Before smartphones and translation apps, a phrase book and disposable cameras taught me everything I needed to know about being somewhere.

”You’re the last people to travel from Rome to L’Aquila by train in the 20th century,” my cousin Giannino announced with a grin. “You’ll be famous.” With smiles as big as their hearts, he and three great-uncles stood outside L’Aquila’s modest railway station. They pulled us close, delivering massive hugs and kisses on each side of our cheeks.