Danielle Oteri's Italy

Joseph Walker, author of Buried Italy and the voice behind Italian History with Joseph , spent the early 1990s exploring the submerged Roman resort of Baia and harvesting grapes in the ancient amphitheater at Cuma. Before Baia had snorkeling schools and glass-bottom boats, Joseph Walker was hiring a local fisherman to take him out into the Gulf of Pozzuoli and swimming down into what turned out to be the nymphaeum of Claudius and Nero. That dive became his life’s work. He arrived in Italy with the U.S. Navy in the late 1980s and never really left. This episode is a long, winding conversation about the Campi Flegrei, the volcanic zone west of Naples where myth and geology keep colliding. Joseph and I share a lot of interests, and this conversation could have gone on for hours. What we discuss: * How Walker found Portus Julius and started bringing tourists to see the underwater ruins. * The Cave of Cumean Synil, how it predates Virgil by roughly 600 years, and Walker’s case for Etruscan involvement in its construction * The amphitheater at Cuma that isn’t on the archaeological park’s tourist map, and the harvest feast that Walker got invited to as a young man * Lago d’Averno as one of the mythological entrances to Hades, and the Oscan cult of death that came before the Greeks arrived * Naples’ own relationship to death and the ritual of adopting bones at the Fontanelle Cemetery * Bradyseism, the rising and falling of the Campi Flegrei landmass, and the current push to reopen sites like the Piscina Mirabilis to tourism * How the region’s volcanic history may connect to the extinction of the Neanderthals We also got into Puglia a bit and discussed: * Castel del Monte and Frederick II’s use of the octagon as a symbol linking heaven and earth * The mosaic floor at the Cathedral of Otranto, its King Arthur panel, and the monastery library destroyed in the 1480 Ottoman sack Find Joseph Walker: italianhistorywithjoseph.com/oteri — includes a free download of seven “Buried Italy” sites and a free chapter of the book (the Narnia chapter, cut from the final edit). Danielle Oteri's Italy is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Intense, I would say unbearable, summer heat is the new normal in Italy, and it changes how you should be planning a trip. This episode covers when to actually go (spring over fall, with one exception), what to do if summer is your only option, and why “I’m used to heat” doesn’t mean the same thing in Dallas as it does in Rome. In this episode: * Why hot summers in Europe can no longer be treated as an anomaly * Best time to visit for Venice, Florence, Rome: spring (minus Easter week) over the increasingly-booked-out fall * The seaside strategy for anyone who can only travel in summer — including how to structure a day around the heat * Why an Italian beach club is a unique cultural experience * Where to find real sagre and summer festivals * The single biggest mistake I have to unravel for clients overstuffed itineraries * Tipping in 2026: what’s expected now for guides, drivers, and restaurant staff — and why even the Germans are tipping. All podcasts are free, but if you want to hang out with my live, and ask questions, consider becoming a paid subscriber. On August 27th at 8 pm ET , I’ll be doing a Destination Deep Dive on Pompeii, Herculaneum, Baia, and Oplontis . Because even though Pompeii is worthy of a thousand visits, it’s just one piece of the story, and one of these others sites might actually be more appropriate for your trip. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

A quick note for paid subscribers: the August Ask Me Anything About Italy will take place on August 13th at 8 pm ET. This month’s Destination Deep Dive will cover Baia, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Oplontis — the ancient Roman cities around Naples in honor of the new series about Pompeii Out of Time currently streaming on Disney+. We’ll convene here on Substack Live for that on August 27th at 8 pm ET. Podcast Show Notes: The Fake (Maybe) at the Met I visited a piece that I absolutely love, but I also think it’s too good to be true. It’s a thymiaterion, an ancient incense burner used for weddings, ceremonies, and funerals, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art: a ring with five figures, each holding a different attribute, like little action figures. I think it could be a pastiche, a mix of something ancient with something modern, if not an outright forgery. Terracotta group of women seated around a well head The Instagram post that started it I posted about it on Instagram, where I wrote: “I love this beautiful thing, but I think it’s a fake. Please prove me wrong.” The post got over 21,000 views and around 110 comments. The original Instagram post — danielleoteri_italy Prior owners Mary Jaharis donated the piece to the Met in 2012. She acquired it at the 1999 Sotheby’s sale of the Christos Bastis collection. Before that, it was on view at the Merrin Gallery in New York until the early eighties. The Getty’s own former curator of antiquities, Marion True, was put on criminal trial in Italy for conspiring to receive looted antiquities; that trial collapsed in 2010 when the statute of limitations expired. The dealer tied to that network, Giacomo Medici, was convicted in Rome and sentenced to prison. If you’re interested in this topic, I highly recommend “Chasing Aphrodite: The Hunt for Looted Antiquities at the World’s Richest Museum” by Jason Felch and Ralph Frammolino. Chasing Aphrodite, by Jason Felch and Ralph Frammolino Also, my apologies to Ralph Frammolino — I mispronounced your name in the recording. The tombaroli and Taranto The word for the people who do the tomb robbing is tombaroli. Taranto , in Puglia, is one of the most abused archaeological sites there is; its old city, la città vecchia, is Greek, filled with underground burial chambers that smugglers have used for storage in more recent times. Museum of Looted Art I got a message from an Instagram account called Museum of Looted Art , pointing me to their database of documented looted works, specifically the history of the Merrin Gallery. MoLA is a project of Jason Felch, author of Chasing Aphrodite . The Tanagra connection The figures are most closely aligned with those of Tanagra. In the 1860s, hundreds of these terracotta figures were accidentally discovered by farmers plowing their fields. When they first appeared on the French art market around 1871, collectors and artists went wild, calling them the Parisians of Antiquity. They were displayed at the Paris World’s Fair in 1878. More about Tanagra figures here. A more recent parallel: the flood of fakes in Islamic art tied to wealthy collectors in Doha, Dubai, and Abu Dhabi since the early 2000s, and the “Salvator Mundi” painting sold at Christie’s in 2017 for $450 million, which I have never for one minute believed was an authentic Leonardo. Coverage of the Salvator Mundi sale Paestum Throughout the Southern Italian Greek colonies, most notably Paestum, you find hundreds, potentially thousands, of terracotta heads with an incense burner , often in the form of a flower, from the sanctuary of Hera. Many are on display in the museum right next to the archaeological park, but none show five women in a composition like this one. Why testing doesn’t settle it The main dating tool is thermoluminescence, which measures the energy stored in an object since it was last fired. Forgers can defeat this: carving fakes from genuinely ancient fired material, grinding real ancient ceramic into new clay, or artificially irradiating pieces with X-ray equipment. Where I landed I don’t love it quite as much as I did. I still very much want it to be real, but I’m going to trust my initial reaction here and say I don’t believe it. I’m not accusing the Met of anything nefarious; I don’t know the politics behind this object’s display, and I’ll leave open the possibility that the curators have good reason to believe it’s real. What I hope this episode has done is made you more curious. Let me know what you think in the comments. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

I recorded this voice note from Borgo La Pietraia , where I’m currently recovering and preparing for a busy travel schedule in the days ahead. Now, as I prepare to hit send, I’m sitting with Arianna, my business partner, technically a 4th cousin, and, in every other way, my sister. We have decided to offer a small group experience in late October. The reason? The property’s olive trees come in every other year; this year, we’ll have a harvest and make olive oil. We focused and put together all the details this morning, with an itinerary based on the popular Episode 35: The Mozzarella Highway. (The text of that episode is below.) If you’d like to join us, all the information is here: https://www.feasttravel.com/cilento Also, a quick note for paid subscribers: the next Ask Me Anything About Italy will be July 23rd at 8 pm ET. The most delicious thing you can eat in Southern Italy is buffalo milk mozzarella. Italy has earned such a sterling culinary reputation that most people just open their mouths and say yes to whatever is put in front of them. But every once in a while, someone says buffalo mozzarella, what the hell is that? It is a strange thing to encounter, especially because the languid, enormous, but very sensitive water buffalo are cugini to the ones you’ll find in Vietnam or Cambodia, where buffalo milk mozzarella is not a thing. Buffalo mozzarella is made primarily in the region of Campania. It graces pizzas in Naples and has a different casein than most cow’s milk, so the lactose-intolerant among us can indulge. Buffalo farms abound in Caserta, near the stupendous Palace of Caserta, from where the Bourbon monarchy ruled over “the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.” Before Italy became the nation we know it as today in 1861, it was a monarchy that pioneered several industries, including a dairy industry based on buffalo milk. But even more exquisite is the stuff made at a handful of farms, a little farther south. If you’re driving there, maybe on a day trip from Naples or the Amalfi Coast, you’ll inevitably get snarled in traffic on what locals call “the mozzarella highway” through Battipaglia. Every sign on the roadside is flashing mozzarella di bufala. The traffic is largely due to hundreds of trucks that pass through daily to pick up mozzarella and transport it to supermarkets across Italy. I’ve heard waiters in Florence extol the virtues of its freshness, boasting that it just arrived in the restaurant that afternoon. I’ve also heard waiters in New York cooing that they just picked it up from JFK that morning. Keep driving; Battipaglia is an industrial farming zone, and everything is pasteurized for export. Better things await in the town called Capaccio-Paestum. Paestum is most famous for three extraordinarily well-preserved Greek temples. They are massive and built of travertine, a volcanic stone, then coated in plaster and painted to mimic marble, which doesn’t exist in Southern Italy. Paestum was colonized by Greeks, conquered by Lucanians, who were the indigenous people of the area, whom the Greeks employed as their security goons, and then became a Roman city. Paestum was considered very old when the Romans conquered it. The oldest of the three temples was 280 years old. The Greeks regarded everything around the temples as sacred ground, but the Romans were insatiable real estate developers. There developed markets, civic buildings, a large Asclepieion, which was the closest thing to a hospital in the classical world, and dozens of smaller temples, all surrounding the big, very old ones. Roman Paestum was bigger and far more important than Pompeii or Herculaneum, and though it’s beyond the reach of Mount Vesuvius’s molten tentacles, it is still affected by earthquakes. The Roman Empire declined, and Paestum sank. Literally. The reason: a phenomenon called bradyseism, which is a Greek word: bradys means slow, and seismos means movement.” It’s an imperceptible but continuous slow rising and falling of the earth - a slow-motion earthquake. When the Greeks built the temples close to the glittering Tyrrhenian sea, things were on the up. But by the third and fourth centuries, Paestum was a swamp, infested with malaria carrying mosquitos. Mal aria means ‘bad air.” The Paestani fled for the hills. Some went to the hills just above Paestum, founding Capaccio, my grandmother’s hometown, while others went higher to the sea-facing cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. The name Positano may be related to the Paestani who settled there. And certainly people also went to Salerno, which was a Roman city, then under Lombard rule, and in 1077 was officially conquered by the Normans, proud descendants of the Vikings, loosely related to the Normans who just 11 years earlier had taken England at the Battle of Hastings. Salerno was a luxurious city, full of international merchants, and home to the world’s first medical school. Meanwhile, once glorious Paestum, not very far away at all, must have looked like the zombie apocalypse. Just to let you know, I haven’t forgotten we were talking about buffalo and delicious cheese; they will soon re-enter our story, but first we need to stop in Salerno. Salerno was where the Norman king built a cathedral dedicated to Saint Matthew the Apostle. It’s believed he died in either Ethiopia or Persia, but his bones somehow ended up near Paestum, and two people had a dream, alerting them to the location. They retrieved the old bones, and the cathedral was built around them. The Normans also began to adorn the area we now call the centro storico of Salerno with Roman columns from Paestum. They’re embedded in many corners, and sometimes you’ll see a sign with a dog lifting its leg and a red line across it. It may read “Questa e storia” - this is history, and don’t let your dog pee on it. The massive columns that you’ll encounter in the courtyard of the cathedral came from what must have been another enormous temple at Paestum, which was clearly functioning as an open quarry. Why? Because using Roman columns made an architectural argument that the new power is heir to the Roman one. For someone from somewhere else, Northern France in this case, to frame himself as the legitimate successor to Roman Caesars. And how did they physically pull them out of the swamp and drag them back to Salerno? With water buffalo, which are naturally immune to malaria. Buffalo arrived on Italian soil via Arab merchants, who first brought them from Southeast Asia to Egypt for use as work animals. For roughly two centuries, Sicily was under Muslim rule, first governed by emirs from North Africa. Sicily was wealthy and well-developed, so much so that the various wealthy factions descended into infighting, which allowed the Normans to conquer them more easily. Neither gentlemen nor scholars, they kept what the Arabs did best, including mathematics, agricultural practices, and sugary desserts such as cannoli. Buffalo thrived in the marshy lands along the Italian coast and were incredibly effective at doing the impossible work of clearing rivers. As they plod through streams, the underwater reeds that are nearly impossible for humans to remove will tangle around the legs of a buffalo sauntering through the day and easily snap and break. Paestum doesn’t appear in the historical record again until the 1700s, during the period known as the Grand Tour. Part of a complete education was a trip to the Italian peninsula, where something astonishing had happened. Pompeii was discovered. The Bourbon kings of Naples not only founded the buffalo mozzarella industry, but also the field of archaeology, which didn’t exist. Pompeii fever swept the educated world and set off the Neoclassical movement. Paestum, though never completely abandoned, defined the word backwater, and was a more adventurous leg of the Grand Tour. In paintings from this period, you can see these beautiful Doric temples, their reflections in pools of water, and grazing buffalo all around them. Can you imagine what a sight that must have been to citified elites from England and Germany? People who had never seen or even imagined a buffalo, or were accustomed to having their dopamine spiked by imagery hundreds of times every day? In those paintings, you’ll also notice houses, and the locals – my ancestors – guiding the buffalo, or sitting on a hill wearing loose pants and a floppy hat, playing a flute, or some other peasanty activity. As a sidenote, I don’t understand how my lineage in this area survived long enough to produce me, as I am target number one on every mosquito’s agenda. When you arrive in Paestum today, you will also find the very best farms producing buffalo-milk mozzarella within a mile of the temples. Most well-reputed is Tenuta Vannulo, a local family-owned farm that has made artisanal cheesemaking and the highest standards of animal welfare a point of attraction. You can tour the facility and watch buffalo using state-of-the-art self-milking machines, getting massages with what look like car-wash brushes, while a guide explains how Mozart is played for them in their pens. The result is a product unlike anything on the mozzarella highway, and it is exquisite. I especially recommend the buffalo milk gelato. If you’re a coffee person, get the coffee flavor, drowned with a shot of espresso . (To the uninitiated, this is called an affogato.) That’s it, that’s the peak coffee experience of your life. But my favorite place is Barlotti, partially because it’s within walking distance of the Paestum temples. You don’t have the full organized tour experience that you have at Vannulo, but you can hang out with the buffalo, who are very quiet and relaxed in a very Southern Italian way. Have lunch inside their beautiful glass-encased restaurant or in the garden underneath the pergola. Don’t overthink your menu choices. Get the sample plate that includes fresh mozzarella, smoked mozzarella, and a mound of ricotta, followed by a plate of cooked vegetables, a selection of whatever is growing at the moment. For dessert, a cannoli filled with buffalo milk ricotta. After lunch, walk to the Paestum temples. The swamp was officially drained in the 1930s by the Fascists, another group that sought to legitimize itself by resuscitating Roman ruins, and the ground continues to be managed today. After the war, when malaria was eradicated, a modern Paestum was fully developed. If you walk on the right side of the road, you’ll see water running – there are ancient springs here, which certainly inspired the placement of the temples nearly 3,000 years ago. The presence of the Asclepieion, natural springs, and temples together indicates that the Greek colonists identified this as a place of healing. And you can squint past the sunlight and use your imagination to see a parade of buffalo, pulling a plow with a giant Roman column atop it, en route to Salerno. Because everything good from the old world should be used to build the new one. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

This month Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey hits IMAX, giving me the perfect excuse to talk about where the epic actually happened. Consider it the earliest travelogue of southern Italy, tracking a the journey from Circe’s mountain outside Rome down through the Scylla’s wrath in Calabria. Travel writer Laura Itzkowitz of The New Roman Times joins to talk about the Riviera di Ulisse, the beach clubs that haven’t changed since the 1950, and the mythic beauty of Calabria and Capri. In this episode: * The Bronze Age Collapse, and how the Odyssey emerged from that dark age * The Nestor Cup on Ischia and the earliest written Greek in the region * The Riviera di Ulisse: Monte Circeo, Sabaudia, San Felice Circeo, Sperlonga, Terracina, Gaeta * Where Lazio starts feeling like Campania (and why) * Laura’s mystery cruise from Athens through Magna Graecia * Scilla, the Riace Bronzes, and the archaeological museum in Reggio Calabria * The many legends of the sirens and what they really mean * Capri: how best to enjoy it * The Aeolian Islands and the god of the winds If you want to learn more about the Bronze Age Collapse, I highly recommend Eric Cline’s 1177 BC: The Year Civilization Collapsed . The Ulysses Coast Thanks to Laura for these recommendations: * Saporetti — the old school beach club in Sabaudia * Hotel La Nave — retro family-run hotel in Sperlonga * Bazzano Beach — beach club in Sperlonga Laura also wrote about beaches on the Riviera d’Ulisse for a Lazio special edition of Bellissimo , Italy Magazine’s quarterly e-magazine for paid subscribers, and included several of these towns in her list of best beach towns near Rome on The New Roman Times. You can read Laura’s Afar piece on Windstar’s mystery cruise here . And in keeping with my advice to never trust an Italian website — the website for Sperlonga’s archaeological park, Villa di Tiberio is —- not working. But don’t be disssuaded, definitely go there, it’s amazing! Ischia & Capri The Nestor Cup is at Villa Arbusto on Ischia. Here’s my Ischia Deep Dive for more. On Capri, this is Farella , the textile studio Laura describes. We didn’t discuss it, but the Li Galli islands are strongly tied to the sirens as well — which is why the most famous hotel on the Amalfi Coast, Positano’s Le Sirenuse , takes its name. Cilento The siren Leucosia is said to have washed ashore near Castelabate on the Cilento coast — one of three regional claims on the myth, alongside Capri and Sicily. My Cilento Deep Dive has the fuller history if this coast is new to you. Join us, free or paid, the conversation here is always full of interesting stories you won’t find elsewhere This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Packing reliably stresses people out, and almost always, people pack more than they need. Less is more, plus you can buy anything you need in Italy, so don’t worry. Ideally, you need just a four-wheeled suitcase and a carry-on bag. I have a Calpak backpack with a strap on the back that slides right onto the suitcase handle. It also fits my 16-inch laptop. Any system that is too complicated stresses me out, so I keep my stuff organized while traveling with packing cubes . They let you move from place to place without fully unpacking, and they make it easy to see exactly what you have to work with in your capsule wardrobe. They also prevent me from overpacking by forcing me to look at all my clothes as a system and make sure everything goes together. Ensure your day bag has ample space for your passport, a phone charger, and sunglasses. You may want to bring a couple of cotton tote bags if you’d like to carry a sketchbook or do any grocery shopping during your trip. For the women who want a detailed list with links, here we go: * Two to four pairs of cotton or linen pants in neutral colors * Jeans, but not skinny jeans, in the summer. If you’re traveling in a cool season, and you’re a jeans person, bring 2 or 3 pairs * One casual dress * 5-8 T-shirts and tank tops (if traveling in winter, substitute T-shirts for simple sweaters). You can get a variety of scoop necks and V-necks. Get them at Uniqlo, J.Crew Factory, AYR, or Perfect White Tee * 1 blouse in a print or bright color. This is your going-out shirt. (Remember the aughts, my elder Millennial friends.) * 1 blazer or cardigan * 1 cotton scarf * 1 pair of pajamas, cotton * Bras, panties, of course * 1 pair of simple white trainers * 1 pair of ballet flats or loafers * Sunglasses * 1 white or blue collared shirt Let’s get more specific: This dress from Marine Layer. You can roll it up, stuff it into a beach bag, drive a FIAT over it, and it still looks great. I wear jeans almost every day, and that makes traveling easy. They match with everything, don’t show panty lines, don’t wrinkle, and don’t need to be washed as much. However, if you’re traveling in the hottest months, they’re not ideal, though I find these wide-leg jeans from Kut From the Kloth to be cool and comfortable. Just make sure to size down with this brand. I’m a size 8, but I got these in 6 petite, and they're still a little roomy. This Frank & Eileen blazer seems wildly expensive for an unlined jacket, but I have done unspeakable things to it over the course of 5 years, and it has retained its shape and looks fantastic with everything. You don’t have to buy this one specifically, but the idea is to bring a casual, versatile jacket that adds a little polish to your lewk while still being low-maintenance. These shirts from AYR are worth every penny. Button them up, wear them open over a tank top, or use them as beach cover-ups. You can pretty much wear this shirt with a mix of tanks and dresses for your entire trip. I also love these scoop neck shirts from AYR . The black-and-white striped one has been out of stock forever, but it’s the most useful shirt I own. It’s soft and light and pairs with everything. * Bombas socks. They are just so well-made and give you a little extra cushion for those 20,000-step days. * A toiletries bag with a hook to hang on the back of the bathroom door. * Miracle Balm from Jones Road is indeed a miracle. I travel with the Flushed shade, a tube of their black mascara, and lipstick. I think Korres makes the best lip balm ever. * A Tide pen that’s always in my purse. * Soak for hand-washing undies in the sink. I’m not getting a kick-back on any of these items, but Bobbi Brown, if you wanna send me some mascara, I’m almost out. Danielle Oteri's Italy is a reader-supported publication. If you enjoy my work and want to support it, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. The Italian Pharmacy Hyaluronic acid, particularly the French brands. I see a major difference, and I’ve got one of those Anna Magnani faces that has a distinct line and wrinkle that appears instantly for everything I don’t like or find even mildly suspicious. Note: This is not medical advice, and I’m not a doctor. This is something I personally buy and use. OKI is a popular Italian over-the-counter and prescription painkiller. It contains Ketoprofen lysine salt, an NSAID used across Italy to treat headaches, toothaches, menstrual cramps, joint pain, and sore throats. I’m not a doctor; I’m not giving you medical information. Obviously, check with your doctor, but as a lifelong migraine sufferer, this is like a religious experience. Again, I’m not a doctor, and definitely not your doctor. I’m just sharing my experience, not giving you medical advice. Pack your toiletries in a bag that can unfold and hang by a hook on the back of the bathroom drawer. Especially in cities, hotel bathrooms can be tiny, and you won’t have to store your things in the bidet if you bring the right stuff. For the men Man friends, if you’re actually reading this, my advice is to keep your clothes simple like Stanley Tucci. Cotton pants or jeans, a polo shirt with a collar you can pop if you’re feeling the Italian vibes. If you want to really look like an Italian man, wear lots of blue, and also blue on blue. Again, no one nails it quite like Stanley. And finally, the Italian word for a blow-out is piega . Want to get your roots done? The term is la ricrescita . This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

There’s a hotel in Naples that’s perfect for the night before a flight. In fact, all the United pilots and flight attendants stay there. The hotel is pretty standard and part of a chain, but the building itself is the only “skyscraper” in Naples, which is 24 floors high. As a New Yorker, this is funny to me, but the elevator is a little anxiety-inducing, since Naples is, of course, very prone to earthquakes. But all the rooms have beautiful views, depending on which side of the hotel you’re on: either over the bay of Naples toward elegant Posillipo, or toward the historic center, which I prefer, because it’s a fascinating top-down view of one of the oldest urban grids on earth. You can see Spaccanapoli, the street that cuts a straight line across the old part of town — spaccare means to split, and the splitter is the original decumanus, the main east-west road of the original Greek city. The city is tightly woven, almost impossibly dense, and what catches my eye are the cloisters: enclosed gardens adjacent to churches, tucked right into the urban fabric. The largest cloister I can see from my hotel window is Santa Chiara , attached to one of Naples’ most historic and beloved churches. It’s a Gothic church built when the city was ruled by the French Angevins, and it has both a monastery and a convent, residences for Franciscan monks and nuns called the Poor Clares, separate, of course. There are still monks and nuns in residence, but in a separate, smaller area, separate from the nuns’ cloister garden, which is a major tourist attraction today for its beautiful majolica tile. A cloister is an enclosed garden, which comes from the Latin word claustrum , which you will understand immediately if you suffer from claustrophobia, a fear of enclosed spaces. It’s open to the sky, but enclosed on four sides, with gardens designed for some practicalities but also for spiritual contemplation. Frequently, you will find four paths, which form a giant cross, but are also meant to evoke the four rivers of paradise. Also worth noting, the word paradise is a Persian word which means enclosed garden. It was a place of spiritual meditation and prayer. And as an outdoor space, it had practical functions — you can imagine people doing laundry there, getting some exercise, breathing fresh air. I recognize the cloister not just as a historian, but viscerally, because I spent 16 years working at a museum called The Cloisters , in New York City. The Cloisters is the medieval branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, built from pieces of actual French cloisters, and a full apse from Spain that was deconstructed, shipped across the Atlantic, and reconstructed in upper Manhattan. It’s an entirely secular space, but it feels like a spiritual one. I know what it feels like to spend your days inside one of these places, inside an otherwise busy city. It is beautiful and serene, but also isolating and lonely. But I will say this, even on the loneliest days in late January when maybe only 50 visitors would come to the museum, and the staff was bored and mildly depressed and snipping at each other, and the sky was gray, and the gardens were dead, the space always felt privileged. Who took monastic vows and why For centuries, specifically in the centuries we label as the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, the cloisters of monasteries and convents were full of monks and nuns; today, this is no longer the case. And that’s not necessarily due to a spiritual crisis because most people did not end up in a monastery by calling. Your family put you there, and they had very specific reasons for doing so. For sons: the eldest inherited the family fortune. Younger sons could work in the family business if there was one, or go into the military or the church. But deliberately placing a son in a monastery could be an act of piety, though it was often political. If he rose to become an abbot or a bishop, he controlled land and credit networks and could leverage political influence that could directly benefit the family. For daughters, the issue was a dowry. In wealthy Venice, the cost of a dowry for a merchant family quadrupled in the early 16th century. In Rome, dowries climbed steadily over the course of the 1500s, inflation driven by status competition between elite families. In contrast, you could place a daughter in a convent for roughly 20 times less, so for a family with multiple daughters, that was an easy decision. In 16th-century Florence, more than a quarter of women from elite families entered religious institutions. In Venice, some estimates go as high as 60%. There were metaphysical motivations as well, primarily the issue of purgatory — this temporary state of purification and suffering for souls that aren’t hellbound, but also don’t have the GPA to go straight to heaven. The prayers of the living, especially monastics, people devoted full time to God, without any distractions or opportunities to sin, which would dilute their spiritual intensity, could shorten that time for family in heaven’s waiting room. The more Masses said for the soul existing in purgatory, the more prayers, the more beautiful art and music that the family patronized for the glorification of God, the better. And the family members who lived in the monasteries and convents were like a stock, compounding spiritual interest over a lifetime. But families didn’t just park their children in a cell and forget about them. They financially supported the community in which they lived and sometimes even funded private apartments. Those from lesser means did physical labor, while the wealthier ones held power. The convent was one of the few places where women could hold power in an official capacity. On the walls of Goleto Abbey, a gorgeous ruin in the countryside near Avellino, there is a fresco of a nun named Scolastica who holds a bishop’s staff, signifying she held that level of status. Goleto Abbey, by the way, is beautiful even if it was almost completely destroyed. It no longer has a roof, but it’s like walking around inside a Gothic skeleton, in the middle of a lush meadow, surrounded by rolling mountains where vineyards produce Aglianico, Falanghina, and Greco di Tufo. But I am digressing from my point that monasteries and convents are where you find the most beautiful art, architecture, and music, and are an enormous part of Italian culture; in one way or another, you will encounter them on your trip to Italy. Moreover, much of the art in famous museums like the Uffizi was originally made for churches and later displaced. I think that if you’re not already an art lover, viewing art in museums is challenging because you’re totally lacking the context for which the artwork was intended. To understand why those artworks got displaced — and also why so many 5-star hotels in Italy were once convents or monasteries — you have to understand one of the most dramatic cultural ruptures in Italian history. A Hinge Point in Italian History When Napoleon Bonaparte crossed the Alps into northern Italy in 1796, he did so with the idea that the Church was an instrument of oppression, that its hoarded wealth belonged to the people, and that the monastic life was a waste of time. In Bologna, Venice, Milan, and Rome, he ordered the suppression of religious orders, and monks and nuns were expelled from their houses so the properties could be seized by the state. It’s also important to remember this was about 65 years before the nation of Italy that we know today was formed, so he was invading a series of kingdoms and papal states, where the church held enormous power. In Bologna alone, which had a population of about 70,000, there were 70 convents and monasteries. Napoleon’s law gave them six months’ notice: any monastery with fewer than fifteen local members was dissolved immediately. The rest were consolidated, taxed, and stripped. And the artwork was being evicted and stolen simultaneously. Tommaso Puccini, an official of the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace, secretly loaded 75 crates of Florence’s most precious artworks and dispatched them to Sicily on a British frigate, just to keep them out of Napoleon’s hands. I write pieces like this so you can travel through a story. If you find my work valuable, please consider supporting it with a paid subscription. He didn’t save everything. Napoleon’s commissars moved systematically through Italy’s churches, convents, and palaces, pulling paintings off walls and loading them onto wagons headed for Paris. A significant part of the Louvre was built on this confiscation. If you’ve visited the Louvre and been surprised by the endless galleries of Italian Renaissance masterpieces, they are there in large part because Napoleon took them. The masterpieces that didn’t go to Paris were concentrated into newly created civic museums in Italian cities. The most significant was the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan , called by Napoleon the “Italian Louvre,” and it was filled almost entirely with paintings stripped from churches and convents across northern Italy and Venice in particular. The word pinacoteca means painting gallery. The Brera doesn’t have the splendor of the Louvre, and it’s not on the tourist radar in the same way as the Uffizi, but if you’re visiting Milan, it’s an incredible museum and a better investment of your time than visiting Leonardo’s Last Supper. Also, the reason it’s so hard to get tickets to see the Last Supper is that it’s in its original place — a convent, where the scene was painted on the wall of the dining room where the nuns ate. Leonardo used oil paint on a dry plaster wall rather than the traditional fresco technique, and the wall opposite the dining room was the kitchen. When the kitchen heated up, the paint began to deteriorate, and the Last Supper has been pretty much a disaster ever since. It’s been repainted many times, and if Leonardo hadn’t been so famous both in his day and after, that painting would have long been gone. Back to the Pinacoteca Brera — it shares a space with the art school, so there are always many art students sketching in the courtyard. And once inside, especially if you took art history in college, it’s just one greatest hit after the other. Because everything here was stripped out of the most beautiful, well-funded churches, convents, and monasteries from across northern Italy. When you consider the extraordinary wealth of the Republic of Venice in particular, and then think about the amount of patronage that produced, you can start to appreciate why any art lover needs to visit the Brera. After Napoleon fell, the modern nation of Italy was formed in the 1860s, and the new secular Italian state dissolved all remaining religious orders and confiscated their properties. The buildings were converted into schools, courthouses, hospitals, barracks, and prisons, or were simply left vacant. By the late 19th century, thousands of magnificent medieval and Renaissance buildings — built to last, set in extraordinary landscapes, with thick walls, vaulted ceilings, and large communal spaces — were rotting. At the same time, Italy was experiencing mass emigration, mostly from the South, but not exclusively. People left Liguria and Tuscany for California and Argentina, laying the foundations of the future wine industry in those places. Then, as Italy’s tourism economy grew in the 20th century, these buildings began to be used as hotels. The cells were already the right size for guest rooms. The refectory — where the monks had eaten in silence — was already a dining room. The wine cellar was already a wine cellar, and the cloisters were a perfect courtyard. Indulge me this one short rant…. Before I share with you a few of the hotels you should know about, indulge me with this little rant. I know a tour operator who has a very quiet “no church” policy on their tours. This person, like Napoleon, I guess, is strongly anti-clerical and believes her clients think churches are boring anyway. And I want to be clear when I say, whatever your personal beliefs are, and those belong to you, and I respect them completely. But if you choose not to visit any churches during your trip to Italy, you may as well not visit Italy at all. Catholicism is a fundamental piece of Italian culture, even today, when most Italians aren’t particularly religious. And I would apply this idea to visiting any country where faith and religion have shaped the culture. I have covered my head to visit a mosque and removed my shoes to visit a Hindu temple because any space that people have entered for centuries to be in relationship with the metaphysical world is one of the most interesting, meaningful, and potentially transformative opportunities that come with travel. To reject it would be like going to Italy and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in your hotel room because you’re not willing to try Italian food. Monasteries Turned Five-Star Hotels Across Italy, in any region, you will find beautiful hotels named Monastero or Convento — because that’s what they were. I have wondered to myself if occupying these spaces is a desecration, but really, no, the wealth and the status were always here too. The most famous example is probably San Domenico in Taormina, a very swish Four Seasons hotel now famous for having been the set of season 2 of The White Lotus. Castel Monastero in Tuscany is a social media darling, a 5-star resort created from an 11th-century monastery. It delivers on every Tuscan dream there is, from cypress-lined roads to hot air balloons. The wine cellar has always been epic, both when it was a monastery and now. The property has been enhanced with pools and a spa, and a Michelin-starred restaurant that was run by Gordon Ramsay for several years. And all the marketing copy promises to deliver the tranquility and peace of the original monastic atmosphere. My dream hotel is the Monastero Santa Rosa on the Amalfi Coast. Fifteen hundred dollars a night is the starting place. It’s on the Amalfi Coast but not near the water. The monks and nuns were not going swimming — and more practically, malaria was an enormous problem at lower elevations. They built high, above where the mosquitoes could reach them. Which means they have the most incredible views, and now there is an extraordinary, Instagram-famous infinity pool. The restaurant is called Il Refettorio — the refectory, where the nuns once ate together in communal silence. It is now a Michelin-starred restaurant. And then there’s the sfogliatella. The shell-shaped pastry filled with ricotta cream — the signature pastry of Naples — has its origin legend at this monastery. If you go to Amalfi, find Andrea Pansa right next to the cathedral, and order the Santa Rosa sfogliatella. It has an amarena cherry in the center. Life At the Bottom of an Ancient Lake If you really want to step into this experience and go far off the beaten path, head to Padula. You’ll need to drive through the Cilento National Park — one of the largest protected areas in Italy — past hilltop villages that see almost no foreign tourists. The drive is easy because the population around here is tiny, and there are few people on the highway. Along the way, you’ll notice little hilltop villages that were there 700 years ago when the monastery at Padula was built. And then, on the valley floor, below the village of Padula, you come to the Certosa. The Certosa di San Lorenzo is the largest monastery in Italy and has the largest cloister in the world. Over 51,500 square meters. 320 rooms and halls. A great cloister measuring 12,000 square meters, ringed by 84 columns. It is magnificent. Also, unless there’s a school bus parked out front, you may very likely be in this enormous space all by yourself. In 1306, this was not the middle of nowhere, but a critical corridor. It was the main overland route connecting Naples to Puglia to Calabria — an important road that the Romans called the Via Popilia, which had run straight through this valley since the 2nd century BC. If you controlled this area, you also controlled all the movement through southern Italy. When Tommaso Sanseverino founded the Certosa di Padula in 1306, he deliberately chose the Carthusians. They originated in France, and at that time, the French Angevins ruled from Naples. But more importantly, Carthusian monks would be able to work the land, which at that time was a flooded marsh. The Carthusians’ engineering expertise came directly from their Rule: because each monk lived in complete solitude in his own cell, the order required individual running water to be piped to every cell in every monastery they built, which made hydraulic engineering an institutional skill they carried with them wherever they went. At Padula, that same expertise drained the valley floor — the silted bed of an ancient lake — turning it into some of the most productive agricultural land in the region. The result was that the Certosa became not just a spiritual institution but an economic powerhouse, controlling the farmland, the water, and the road traffic of the entire valley for five centuries. When Charles V passed through in 1535 on his way back from defeating the Ottoman fleet at Tunis, he stopped here — not because Padula was remote, but because the Certosa was the grandest and best-provisioned stopping point on the entire road through southern Italy. The monks fed his entire army. For the Emperor’s breakfast, they made a frittata with 1,000 eggs. He stayed two days and confirmed the monastery’s privileges in gratitude. Today, every August 10th, the town of Padula still cooks an enormous frittata in the piazza to commemorate the visit. When Napoleon’s forces suppressed the Certosa in 1807, they stripped five centuries of accumulated wealth: 172 paintings alone were carted to the Royal Museum of Naples — what is now Capodimonte — while manuscripts and documents were absorbed into Neapolitan state archives, and we can assume quite a lot was sold, stolen, damaged, or destroyed. After Napoleon’s fall, the monks briefly returned, but the Italian unification ended monastic life there permanently. The gorgeous structure became a military barracks, then an orphanage for boys, and then a WWI prisoner-of-war camp. What survives at Padula today — the architecture, the elliptical staircase, the ceramic floors — is essentially what was too heavy or too fixed to steal. But what remains is an extraordinary peace. The fresh air, the pristine landscape. The ability to imagine what a life here was like, quiet, contemplative — the hum of all those monks, all moving in patterns of silence. Then you go up to the village of Padula and look down at the Certosa and across the landscape, and understand that you’re looking at the bottom of an ancient lake that was masterfully engineered by monks 800 years ago. The monastery is a museum now, formalized in the 1980s, and UNESCO-listed in 1998. There’s a museum of Lucanian art there that’s not often open, and some contemporary art installed, which… is not good. My favorite part to visit is the kitchen, with a great stone fireplace and a copper sink, and beautiful ceramic tile from Vietri sul Mare on the Amalfi Coast. A monumental elliptical marble staircase — a double helix in white stone — leads to the library. It was the last addition to the monastery before Napoleonic suppression. You can also have lunch in Padula. Just make sure you eat before 2 pm because the whole town shuts down for the afternoon and doesn’t re-open until dinnertime. Where the Monks Still Pray Let’s go back to Naples, where we started this episode. Naples has over 600 churches, and many of them are built atop Roman and Greek temples. But I want to walk just a short distance away to San Domenico Maggiore , a church we first visited in Episode 4: Vittoria Colonna Had It All . It was once the most important church in Naples, and I strongly believe it should be better known today. If you remember tha

Are you thinking about a trip to Italy and need help getting started or refining your plan? Book a one-hour consultation , my specialty, and let me help you ensure it’s the best trip possible. Among my favorite trips to plan are multigenerational family trips — especially when they involve a roots-finding day for those with Italian ancestry. But really, the reason I enjoy planning these so much is that I know how much value I can offer. There are so many things you don’t know that you don’t know, because planning one of these trips is genuinely not easy. Everyone is excited. Everyone has a different film running in their head. The boomers want Dolce Vita — the café, the piazza, the slow lunch. The Gen X/Millenial parent dreams of wandering like Before Sunrise , unscheduled and open. The grandkids want Pisa for TikTok. Everyone thinks their version of Italy is the best one. The gap between the fantasy and the logistics nobody discussed is what this episode is about. The weight lands in the middle The first thing I want to name is something nobody says out loud. When grandparents offer to pay for a significant portion of the trip, it feels like a gift — and it is —, but it also creates an invisible obligation. Now, the Gen X or millennial in the middle is responsible for making sure the investment pays off. Grandma needs to be comfortable. The kids need to be engaged. The teenager needs wifi. The eighty-year-old needs to sit down every twenty minutes. And somewhere in there, the person holding all of this together needs to have something that resembles a vacation. This is not a complaint about multigenerational travel. It’s an honest description of the dynamics so that the middle generation can go in with their eyes open and build a trip that accounts for what’s actually going to happen — not just what everyone imagines will happen. Before you book anything, do this Have the bucket list conversation — but do it properly. Not “what do you want to see?” which produces a list of everything, or more commonly, a big uuuuuh, I dunno. Limit the options by raising the stakes: if you get to choose only one thing on this trip — the Colosseum or the Vatican — which one? Give people time to actually think. Let them sit with it for a few days. What comes back will surprise you. The grandparent who you assumed wanted the Vatican might actually want to see the Forum because her father talked about Rome his whole life, and that’s what he described. The teenager who you assumed wanted Instagram content might actually be obsessed with gladiators. You don’t know until you ask the right question. The purpose of this exercise is not to eliminate destinations. It’s to identify the two or three experiences that each person would be devastated to miss — and protect those ruthlessly — while letting everything else be negotiable. Keep it simple: two locations, not three Do not pack in many locations. Seriously, two locations instead of three for a ten-day trip is plenty. I understand that you want to maximize the experience — you’ve spent all this money to fly across the ocean — but I’m thinking about how many times you need to get to and from a train station, all the bathroom trips the grandparents and the little ones are going to need while you’re trying to figure out what track your train is on, and getting taxis on either side that usually only fit four people. Your time is better spent people-watching in a piazza, trust me. If you’re choosing between Florence, Venice, and Rome, eliminate Venice. The narrow streets and difficulty getting a quick taxi when you need one can make the trip heavier than necessary. The Pisa problem All the Gen Zs will say they want to go to Pisa. It’s purely for TikTok. And here’s the honest truth: Pisa is an entire day trip that won’t deliver much beyond the photo. You’re not eliminating TikTok moments from the trip — you’re not a monster — but you are being strategic about which ones are worth a full day and which ones can be woven into something you’re already doing. The leaning tower is a destination. A beautiful doorway in Florence or a terrazzo floor in Naples is a TikTok moment that happens on the way to something else. Let the kids find those. They will find them. Ludovica in Naples is the perfect example — she was finding restaurants with lines around the block that nobody had heard of, not because she was Italian but because she’s 16 and online. Give them one meal to find entirely on their own. Let them navigate one afternoon. Two things will happen: they’ll find something surprising, and they’ll feel like participants rather than passengers, which is what makes teenagers tolerable on group trips. Do not rent a villa This is the most counterintuitive piece of advice I have, and it’s going to stop people mid-listen. The villa seems perfect. It seems cost-effective. It seems like everyone has space and the setting is beautiful, and you’ll have long lunches on a terrace. You’re dreaming about drinking a glass of wine by the pool, napping in a hammock, gazing at the rolling hills of Tuscany. You’re not thinking about who gets stuck doing all the driving, how many rental cars you’ll actually need, sharing a bathroom with people you don’t normally share bathrooms with, who is going to make breakfast every morning, who is going to go grocery shopping for the coffee and breakfast foods, who is going to be picking up towels, or who thinks the A/C isn’t strong enough and wants to call the owner — but oh wait, you call, you have the number, and you took Spanish in high school, right? Yeah, Spanish is not just like Italian. You know why hotels cost more? Because they head off a million little annoyances. What it actually means is that the person in the middle is now doing the driving, grocery shopping, morning coffee, meal planning, and activity coordination — on top of everything they were already doing. The villa removes all the infrastructure that actually gives the middle generation a moment to breathe. The alternative: a large apartment in a city. Florence, or even the outskirts of Florence, where you can walk or take a short train into the center. Here’s what that buys the middle generation — the ability to walk out the door, find a piazza, sit in a café, have a glass of wine, and exist alone for forty-five minutes. That is not a luxury. That is the thing that makes the difference between coming home restored and coming home more depleted than when you left. No matter how loving and well-intentioned everyone in the group is, the middle generation will need that exit. Build it into the trip’s structure before you go. On the ground: how to structure each day The toughest part about traveling with an older generation is that people aren’t always honest about their limits — and sometimes they’re not honest with themselves. Or they get confronted with those limitations for the first time on the trip. Walking around a suburban neighborhood every day is very different from traversing cobblestone streets in humid Rome. This is why I recommend booking one activity everyone does together each day, and then leaving time for people to do things on their own. A private tour solves a lot of problems. You’ll have a guide to lead the way, a local person to ask questions of, skip-the-line tickets already taken care of, and a shared experience that everyone will inevitably process differently — and talking about it later becomes an experience unto itself. Then leave the second half of the day open. Take in more history, shop, park yourself in a piazza and gelato the afternoon away. For dinner, reservations are a must in the most popular destinations — there’s a lot of very mediocre, if not downright bad, food in the most touristy places. For a big group you’ll need to plan ahead. You can make reservations directly through the restaurant’s website or through thefork.it. One meal together per day — a lunch or a dinner — and then leave people to do their own thing. When to call a professional If you want everything planned — drivers, restaurant reservations, guided tours across multiple cities — I strongly urge you to book through a professional. The value you’ll receive, especially when amortized across all the people and problems in the group that are easily mitigated, is tremendous. We just had a family return from a multigenerational trip to Sicily: roots day, city and countryside stays, daily guided tours, van rides between cities, and restaurant reservations for lunch and dinner every day. For a pro, this is easy. For the DIY traveler, plan to take a sabbatical from work to get it done. So if you’re DIY-ing it: keep it simple. One tour a day, one meal a day, and basta. The reframe A multigenerational trip to Italy is one of the most meaningful things a family can do. It is also very complicated in ways that nobody who hasn’t done it will warn you about. Going in with clear eyes about the dynamics, the logistics, and the invisible labor does not diminish the experience — it protects it. The families who have a terrible time are almost always the ones who planned the fantasy and ignored the logistics. The ones who have a transformative time are the ones who planned both. If you’re in the middle of planning a multigenerational trip to Italy and want someone to pressure-test it before you go, that’s exactly what a one-hour consultation is for. I’ve seen what works and what doesn’t. If you’re a committed DIY-er, I also offer Customized Itinerary Design , where I go much deeper than best advice and actually plan the day-by-day — but you make the bookings. And if you want to turn it over to Arianna and me to just handle it, make an appointment for a free Bespoke Trip Planning consultation , where I’ll be able to give you a price estimate once I know more about your ideal trip. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Every day, every single tour guide in Florence tells thousands of tourists a story that is not true. It’s the story of the construction of the dome, a feat of engineering so ingenious that even today, architects and engineers can’t understand how it was done, achieved by one single man, a goldsmith with no formal training. But Filippo Brunelleschi’s innovation — a double-shell dome built with herringbone masonry — had been used to build mosques and mausoleums in Iran. And 15th-century Florentine merchants, who had large networks and communities in Iran, particularly Soltaniyeh, were no doubt very well acquainted with them. In this episode, I’m discussing this incredible story with Massoud Katebeh , an Iranian-American engineer who studied in Florence. We are both fascinated with the story of Piero Sanpaolesi, the professor who first revealed these Persian models for the dome of Florence in 1971, and was ignored. Now, a new generation of scholars, in particular Dr. Lorenzo Vigotti and Prof. Hadi Safaeipour, is building on Sanpaolesi’s groundbreaking research and adding brilliant new insights. Please learn more about DOMES: Architectural Technology Transfer on the Silk Road at iraniandomes.eu , an ongoing project that is very much imperiled by the war. If you enjoyed this essay episode, you can subscribe for more at danielleoteri.com. If you’re planning a trip to Italy and would like some expert guidance, book a trip consultation at danielleoteri-italy.com . Lastly, you can always buy me a coffee . Also, if you like stories about history revealed through science, listen to the episode Vittoria Colonna Had It All, and find out how the most famous woman of the Italian Renaissance had an extraordinary secret that was only revealed in the 1980s when scientists conducted tests on her mummified body. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

If you enjoyed this essay episode, you can subscribe for more at danielleoteri.com. If you’re planning a trip to Italy and would like some expert guidance, book a trip consultation at danielleoteri-italy.com . Lastly, you can always buy me a coffee . Guidebooks have several lives, and despite the internet, they have been diminished but are far from dead. That’s because they are among the only fact-checked pieces of travel material available. When you are paying for a guidebook, you are paying for knowledge. The transaction is clear. Purchasing a guidebook is first a dream. It’s a catalog of possibilities. Then it becomes a strategic tool, a travel companion, and, when it returns home, either a beloved souvenir or totally useless. Often, people will hold on to them until they have to move or really clean and make space, and then Lonely Planet Prague has to go in the trash. And don’t even try to “donate” your 15-year-old guidebook; you know nobody wants it. But guidebooks have another life if you hold on to them long enough. They become a time capsule — an eyewitness account that was also aggressively fact-checked about a world that no longer exists, that you can use to reflect on that world, and see just how much has changed. That’s what has suddenly caused an essay I wrote in August of 2022 to go viral. It’s called “ The Before Sunrise Generation ,” and I wrote it in response to Gen X clients who were returning to travel now that their kids were leaving home and they had time and money to travel once again. They would ask if they should buy a Eurail pass or stay in a pensione , and I found myself explaining how the way they had traveled in the 1990s really no longer exists. Then this current wave of 90s nostalgia — inspired by “Love Story,” about JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette — has the children of Gen Xers marveling at how free the 90s seemed. One hundred percent of social interactions were in real life, with total presence, nobody on their phone because they didn’t exist. Think about Jesse and Celine, the protagonists of the 1995 film Before Sunrise . They start talking while riding the train, and decide to get off together in Vienna, and spend the night wandering the city and talking. Nobody is tracking their location, and no photos are taken. Two strangers on a train, just figuring it out. If this movie were set in the present day, maybe they’d meet in line for a much-delayed Ryanair flight and maybe start talking only if they had been there so long their phone batteries died. But the thing that today seems so old school and authentic at one point, the vulgar new thing. We Will Simply Drift Prior to rail travel, making the Grand Tour of Italy required private transportation, personal invitations, and letters of introduction. You had to be a person of means and education. Trains democratized travel. And then another industry emerged to meet that new tourist: the guidebook. Baedeker guides, first published in Germany, were famous for their red cloth covers. They were comprehensive guides to cities and rural places, and they removed the need for a letter of introduction forever. They liberated people from relying solely on local guides who were only available to elite networks. The term “Baedekering” could be used with the same snark I sometimes reserve for TikTok tourism. In E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View, “Baedeker” is a codeword for the pedantic sightseeing that Forster portrayed as typical of the English touring Italy. It’s funny that they were portrayed as kind of low-brow, because they were very dense with information on art and history, and were written by specialists. They were especially praised for their German precision, which was exactly what made them fall out of favor after World War II. German precision was uh, no longer a virtue. Early in the story, Lucy is shown studying Baedeker’s Handbook to Northern Italy and committing “to memory the most important dates of Florentine history.” Later, she meets an eccentric lady novelist who disapproves of such solemnity and tells her, “No, you are not to look at your Baedeker. We will simply drift.” Overtourism in 1909? The author Henry James was not a fan of the new train-traveling tourist. In 1909, he wrote Italian Hours , where he decried that Venice was overrun by tourists, totally devoid of authenticity — that the sentimental tourist’s sole quarrel with his Venice is that he has too many competitors there . He likes to be alone, to be original, to have — at least to himself — the air of making discoveries . Just as I can be very eye-rolly about TikTok tourism, those who had experienced the Grand Tour were disgusted by the overtourism that proliferated in the 1890s. I have been saying for a while that, because of technology, those of us born pre-Y2K have witnessed an accelerated period of time in which technology has changed more quickly than anything else in history. But Ada Palmer, the author of the fantastic book Inventing the Renaissance: Myths of a Golden Age , articulated this in an interview, where she said people in the 1310s were nostalgic for the way it was in the 1300s, and there has always been upending innovation, even if we look back and don’t find the innovation particularly interesting. Chairs with backs, different kinds of metallurgy… people are always innovating. Naples in the Nineties But I fully confronted my self-important idea when I opened an old guidebook called Naples in the Nineties —about the 1890s. The first chapter is called “Vanishing Naples.” The author, a British consul to South Italy, wrote a survey of Naples and the surrounding area for travelers. He speaks most about Naples as a place to see the last of the old world: superstitions fading, religious practices disappearing, a pre-industrial way of life giving way. Naples had been the capital of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies — a monarchy — that ended with Italian unification in 1861. This was to be a good thing, economically, for everyone, but of course, nobody had any idea how much more change was barreling toward them. The 1890s were the heart of the second industrial revolution, which came later to Italy because the Italian peninsula had always had such a robust agricultural economy — really since the Roman Empire — that it didn’t need to industrialize until it was absolutely forced to. The monarchies of pre-modern Italy fell when Italy unified as a modern nation in 1861. Wealth consolidated in the north, with an industrial corridor developing between Milan, Turin, and Genoa. Add in harsh taxation, and Southern Italy went into economic free fall. The result was mass emigration. Cheap labor for the northern factories, plus financial support from family working abroad, helped Italy fully industrialize. The damage to the south had begun long before Italian unification, with the industrialization of wool production. The wool and olive oil trade had fueled the Renaissance and sustained the economy of southern Italy for centuries. The Medici and the great banking houses of Florence built their wealth on wool, and the whole system ran on transhumance, the twice-yearly migration of massive sheep herds along ancient grass paths called tratturi, from the highlands of Abruzzo down through Molise to the plains of Puglia. Shepherds had been following these routes since the 3rd century BC. The families who owned the flocks built the great palaces you still find in the mountain towns of Abruzzo. Then, the first phase of the industrial revolution at the turn of the 18th century gutted the wool market. British industrialization mechanized textile production, collapsing cloth prices, and eliminating the economic reason to maintain the herds. In the 1890s, many of these rural places in Italy collapsed. Naples, chaotic and changeable, was wobbling through it. Eustace spends much of his book discussing the wearing of amulets and the belief in spirits and spells, which are also disappearing. He catalogs the amulets people wore to keep away evil spirits: the mermaid, the seahorse — objects that would keep away the bad air that brought cholera and also malaria. The 1870s and 1880s saw terrible cholera outbreaks across Italy, spread by standing water, an easy fix that was finally resolved in the 1890s. Better sanitation diminished superstition. The mermaid is still a symbol of Naples, but you won’t see it as an amulet to ward off the bad air. You will see the cornicello, though — a little red horn. It’s everywhere in Naples: on keychains and dashboards and restaurant walls. It transformed from a tool to a symbol of identity. And what’s interesting is that even though so much has changed, the descriptions aren’t that different from what you’ll experience today, which is really fascinating commentary on how the spirit of a place can persist. Henry James in Italian Hours described the waterfront of Naples, the lungomare, its lazzaroni, its peasants fishing on the waterfront, and the general air of beauty and chaos. Now it’s pedestrianized, lined with hotels and restaurants, but still chaotic in that Neapolitan way — full of life. You’ll still see locals with their fishing poles in the water, right next to the port where the cruise ships dock and where millions of Italians once departed for lives abroad. It’s completely different and yet completely the same. The Loss of the Picturesque Naples in the Nineties emphasizes much of the advice I pass on today. Go to Ischia. Visit the ruins at Baia. Go see the stadium in Capua, which is like seeing the Colosseum, except that there will only be you and an older Belgian couple visiting. (Every archaeological site in Italy has one Belgian couple visiting. I don’t know who writes their guidebooks, but they must be good people.) Yes, Capri is full of beauty, but hardly any Caprese live there anymore because the expats have taken over. Yes, that was what he said in 1897! He discusses Torre del Greco and how coral supplies have diminished; the fishermen now have to go all the way to Sicily, where they find far inferior coral, yet they are still selling cameos there. One hundred and thirty years later, they are still selling cameos there because the craft has survived. And Torre Annunziata, he recommended trying macaroni, since all the pasta factories are there. He writes: “The principal industry of the town is macaroni making, which may be seen here in great perfection on application at any of the mills. Until recently, it was supposed that macaroni, like wine, could only be made by manual labor. The skill of modern engineers has shown this notion to be fallacious, and macaroni is now almost universally made by machinery and is not at all inferior to that made by the old-fashioned plant. We have, of course, a loss of the picturesque, but we are learning to bear this loss with the serenity acquired by habit.” How many times have I tried to frame a photo to block out the electrical wires, or looked for a Vespa or an old Fiat to anchor my shot instead of the more ubiquitous Toyota Yaris? In many ways, tourism is the biggest thing protecting the picturesque. Nobody wants to go on a food tour that takes you to Conad or Edil. Here’s a detail I just loved — Eustace notices “the public writers at their tables in the streets, fewer of them now, their business decidedly slacker than it was in the old days .” These “ scrivani ” were people who served the illiterate: filling out documents, writing letters to relatives abroad, and also frequently writing love letters. The post office was putting them out of business by centralizing bureaucratic operations. The scrivano , who had been the human interface between the illiterate citizen and the written world, was being replaced by an institution. Their Business Decidedly Slacker When I was traveling in 2001 and 2002, I used internet cafés the same way — once every few days, you’d buy an hour, log into your Yahoo or AOL account, and check emails that were still being written like letters. The smartphone erased the need to make the time and spend the money, and now AI empowers anyone to be completely uninhibited in their written expression in any language. And speaking of AI, Eustace also writes about Herculaneum, buried alongside Pompeii in 79 AD. He describes the discovery of the Villa of the Papyri, originally called “the house of the coal merchant” because of the carbon fragments found there. Later, they discovered those pieces of carbon were charred rolls of papyrus. An entire Roman library, carbonized by the eruption. He writes: “There is no saying what literary treasures this library may not contain. Hitherto nothing of the first importance has been found, the works being chiefly philosophical, but there is every reason to hope that a wealthy man’s library, contained in 79 AD, may contain many works which have been lost to the world.” Going Very Rapidly Indeed He wrote that in 1897. Those same scrolls — still unreadable for over a century because they crumble the moment you try to open them — are now being decoded by AI. The Vesuvius Challenge , a project that used machine learning to read the carbonized papyrus without physically unrolling it, has already recovered text. We may yet find out what was in that library. Eustace couldn’t have imagined it. Neither could I, really, until it happened. As someone who attended both high school and college in the 90s, the internet just seemed to happen. We had Prodigy, then AOL, and Instant Messenger, but they all seemed like new toys for about ten years, until everything rapidly digitized in the early aughts. It’s funny, because I feel like I saw the end of the old world in Florence in the 90s, when there were still little shops on the side streets with nothing more than a pot of hot oil and an older woman frying things in it. And I yearn for that again as I see people feel morally obligated to stand in line for viral sandwiches inspired by social media. He closes the chapter: “ If we have dwelt at some length on Naples from the old world point of view, it is because we love her best clad in her old garments… but we need not blind ourselves to the fact that all this must go. Naples is going very rapidly indeed .” I opined in my Before Sunrise essay that the internet democratized meticulous planning, but it annihilated spontaneity. But the lesson from Eustance is: We are learning to bear this loss with the serenity acquired by habit. We are always witnessing the end of something and the beginning of something. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

If you enjoyed this essay episode, you can subscribe for more at danielleoteri.com. If you're planning a trip to Italy and would like some expert guidance, book a consultation at danielleoteri-italy.com . And if neither of those is right for you but you'd like to show a little love, you can always buy me a coffee . The most delicious thing you can eat in Southern Italy is buffalo milk mozzarella. Italy has earned such a sterling culinary reputation that most people just open their mouths and say yes to whatever is put in front of them. But every once in a while, someone says buffalo mozzarella, what the hell is that? It is a strange thing to encounter, especially because the languid, enormous, but very sensitive water buffalo are cugini to the ones you’ll find in Vietnam or Cambodia, where buffalo milk mozzarella is not a thing. Buffalo mozzarella is made primarily in the region of Campania. It graces pizzas in Naples and has a different casein than most cow’s milk, so the lactose-intolerant among us can indulge. Buffalo farms abound in Caserta, near the stupendous Palace of Caserta, from where the Bourbon monarchy ruled over “the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.” Before Italy became the nation we know it as today in 1861, it was a monarchy that pioneered several industries, including a dairy industry based on buffalo milk. But even more exquisite is the stuff made at a handful of farms, a little farther south. If you’re driving there, maybe on a day trip from Naples or the Amalfi Coast, you’ll inevitably get snarled in traffic on what locals call “the mozzarella highway” through Battipaglia. Every sign on the roadside is flashing mozzarella di bufala. The traffic is largely due to hundreds of trucks that pass through daily to pick up mozzarella and transport it to supermarkets across Italy. I’ve heard waiters in Florence extol the virtues of its freshness, boasting that it just arrived in the restaurant that afternoon. I’ve also heard waiters in New York cooing that they just picked it up from JFK that morning. Keep driving; Battipaglia is an industrial farming zone, and everything is pasteurized for export. Better things await in the town called Capaccio-Paestum. Paestum is most famous for three extraordinarily well-preserved Greek temples. They are massive and built of travertine, a volcanic stone, then coated in plaster and painted to mimic marble, which doesn’t exist in Southern Italy. Paestum was colonized by Greeks, conquered by Lucanians, who were the indigenous people of the area, whom the Greeks employed as their security goons, and then became a Roman city. Paestum was considered very old when the Romans conquered it. The oldest of the three temples was 280 years old. The Greeks regarded everything around the temples as sacred ground, but the Romans were insatiable real estate developers. There developed markets, civic buildings, a large Asclepieion, which was the closest thing to a hospital in the classical world, and dozens of smaller temples, all surrounding the big, very old ones. Roman Paestum was bigger and far more important than Pompeii or Herculaneum, and though it’s beyond the reach of Mount Vesuvius’s molten tentacles, it is still affected by earthquakes. The Roman Empire declined, and Paestum sank. Literally. The reason: a phenomenon called bradyseism, which is a Greek word: bradys means slow, and seismos means movement.” It’s an imperceptible but continuous slow rising and falling of the earth - a slow-motion earthquake. When the Greeks built the temples close to the glittering Tyrrhenian sea, things were on the up. But by the third and fourth centuries, Paestum was a swamp, infested with malaria carrying mosquitos. Mal aria means ‘bad air.” The Paestani fled for the hills. Some went to the hills just above Paestum, founding Capaccio, my grandmother’s hometown, while others went higher to the sea-facing cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. The name Positano may be related to the Paestani who settled there. And certainly people also went to Salerno, which was a Roman city, then under Lombard rule, and in 1077 was officially conquered by the Normans, proud descendants of the Vikings, loosely related to the Normans who just 11 years earlier had taken England at the Battle of Hastings. Salerno was a luxurious city, full of international merchants, and home to the world’s first medical school. Meanwhile, once glorious Paestum, not very far away at all, must have looked like the zombie apocalypse. Just to let you know, I haven’t forgotten we were talking about buffalo and delicious cheese; they will soon re-enter our story, but first, we need to make a stop in Salerno. Salerno was where the Norman king built a cathedral dedicated to Saint Matthew the Apostle. It’s believed he died in either Ethiopia or Persia, but his bones somehow ended up near Paestum, and two people had a dream, alerting them to the location. They retrieved the old bones, and the cathedral was built around them. The Normans also began to adorn the area we now call the centro storico of Salerno with Roman columns from Paestum. They’re embedded in many corners, and sometimes you’ll see a sign with a dog lifting its leg and a red line across it. It may read “Questa e storia” - this is history, and don’t let your dog pee on it. The massive columns that you’ll encounter in the courtyard of the cathedral came from what must have been another enormous temple at Paestum, which was clearly functioning as an open quarry. Why? Because using Roman columns made an architectural argument that the new power is heir to the Roman one. For someone from somewhere else, Northern France in this case, to frame himself as the legitimate successor to Roman caesars. And how did they physically pull them out of the swamp and drag them back to Salerno? With water buffalo, which are naturally immune to malaria. Buffalo arrived on Italian soil via Arab merchants, who first brought them from Southeast Asia to Egypt for use as work animals. For roughly two centuries, Sicily was under Muslim rule, first governed by emirs from North Africa. Sicily was wealthy and well developed, so much so that the various wealthy factions dissolved into infighting, which allowed the Normans to more easily conquer them. Neither gentlemen nor scholars, they kept what the Arabs did best, including mathematics, agricultural practices, and sugary desserts, including cannoli. Buffalo thrived in the marshy lands along the Italian coast and were incredibly effective at doing the impossible work of clearing rivers. As they plod through streams, the underwater reeds that are nearly impossible for humans to remove will tangle around the legs of a buffalo sauntering through the day and easily snap and break. Paestum doesn’t appear in the historical record again until the 1700s, during the period known as the Grand Tour. Part of a complete education was a trip to the Italian peninsula, where something astonishing had happened. Pompeii was discovered. The Bourbon kings of Naples not only founded the buffalo mozzarella industry, but also the field of archaeology, which didn’t exist. Pompeii fever swept the educated world and set off the Neoclassical movement. Paestum, though never completely abandoned, defined the word backwater, and was a more adventurous leg of the Grand Tour. In paintings from this period, you can see these beautiful Doric temples, their reflections in pools of water, and grazing buffalo all around them. Can you imagine what a sight that must have been to citified elites from England and Germany? People who had never seen or even imagined a buffalo, or were accustomed to having their dopamine spiked by imagery hundreds of times every day? In those paintings, you’ll also notice houses, and the locals – my ancestors – guiding the buffalo, or sitting on a hill wearing loose pants and a floppy hat, playing a flute, or some other peasanty activity. As a sidenote, I don’t understand how my lineage in this area survived long enough to produce me, as I am target number one on every mosquito’s agenda. When you arrive at Paestum today, you will also find the very best farms producing buffalo milk mozzarella within a mile of the temples. Most well-reputed is Tenuta Vannulo, a local family-owned farm that has made artisanal cheesemaking and the highest standards of animal welfare a point of attraction. You can tour the facility and watch buffalo using state-of-the-art self-milking machines, getting massages with what look like car-wash brushes, while a guide explains how Mozart is played for them in their pens. The result is a product unlike anything on the mozzarella highway, and it is exquisite. I especially recommend the buffalo milk gelato. If you’re a coffee person, get the coffee flavor, drowned with a shot of espresso . (To the uninitiated, this is called an affogato.) That’s it, that’s the peak coffee experience of your life. But my favorite place is Barlotti, partially because it’s within walking distance of the Paestum temples. You don’t have the full organized tour experience that you have at Vannulo, but you can hang out with the buffalo, who are very quiet and relaxed in a very Southern Italian way. Have lunch inside their beautiful glass-encased restaurant or in the garden underneath the pergola. Don’t overthink your menu choices. Get the sample plate that includes fresh mozzarella, smoked mozzarella, and a mound of ricotta, followed by a plate of cooked vegetables, a selection of whatever is growing at the moment. For dessert, a cannoli filled with buffalo milk ricotta. After lunch, walk to the Paestum temples. The swamp was officially drained in the 1930s by the Fascists, another group that sought to legitimize itself by resuscitating Roman ruins, and the ground continues to be managed today. After the war, when malaria was eradicated, a modern Paestum was fully developed. If you walk on the right side of the road, you’ll see water running – there are ancient springs here, which certainly inspired the placement of the temples nearly 3,000 years ago. The presence of the Asclepieion, natural springs, and temples together indicates that the Greek colonists identified this as a place of healing. And you can squint past the sunlight and use your imagination to see a parade of buffalo, pulling a plough with a giant Roman column atop it, en route to Salerno. Because everything good from the old world should be used to build the new one. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

In this episode, I speak with writer Susan van Allen about Ischia, the island very close to Capri that I like to call paradise for normal people. The last time I was there, Susan introduced me to her favorite place to stay on Ischia, the Pensione Di Lustro, a throwback to another era of travel and the place where Truman Capote spent 97 days living and writing “Local Color.” I hope you enjoy it! Links from the episode: Episode 4: Vittoria Colonna Had It All Naples Destination Deep Dive Rome Destination Deep Dive Florence Destination Deep Dive This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

In this episode, I share why I don’t pack my days in Italy too tightly, and unpack what I mean when I advise clients to leave time for walking and wandering. This episode is dedicated to Morton Kaish , who taught me how to “walk like an artist” in Italy and how even passively taking in great art and architecture can change you for the better. You will also hear a conversation with illustrator Jenny Kroik. We talk about why places that don’t photograph well often end up being the ones that stay with you, and how sketching can help you process complex, layered moments that don’t fit neatly into “good day/bad day.” Finally, I walk through what is planned for Jenny’s Art Retreat in May at Borgo La Pietraia , including Chef Mario’s deceptively simple food, daily gentle art prompts, visits to the Paestum temples, a buffalo farm, Amalfi’s historic paper mill, and the turquoise waters of Cilento. I share these details as inspiration for planning your own self‑guided trip to Italy: choosing a single home base, slowing the pace of your days, leaving room for serendipity, and designing an itinerary around the kind of beauty you want to experience. Links * Retreat details and booking: Jenny’s Art Retreat at Borgo La Pietraia (May 17–24) * Jenny Kroik’s Arthur Avenue illustrations for The New Yorker * Jenny’s website and her Substack newsletter This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Happy New Year, and welcome back to Danielle Oteri’s Italy —we’re starting 2026 in Venice, the Italian city everyone rushes through, with no idea of how much they’re missing. This episode is your invitation to slow down, understand how Venice really works, and get ready for the Venice Destination Deep Dive premiering for paid subscribers on January 22 at 8 p.m. ET.​ In this episode * Why most popular Venice advice is shallow, and how “hit‑and‑run” tourism (20–30 million visitors a year, most of them day‑trippers) is reshaping the city.​ * What changed when large cruise ships were banned, and how the new €5 day‑tripper fee on peak days actually works.​ * Why Venice is not an ancient city like Rome or Naples, but a preposterous “upside‑down forest” built on millions of submerged wooden piles in a lagoon.​ How to experience Venice without the crush * Why a day trip to Venice is “the worst way to see it,” and why staying at least three nights changes everything about your sensory memory of the city.​ * Practical timing advice: understanding when day‑trippers flood in (roughly 11 a.m.–4 p.m.) so you can have quiet mornings and atmospheric evenings. * Trip‑planning strategy: skipping the Rome–Florence–Venice conveyor belt in favor of flying in and out of Milan and pairing Venice with a few days in Turin. A local lens with Gillian Longworth‑McGuire * Meet writer Gillian Longworth McGuire, author of the Substack Gillian Knows Best , who spent many years in Rome before making the unexpected decision to settle in Venice.​ * What drew her to the “real life” of Venice: garbage boats, the total absence of wheels, and the pleasure of living in a city where everything happens on foot or by boat.​ * How she navigates living near the Arsenale in one of the last streets with mostly Venetian neighbors, and what it means when only 13 longtime residents remain on a street that once held hundreds.​ * Why her wish for Venice is simple: slow down , stay in Venice proper (not on the mainland), and stay longer than you think you “have time” for.​ Glass, budgets, and where to stay * How to experience Murano glass without the timeshare‑style hard sell: asking your hotel to connect you with a trusted furnace, or booking with Wave , a younger collective of master glassmakers and students.​ * Honest talk about Venice pricing: why Venetians have always been merchants, why Venice is less forgiving than Rome or Florence, and why you need to research carefully and budget more here than elsewhere.​ * Hotel strategy: why it often pays to spend more for a well‑located, non‑damp, genuinely comfortable room. About the Destination Deep Dives * What you get as a paid subscriber: a live Zoom premiere, with Q&A, then 50% off the beautifully produced, MasterClass‑style course with video lessons and a fully detailed 5‑day itinerary.​ * What each Deep Dive covers: what makes the city special and challenging, how to tackle the “must‑sees,” and thoughtful alternatives that help you avoid lines and TikTok‑driven FOMO.​ * Existing and upcoming Deep Dives: Florence (being migrated to the new platform), Naples (available now ) , Rome (landing shortly), with Matera, Cilento, and Venice all in the queue.​ This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

I want to wish you happy holidays and express my profound gratitude for reading, listening, and supporting this podcast and newsletter. I hope you enjoy this two-minute video reflection on the passing of the seasons, inspired by one of art history’s most enigmatic works. I’ll see you in 2026. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

In this episode, I explore the phenomenon of “collective effervescence,” a term coined by the sociologist Émile Durkheim to describe the intense, shared emotional experiences that make us feel briefly part of something bigger than ourselves. Please support my work by taking out a premium subscription (just $8 per month). From saint processions in Ischia to bonfire rituals in Abruzzo and the miracle of San Gennaro’s blood in Naples, I explore how Italy’s festas and sagre are a kind of emotional infrastructure—places where community, memory, and the sacred all converge. I’m joined by writer and festival researcher Katerina Ferrara , whose regional guides help travelers weave these events into their itineraries. Together we discuss: * How festivals in Italy layer pre‑Christian rites, Catholic devotion, and modern life * Why small‑town saint days and harvest feasts are often the most powerful travel experiences * The role of children and returning emigrants in keeping these traditions alive * Catania’s identity as “the Black City” under Mount Etna * The story and cult of Sant’Agata, patron saint of Catania and of women with breast cancer * What actually happens during the three‑day February feast of Sant’Agata * The emotional “wave” when the saint’s statue leaves the church, and the crowd erupts * Festival foods you can only find on these days, including Minne di Sant’Agata and local arancine * Practical tips for tracking down festivals and sagre when dates shift every year I want to thank my paid subscribers, who I hope are enjoying our monthly Q&A Zoom meetings and Destination Deep Dives . So far, we’ve explored Florence, Matera, Naples, and Rome. Next up: Venice and the Amalfi Coast. And since trip planning season is nearly here, I’ve refreshed my menu of trip planning services . From one-hour Trip Consultations to hybrid Custom Itinerary Design or full Bespoke Trip Planning , everything is explained there so you can choose the option that best fits your needs and budget. Chapters/timestamps 00:00 – What is “collective effervescence”?02:00 – Why Italian saint festivals feel so powerful05:00 – Bonfires, solstices, and ancient roots of Italian rituals08:00 – Meet Katerina Ferrara and her festival guides11:00 – How to actually find and plan for festivals and sagre 15:00 – Food festivals, fundraising, and “festifusion”19:00 – The Infiorata of Noto: a two‑day flower masterpiece24:00 – Children, memory, and passing traditions on28:00 – Catania and the Val di Noto: baroque cities under Etna32:00 – The legend and martyrdom of Sant’Agata36:00 – Inside Sant’Agata’s three‑day feast and all‑night procession43:00 – Devotion, identity, and the bond with a patron saint47:00 – Festival sweets: Minne di Sant’Agata and more51:00 – Catania’s unique arancine and horse‑meat culture54:00 – How to follow Katerina and use her guides Guest Katerina Ferrara – Author of regional festival and sagra guides for Sicily, Puglia, Rome & Lazio, and Venice & the Veneto. She helps travelers anchor their trips around local celebrations. * Website: katerinaferrara.com * Instagram: @katerinaferrara_author This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

In this episode, I explain the differences between travel agents, advisors, and influencers…because I know first-hand how confusing this world can be! You’ll hear industry insider stories, plus the simple method I give people to decide when to DIY their trip, when to get professional help, and when to trust their own gut over another influencer’s feed. I’ll also share unglamorous but essential tips picked up over the years on the road—like the realities of country driving in Tuscany or the best place to stop for gas on your way to Naples airport. You’ll also meet my new collaborator, Angela Miklos , whom I first met in 2023 as a Trip Consultation client and who will now help me offer a brand-new hybrid service called Custom Itinerary Design . (The photo in your podcast player is the classic Forio sunset that Angela mentions.) This option is for people who love research and planning but want an expert to provide the best advice and handle the heavy lifting so that they can focus on the fun parts. A reminder for paid subscribers that the next Ask Me Anything About Italy is on December 11th at 8 pm ET on Zoom, and the Venice Destination Deep Dive happens on December 18th at 8 pm ET. Right now, both the Naples and Rome Destination Deep Dives are available to watch for paid subscribers. They’ll leave the website soon when the polished, final versions with the itinerary and bonus segments are ready for purchase. (Naples leaves in a week, Rome will be up for at least 2 weeks more.) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

I’m back from my research trip and have so many interesting things to share with you. Before I tell you all about Ostia, here’s a reminder for my paid subscribers that Thursday November 13th is the next “Ask Me Anything about Italy.” It’s happening at 8:00 p.m. ET on Zoom, and if you can’t make it, please send me an email with your question. I’ll answer it live, and then you can watch the replay the following morning. Then, on November 20th, I’ll be premiering the next Destination Deep Dive on Rome . I spent 5 days in Rome just to research this Deep Dive. Here’s how it works. If you’re a paid subscriber, you’re invited to the live premiere on Zoom. It will be available to paid subscribers until I finalize the version, which will then be made available for sale along with a complete itinerary and bonus resources. And paid subscribers get a 50% discount. Last Sunday, I was wandering around Ostia Antica, desperately searching for the restroom. Not the modern one, which was located right next to the entrance of the archaeological park, but the ancient one, where Romans would take care of their essential personal business sitting, uh… cheek to cheek. The communal toilets are the most famous thing in Ostia, but they aren’t marked on the map or any of the signage. I knew they were part of the bath complex that was adjacent to the forum. Today, the ancient city of Ostia is located near the airport, but 2,000 years ago, it was also an industrial hub where goods came in and out, due to its strategic position where the Tiber River meets the sea. The experience is similar to Pompeii, but Ostia wasn’t buried by a volcanic eruption; instead, it sank into the silt and turned into a swamp fiercely guarded by malaria-carrying mosquitoes until it was reclaimed in the 1940s. Today, it’s a well-tended but little-visited archaeological site. It’s easy to reach from the center of Rome, and easier to traverse than Pompeii, with lots of spots to sit on ancient stone beneath lush umbrella pines that stretch their lush branches in all directions like they slept late and just got out of bed. After winding my way through the Forum baths, the gym, the hot room, and the cold room, I found the famous toilets. The engineering is all exposed, including a channel where water would constantly flow to flush away waste. The openings in the marble bench where people sat are about as close to each other as the indents on the New York City subway. Being shocked at the lack of privacy is not something most people, throughout most of human history, would have even noticed. Today we are awash in privacy and convenience that we take entirely for granted. And while the pleasures of indoor plumbing, kitchens, washing machines, and air conditioning eliminate much of the drudgery of life, these conveniences have fundamentally reshaped our society. The more privacy we enjoy, the less we need the public square and each other. I always discourage people from taking a day trip to Pompeii in favor of a much easier trip to Ostia Antica. While yes, it’s possible to take the fast train, and there are lots of bus tours offering this, it’s a very long and expensive day of getting there and back for what is necessarily a swift and shallow experience of Pompeii, which deserves a good, long visit. Ostia Antica offers the same experience, allowing you to walk through a Roman city along the same roads as everyday citizens, past their homes, shops, and public buildings. Also, it’s so peaceful. Even though it’s extremely easy to get there, just $3.50 on the very pleasant Metromare train, only the most interested travelers go there, along with school groups, so you can take your time gazing at the mosaics of sea horses and the gods of the sea in what were the baths of Nerone. You can explore a thermopolium, a typical Roman quick-service restaurant, as only the wealthiest Romans had kitchens, and enslaved people to prepare meals for them at home. There’s a theater, a district of warehouses, as this was a port town where the work of shipping across the Roman Empire was done, and the oldest known synagogue in Europe. Just outside the archaeological park is a castle and a cobblestoned district of restaurants where you can eat very well. Or go one more stop on the train, or grab a quick taxi ride to be right on the beach and enjoy a perfect dish of spaghetti and clams for lunch. Ostia Antica was diverse, like most Roman cities. As armies conquered lands across Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East, people captured as slaves during wars across the empire were brought back as war booty and put to work. There were also the indigenous people who had founded cities, including Pompeii, before the Romans took over. They continued to speak their own languages and imparted many of their customs to the Romans, which have been passed down to us today without the appropriate label. Life for most Romans was extremely public. Homes weren’t much more than places to sleep. The baths were places to work out, get clean, and, most of all, socialize, and all levels of society would encounter each other at the baths. And everyone, even the wealthy, would eat at the many fast food restaurants you find in every Roman city. Studies by bioarchaeologists at Pompeii have discovered that all Romans, regardless of social class, ate the same fish, grains, and meats; the primary differences were the settings in which meals were served. They would have to to public fountains for their drinking water. Everyone in a Roman city had to do their laundry, and would take their clothes and blankets to storefront laundries. The Forum was always the center of the city, with all the administrative bodies in place, as well as a large communal piazza where crowds could gather. Only the wealthy enjoyed privacy, albeit minimal by modern standards. Walking around Ostia or Pompeii, you will see wealthy homes tucked right into the urban grid next to modest or even poor homes where enslaved people resided. The larger villas were situated on the periphery of the city, offering sea views or surrounded by orchards or woods, but access to the city remained important. Even at a massive villa like Villa Oplontis, which belonged to someone of the highest Imperial class, close to Pompeii, the guest rooms that orbit the infinity pool are small, indicating they were really just for sleeping. Most of the time spent in the villa would be in the company of everyone else who lived there. And there was a working warehouse directly next to it, because showing your industriousness was a prime virtue in Roman society. Jonathan Haidt, author of “The Anxious Generation,” frequently cites the research of Robert Putnam , which demonstrates how a major turning point in American culture during the 1990s, when people began distrusting their neighbors, was due to the widespread adoption of central air conditioning. Previously, few households had more than one air conditioner, which they would use only on the hottest days, and so people spent far more time outside with their neighbors. Television and cars in the 1950s, and then air conditioning in the 1990s, directly led to a steep decline in community engagement. A few days earlier, when I was in Pompeii, I overheard a tour guide explaining why there were so many bath complexes among the ruins. The American guests thought it was odd that there were so many people indulging in a spa experience until she explained that Roman homes, except for the most luxurious ones, did not have either bathrooms or kitchens, and that almost nothing about daily life was private. If you were very rich and had lots of slaves to fetch things for you, he went on to say, you might have a house that was closer to the sea. The guest responded by telling the guide how he had recently bought a house in Florida. I guess he was trying to relate to the history being explained, but missed the mark. There are many inaccurate stereotypes about the Italian dolce vita, but one thing that stands is the tighter social fabric, at least compared to life in North America. I remember going to a movie theater in Florence on a Tuesday night and choosing seats in the empty theater right in the middle. Maybe only 20 other people trickled in and sat immediately next to us, which I thought was odd, until I realized that was my American instinct to spread out away from others. Look at a Roman city, or an Italian village clustered on a hilltop. Social cohesion requires proximity. And Italy is still light on air conditioning, as HVAC units have become much more energy efficient, and European summers get hotter and hotter. If air conditioning is more widely adopted in Italy, will it erase the culture of the piazza? The lesson is that social cohesion thrives when life is less convenient. The Roman Empire still fell, there were still terrible wars, and despots and dictators, but I believe the underpinning of the Italian way of life lies in communal experiences. The communal bread ovens you can still find in small villages, the trattorias that serve local dishes, even if they seem repetitive, which I hear travelers sometimes lament. Those dishes are anchors, and when you visit Italy, you should try to eat the most local things possible. I flinch when I see prices rising because I know young Italians enjoy a level of sociability that is so much better than in the U.S., because a spritz and a pizza are generally inexpensive. Walking around a city like Ostia Antica is an opportunity to reflect on daily life, past and present, not just the wars and conquests of history. I get something different every time I visit an archaeological site. This time, I’m contemplating how convenience should not always be a top priority. And for people who want a deeper experience of Italy, consider sacrificing a bit of comfort sometimes, such as going off the beaten path, to experience the power of connection. I’m receiving numerous emails about trip planning for 2026, and I’d like to share my refreshed menu of services. Though I have a special love for southern Italy, my business partner Arianna and I have a fantastic network all over Italy. We have great guides in the most famous places, and many in the lesser known ones as well. The trip planning season will begin shortly, and here’s a quick rundown of my services in case you would like my help planning your trip to Italy. The most affordable option is to subscribe to this podcast and newsletter via Substack and join the monthly Q&As, which happen over Zoom. That’s just $8 a month or $80 a year. * Trip Consultation – $295 A one-hour session to discuss your interests, answer questions, and share expert recommendations. This is ideal for DIY travelers seeking professional direction. I don’t put a limit on the number of recommendations I offer – I ensure you have what you need based on the questions I ask and our discussion. Often, people are worried they won’t get all their questions answered in an hour, but trust me. All the questions that have you jammed up are what I do, so you’ll be shocked by how much we can accomplish in an hour. * Custom Itinerary Design - $995 This personalized planning service is designed for travelers who want a thoughtfully curated trip, crafted just for them. Your journey begins with a 45‑minute Zoom call to discuss your ideal itinerary, travel style, budget, and timing. From there, we design a customized day‑by‑day plan that reflects your pace, interests, and priorities. Every itinerary includes restaurant suggestions, optional experiences, and curated recommendations delivered through a custom mobile app for easy on‑the‑go access. Once the first draft is ready, you’ll receive it by email for review. If it feels right, we’ll share direct booking links so you can confirm each experience at your own pace. For travelers who prefer private experiences over group tours, we can book expert local guides from our personal network and invoice those services à la carte. After your bookings are complete, we’ll meet again for a 45-minute follow-up call to finalize details, review daily logistics, and address any last-minute questions. The result is a seamless, personalized itinerary that leaves room for discovery while keeping every travel day beautifully organized. * Bespoke Trip Planning – For this, we charge a fee to cover our time, which will be quoted once I know more about your trip. There’s a free call you can sign up for, where I can hear more about what you have in mind and then provide a fee estimate. This is an all-inclusive service where we design and book everything. All tours and many of the drivers are among our most trusted and frequent collaborators who are always eager to host our guests. I handle converting and paying all vendors in Italy, and my business partner Arianna provides on-the-ground support throughout your trip, offering peace of mind from start to finish. * You can also view the full menu of services here. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Paid subscribers, tonight is the premiere of the Naples Destination Deep Dive! See you at 8 pm ET. The replay will be sent out tomorrow and will be available until Monday. The Zoom link was sent last week and will be posted again in the subscriber chat. This week I have a quick video episode to share with you some of my new programs for 2026. I share that I have developed four hybrid experiences, all during the quieter off-season, in Florence, Naples, Venice, and Rome. * One guided tour each day, so you get to see the good stuff with the smartest guides, without feeling over-programmed. * Four shared group meals—think real conversations at local favorites. We’ll talk about books, politics, truth, beauty, and all the things we’re discovering in the city when we’re not together. * Pay only for your time with me and what’s included: the tours, entrance tickets, and the four shared meals. * Freedom to choose your own lodging, whether that’s an Airbnb, a five-star, or use the Marriott Bonvoy points burning a hole in your pocket. Stay wherever best suits your budget and vibe. * No single supplements or “forced group activities.” Bring a partner or friend, and let them do their own thing while you spend time with us. (Perfect if you have a cranky spouse.) Each city’s experience is built around what I think makes it unique: * 5 Days in Florence, January 20-25 : All about art. We’ll be at the Fra Angelico exhibition during its final week and dig deep into Renaissance masterpieces. * 5 Days in Naples, January 27-31 : A journey from ancient times to today, including a special day trip to Herculaneum and Villa Oplontis. The intensity of a city positioned between two active super volcanoes without the heat. Be sure to read some Elena Ferrante before the trip. * 5 Days in Venice, October 27th-31 : Venice is a fever dream, and I’m designing this itinerary to draw out its inherent magic. This is Venice for people who hate selfies. * 5 Days in Rome, November 3-7 : More focused, for travelers who love art with a dramatic edge. Caravaggio, Baroque drama, and all the classic Roman dishes. I’m also excited to share the dates for the next artist retreat with Jenny Kroik at Borgo La Pietraia . This will be the fourth time we host this special week focused on peace, calm, and the chance to reconnect with your creativity. Jenny welcomes everyone—total beginners, working artists, and anyone who just wants focused time to enjoy making art. Daily sessions are relaxed and supportive, with inspiration from the landscape, local food, and easy day trips. The only thing you need to bring is the desire to create and be inspired—no experience required. Also, this retreat has the best food ever . Chef Mario Stellato prepares most of our meals, and it is just BEYOND. If the idea of exploring Italy with structure but not rigidity appeals to you, I think you’ll find these trips hit the mark. You can look at all the trips here . This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe

Purchasing a home in Italy is a dream of many. In the 1990s, Tuscany was the most popular region, as well as a more affordable alternative to France, following the publication of the 1989 book “A Year in Provence,” which inspired the rustic farmhouse fantasy. Many British and American citizens began buying old farmhouses surrounded by cypress and olive trees, while in the US, people renovated their kitchens with a “Tuscan farmhouse” theme. Then came Frances Mayes’s memoir, “ Under the Tuscan Sun, ” which chronicled the complex but romantic work of renovating a house in Cortona, and an industry fully bloomed. Today, Italy’s hot spot for expats is Puglia. When Tuscany was taking off in the 90s, the region of Puglia was struggling even to welcome tourists, but all that has dramatically changed, and prices there have risen sharply. I regularly receive questions about where to find the best home-buying opportunities in Italy. (My answer: Le Marche, Abruzzo, and Cilento.) I can help you hone in on where to settle in Italy, thinking about lifestyle, access, and budget, but I know nothing about renovating a house. If I ever do buy a home in Italy, I will have a budget dedicated to hiring someone who has the skill and patience to navigate the commune for me, because permits and paperwork are not my thing. To offer you a more informed perspective, I interviewed Massoud Katebeh , a licensed engineer in both the United States and Italy. Originally from Tehran, he studied engineering at the University of Florence, where, like me as an art history student, he had the opportunity to study right inside the Duomo. We discuss the intersection of engineering and art, as well as the rigorous process of becoming a professional engineer in Italy. We then discuss the challenges of renovating homes in Italy, why it is necessary to engage professional architects and engineers, and what makes a home renovation project different in Italy than in the US. Finally, Massoud shares his thoughts on whether it’s best to buy a new home with all the modern conveniences built in, or take a chance on renovating an ancient structure. If you’d like to get in touch with Massoud for a nuts and bolts perspective on your Italian dream home, you can find him at mgkengineering.com The Destination Deep Dive devoted to Florence is now available. It includes a 45-minute video that guides you through everything you need to know, including highlights, tourist traps, the best time of year to visit, what to see, where to eat, and where to take a day trip, as well as a detailed 5-day itinerary. You can easily modify this to suit your travel dates. If you want a well-researched and thoughtful trip but don’t have 30 hours of research time available, this is the shortcut . That’s about how much time it took me to put this together, and that doesn’t include the year I lived in Florence and many times I’ve returned since. There are also two bonus cheat sheets, one devoted to the foods of Florence – because it’s not the pizza and pasta people typically associate with Italian food – and a second dedicated to lesser-known sites where you can truly access the soul of the city. If you’re a paid subscriber, you are invited to the launch for each month’s destination deep dive for free, which includes a Q&A, and then later, when the presentation is formalized, along with a detailed itinerary and bonus content, you get 50% off. I’m about to publish the Matera Deep Dive, and on October 15th at 8 pm ET, I’ll be debuting the Naples Deep Dive. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.danielleoteri.com/subscribe