Art & Travel Inspiration: What Stayed With Me After Italy

Hey, hello there, friend!

Happy 2026! I’m finally back from my trip to Italy, and I didn’t return with souvenirs in my suitcase. I came back with something that stays long after you unpack: a deeper sense of where I belong.

This trip only happened because my family and I were supposed to bring my father’s ashes to his hometown in the south of Italy. Polignano a Mare, a place that has always lived in my heart. A few days after booking the flight, I was told his ashes wouldn’t be able to travel due to missing documentation. I had choices in that moment: get mad, cancel the trip, fight the timing. Instead, I surrendered.

Ever since my father’s passing, I’ve learned something quietly but deeply, it’s not my timeline, it’s God’s (Universe, Source, whatever resonates with YOU) timeline. If it wasn’t happening now, it would happen next year. I would be back. Some things don’t disappear just because they’re delayed. So I went anyway, and it was the best decision I could have made.

I was born and raised Brazilian, half Italian, and I’ve spent half of my life in the United States. Growing up between cultures, and moving countries, can sometimes make you feel like you don’t fully belong anywhere. Being there reminded me of the opposite. You belong here, too. My father was from this town, and we came to spend the holidays with the Italian side of my family. He transitioned in 2024, and since then I’ve already returned twice. Each return feels like a deeper conversation with where I come from. It doesn’t feel nostalgic or sentimental. It feels grounded, rooted, and filled with a sense of responsibility; to keep my roots alive and honor them through time, not just memory.

There’s something sacred about honoring where you come from. Every corner of this town strengthens that connection. Polignano has always had my heart, but now it holds it differently. Being there with my Italian family and reuniting with my Brazilian family filled my heart in ways words can’t fully capture. Laughter, long meals, familiar stories, new memories layered on top of old ones. Starting my year there felt like a gift. I’ll return to LA with a clear mind and fresh inspiration, but more than that, with deep gratitude. And yes, nobody calls me Drica there. It’s Adrianna. Ah-dree-AH-nah. And I love it.

After those days with family, I took a small solo journey. I love traveling alone, walking through neighborhoods, getting lost in history and beauty. Rome met me slowly. I entered museums, churches, and streets and realized I had never experienced the city this way before. Even when the first days were cold and rainy, I loved every minute of it. Late afternoons with family, long dinners, slow conversations. An enormous city that somehow feels like a small town.

I tried to sketch, but the cold and rain had other plans. So I stopped. I let go of creating and chose to fully receive. Beauty was everywhere. I walked nearly 20,000 steps a day, avoided long lines, skipped what I already knew, and followed intuition instead of itineraries. I let the tears come whenever my heart and mind were overwhelmed by how much beauty a place can hold. I still can’t distinguish what those tears are made of: beauty, remembrance, or something else entirely. Maybe not everything needs a name.

There was guilt in not producing, and permission in simply being, both at the same time. Art didn’t ask me to create. It asked me to witness. When I asked in my stories if anyone else cries when they see art, the responses poured in. What an incredible power art has, if we let it.

This trip reminded me of something simple and essential: never violate a hunch. I don’t know yet what all of this will become, but I feel it in my heart and in my hands. And that feels like enough for now.

See some amazing photos below:]

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear what stayed with you.

Color Your Life!

Drica