Takeaways from My Throwback Trip to Italy

To be honest, I expected our trip to Italy to be similar to others (Hawaii, Canada, Alaska, etc.) in that I would go, it would be enjoyable, I would make some memories and, in the end, I’d call it good and then go on with life. But it was oh so much, much more than that! When our 16-day trek came to an end, I’d developed some definite takeaways.

I Never Realized I Didn’t Know I Had Been Missing Something So Much

Have you ever done something you haven’t done for a long, long time, but once you do it, you then realize how much you missed it? That’s happened several times over my life. For example, I rode a unicycle as a kid and into college but then it went into storage when we had kids. But when they got older, I bought a new unicycle and two of my kids learned to ride it, which rekindled my desire.

There’s also hockey. I’d played a lot of street hockey when I was a kid in Canada and then some inline hockey in my twenties. Just a couple of weeks before my 40^th birthday, I took up men’s rec league ice hockey, which kicked off a great eight-year run. It was so great to play again. Hockey is unlike any other sport.

Softball was similar. I started playing men’s city league when I was 14 and continued into my college years. Like the unicycle and playing hockey, softball went on the back burner because of work and family responsibilities. However, 20 years ago, a friend recruited me and I’ve been playing ever since, even into my 60s.

And then there’s Italy. This was not just an activity like the aforementioned. It was an 18-month chunk of my life. I was called as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to serve in the boot and Sicily in 1982-83. Over that time, I learned a lot about God and Jesus Christ, Their church, a different culture, its people, its food and made many friends. And along the way, I learned a lot about myself. A lot!

Returning to Italy, I simply was not prepared for the strong feelings that would resonate within me. Being there stirred a ton of emotions – anticipation, nostalgia, excitement, happiness, joy and many memories. It just felt so right to return to a country that had changed in some ways but remained the same in so many others. I reveled to be there. What I didn’t realize is that Italy was still a part of me and I will always be a part of it.

Love for the Italian People

Simply put, Italians have a love of life. They live their day-to-day lives with enthusiasm, vigor and passion. You see it in how they speak, how they treat others, how they prepare and eat meals, and even in the crazy way they drive. They are all in! On this trip, I met so many genuine people who were interested in us and treated us like friends, if not family. I admire them for that and will try to adopt some of those character traits. The bottom line is I love the Italian people!  

Love of the Language

I was never an class-A linguist as a missionary. I mean, I could speak it. I could understand it. And there certainly is something special about learning to speak the language of another country while being there. I admit that I did not prepare nearly as well as I should’ve for this trip. I did listen to Italian in the weeks leading up to it but I could’ve done much more.

But what happened in Italy, to be honest, was amazing. I was shocked at the transition that took place. At the beginning, I would hear a word or phrase, try to translate that into English in my brain so I could understand, and then I’d struggle to conjure up the appropriate Italian words and/or vocabulary to formulate a coherent response. I felt, and probably sounded, like a third grader. Yet as time passed, something unexpected happened. My brain would hear a word or phrase and then automatically understand what was being said. And just that quickly, practically automatically, I responded. I mean I actually became mostly fluent again. It was so cool. No, it was more than that. It was joyful and fulfilling! And to communicate with this Italian people that I love in their language on their home turf, especially when they continually expressed surprise and admiration again and again at such an ability for a couple of Americans, was a blessing. I’m sure that Ron would agree, especially since he prepared much more diligently and spoke and understood a heck of a lot better than I did.      

Love for the Food

Now this, I knew was coming! I grew up very much a meat and potatoes, casserole, bread and milk kind of kid. While planning this trip, I had in my mind the many Italian foods I wanted to eat and set out on a quest to check each box, which I did. And the flavors? Well, Italian food just can’t be beat. Perhaps it’s the freshness or the spices or the cheeses. All I know is each bite was a treat. Though difficult to differentiate and quantify, below are a list of my “bests” of the trip.*

(*I'm totally open to debate and am easily persuadable.)

Best breakfast treat - cream-filled pastry in Siracusa

Best pasta (part I) - paccheri with crispy bacon, cherry tomatoes & pecorino cheese - Catania 

Best pasta (part II) - cacio e pepe - Roma

Best pizza - five cheese (mozzarella, Vastedda del Belice, gongonzola, parigiano Reggiano
& Ragusano) - Agrigento

Best side dish - bruschetta & pickled zucchini - Peschici

Best on-the-go treat (part I) - arancino in Catania

Best on-the-go treat (part II) - fresh-squeezed orange juice - Catania

Best drink - aranciata - available everywhere

Best gelato - pineapple & cannolo in a brioche - Monreale (although the milk chocolate-peanut butter combo & the many, many lemon gelati I pounded down are right there too)

Gelato photo placed here just to make you drool

Best granita - lemon granita from La Vera Liome Granita - Agrigento

Best sandwich - flatbread with mozzarella and prosciutto - Rome

Best on-the-go meal - Panzarotti, arancini & aranciata - Bari (because I ate it a million times as a missionary and I still love it)

Sharing Italy with Lori

It can be life-shaping to experience something yourself, but it’s better when you can share it with others. That, in essence, is why I wanted to be a missionary – so I could share what I believed with others. Sharing this trip and all Italy has to offer with Lori was just so fun and fulfilling. The funny, and perhaps most ironic thing, is we talked about Italy during our first-ever extended conversation before we even began dating. We were students at Brigham Young University and shared a sociology course together. While walking home from class one day, I mentioned that I served a mission in Italy and wouldn’t mind going back some day. “Maybe we could go there on our honeymoon there,” she joked.

Well, I loved showing her where I lived in Italy, the sites I saw, the type of people I interacted with and yes, the heavenly and succulent foods we ate. She also enjoyed being with the Italians on the streets, in businesses and worshipping with them on Sundays.

I love how she embraced it. Among other things, she created and checked each box in a personal Italian bucket list by sticking (at least) a toe in the three bodies of water that surround southern Italy – the Adriatic, Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas. Shoot, given past studies in Spanish, she even picked up a bit of the Italian language while we were there.

Lori, the Warrior

The only downer, and it was a big one, was the Vespa incident on Lipari that left Lori with an injured left foot and on crutches. What we didn’t find out until after we got home was it resulted in two fractures in her left foot, plus two months on crutches. Still, during our trip, she soldiered on, made her way up and down Italy’s streets and didn’t let take away from where we went, what we saw, what we did or what we ate. And she did all this with a smile on her face. She was and is the perfect example of toughness, endurance, kindness and fun.

Sundays are the Best Days

I enjoyed each and every day we spent in Italy but I especially cherished Sundays. Of course, that’s really no surprise since I’m religious and I served as a missionary there. However, to gather with members of our church was exceedingly special. These good Italian folks live and practice what they believe, day-in and day-out, and do so despite living in a country dominated by another religion. Some of them were ostracized for doing so, yet they carry on faithfully, diligently and full of joy. Being able to sit with them, worship with them, sing hymns with them and feel their heartfelt testimonies was both moving and inspiring. I would love to visit all the congregations across the Puglia and Sicily!

Ron & April Smith = the Perfect Travel Companions

Like I stated earlier, It’s great to experience something yourself, but it’s better when you can share it with others. Sharing this trip with Ron and April Smith made it just so much more meaningful and memorable. And they fully welcomed us even though we kind of crashed their plans.

Of course, Ron and I go way back. In April of 1983, I had been in Italy about nine months when I became a senior companion and was transferred from Siracusa to Catania where Ron arrived as a wide-eyed “greenie” fresh from the United States. He probably didn’t know how much I needed him at that time. I needed a good example and a good fellow missionary to work with. Over my first nine months, I had a difficult missionary companion and some challenging circumstances that made transitioning from the U.S. to Italy, including trying to learn a new language, that much more difficult. Ron and I hit it off almost immediately. Those three or four months together with him were the best of my mission. We worked hard, laughed much and became good friends. We were (and are) a lot alike in a lot of ways.

We stayed in contact and decided to become roommates in the fall of 1984 at BYU. We even took an Italian class together. We were only together for one semester before he left me for April and marriage, a valid excuse, but again we had a good time. 

After we got home and our friends asked about our trip to Italy, we’d say, “We had a great time with our friends.”

“Friends? What friends?”

When I said we made the trip back with one of my former missionary companions and his wife, people said that must’ve made it that much more special. Yep, sure did. And that’s even though since college, Lori and I had only seen Ron and April once, and that was about four to five years ago, and then it was only for a few hours.

As missionaries back in the day, I was the senior companion. However on this trip, I felt much like Ron’s junior companion. And I liked it. He had better grasp on the language and his days of being wide-eyed were long gone. I also learned a couple of things about him I didn’t know before. Somehow Glendale, Utah, a small dot on the map in the southern part of the state, came up in conversation.

“Glendale? My family helped homestead that town,” he said.

“Wait! What? Really? So did mine,” I responded.

How did this never come up before? Sure enough, the old Smith Hotel, founded in 1927, with its front entryway right on the doorstep of Highway 89, smack dab in the heart of Glendale, was founded by his ancestors. I, too, have family that lived in Glendale for generations, just down the road from the Smith Hotel and throughout town. In fact, I still have relatives there today.

Secondly, his grandparents are from Helena, Montana, which is about 90 minutes from my house. Man, you think you know someone and then you learn even more.

What I do know is Ron is somebody I’ve already looked up to. I did as a young missionary. I did during our throwback trip. And I do today. Thanks Ron!

April 1983

 April 2023

And then there’s April. I knew her before I ever met her. Okay, I didn’t really know her but I knew and respected Ron, and I saw how her letters to him during our missionary days uplifted him. It wasn’t even two years later that I was honored to attend their wedding and stand next to Ron at their wedding reception.

A couple other things about April. She is the czar of travel. When bad weather, earthquakes and/or public transportation strikes popped up and altered our travel plans, we didn’t miss a beat because of April. She pulled up her phone, offered alternatives, purchased new tickets and we were on our way again, without missing a beat.

Then, there’s her laughter. Ron told us how their kids get the biggest kick out of April when she gets on a roll. We experienced that during a torrential downpour in Vieste. There we stood, the four of us, huddled under a balcony, watching a small river of rain water cascade down old stone steps, over our toes and downhill to Old Vieste below us. April lost it. She couldn’t stop laughing. And we couldn’t either.

Lastly, and most importantly in my book, is April’s big heart. You can feel it as she talked about friends, kids, grandkids and others. I also saw it in her actions, especially after the Vespa incident. She looked after Lori as she did one of her own children. Thanks April!

I Never Realized I Didn’t Know I Had Been Missing Something So Much (Part II)

Since we’ve been back home, I’ve eaten some “Italian” food, swapped Italy-related texts with Ron, April and Lori, purchased some of the same Fanta aranciata we drank in Italy, sang some hymns in Italian at church while everyone else sang in English, and I even listened to 90 straight minutes of Italian pop music the other day. Unlike other trips in my past to Hawaii, Canada, Alaska or wherever else, this one remains on my mind. Why? Because I am a part of Italy and Italy is a part of me.

Lori tells our friends, “Mark would go back to Italy in a heartbeat.” Yes, she knows me all too well. You better believe I would. ANDIAMO! (Let’s go!)