The phrase ciao, bella seems to be falling off of every Italian’s lips from the second you land at the airport until you wistfully, and tearfully, say goodbye. I guess it started as an innocent way to pick up pretty girls, but it has since become a national greeting—usually bringing a wink, a smile, or both, to the face of the speaker.

So, when you hear your first “ciao, bella,” consider it your formal introduction to Italian hospitality. (And no, that's not “hospitaliano” in Italian.)

The first time I landed in Italy I was barely 18, didn’t speak a lick of Italian and hadn’t seen the family I was visiting since I was in second grade.

It was a good thing my cousin had a sign with my name, or I wouldn’t have known who she was. After landing at Venice’s Marco Polo Airport, I picked up my bag, and hopped into her car.

Thirty minutes later, we were in Conegliano, one of the most beautiful towns I’d ever seen. It’s sort of a ‘blink and you miss it’ type of town, and something tells me the people who live there like it that way. With its idyllic castle, winding river and charming cobblestone streets full of wine bars and pizzerias, I also imagine most never want to leave.

I stayed with my cousin’s family for more than a month—learning to cook, make Prosecco, and speak Italian. Some days I stayed around the house, and helped my Grandfather’s cousin, Guiseppe, work in the garden. Other days, I woke early and scrambled to the train station, using my Italian Eurorail pass to explore somewhere, anywhere, the next train would take me.

“Ciao, bella” became an important part of my daily life during the time I was with my Italian family. Every morning, when I skipped down the stairs, my sweet, dear Guiseppe was waiting. “Ciao, bella!” he would shout as he peeled red tinfoil off a yogurt container, handing it to me before going outside.

If I walked out into the backyard to help, I got another “ciao, bella”. In those early days, I didn’t know if he was saying hello, goodbye, or if he just couldn’t say anything else. But, I loved it. It always felt like home.

My favorite mornings of all were the ones when I’d catch the train.Guiseppe would be waiting, his predictable greeting floating through the air the moment he heard me, before we even laid eyes on each other. It was nearly a mile walk to the train station, and every morning, he rode his bike along side me as I walked to make sure I didn’t get lost. We’d practice my verbs, review what to say if I got lost, and then he’d quickly kiss me on the cheek as I got to the train station. He always smelled so strongly of espresso, I didn’t need my own cup to wake me up. Before leaving, the words “ciao, bella” dripped off of his lips again, as he was turning his bike around.

At first, I thought this was just something Guiseppe did—an endearing little quirk of his own. But, I started noticing it happening more and more. The pizza guy in Padua said it as he returned my change. In Verona, the bus driver I asked for directions warmly called after me as I left the bus. They were the very first words from the very first Italian boy I kissed, as he wandered over to say hello at the Spanish Steps in Rome.

The thing about Italians is whenever you talk to them, they make you feel like they’re letting you in on a secret. It’s as if with the wink of an eye, they can find a way to bring Italy into your soul. Suddenly, a tornado of romance, antiquity and a true sense of permanence invade your mind, and finally, you will see the magic of Italy.

Of course, the food is amazing and the wine is to die for. But Italy has that little something extra.It is as if the entire history of the world is perfectly blended together—shoes from the newest Dolce & Gabbana line walking down roads with dirt so old, the Gladiators probably walked on it. Italy has a dirty, gritty love of life floating through the air.I’ve always thought that with that much history around, Italians just know how special life is and they seize every moment.

The other thing about Italians, though, is that, they’re not very good at keeping secrets. Italians are so proud of their country they want everyone to know why.According to them there’s a little bit of Italian passion in everyone.They want everyone to know the feeling of swooning with delight over a good ravioli, or savoring a bottle of beautiful Brunello for hours. So, when an Italian cheerfully yells “ciao, bella” as you wander past, know that this little greeting is an invitation to their world.Stop a minute and let them show you their culture— the most beautiful fountain in Rome, how to make tiramisu, or how to ride a Vespa.

“Ciao, bella” means a lot of things. Of course, it means hello and goodbye, but it also means “I’ll suggest a good restaurant,” “I’ll tell you the story of the Pantheon,” or “I’ll take you to the best vineyard, in the tiniest Tuscan town.”

So get on out there and find the Italian in you. And, ciao, bella! ■

____________________________________________________________

Heather Rascona is a Galavanting contributor. She is lives in Virginia with her husband Nick and adorable dog Roxie. She works as an attorney for Legal Services of Northern Virginia. Heather has lived abroad with her Italian family and learned to make wine and other delicious things. She keeps a cooking blog called Diary of a Fanatic Foodie.