King College > Travel Opportunities > Montepulciano

Reflections on Italy

Written by: Mark Dollar

My wife and I went with the college on its initial trip to Italy in May of 2003. It’s been nearly two years since we returned, and not a week goes by that I don’t experience a wonderful memory of the trip. William Wordsworth was fond of what he called “Spots of Time,” happy memories that, when recalled, have the power to transport us back to the original experience. They are moments, says Wordsworth, “recollected in tranquility” in the midst of life’s stresses and are therefore intensely appreciated. I have several spots of time to return to when I think about our month spent in Tuscany, Rome, and Naples.

I recall the gorgeous view from our apartment in the medieval mountain village of Montepulciano—a striped valley dotted with vineyards, cattle, old hill towns, and the occasional little Fiat puttering up the next hill. May in Tuscany is cool and sunny, jacket weather in the mornings and evenings, shorts and t-shirt in the afternoons. I recall the winding, cobblestone streets of our town—around each corner was a new and captivating sight, a child with his oh-so chic mother, the cryptic signs and flags of the local neighborhoods, called contrade, or a different chapel on every other corner hiding some priceless Renaissance painting or holy Medieval relic. I can still taste the sumptuous pastas, dry table wines, hearty meats and sauces, and sinful desserts. The late night dinners were followed by invigorating walks home (which always seemed to be upill!); we always felt satiated, happy, and ready for bed.

I remember trekking across Florence on one of our day trips, dodging Vespa scooters on a hot day and looking up in awe at yet another work by Michelangelo, Carravagio, or Leonardo. I recall the fountains of Rome, the majestic grandeur of St. Peter’s basilica, the bohemian energy of Trastevere, the mastery of the Sistine Chapel, and the leafy walks down the Via Venetto—home to magnificent restaurants, clothiers, and hotels.

I remember strolling across the stony ruts of Pompeii, admiring the statuary and reading the graffiti of a town destroyed by ashes more than 1,900 years ago. I recall the awe upon first seeing Mount Vesuvius, destroyer of ancient Naples, over the horizon; its massive, exploded crater a reminder of how tenuous life can be.

More than all these things, though, I recall with great fondness the time I spent with my students—exploring a passage from Goethe while sitting in the Roman Forum; touring the Florentine home of Robert and Elizabeth Browning after reading her “Casa Guidi Windows;” explaining the differences between Medieval and Renaissance architecture while taking in the hill towns of Tuscany. Afternoons spent lolling about in a piazza with a book and some espresso, evenings of laughter and song over dinner with students and colleagues, mornings begun with a rooster’s crow and a shaft of brilliant sunlight in the face—these are my spots of time that bring me back to the Italy trip again and again.