Call it vanity, but I try to never run out of the house without looking presentable. But I’m here in Seattle on a three-month assignment for my company, living in a lovely downtown high-rise furnished apartment. I love my work, but I work HARD—and so I slept in yesterday morning, not rising until nearly 1 p.m. I needed some maple syrup to go with my breakfast—so I tossed on huge wrap-around sunglasses, skinny black jeans, and the navy “Italia” zip-front jacket I picked up during a 2008 cruise stop in Sicily to literally run to the drugstore.  And since folks in the Northwest are HARDLY known for their high style, I figured I’d fit right in. No danger of running into anyone I knew—or so I thought.

As I rounded the corner, who did I see standing outside Barolo, the FAB ristorante in my building, but a group of elegantly dressed native Italians. As soon as they spotted my “Italia” jacket, they threw open their arms. “Buon giorno, buon giorno!” I greeted the group, and once they discovered I spoke Italian (however limited), they eagerly engaged me in conversation. The men were thrilled to see the Sicilian flag embroidered on the side of my jacket because many of them were from this gorgeous island. It was like Old Home Week! They were gathered at Barolo for the wedding reception of this FINE Italian guy, and were waiting for him and his new bride to arrive. Turned out one man in the group is the manager of my favorite Seattle pizzeria and someone who constantly flirts with me.

“Give her a glass of champagne! Come in and join us,” one of the young gorgeous dark-haired ragazzi said. So here I am, messed-up hair, no makeup, and I’m being invited inside the restaurant to join this super-well-dressed group. I felt like I was having one of those dreams/nightmares when you find yourself naked—or otherwise inappropriately garbed—in a crowd. But despite my shame, THIS is what I love about Italians—and what I miss most about being in Italy.  You’re never a stranger. And no matter how crazy I looked, these warm southern Italians literally embraced me and welcomed me in like a long-lost cousin.

While it sure would be nice to be spending June in Sicily, Seattle sure felt a lot more like home after this serendipitous encounter. Nothing like traveling to Italy on a Saturday afternoon by way of the Pacific Northwest. Viva Italia!

As someone who’s totally passionate about international travel (and whose often-depleted bank account proves just how much), I want to share that gospel with others. After all, the reason I started this blog was to encourage African-American sisters to venture out far beyond the United States borders and experience the world. There’s far too much of it to see—and we are far too fabulous—to stick close to home just because we don’t know what we’ll find once we get out there.

I write about this in much detail on the brand-new Jet Magazine Web site. Take a look at my piece on African-Americans going global and a somewhat tongue-in-cheek piece on five myths that often keep us from traveling abroad. And check out some interesting statistics about black folks, the money we spend on travel, and where we go once we book those overseas flights.

So let’s grab those passports (or apply for one if you don’t yet have one of these treasures) and GO!