Wars prequels. But don’t hold that against Caserta.

So amidst the worst economic times of my life, I want badly to go to Italy. I have it mapped out already - flying into Rome, a quick train trip to Caserta for a few days, a one-day stop in Naples, then across to Puglia for a few more. I might tack on a day in Milan after hearing Marco describe its beauty.

Ideally, I would go sometime in late October, when southern Italy still hosts comfortable weather. Ever since my flight department Munich International on Feb. 26, 2007, I wanted to return. After flirting with a trip to Belgium (sorry about that, Holly) and looking at other European destinations for 2009, Italy cannot escape my crosshairs.

Ideally, I'll still have a job at that point. If I don't, maybe it's time to start researching jobs for auslanders in Italy .... damn German habits. If I'm going to hit Italy, I'll need to shed those, or at least closet them for seven days.

That much I can handle for a few moments on the Mediterranean.