Stanley Tucci Searching for Italy

Grazie mille Stanley Tucci for taking me to Italy last night in the first episode of CNN’s Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy. The program could not have come at a better time for me. Earlier in the day I was nearly in tears and feeling quite sorry for myself as I reminisced about my days in Italy after coming across photos taken during my trips to Italy before I moved there in 2003, during my two-year stay and during my subsequent return trips.

I looked at how youthful and sexy I was 20 years ago. Of course I thought I was fat back then. Now, I’m nearly 20 pounds heavier, can grab a fistful of back fat, haven’t had a mani, pedi or dye job in exactly a year due to the pandemic, am well overdue for a little filler in my face and can’t even imagine putting on a bikini like I used to dance around in. What has happened to me, I thought to myself. How have I let myself go? Why don’t I have fun anymore? Is this all there is to life — living in Napa Valley? I don’t know if anyone has ever felt pathetic about living in Yountville, but I certainly did yesterday. Maybe because it was Valentine’s Day, and I was spending the day alone, in my red pajamas that I woudn’t get out of all day — not even to get on my Peloton, the love of my life. After participating in a virtual Bridgerton’s Real Black History tour that began at 8 a.m. because it was put on by a tour company out of the UK, I was too wrapped up in my project and looking at the old me to concentrate on becoming a better me.

I texted one photo taken in 2004 with a dear friend on a boat in Positano to her, which started a back and forth conversation with us going down memory lane and promising that we will travel together again.

To a hot Italian guy whom I met during my month-long stay in Tropea a decade ago, I sent via Instagram message a photo of the two of us on a beach in Tropea and wished him Happy Valentine’s Day. That sparked a series of replies with him wanting more photos of us. (I’m playing hard to get, so I told him it would take me a while to find more.)

I found one of my favorite photos of the Ponte Vecchio at dusk that I took while living just steps from the famous old bridge and made it my wallpaper on my laptop. That photo used to be my wallpaper. I don’t know how it stopped being my wallpaper just like I sometimes don’t know what’s happened to me.

When I came across a photo taken in New York of me and my two IBGs (Italian Black Girls), whom I met when we all lived in Italy, I texted it to them and told them that it was a sign, referring to an IBG reunion being in our future since we had been discussing one for the past couple of weeks.

And then there was Stanley Tucci searching for Italy. Frankly, I had forgotten abou the show’s debut because I hadn’t turned my TV on in several days. I have so much going on with my wine studies that I fear getting sucked into TV land and therefore avoid TV. But when one of the IBGs texted to ask if me and the other IBG were watching Stanley’s show, which had just started, I sprinted to my TV to turn on CNN. Immediately, I was transported to Italia, specifically Napoli, birthplace of the Margherita Pizza.

One of the IBGs and I texted during every commecial break. I flashed back to covering the World Pizza Championships in Torino in 2005 and my favorite pizza spots in Positano. I forced myself not to look at the subtitles and to try to think in Italian but that just slowed me down from enjoying the show. I had to keep up with Stanley! Especially when he went to Lo Scoglio, my favorite restaurant on the Amalfi Coast and where I have dined many, many times, sometimes getting one of the best tables in the house on a Sunday when Italian glitterati glided in on their boats, which bobbed in the water while they feasted.

The first time I went to Lo Scoglio was in 2001, during my first trip to Capri. Shortly before leaving Los Angeles for my trip, I had met Diego Della Valle, the founder of the fabulous Tod’s fashion house, while covering a Tod’s event in Beverly Hills for USA Today. I had mentioned that I was going to Capri and Diego graciously offered me his famous boat and captain, Il Professore, for an outing. Yeah, that kind of stuff really used to happen to me. The boat, The Marlin, just happened to once belong to JFK. By the time it came time for my boat outing, I had met a couple of people in Italy to invite to be my guests. On a train ride from Florence to Naples, I met and fell in serious like with Franco and invited him to spend some time with me on Capri, where I was headed. And at my hotel on Capri, I met Vince poolside. What a wonderful day we all had cruising the Amalfi aboard The Marlin, going to the Blue Grotto and enjoying life!

The highlight, of course, was going to Lo Scoglio and meeting Mama. After that visit I was golden at Lo Scoglio. Every time I stepped onto the deck, I was treated like royalty. Although I didn’t move to Positano until three years after my first Lo Scoglio experience, I always went whenever I was on the Amalfi Coast and became a regular after moving to Positano in 2004. As winter approached in 2004 and it was no longer prudent to go to the restaurant by boat, I bought a car and figured out how to drive there. Oh, how I love and miss that restaurant. I went back the last time I visited Positano, a few years ago. Mama is gone but her memory … and her food … live on.