I was born in Sorrento, an ancient city nestled between the sea and the hills.

My father loved the sea, and in the summer he would take us out on our little boat along the coast. We’d sail to Capri, where he’d tell me stories about Tiberius and the ancient Romans. At Punta Campanella, he’d recount the myth of Minerva; in Crapolla, the story of Saint Peter. That’s how I grew up—my fairy tales weren’t Cinderella or Snow White, but myths of gods, heroes, and ancient peoples. My childhood was filled with history and beauty, which I was lucky to be surrounded by. That love has stayed with me—sometimes as the only constant.

After letting go of my dream of becoming an engineer, I chose instead to do what had always made me happiest: traveling, reading, studying, and connecting with people.

My homeland is a welcoming one—it knows how to embrace and care for its visitors.

That’s how southern Italians are: they come from the Greeks, for whom hospitality was sacred.

I learned to speak English and Spanish by chatting with people during my years working as a travel rep for a Roman agency.

Eventually, I made a decision: I moved to Florence to study art, history, and architecture, and I earned my tour guide license.

Florence is magnificent—but the land of the Sirens was calling me home with its enchanting song.