An Italian Affair: Kunal’s Family Tale Told Through Little Moments

There’s a moment on every trip where you pause and think, this is why we came here. For us, that moment didn’t happen in a grand cathedral or a picturesque vineyard but in the backseat of a cab in Rome.
My wife was flipping through the day’s photos on her phone, our daughter was asleep with a gelato-sticky face, and I was watching the city lights blur past, wondering how a simple family trip could feel so much like a storybook.
But this wasn’t just a vacation; it was an experiment of sorts. Three people with different rhythms- one endlessly curious child, one planner extraordinaire, and one (me) who just wanted a break from screens and deadlines. Italy was the stage, and our journey was the play.
Ancient Secrets, Modern Laughter

The Eternal City greeted us with rain- not the romantic kind, but the “let’s figure out how to hold an umbrella, a map, and a hyper child” kind. Still, Rome didn’t care about our fumbling. It stood tall, wearing its scars proudly, and dared us to explore its depths.
The Colosseum was our first stop, and it felt less like a ruin and more like an open-air time machine. Our daughter asked, “Did gladiators have to fight dinosaurs too?” and I made a mental note to revisit history lessons at some point. The Roman Forum, with its sunken ruins and whispering columns, felt like walking through a storybook where every stone had a secret to tell.
The Trevi Fountain, however, was a completely different energy. People buzzed around it, coins flying over their shoulders as though they were casting spells. Our daughter insisted we each make a wish, though she wouldn’t reveal hers (probably something involving ice cream). The three of us tossed coins, laughed at our own clichés, and promised to come back someday, just as the legend demands.

The charm of Rome, though, lay beyond its landmarks. It was in the small trattoria where we shared a pizza too big for one table. It was the street performer who played the accordion so beautifully, my wife gave him a few extra euros. It was even in the argument we had over whose fault it was we got on the wrong bus- because even that, somehow, felt amusing in hindsight.
The Land That Stands Still
If Rome was chaotic and alive, Tuscany was like a pressing pause on the world. Florence, with its terracotta rooftops and cobblestone streets, was a love letter to art and beauty. But the soul of Tuscany was out in the countryside, where time seemed to slow down and stretch out like a lazy cat in the sun.
One of our favourite moments happened in a vineyard near Siena. While adults swirled wine glasses and whispered about tannins, our daughter was given a colouring book and tasked with drawing what she saw. Her rendition of the rolling hills and cypress trees was… interpretive, but she was thrilled when the winemaker himself clapped for her masterpiece.

Then there was San Gimignano, with its medieval towers reaching for the sky. We tried the gelato that had apparently won the world’s best title and decided it was the one title that absolutely wasn’t up for debate. The three of us sat on a bench, licking our cones as the sun set over the Tuscan hills. “This is a good life,” my wife said, and I couldn’t have agreed more.
Monteriggioni, with its ancient walls and quiet charm, felt like we had stepped into a fairytale. We wandered its narrow lanes, stopping to pick wildflowers while my wife struck up a conversation with a local artisan selling handmade pottery. She bought a small bowl, saying, “This will remind us to slow down,” which somehow felt very Tuscan of her.
Venice and Beyond

If I had to describe Venice in one word, it would be surreal. There’s something otherworldly about a city floating on water, where gondolas glide through canals and bridges crisscross like veins in a body.
The gondola ride was as dreamy as everyone says, though our daughter was more interested in spotting ducks than soaking in the romance of it all. At one point, the gondolier serenaded us, and she joined in with her own made-up Italian-sounding gibberish. It was both ridiculous and perfect.
Murano and Burano were a welcome break from Venice’s crowded streets. In Murano, we watched a glassblower transform molten glass into a delicate vase, and I’ll admit I was just as fascinated as our daughter. Burano, with its colourful houses, felt like stepping into a postcard. My wife bought a lace scarf from an old woman who spoke no English but smiled with her entire face.

By the time we reached Milan, we were running on fumes, but the city wouldn’t let us rest. The Duomo was magnificent, the kind of place that makes you feel small in the best way. But the real highlight was Lake Como, where we spent our final day.
The boat ride was a quiet, reflective moment for all of us. The Alps loomed in the background, the lake shimmered like a dream, and my wife and I sat hand in hand, watching our daughter play with a pebble she’d found on the shore. It wasn’t just a picture-perfect moment; it was the kind you wish you could bottle up and carry with you forever.
The Heart of It All
Looking back, this trip wasn’t about how many landmarks we saw or how many photos we took (though there were a lot). It was about the little moments- the laughter over messy gelato, the awe in our daughter’s eyes when she saw her first gondola, the quiet walks in the Tuscan countryside.
Italy, for us, wasn’t just a place; it was a reminder. A reminder to slow down, to savour, and to see the world not just through our eyes but through our daughter’s boundless curiosity.
As we boarded the plane back to Helsinki, she looked out the window and said, “Do you think Italy misses us already?” And maybe it did. Because we certainly missed it the moment we left.

Thank you, Thrillophilia, for weaving the threads of this journey together. It wasn’t just a trip- it was a memory, a story, and a love affair with a country that feels like it was made for moments like these.
Read more: Thrillophilia Italy Reviews