The Grand Italian Journey: From the Alps to Sicily

There is a moment, somewhere between the third espresso and the fourth plate of pasta, when Italy ceases to be a destination and becomes a state of being. I found mine on a Wednesday afternoon in Orvieto, watching afternoon light pour through the rose window of the Duomo while a waiter argued passionately with a customer about the proper preparation of wild boar ragù. This, I realised, was why the Romantics invented the Italian Grand Tour — not merely to see antiquity, but to be transformed by the sheer intensity of Italian life.

Our modern Grand Italian Journey began where all Italian dreams must: in the north — though we collected our luxury campervan from a depot near Milan Malpensa, a gleaming Laika Ecovip with a fixed island bed, full kitchen, and the kind of bathroom that makes you wonder why anyone bothers with hotels. The handover took an hour: satellite navigation calibrated with Italian road quirks in mind, fresh water tank filled...