Family By Shared History and Northern Italy

Family is not always defined by blood. Sometimes, it’s defined by shared history. My sister and I are fortunate enough to have shared history with a lovely family living in northern Italy. If you’ve already heard the story (or would just rather not hear it), feel free to skip the next paragraph. If not, I’ll try to be brief.

During World War II, some German prisoners were put sent to Galesville, WI to work on the farms. One man in particular, Hans, met another La Crosse resident working at the same farm. This man invited Hans home to speak German with his parents who were German immigrants. So, Hans started visiting my great grandparents’ house as well as with my great uncle. After the war, he returned to Germany but the connection with my great uncle and grandmother remained strong. For many years, letters, photos, and small gifts were exchanged. The task of letter writing was passed on to Hans’ daughter Heidi when he was no longer able. Eventually another visit to the states was planned, but it wasn’t possible for Hans to make the trip himself. Once in 2010 and again in 2012, Heidi visited our family along with her husband, Fausto, and two sons, Nikoli and Rafael. When they last visited, we were able to discuss our anticipated visit to Europe. Heidi offered the flat in Berlin and invited us to stay with the family in Trento as well.  So, one paragraph later, we find ourselves in the beautiful mountain town of Trento.

There is a special kind of hospitality that comes from visiting family. As soon as we arrived, we were showered with amazing food. In addition to Heidi’s home cooked meals (which put every restaurant we’ve visited to shame), we visited a farm to indulge in fresh homemade yogurt just meters from the cows responsible. We also spent time at a bee farm and tried some honey.  After taking in some breathtaking, postcard worthy views we were treated to gelato and a short tour of the city. Next came my favorite part. After stopping at a lake for some photos, we drove to the area where Fausto grew up to pick some fresh cherries. I’ve been feeling jealous from seeing facebook pictures of strawberry picking back home, but the feeling was cured with my very first cherry. We were surrounded trees of various varieties of cherry and invited to gobble up as many as we liked. I worry that no other cherry will ever be able to compete with the giant firm sweet cherries we tried. After weeks of being a tourist, beyond being a wonderful day, it was refreshing to know we were experiencing something authentic.

The following day, we took a long drive to Verona to allow for a spectacular view of the mountains, Lake Garda, and interesting after effects of glaciers (compressed stone, piles of rocks which were carried with the ice, and the results of volcanic activity). Arriving in Verona, we met Martina, a relative of the family. With her vibrant personality and vast knowledge of the city, she took us on a walking tour to rival Sandemans. After the tour, we stopped in a quiet square for some great quality gelato. As we enjoyed the treat, Heidi remarked, "To me, this is Italy," and I found myself feeling incredibly blessed just to be sitting where I was, enjoying Heidi's Italy.