There was a moment of realisation when I sat down on the edge of the Pizza San Michele with the ornate facade of the Chiesa di San Michele in Foro at my back; I realised that I had made it! From as early as I could remember, my dad talked about his great-grandad from Italy. It made my dad as happy as I remember, and the regular cooking of spaghetti in a big pan; we were definitely not a "spag bol" family.
Hearing about Italy for as long as I can remember always felt like somewhere I should visit. Today, that finally came true. Family can be complicated; people move and fall out of contact, and life gets in the way. So I don't know a lot about my dad's family, his dad dying when he was young, and my grandma being always a little on the bonkers side of things.
Looking into the family tree, I had at least found a cousin of my dad's, and she has guided me in the right direction for this trip. So, with a sense of calm excitement, I left Bellinzona well-rested and ready for another long leg to Lucca.
My time in Switzerland was too brief, but I was ready to resume my travels. The train to Milan was another comfortable journey with modern double-decker trains, air conditioning and stunning views across the Alps and then down through Lugano and Como before arriving at Milano Centrale, a busy station full of bustle and action.
From Milan, the scenery was rather drab, and the overcast weather didn't help. When I made the reservations, I needed to find out where Firenze was, but it made sense when I found out it was Florence. Once there, things picked up again even if the speed of the trains slowed down; having grown accustomed to the fast trains that zoom across Europe at 300 km/h, the Trenitalia Regionale go at a more gentle pace, a bit like travelling home from London only for the Robin Hood Line service back to Mansfield feeling like an eternity to deliver you home.
In some ways, this feels a little like a homecoming; although I would never dare to say that I was even remotely Italian, knowing I share ancestors with this part of the world feels unique, and I can't wait to retrace some of their footsteps.
I have until Saturday morning to explore and see what I can discover about my family connections and myself. This will be the start of something fun and exciting. There is Florence to visit, and a photo opportunity awaits at Pisa.
Now is the time to rest up and digest the Ravioli al Pomodoro and tiramisu that one of the Australian guests at the next table described as the best she had eaten on her trip.
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