
Italy dangles from central Europe like a designer boot, kicking its way into the Mediterranean with such flair that you’d think the entire country was showing off.
And perhaps it is, with good reason. Where else can you find such an intoxicating blend of ancient ruins, artistic masterpieces, and pasta so good it makes you question why you ever ate anything else?
The charm of Italy isn’t just in its postcard landscapes or its museum-quality cities. It’s in the way Italians live—with a passionate embrace of beauty in everyday life.
It’s visible in the elderly man carefully selecting a single perfect tomato at the market, or the barista who serves your espresso with the serious concentration of a heart surgeon.
Italians have elevated ordinary living to an art form, and traveling here means you get a front-row seat to this magnificent performance.
We first visited Italy as a wide-eyed college student, armed with nothing but a backpack full of wrinkled clothes and a tragically confident belief in my ability to speak Italian after a semester of language classes.
What followed was a comedic parade of mispronunciations and confused gestures that somehow still resulted in some of the best meals and warmest welcomes of my life. That’s the magic of Italy—even when you’re doing it all wrong, somehow it still feels gloriously right.
Rome hits you like a beautiful, chaotic storm. Traffic whirls around ancient monuments with a casual disregard for their 2,000-year history.
Vespas zip past the Colosseum, street vendors hawk selfie sticks beneath the shadow of the Pantheon, and everywhere you look, history and modernity are engaged in a constant, fascinating tango.
The Colosseum stands as Rome’s hulking celebrity, drawing crowds who gape at its massive structure and try to imagine the gladiatorial spectacles it once housed.
Despite being partially ruined (or perhaps because of it), it maintains a haunting presence.
Standing inside its ancient walls, you can almost hear the roar of the crowd echoing through the centuries, though that might just be the tour group from Germany in the next section over.
The Roman Forum nearby presents a jumble of ruins that requires either a vivid imagination or a really good guidebook to appreciate fully.
What appears at first glance to be a collection of broken columns and random stones was once the beating heart of the Roman Empire.
We like to think of it as the world’s most impressive jigsaw puzzle, where most of the pieces have been lost to time, repurposed into medieval buildings, or carted off by souvenir-hunting aristocrats on 18th-century Grand Tours.
Crossing into Vatican City feels like entering another world—which technically you are, as it’s the smallest sovereign state on earth. St. Peter’s Basilica looms with Renaissance grandeur, its dome a testament to human artistic achievement.
Inside, the scale is so vast that it takes a moment for your brain to adjust—what looks like a small cherub in the distance turns out to be six feet tall when you approach it.
The Vatican Museums house one of the world’s greatest art collections, culminating in the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo’s ceiling frescoes are even more breathtaking in person than in art books, though you’ll likely be viewing them while packed like sardines with hundreds of other tourists, all being shushed by guards when the volume rises. It’s a strange way to experience transcendent beauty—craning your neck in a crowded room—but somehow it works.
Roman cuisine is a celebration of simplicity—pasta dishes with just a handful of ingredients that somehow taste more complex than dishes with twenty. Carbonara, amatriciana, and cacio e pepe form the holy trinity of Roman pasta, each showcasing how a few quality ingredients can create something magical.
The Jewish Ghetto area offers some of Rome’s most interesting food, including the famous fried artichokes—carciofi alla giudia—crispy on the outside and tender within. Trastevere, across the Tiber River, buzzes with energy as locals and tourists alike fill its narrow streets and casual eateries.
A tip for hungry travelers: the further you wander from major attractions, the better and more reasonably priced the food becomes. We once followed a group of nuns down a side street (which sounds like the beginning of a joke but actually happened) and found myself in a tiny restaurant where the menu was handwritten daily and the pasta was made by someone’s grandmother in the back. It remains one of my best meals in Rome.
Florence feels like walking into a Renaissance painting—which makes sense, as this is where the Renaissance was born. The compact historic center means you can stroll from Michelangelo’s David to Brunelleschi’s dome in minutes, passing gelaterias, leather markets, and ancient churches along the way.
The city maintains a human scale that makes it especially appealing. Unlike Rome’s sprawling chaos or Venice’s watery maze, Florence invites exploration on foot, revealing its treasures at a leisurely pace. The terracotta-tiled Duomo dominates the skyline, its massive dome an engineering marvel that still confounds experts today.
The Uffizi Gallery houses such a concentration of artistic genius that it can induce a condition known as Stendhal Syndrome—a psychosomatic reaction to overwhelming beauty. Works by Botticelli, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael line the corridors, each masterpiece more astonishing than the last.
Across town, the Accademia Gallery houses Michelangelo’s David, a 17-foot marble statue so perfectly proportioned that it’s hard to believe it was carved by human hands. The statue draws crowds who circle it in silent awe, admiring it from every angle.
Fun fact: David’s hands are disproportionately large, supposedly to symbolize his strength and determination. This anatomical exaggeration is something like the Renaissance equivalent of an Instagram filter—making subtle enhancements to reality for dramatic effect.
Florentine cuisine centers around simplicity and quality. The iconic bistecca alla fiorentina is essentially a massive T-bone steak, grilled over wood and seasoned only with salt, pepper, and perhaps a squeeze of lemon.
It’s typically served rare—so rare that American diners might think it needs a few more minutes on the grill. To Florentines, cooking such a magnificent piece of meat any longer would be culinary sacrilege.
The surrounding Chianti region produces some of Italy’s most famous wines. Small family-run vineyards dot the hills, many offering tastings and tours.
The wine is traditionally served in a straw-covered flask called a fiasco, which gave us the English word for a spectacular failure. Ironically, drinking Chianti is usually quite the opposite of a fiasco—unless you have far too many glasses, in which case all bets are off.
Venice shouldn’t exist. A city built on wooden pilings driven into a lagoon, it has defied logic and the laws of physics for over a thousand years. The result is a place unlike any other—a labyrinth of canals and narrow alleys where getting lost isn’t just likely but practically mandatory.
Arriving in Venice by train, you step out of the station to the most dramatic urban reveal in the world: the Grand Canal unfurling before you like a liquid main street. The complete absence of cars creates an otherworldly atmosphere, as if you’ve stepped through a portal into an alternate universe where the Renaissance never ended.
Getting around Venice offers choices ranging from romantic to practical. Gondolas provide the classic experience, gliding under tiny bridges while your gondolier possibly sings (for an extra fee, of course). At around €80 for a 30-minute ride, it’s not cheap, but it’s one of those tourist clichés that’s actually worth doing once.
For everyday transportation, vaporettos (water buses) criss-cross the canals, offering practical transport and excellent views. But the best way to experience Venice is simply walking and getting lost. The city is a warren of narrow calli (streets) that twist and turn, occasionally opening onto surprising campi (squares) with centuries-old churches or charming cafés.
We once spent an afternoon completely lost in Venice’s Cannaregio district, eventually finding myself at a tiny bar where locals were drinking violet-colored spritz drinks instead of the usual orange Aperol version. When we asked about it, the bartender presented me with a Select spritz—a more bitter, more local alternative—and a plate of cicchetti (Venetian tapas). Sometimes getting lost leads to the best discoveries.
Beyond the main islands of Venice lie several worth visiting. Murano has been the center of Venetian glassmaking since 1291, when fire concerns prompted authorities to move all glassworks there. Watching master glassblowers transform molten glass into intricate sculptures in matters of minutes is mesmerizing.
Burano, famous for its brightly painted houses, looks like a child’s crayon drawing brought to life. Legend claims fishermen painted their homes in vivid colors so they could identify them through fog and after too many grappas. The island is also known for its handmade lace, though much of what’s sold today comes from farther afield.
The Amalfi Coast seems designed specifically to make postcards look good. Pastel-colored villages cling improbably to steep cliffs, narrow roads wind along precipitous drops to the sea, and lemon groves terrace the hillsides producing fruit the size of softballs.
This 50-kilometer stretch of coastline south of Naples packs in more scenic drama per mile than should reasonably be allowed. Positano cascades down to the sea like a waterfall of buildings.
Ravello perches high above, offering views that have inspired artists and composers for centuries. Amalfi itself, once a powerful maritime republic, now charms visitors with its Arab-influenced cathedral and maze-like streets.
The coastal road connecting the Amalfi towns is both stunning and harrowing—a narrow ribbon clinging to cliffs with hairpin turns that would make a Formula One driver nervous. Local buses somehow manage to navigate these curves, often coming within inches of each other when passing, while drivers casually chat on their phones as if they weren’t continuously cheating death.
If you’re brave enough to drive yourself, prepare for an experience that’s equal parts terror and exhilaration. The upside is the freedom to stop at countless panoramic viewpoints where the Mediterranean spreads below like a blue tablecloth set for giants.
The Amalfi Coast’s cuisine makes heavy use of its famous lemons—giants that can grow to the size of small melons, intensely fragrant and less acidic than their supermarket cousins. Limoncello, the region’s signature liqueur, turns these lemons into liquid sunshine, served ice-cold as a digestivo after meals.
Seafood dominates local menus, often prepared simply to highlight its freshness. Scialatielli ai frutti di mare—fresh pasta with mixed seafood—is a regional specialty worth seeking out. For dessert, don’t miss delizia al limone, a sponge cake soaked in limoncello and topped with lemon cream that captures the essence of Amalfi in each bite.
Sicily sits at the toe of Italy’s boot, seemingly about to be kicked into North Africa. This strategic position made it a target for everyone from Greeks and Romans to Arabs and Normans, each leaving their mark on the island’s culture, architecture, and cuisine.
The result is a fascinating hybrid—a place that feels both quintessentially Italian and distinctly its own thing. Byzantine mosaics share space with Baroque churches and Arab-influenced markets. The dialect incorporates words from half a dozen languages. And the food? It’s Italian cooking with a plot twist.
Europe’s tallest active volcano dominates eastern Sicily, periodically sending plumes of ash into the sky and rivers of lava down its slopes. Despite this temperamental neighbor, Sicilians have built towns right up to its base, farming the incredibly fertile volcanic soil.
Hiking on Etna offers an otherworldly experience—black volcanic landscapes that resemble the moon, steam venting from cracks in the earth, and panoramic views across the island and to the mainland. Just check the volcanic activity reports before setting out, as access to the summit area changes based on Etna’s current mood.
Sicilian cuisine reflects its history as a cultural crossroads. Arab influences show in the use of raisins, pine nuts, and citrus. Spanish colonizers brought tomatoes and chocolate from the New World. The result is dishes like pasta con le sarde (pasta with sardines, wild fennel, raisins, and pine nuts)—a combination that shouldn’t work but absolutely does.
Sweets are a Sicilian specialty, from cannoli (fried pastry tubes filled with sweetened ricotta) to cassata (a ricotta cake with candied fruit) to granita (a slushy ice treat perfect for hot days). Many trace their origins to Arab confectioners or the nuns of medieval convents, who turned dessert-making into an art form.
Where the Alps cascade down toward the Lombardy plains, they’ve conveniently created a series of stunning lakes—Como, Maggiore, Garda, and others—each ringed by mountains and dotted with picturesque towns. The combination of alpine and Mediterranean landscapes creates a microclimate where palm trees and snow-capped peaks can coexist in the same view.
These lakes have attracted the wealthy and famous since Roman times. Today, Lake Como in particular is known for its celebrity residents—most famously George Clooney, whose presence has given local paparazzi a steady income source and tour boat operators a reliable talking point.
Lake Como’s wishbone shape creates intimate views across its waters, with the Alps providing a dramatic backdrop. Grand villas line the shores, many built during the region’s heyday as a retreat for European nobility. Some, like Villa Carlotta and Villa Balbianello, are open to visitors, offering a glimpse into the lifestyles of the historical rich and famous.
The towns along Como’s shores each have their own character. Bellagio, at the junction of the lake’s two branches, is justifiably the most famous, with its steep cobbled streets and waterfront promenades. Varenna, across the water, offers similar charm with fewer crowds. Como city itself combines historic elements with sophisticated urban comforts.
Northern Italian cuisine differs dramatically from its southern counterparts, featuring heartier dishes suited to mountain climates. Polenta replaces pasta as the starchy staple, often served with rich game stews or mountain cheeses. Risotto is king in the Lombardy plains, where rice paddies have existed since the Middle Ages.
The lakes themselves provide freshwater fish like perch and lavarello, typically served simply grilled or fried. The mountains supply mushrooms, chestnuts, and wild berries that feature prominently in local cooking. It’s comfort food with Italian elegance—the culinary equivalent of a cashmere sweater.
No matter how carefully you plan an Italian trip, the country has a way of throwing delightful curveballs. That train strike might lead you to discover a charming town you’d never have visited otherwise. That closed restaurant might force you to try the hole-in-the-wall place next door that turns out to serve the best pasta of your life.
Italy’s high season runs from June through August, when temperatures soar along with prices and tourist numbers. May and September offer nearly perfect weather with somewhat smaller crowds. Winter brings bargain prices except in ski areas, and while some coastal spots practically shut down, cities remain lively.
Each season showcases different aspects of Italian life. Spring brings Easter processions and wildflower-covered hillsides. Summer offers outdoor dining and beach culture. Fall harvests mean food festivals celebrating truffles, mushrooms, and wine. Winter transforms northern cities with Christmas markets and southern towns with elaborate nativity scenes.
Italy’s train system efficiently connects major cities, with high-speed trains (Frecciarossa, Italo) zipping between Rome, Florence, Venice, and Milan in just a few hours. Regional trains cost less but stop more frequently and sometimes run on relaxed “Italian time.”
Rental cars make sense for exploring rural areas like Tuscany or Umbria but are liabilities in historic city centers, where limited traffic zones (ZTLs) mean hefty fines for unsuspecting drivers. Cities have good public transportation, and smaller towns are walkable by design—they were laid out centuries before automobiles existed.
While English is widely spoken in tourist areas, a few Italian phrases go a long way in generating goodwill. “Buongiorno” (good day), “per favore” (please), “grazie” (thank you), and “il conto, per favore” (the bill, please) form a basic survival toolkit for travelers.
Italians communicate as much with gestures as words. Don’t be alarmed by animated conversations that look like arguments but are often just discussions about what to have for lunch. Do be aware that common American gestures can have different meanings in Italy—for instance, the “OK” sign has vulgar connotations best avoided.
What makes Italy so magnetic isn’t just the obvious attractions—though the Colosseum, David, and Venetian canals certainly pull their weight in the world’s collective imagination. It’s the country’s approach to life that truly captivates visitors, often changing how they view their own daily existence.
Italians have mastered the art of appreciating small pleasures: the perfect espresso sipped standing at a bar counter, a pasta dish made with just three ingredients of impeccable quality, an evening passeggiata (stroll) through town that’s as much about seeing and being seen as getting anywhere. This attention to life’s sensory details, the insistence that everyday things should be beautiful and delicious rather than merely functional—that’s the true souvenir you’ll bring home from Italy.
We’ve visited dozens of countries across six continents, but Italy remains the place we return to most often. Each visit reveals new layers, like peeling an artichoke to reach its heart. And like an artichoke, Italy rewards patience and attention, offering its deepest pleasures to those willing to slow down and savor rather than rush from sight to sight.
Italy doesn’t just host visitors; it gently (or sometimes not so gently) teaches them how life might be lived differently—with more passion, more beauty, and definitely more pasta. And that, perhaps, is why we keep going back.