When I was four, my family travelled to Italy. I can recall it through the foggy recollections of a child but whenever I think of my childhood, it’s where I always go.
I remember how excited my parents were, particularly my dad, who hadn’t seen his mother, brother and sister in years. I remember my older sister getting sick on the plane and my dad insisting she drink a glass of milk to feel better. Mum and the air stewards soon set him straight.
I remember meeting lots of my dad’s relatives and being swept into their arms and fed to within an inch of my life. One of my most vivid memories is of falling over after dinner and hitting my chin on the concrete floor. My sisters had to go to bed while I stayed up, howling and crying. I was given milk and cookies. Injury = junk food. Lesson learned.
But cookies were rare.
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We ate like kings and queens. Unfortunately this involved a freshly skinned rabbit. I watched horrified as the animal I could easily have adopted and called ‘Fluffy’ was placed in a pot of boiling water and stewed. It’s the one food I refused to eat while there. I tried everything else.
I remember being with my sisters. We were together all the time and given so much attention. I was loved and adored by family members I’d never met. I could see their resemblance to my dad and I loved them too. I had cousins…lots of cousins. I loved them all. They took it upon themselves to look after me and my sisters. I miss them. I miss them so much. Thank goodness for Facebook.
My sisters and I slept in the same bed for most of the trip and posed for endless photos together. They took photos of us eating, drinking, sitting, standing, running, jumping…they are my favourite memories of my childhood.
We visited my dad’s hometown in Naples. It was old and rustic. There were lots of wells and stone buildings. We then headed to Milan. I’ve never and have still never seen a freeway that big with so many lanes. My uncle offered to take my sisters and I on motorcycle rides on the freeway and I was petrified and exhilarated. I think my mum was shopping that day.
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Absolute gold Jo, thank you.
Memory is a funny thing. I remember going to Trafalagar Square in London with family when I was 12. I thought all the pigeons landing on us was very cool. I went back when I was 20 and second time around I thought the same pigeons were dirty and gross and I couldnt get out of their first enough!