After spending the beginning of our trip getting to know what life is like for a family living in Slovenia, it was now time to head west into Italy and trace back my family roots. When people ask me about my heritage I always say that I am an Italian. Since a mother who is pure Italian raised me, I have always felt very connected with my Tuscan roots.

I suppose I should pause when saying that anyone is "pure", or one hundred percent of a single ethnicity. Recently PBS has been running an amazing series in honor of Black History Month where the host traces back the family history of several popular black entertainers. Each of them is stupefied by the conclusion that the universities, libraries and researchers provide for them. Some are not more than fifty percent African! The host himself was fifty-fifty, and although he is fair-skinned, you would not think that he has half of his roots dating back to Europe.




These percentage breakdowns of specific continental race are managed through a cotton swab on the inside of the cheek. That's all! How crazy is technology today that some cheek skin cells can tell a scientist EXACTLY where a person comes from, down to the percentage point!

The point being, I think of my mom as being of pure Italian blood, and I think of my friend's parents as having equally pure Slovenian blood, but it's not that simple. Race on the other hand . . . as a professor once made crystal clear in her first few lectures, is a completely different phenomena than ethnicity. I feel Italian therefore I am Italian.




And there I was, entering my ancestral stomping grounds, with eyes as wide as saucers, just enveloping every last detail of the landscape. Venice would be our natural first stop as it was not too far from Trieste, an Italian port town that was once annexed by Yugoslavia.




Venezia! There is a certain corniness mixed with distinct antiquity. As with all cities that are immersed in tourism, Venice has an odd duality that overrides the senses when you enter it for the first time. Canals filled with gray and black smoke belching motorboats . . . juxtaposed with beautifully painted, sail less half-moon-shaped paddle boats. Hordes of checkered colored peoples of all races stomping around with only one commonality, awful tourist T-shirts with ridiculous messages ironed on and cameras of all sizes wrapped around their necks . . . juxtaposed against statues and architecture that is so mesmerizing that it almost transports you back in time just by glancing at it.

More to come from Italy . . . for travel plans look to Lonely Planet!ER Harris