Science can explain everything from space flight to the smallest particles of life on our planet, yet the inner workings of our minds and souls remain a larger puzzle. One of the best-known and most interesting films regarding the function of the soul and its impact on life is La Dolce Vita. This film comprises no more than seven days and engages its main character, Marcello, in an extreme descent, becoming a completely different person by the end of the film. It’s no accident that the setting for this journey takes place in Italy. When Steve and I embarked on this trip to Verona, the last thing that we expected was an internal shift in our thinking and feeling. But, when we unpacked our suitcases, there it was–among cameras, dirty blue jeans, socks and shoes—the soul of the journey in the memories of the Italian people and what they do in everyday life. Some of our fondest aren’t really all that remarkable, but the affection is indelible.

Some simple recollections:
On October 1, all of the air conditioning in hotel rooms is turned off and the heat turned on, regardless of the number of stars on your “Albergo.” You cannot request air conditioning after this date, but you can request that the heat not be pumped into your room when it is 85 degrees outside. Even if the outside temperature is over 80 degrees, you will see Italians in down coats, woolens, and furs—ready for winter. There is something magical about this date; weather and temperature are NOT the deciding factors.

Lights and air conditioning are not operated in hotels by turning switches off and on. Hall lighting is triggered by motion detectors, so when no one is standing in the hall, lights are not burning brightly. This must save on the carbon footprint– the downside to this, however, is that if you engage in a conversation in the hallway without walking animatedly, you will be plunged into darkness and won’t be able to find the door to your room. This necessitates running up and down the hall in order to have conversations with your hotel neighbors. Lighting and air changes in the room are not operated by switches. Your room key has a ‘parking place’ in the wall. You get access to modern amenities by placing the key in its spot on the wall, the location of which is never apparent to us. From experience, I now know not to take the key out of its parking place to go downstairs for breakfast when my husband is in the shower. He was left in the shower stall, in the dark, crouching to find his soap, cursing that he’d married a woman who doesn’t realize how this could happen.

Meals in the ‘ristoranti’ are a long engagement. Be prepared, even at lunch, for two hours. You own the table, the chairs, the glasses, and plates for as long as you want them. You are the honored guests in their homes. If you are on a tight schedule and want to keep moving to explore the city, it’s best to grab a gelato, cappuccino, pizza, acqua, or glass of vino and some cheese. When you are ready to sit and savor the flavors of Italian cuisine, the staff of a ristorante will work very hard to make sure that it happens. The vino locale, served in a carafe, is usually superb. We didn’t need to see a label to taste great winemaking. But, if you should order a bottle of wine, you will be told how badly your choice will taste and what you should order instead. You will also be told what size portions of pizza will satisfy you. All of this works out quite well, if you just to go with wherever the waiter wants to take you. But, for god’s sake, do not add the shaved Parmesan cheese to anything that swims with the fishes. It’s “il sacrilege!” and will rain a torrent of scornful gazes and a terse “no!” from the wait staff. Bread plates are not provided when the bundle of rolls are brought to the table, nor is the butter or olive oil. You will need to ask for ‘burro,’ and for oil and vinegar to dress your salad. And while we are on the subject of butter—butter in Italian is “burro;” donkey in Italian is “asino;” burro in Italian is “burro.” The entrée “Burro” on an Italian menu is not a stick of butter, but a serving of donkey meat. And to know in advance that ‘il burro’ and ‘il cavallo’ are served in most fine ristoranti, is most helpful! Tipping is not necessary, but discreetly appreciated.

To blend in with Italian society and not look like a tourist, men should don a neck scarf or muffler, turn up the shirt collar, and speak animatedly into the cell phone permanently grafted to the ear. When driving, don’t even consider going under 90 km on Autostrade; signaling a change of lanes is taken as a sign of weakness. Just move over and give the guy behind you a shot of adrenaline. It keeps the people young. Both men and women need to appear weightless, as though a shred of pasta never touches the lips. Square eyewear with contrasting earpieces is de rigueur; bright-colored pants for men are preferable, as well as blue and purple shirts. Limit facial hair to growth under the bottom lip and shave sideburns into a faint comma along the underside of the ears. Women wear your 4-5 inch heels every day and walk on your toes on the cobblestones. Placing the heel in the crevices is to invite a tumble. Loose clothing, regardless of your size or weight, is a scourge. Suck in your tummy and wiggle into a sheer, tight, tank. If you happen to have a full bosom, by all means share the girls. And NO Bermuda shorts or real tennis shoes, per favore! Polizei, caribinieri, and customs officers follow a similar aesthetic. They are there to enforce the law, but manage to do so with a stylish and engaging nonchalance.

And finally, the colorful roses planted at the end of each row of grapes are not to enhance the pastoral scenery. They are the “canaries in the mine” for the wine industry. The most discussed disaster to occur on Italian soil was the grape phylloxera, a blight that almost wiped out the European wine industry. Roses, being fragile beauties, are the first to experience any disease in the landscape and alert the growers to adjust conditions in order to avert this dreaded disease. This leads us to what might be the best metaphor for la dolce vita, the sweet life. Live fearlessly and out loud, but be mindful of treasures that can easily be broken: stunning architecture, great cuisine, sumptuous wine, structurally inspiring fashion and home decor, an appreciation for all that is womanly—and above all, make time for lively conversation with friends and lovers. You won’t regret the passage of time for one moment.