When you have a deadline for returning to the U.S., you feel a mad rush to visit all those places you haven’t yet seen. It’s not as if you will never travel again to Europe, but somehow it feels that way. So with one of our favorite travel weeks - between Christmas and the New Year - open and unplanned for, we felt a sense of expat panic setting in. Where to go? What to see? With that kind of First World pressure bearing down on us, we chose the only sensible route a soon-to-be repat can follow: we chose to revisit Italy. What better place to go when you’re starting to feel the anxiety that comes with a move? Sure, we could have gone somewhere we haven’t been before. But then there’s Italy…. Just too good to be true. Lauryn Hill went to the same high school as my kids, so I chose her smooth version of this song. Forgive me, Francesco Castelluccio (aka Frankie Valli).

Despite the chilly temperatures, as soon as we arrived in Bologna, our first stop, I knew we had made the right choice. Bologna, in the northern Emilia-Romagna region, is known as the food capital of Italy. That’s high praise indeed for a country that’s known already as the place to go for good food. Sorry, France.

Bologna is full of covered walkways, known as porticoes. In fact, there are over 30 kilometers of them in the city. Some of them date back to the 11th century. They were originally built to let homeowners add onto their homes without paying the taxes that were required if you built out into the street level. And merchants needed the space to show off their goods, so porticoes made good economic sense. Nowadays, they serve as architectural umbrellas during rainy weather. Thank you, Bologna!

The Italians like to stroll. In the lazy hours before dinner, they walk without a seeming purpose or destination. I think it may be to build up an appetite for yet another big meal. The porticoes were full of families during the pre-dinner hour. Her… — The Italians like to stroll. In the lazy hours before dinner, they walk without a seeming purpose or destination. I think it may be to build up an appetite for yet another big meal. The porticoes were full of families during the pre-dinner hour. Here is what they look like during dinner time. Dinner is sacred in Italy.

Bologna is known for its university, which is the oldest university. In the world? In Europe? Who knows! There is a university in Morocco that was founded even earlier, but it’s no longer operating. Bologna’s has been around since 1088. And is still going strong. The student population swells the town into a city when they are around. When we visited, most were home on break, probably doing what we planned: eating and drinking ourselves silly on traditional Bolognese food.

In a city where the university is so important, it’s no surprise that education is revered. The population of Bologna is very educated, and book stores abound. That adoration for the power of education reached new heights in Bologna. Some law profes… — In a city where the university is so important, it’s no surprise that education is revered. The population of Bologna is very educated, and book stores abound. That adoration for the power of education reached new heights in Bologna. Some law professors’ graves were raised to the sky, so everyone would have to look at up them. You’ve got to love a place that takes such good care of its teachers.

But let’s face it: we were not there to get an education, but to eat. The food is displayed with such loving care. It’s clear from watching the locals shop how much they adore their food. In fact, Bologna takes its food so seriously that the original recipes for the Bolognese specialities are housed in their City Hall.

As I know I’ve mentioned before, many of my childhood food memories are centered around the Italian restaurants we loved in my hometown Trenton, N.J. Those were the days of tomato pies (the name for pizza in Trenton), towering lasagnes, and lots of spaghetti and meatballs. Not fancy Italian, but delicious. And there were lots of songs to go along with the food. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.” Or, as my father sang in the shower, “That’s Bud Millner.” He wrote a version of the song for his friend Bud and liked to sing it to us. To me, my dad was every bit as suave as Dean Martin, minus the cigarette dangling from Dean’s lips and the glass of scotch that was never far from his hands.

While in Bologna, we headed over to Fico Eataly World, on the outskirts of the city. It’s the largest “food park” in the world, and nicknamed the Disney World of food. This is one amusement park I looked forward to visiting.

This Eataly was so huge there were free bikes you could hop on to help you see all the sights.

In addition to the bikes, there were several other ways to work up an appetite, including this mini-golf course, and an indoor volleyball court. Or you could just work up an appetite by eating.

Gelato University! I’ve finally found a course of study worthy of a PhD.

Here’s the star of the show in most Bolognese restaurants: tagliatelle bolognese. It was out of this world.

From Bologna, we headed to Modena. It’s all about local hero Luciano Pavarotti there. And Enzo Ferrari, if you love cars, which we do not. Here’s Pavarotti singing the song that celebrated the first funicular to travel up Mount Vesuvius. A funicular, which is like a chairlift, which runs up a moutain capable of exploding hardly seems like a good idea. While looking for a version of the song, I learned the Grateful Dead also sang a version. That hardly seems like a good idea either.

I ran into Pavarotti a few times while we were there.

Modena may be a little more introverted than its neighbor Bologna, but the food there was just as wonderful. We couldn’t snag a reservation at Osteria Francescana - which sat atop the list of the world’s 50 best restaurants at #1 a few years ago - but we did find it on a tucked-away corner. We weren’t the only ones taking a photo of it. It’s like a church of sorts to Peter, a holy place we stood outside of in awe. While we didn’t get to eat at the holy Osteria, we did worship at the less fancy, but still delicious sister restaurant. While we were there, in walked the chef’s wife, son, and mother-in-law. Peter knew them because he watches Chef’s Table on Netflix. Let me tell you, if you aren’t a fan: this sighting was akin to siting next to the family of royalty. Too bad the king himself wasn’t there.

We wandered the outdoor market in Piazza Grande, the main square in Modena. It seemed as if everyone in town was also there, enjoying the blue sky and the eclectic mix of goods for sale. There was everything from chandeliers to U.S. presedential victor and vanquished dolls.

You’ve heard me brag before about the yearly quest Peter undertakes to make my birthday special. This year, I spent my birthday morning watching Parmigiano Reggiano being made and tasting as much as I could get my hands on with without totally embarrassing myself. It was only 10 a.m. when I was let loose on those samples, after all.

The workers work in teams so they can get to know each other’s rhythms.

Each wheel of cheese, called a baby, is lovingly swaddled in muslin, and periodically unwrapped and re-swaddled so it stays round. The wheel is stamped with the date it’s produced, so the owner can keep careful track of the age. So I actually got to meet a room full of wheels of parmigiano that share my birthdate. Very exciting.

The cows eat a special high quality diet - they are Italian, after all - to help keep the Parmigiano Reggiano the best of the best. This cheese has nothing in common with the stuff we used to shake from the green container. Although - truth be told - I ate a lot of that back in the day.

A robot is used to turn the wheels of cheese that are left to dry on tall shelves. It also dusts the shelves. Very useful.

From parmigiano to balsamic vinegar! Now that’s a birthday party. We spent the late morning at Villa San Donnino where balsamic vinegar is produced with the same attention to detail we saw in our parmesan visit. There was a $200 bottle for sale, which the guide told us lasts a long time because you use it very sparingly: a few drops on cheese or on top of your risotto. Or as a digestive after your huge dinner. I think it’s cheaper just to lay on my stomach until I feel better.

We saw Pierce Brosnan’s vinegar in barrels, aging nicely. Just like he is. Apparently, he paid a visit to the villa, and was so captivated, he had to have his own balsamic vinegar.

The owner of the Villa kindly allowed us to look around his home, which was built by his grandfather in the gorgeous Art Deco style.

Found my house in Modena. I could be very happy here.

The next day, we said Arrivederci, Modena and took the train to Naples. It was a shorter-than-short stay in Naples. We only got a glimpse of it as we were driven out of the city towards Pompeii. I was in the process of rereading Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend - that brilliant first book in a brilliant series based on the author’s life in Naples - and even those few minutes gave me a little taste of the chaotic decay and frenzy of the city, at least around the train station. I would love to go back just to see more of the scenes Ferrante depicts. For other Ferrante fans, here’s a great photo essay I found. Apparently, the books and the series on HBO are bringing some much-needed tourism to Naples. Who wants to join me on a Ferrante tour?

For now, let’s get to Pompeii. I’ve wanted to go there for forever. When I was a child, I wanted to be an archaeologist. I think it all circles back to Pompeii. My 5th grade history teacher, Mrs. Rothrock (I’m not making that name up, folks) taught me about Ancient Greece and Rome, and when I heard about the excavations in Pompeii, I thought I had found my calling. Then reality set in. Is it too late for a career change? As a kid, I was fascinated by the idea that lava poured in and covered the residents, some in mid-bite of their dinner. Well, it turns out a lot of that information is myth. There was no lava. People were covered by ash from the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, not lava. And many of the residents with money had already cleared out because the eruption was preceded by an earthquake, which served as a warning they should evacuate. The servants who were left behind to safeguard the properties made up the majority of the casualties. These weren’t the only surprises we encountered at Pompeii. We were also surprised by how large Pompeii is, how well-preserved many of the structures are, and how vivid the paint still is in some of the ruins. The city was destroyed in 79 A.D., covered with volcanic ash, and yet you can still see mosaics, the streets, and the Pompeiian Red Light District, among other details. Those Romans built things to last.

Vesuvius looming large in the distance. The weather was brisk, but this meant there were fewer visitors. This helped me imagine what the city must have looked like centuries ago, before tourists bearing iPhones flowed in. And I’m hearing the lyrics from Pompeii: “But if you close your eyes/Does it almost feel like/Nothing changed at all?”

The clouds made for some ominous shadows. Just like the lyrics in the song: “Grey clouds roll over the hills, bringing darkness from above.”

Here is an example of the vivid paint and murals still visible in some of the ruins.

Next stop, Sorrento. Try not to arrive on New Year’s Eve, like we did. The crowded curving roads were filled with cars of folks coming to town for the fireworks. The display sounded spectacular. We had had a few very long days, and celebrated New Year’s Eve in style like the old people we are: with our blankies wrapped comfortably around us in the hotel room.

It’s all about the views in Sorrento. I loved the blues and greens. My only regret is that it wasn’t warm enough to get in there and swim. Next time.

I see Sophia Loren and Enrico Caruso, I think. Who is the first guy? Robert DeNiro? John Lennon?

The crowds were lined up for this puppet show. It’s unclear why Marge and Maggie Simpson are included with the rest of the cast of characters.

I was in citrus heaven while in Southern Italy. I loved that I could squeeze my own juice for breakfast.

Throughout our visit, we saw families with children eating at what Americans would say was a late hour: 8 p.m. or so. The children were almost always extremely well-behaved. This probably has a lot to do with Italian children’s love of food. We actually saw one little boy licking his lips in anticipation as he watched the waiter place his bowl of risotto in front of him. Later that same evening, I had the chance to lick my lips, too, when my dessert of “carrot cake” arrived.

How wonderful to finally get to see Sorrento, a place I only knew from the song Come Back to Sorrento. I remember hearing it when our babysitter Julia - a woman of a certain age - watched her beloved The Lawrence Welk Show. The commercials during the show - for Geritol, some kind of tonic for old people, and Sominex, a sleep aid - tell you all you need to know about the usual demographic who watched. I loved it. That tells you a lot about me as a child.

From Sorrento, we boarded a ferry and spent a day on the Isle of Capri. I found my house. It’s the one perched on the cliff, with the swimming pool cut into the rocks.

The blues!

The tile floor in the Chiesa Monumentale di San Michele was stunning. I didn’t think anything indoors could come close to the scenic views of the water and cliffs, but this tile floor came awfully close.

Our last stop was the Amalfi Coast. We wisely left the driving to a tour company’s mini-bus driver. He had experience navigating both the winding one-lane roads and the Italian drivers who weren’t always gracious about pulling over. Along the way, our guide pointed out the villas owned by the likes of Sophia Loren, Rudolf Nureyev, and Wagner, among others. And we saw Café Positano, where he claimed the Rolling Stones wrote Midnight Rambler. I often think guides could make up any old nonsense and we would just nod in understanding. But I did look into it, and found Mick Jagger said the following about the song: “That's a song Keith and I really wrote together. We were on a holiday in Italy. In this very beautiful hill town, Positano, for a few nights. Why we should write such a dark song in this beautiful, sunny place, I really don't know. We wrote everything there….” Sorry, tour guide, for doubting you.

Everywhere you looked in Positano, there were sights to inspire you. I get it now, Mick. I get it.

On the ride back to Sorrento, it started to snow. The guide explained to us that the already treacherous winding roads were now going to be icy as well. He turned on some music, a greatest hits of Italian singers, while we all watched the road and tried our best to relax.

So did we regret going back to Italy even though there are so many other places we haven’t yet visited? And so little time? Not one bit. It was the week of comfort and beauty (not to mention food and wine) we needed. The clock has begun to tick on our move back to the U.S., but I’m O.K. with that. We’ve seen a lot (and missed a lot). But I’m going to focus on the seens and not the misses for now. And will I move back to the U.S. a different person? According to a recent article that has made the expat rounds, I guess I will. It seems the one difference between people who have lived abroad and others is we have a sharper “self-concept clarity”. Confronted with a new culture and a new way of seeing the world, we have to think a lot about who we are. And that helps strengthen our sense of self. So I’m going to go back this summer with that stronger self. They can’t take that away from me. That’s what I call a gift.

In the six weeks since we returned from Italy, there has been so much to worry about: the usual chaos in the world, illness in our family, dear friends who said forever goodbyes to fathers and husbands. Writing helped me forget for awhile. I hope reading did the same for you. It’s one way to fight back against the sadness.