Lush parks shaded by Roman pines and stately cypresses are familiar fixtures on the Italian landscape, but few of these retreats are as immaculately kept, as tranquil , and as simply lovely as the grounds of the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery in the seaside town of Nettuno, 38 miles south of Rome. Only birdsong and the sound of splashing fountains intrude on the contemplative silence of these 77 acres, where white crosses are arranged in gracefully curving rows to mark the graves of World War II service members who died in Allied landings and the fierce battles that led to the liberation of Italy.

There's a chance I might have mentioned the name "Monet" in my previous article. Yes, the painter who gave birth to Impressionism with his landmark painting, Impresssion, Sunrise. So, my enthusiasm was heightened upon the riverboat AmaLyra's arrival to the small rural town of Giverny. Resting on the right bank of the river Seine, it is best known as the location of Claude Monet's home and gardens. Many of his most famous canvases were painted during his 43 years in Giverny: Clos Normand, where its archways are entwined around colorful shrubs, and his waterlilies garden with its Japanese bridge.

The clarity of the air was intoxicating as I stood on the deck of the AmaLyra in La Havre, France. With small boats in the harbor, I realized it was the same location where Claude Monet created his monumental landmark painting, Impression, Sunrise, which gave birth to the art movement known as Impressionism. Devoid of pictorial realism, it was from his own personal perspective – not from yours or mine – achieved by a series of short impasto brushstrokes and the use of subdued blue-grayish colors, which contrasted with the warmth of the orange sun.

Bologna, the capital city of the Emilia-Romagna region of central Italy, had, until recently, three unique sides to its personality: La Dotta (The Learned), because the oldest university (1088) in the western world was founded here; La Rossa (The Red), because of the terracotta-colored roofs, and, to a lesser degree, its penchant for left-leaning politics; and, La Grassa (The Fat), because of all of the great, original cuisine found within its postal code, like ragù, lasagne, mortadella and Pignoletto wine.

When my 15-year-old granddaughter, Talya, asked me what my favorite destination was, I had to take a minute. After 35 years as a travel writer, my usual answer to that question is wherever I’ve been last, but I felt she deserved more than my usual flippant reply.

As a result, the majority of Trieste residents these days are native Italian speakers, but in a place where Italian, Germanic and Slavic influence and language all bleed into each other. The geographic borders make no sense to anyone. You meet Italian nationals with Germanic surnames and vice-versa. You meet Slavs whose mother tongue is Italian.

In the southeastern reaches of the Bel Paese, where the Adriatic and Ionian seas embrace, lies the country’s breadbasket, Puglia. The pace is relaxed, life takes a breather and family and friends regularly gather around la tavola. Its heart and soul are nourished by la cucina povera (kitchen of the poor), the quintessential Mediterranean diet, which comes straight out of the zero-kilometer, terracotta-colored soil and the nearby bluest-of-blue seas and right onto your plate and into your glass.

“Restaurant” is a derivative of the Latin word “restore.” Inns were once places where travelers could have a simple meal, then hit the road for a continuation of their journey. Today, with the arrival of modern-day tourism, travelers often visit destinations for history, cultural and gastronomic components. Yes, food is the spice of life, and we asked our members to list their favorite state destinations for pleasures of the palate. It's fun for our readers to see another side of our writers, who have been delivering original content not found anywhere else on the globe.

"With guys like Elvis, Jerry Lee, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, Charlie Rich … and you know, we didn't really know what we were doing. But we knew there was something in the music … that the kids were getting up and knocking dust out of them old gymnasium floors." ----Carl Perkins

For centuries, artists and aristocrats, divas and dictators, poets and politicos, why even James Bond himself, have fallen under the spell of alpine breezes, the scent of lemon blossoms and the mesmerizing shades-of-blue of Italy's largest lake, Lago di Garda. Straddling three distinct regions: Veneto, Lombardy and Trentino-Alto Adige, this ladle-shaped body of water beckons travelers to experience the Italian dolce far niente (the sweetness of doing nothing).