Last month I drafted an entire post about a trip to Malta and Italy I’d planned to take this October. As luck would have it, I got sick and couldn’t bounce back in time, so I had to cancel. Thankfully, the travel insurance I layered in did its job—I was able to recoup most of the prepaid expenses.
So what does one do when a trip gets canceled because of a nasty asthma exacerbation? Plan another one of course. A better one.
Ironically, the idea for this new trip came together during the recovery from yet another drawn-out exacerbation. I’ve learned that I’m at my most productive—and creatively reckless—when strung out on high-dose prednisone. Remember that time I bought a new car while in the ICU? Yeah, so this tracks.
This time, I’ll be traversing Italy from south to north and looping back again. Flying down to Sicily then taking the train all the way up to Desenzano, followed by a ferry to Riva del Garda at the northern tip of lake Garda . Palermo kicks the first few days off with an overnight stay in Santo Stefano Quisquina—the small, rural town where my grandparents were born followed by a visit with a friend who lives in the seaside town of Cefalù. I’m not going to Santo Stefano for the sights. I just want to walk the same streets my relatives did, see what’s still there, and get a sense of the place for myself. It’s more like a check-in—with the past, with the place, with whatever’s still left.
Cefalù, on the other hand, is all about the coast. It’s a beach town, and I’m looking forward to the views, the pace, and catching up with someone who knows it well.
The northern leg is for contrast, not just in geography, but in feeling. I want to experience the shift from Palermo’s gritty, lived-in street scenes and the raw beauty of Sicily’s coastline to the serenity and visual sweep of Lake Garda. It was a photo I saw—taken near Riva del Garda, at one of those famous lookout spots on the lake—that made me realize I needed to see it for myself. There’s something about being surrounded by that kind of scenery that’s magical and quiets everything else. I also love Lake Garda’s proximity to bordering countries like Switzerland, Austria, and Slovenia—all within 120 miles or less, should I get the itch for a side trip. Venice is less than two hours away as well.
When planning and visualizing this trip in my head, I knew I didn’t want to double back the same way I came. So I decided that even though I arrive and depart the country via Milan, my trip really begins in Palermo—about 561 miles away as the crow flies. I chose Milan as my entry point for two reasons: I’ve never flown into that airport before, and I like to experience something new on every trip—even the airports.
And speaking of airports—before heading south to Palermo, I’ll be staying at a nearby B&B just outside Milan Malpensa. It’s a quiet, no-frills spot close enough to avoid shuttle chaos, and it gives me a private space to clean up and rest before my early morning flight. I originally considered one of those capsule pods inside the terminal, but opted for something with more breathing room.
Before heading south to Palermo, I’ll be arriving late into Milan Malpensa. Rather than staying inside the terminal, I’ve booked a nearby B&B for the night. It’s close enough to avoid shuttle chaos, and gives me a quiet space to clean up, rest, and reset before the early morning flight. It’s a small comfort, but one that makes the whole itinerary feel more doable.
Landing in Milan was also significantly cheaper than flying into Palermo or Rome, even with the $60 commuter flight to the south.
From Sicily I head north by train, watching the scenery shift with each region and experiencing the only train ferry in the world. I’ll board in Cefalù and ride about 7.5 hours to Salerno. After an overnight there, chosen for its calmer pace compared to Rome, I’ll keep things simple. It’s mostly a rest stop, but if the air feels good and the timing’s right, I might wander a bit.
The following morning, I switch to a first-class seat on a high-speed train to Milan (about 5 hours and 20 minutes), then transfer to a regional train to Lake Garda, which takes just under an hour. From there, it’s a two-hour ferry ride to Riva del Garda. So a full day.
What also makes this trip different from previous ones is that, for the first time, I’ll be traveling as an Italian citizen. I’ll still be using my U.S. passport and staying just a couple of weeks, but knowing I could stay longer if I wanted to? That’s quietly satisfying. It’s also the first time I’m not doing a planned walking event like a marathon or pilgrimage. This time, it’s about the places and the people—not the miles.
Well, that’s the plan. I can’t really expand much more on what I’ll be doing day to day until I get there, but this is the basic framework I’ve put together to make it doable—given my health challenges and total reliance on public transport. Every stage of this trip was planned with those realities in mind. All accommodations and transport are booked.
You might say I learned a lot about minimalist packing when I trekked the Via Francigena last year. That experience taught me how to strip things down to the essentials—something I’ve leaned into even more for this trip. With only a small carry-on and personal item allowed, everything I bring will be on my back or in my hands. No roller bags this time, which is actually a win since they’re a nightmare on trains. Clothing will be minimal. The real challenge is fitting the medical essentials: two compact mesh nebulizers, at least 45 albuterol nebules, and the rest of my inhalers and meds. It’s a tight squeeze, but I’ve done the math and the layout. Everything fits—barely. And that’s the point. This trip was built around what’s doable, not just what’s desirable.
So that’s the plan. The routes are mapped, the tickets are booked, and the logistics are tight enough to make it work—but not so tight that I can’t veer off if something interesting comes up. Now it’s just a matter of staying healthy long enough to make it to the gate. With severe lung disease, that’s never a given. If it happens, it’ll be because the timing lined up and the lungs cooperated. And if it doesn’t? Well, I’ve already got the next version sketched out.
