Only a few days after my last adventure across the European continent, tense moments are relived as I leave the office rushing through the heavy traffic to Dublin Airport and facing the afternoon flights rush hour, only to finally breathe in relief when reaching my boarding gate.

A friend of mine joins me on this three-hour flight away to attend my friends’ wedding, leaving behind the cold lands of autumnal Ireland, as we fly over France and the Italian Alps and the descent is announced whilst the sun sets in the heavy fog.
The lights of large capital city suddenly flood our window views as the flaps fully deploy and the plane glades over tall structures, busy train stations and a network of streets exploding with heavy traffic, seconds before touchdown in one of my favorite cities on Earth.
We have landed at Ciampino Airport in the city of Rome, capital of Italy.

Once the heavy doors are opened by the crew, the warm air strikes my face like a delightful wall, evoking memories from my last time in this city, almost six years ago, and at the same time, working as a clear reminder that holidays have just begun.

Once a few queues are beaten whilst a mozarella panini is enjoyed, the air-conditioned bus takes us through a sea of heavy traffic and Vespas right into Termini, an enormous train station surrounded by countless convenience shops and small pasta restaurants.

Sweat runs through our foreheads whilst our bodies slightly get used to the warm and humid weather and whilst we try to check into what seems to be an old house which had a few rooms converted into dorms, hosted by a Chinese woman who would not speak English, or Italian, or anything other than Chinese!.
Body language, smiles and a translator software later, we are given the keys to our rooms to have some rest and refresh.

We are joined by two friends who had flown to Rome the day before and are also attending the wedding for an evening spent al fresco , indulging on some margherita pizzas, white house wine, cold beers and a conversation flow that helps the body in reducing the pace and stress of a long and busy summer season.
As the warm night continues and the flow of alcohol and pizzas prolongs, we decide to stay awake and continue chatting whilst we wait for the sun to rise over the Roman houses, time in which we take the first express train to Fiumicino Airport for another morning flight heading South to the city of Lamezia Terme, only a 55-minute flight away.

The plane sharply turns left over the blue waters of the Tyrrenian Sea, flying over empty beaches and vineyards and once it touches down, the following announcement is made:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Lamezia Terme Airport, where the local time is 10:00 in the morning and the temperature is 27 degrees Celsius’ ,prompting smiles which are almost automatically drawn on everyone’s faces.

We wait around the 1970s-style terminal building. A time to change into flip-flops and enjoy the precious sunshine just before our local friend introduces to more people attending the wedding and drive us through a series of motorways surrounded by round hills, splattered with small villages.

The difference in the landscape between our journey into the depths of Catanzaro and those journeys around the busy cities of Northern Italy is small yet noticeable.

It somehow looks matters in Southern Italy run at a slower pace. The villages around us look slightly dormant and some buildings look a bit outdated, yet, it looks like the perfect place for a small beach break. An idea that had lingered in the minds of the Italians for decades and only broken by the flood of low-cost airlines who made travelling ‘abroad’ more appealing afterwards.
A series of (mafia-built) tunnels mark the end of the hills and the start of a stunning windy road which circumvents a rosary beads-like series of small coastal towns and leads us to our last stop of today, the small village of Soverato.

The body aches for a taste of the beach and sea water which lays only a few meters away from our hotel rooms.
Only minutes later, we rush to the empty beach to relax in the comfortable sunbeds and bathe in the pristine warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea as our watches seems to slow down in time and the scorching sun gently burns our pale skins whilst breaking through clear blue skies.

We pick a small restaurant ran by a friendly Italian woman for our first lunch in the village, which only awakens our fascination for the famously known friendliness and gastronomic culture of this place as we enjoy fresh bruschettas, antipastis, seafood salads, biscuits, white wine, and limoncello, followed by a pleasant nap on the beach and a good espresso afterwards, summing up what a beach holiday should be about.

In the evening, as the group grows larger, eight of us venture up the streets of Soverato and guided by a local friend and a Tripadvisor review, we find a place to eat, concealed in a neighborhood of local houses and away of any possible tourist.

A table has been carefully dressed with yellow linen in the main courtyard of an old Mediterranean house, engulfed by the dimmed lights of lamps and the smell of food, sea breeze and wet ceramic tiles.
The ‘chef’ explains the menu in Italian with an enthusiasm that transcend language barriers for the amusement of all parties, and once a ‘taste of Calabria’ has been agreed, copious amounts of white wine and an overwhelming number of typical food dishes are brought to the table to the delight of everyone’s palate.
A dinner experience to remember, whilst stuffing our faces with pasta, freshly caught anchovies, perfectly cooked aubergines and probably about another ten or twelve dishes carefully served throughout the night and topped up by a combination of fresh fruit for dessert and different tastes of liquor to help with digestion.

A walk down the hill is much needed to digest the food and of course, our first experience involving the taste of Calabria.

In the morning, The scorching sunshine penetrates through the blinds of the heavily air conditioned hotel room in preparation for yet another warm day in Southern Italy.
With no time to waste and after a rich breakfast, the morning is spent laying on the beach, indulging on fresh fruit and reading Italian newspapers, whilst a small amount of locals bathe in the fresh blue waters of the Mediterranean and a rather lethargic day passes by as soon as the fishermen return from their daily catch.

The next few hours go by like some sort of ideal representation of a ‘Big Calabrian Wedding’, in which all guests get ready and are soon picked up by friendly loud local friends, driving away from the coastal heat and up the winding roads of the fresh and green Calabrian hills, just to discover a small church embedded in a closed U-shaped valley.

Local and international guests assembly just outside the thick walled church and, in a matter of minutes, the stunning bride interrupts the silence of the small church to the awe of everyone in the room, (and to the sensibility of the groom), followed by the Catholic wedding formalities, this time performed in an almost lyrical Italian language.

The short wedding finished just as a layer of light mist transforms the mountains into a mesh of rounded and vague silhouettes.
Rice is thrown to the newlyweds as a ritual, who leave the small valley in a beautiful emerald-coloured Volkswagen Beatle, followed by a chanting convoy of cars through the winding mountain roads.

Hollywood has taught us one or two things about Italian customs, leading me to imagine how an Italian wedding (particularly in the noisy South) would look like.
I perhaps imagined the fresh breeze of the Mediterranean mountain evening caressing my sunburned skin, whilst walking around stone-built pathways in an old religious complex or Roman building.

I imagined this lit by a set of tiki lamps leading down the hill, guiding our way through fresh drinks and lavish tables of succulent sea food, pasta, bread, cheese and wine which would be the envy of any wedding in Northern Europe.
I imagined that this would only be part of the appetisers, and a delicious main dinner served in an ample main courtyard and peculiarly organised in tables named after different types of pasta would follow.

I imagined sipping on a delicious white wine, which only accentuates the flavour of perfectly cooked pasta mixed with the freshest sea food you could imagine.

And of course, I look around and it is all there: my dear friends have just married and we are all celebrating and taking part of this moment surrounded by everything described above, one beautiful and warm September evening at the Borgo del Convento in Petrizzi.

Drunk speeches are made when the alcohol is heavily running through my veins, followed by a rich assortment of desserts which are served as soon as ‘Blue Da ba dee’ seem to work as a perfect excuse to dance, as does the Tarantella.

The long day meant that all guests leave almost at the same time to the different villages along the Calabrian coast. For us, it is also a time to rest the body and the stomach.

The remaining two days of the holiday in Southern Italy are spent horizontally on the beach, absorbing as much vitamin D as possible, and a routine only broken by walks within the village, in which picking the best sea food restaurant or finishing the largest personal pizza are the main matters, always followed by espressos, gelattos and naps.

Returning to Dublin proves to be a rather extenuating journey starting with a transfer up the ‘mafia tunnels’ to the train station at Lamezia Terme, followed by a long yet scenic train journey up the Tyrrenian Coast, conquering the rugged Amalfi coast and finally arriving into Rome Termini station for some serious leg stretching, a last succulent meal and a transfer to Ciampino Airport.

And as the Ryanair flight departs the small airport overflying the historic monuments of Rome and turns right heading North towards Dublin, the thoughts of a relaxed ‘beach holiday’ seem to blend with the memories of a movie-like wedding in a way that somehow compliments the body and soul, and for the first time in months, I finally feel relaxed.

We land in rainy Dublin shortly before midnight and, just as I step into my apartment, I close this trip with some biscuits and a chilled sip of limoncello, to the newlyweds!