HATTIESBURG, MISS— After seven weeks overseas, I’m finally home. My time in Italy was a whirlwind of hospitality, history, and a heavy heart. Five groups of 25 people each joined me on tours across the island of Sicily and in the heart of Tuscany. These RSJ Yonderlust Tours aren’t just trips; they’re journeys through local culture, local cuisine, and local connections. Hosting tours has become one of the most fulfilling parts of my life, second only to running restaurants. Years ago, I called the travel side of my work a “second job,” but the lines have blurred. Now, hosting tours and running restaurants feel like two sides of the same coin—both bring me immense joy and purpose. It’s not a bad way to make a living.
In Italy, I love showing people the beauty of the landscapes, the richness of the food, the centuries worth of history, the world-renown architecture, and the warmth of the people. Seeing someone taste their first lunch in my friend, Dario Cecchini’s butcher shop in Panzano, or witnessing a Tuscan sunset fills my cup in a way few things can. Over the past eight years, I’ve introduced more than 1,300 people to my favorite European haunts. Each trip is unique, every guest brings something special to the group, and every moment deepens my appreciation for the experiences we share.
But no matter how breathtaking the views or how delicious the meals, there’s always a quiet, familiar call—something deep within me—that draws me home.
Mississippi.
What I miss most when I’m away is my family. My wife typically joins me on these adventures, but this year was different. With our daughter’s wedding just around the corner, she stayed home, knee-deep in planning mode. That made the time apart feel longer, and with the loss of my mother while I was over there it made the distance seem even farther.
I also miss my friends. Just before I left, I celebrated my 63rd birthday with a group of close friends. Some of them joined me on one of the tours. I’m definitely grateful for the new friendships I make while touring. The relationships made during these trips are part of what makes hosting so special.
There are small but significant comforts I long for, too. About three weeks into a trip, I usually start craving a stack of pancakes. No matter where I travel, nothing compares to breakfast at Table 19 at The Midtowner. The routine is comforting, and it keeps me grounded in my life back home.
And then there’s bacon—our bacon. Italians do many things extraordinarily well, but breakfast isn’t their strong suit. Their “bacon” is typically undercooked, not cured or smoked, and it’s just not the same. Over there, I miss the smoky, crispy, perfectly cooked bacon we make here.
When I return, my first meal back— after the customary stop at Popeye’s in the Atlanta airport— is usually Mexican food or sushi. Those are staples for me—something I eat weekly, sometimes more. Italian food is phenomenal, but by week four or five, I’m dreaming of tacos, enchiladas, and never bored tuna with those bold, spicy flavors that can’t quite be replicated in Europe.
The list here of things I miss while over there goes on—my office, where so many of our restaurant concepts were dreamed up and refined. It’s my sanctuary: the bakery, where our croissants never fail to amaze me; and, of course, my bed. No five-star hotel can compete with the comfort of home.
Still, leaving Italy isn’t easy. I leave behind amazing friends who have become like family over the past 13 years. Some have visited me here in Mississippi, and I love sharing my home with them just as they’ve shared theirs with me. I’ll miss my Italian birthday parties where the locals brings things they’ve made— cheese from the farm down the road, pastries from the bakery, wine from Paolo’s restaurant. I’ll miss the Italian bakery where I start my mornings, sitting at the same table every day (same as home) with a pastry and hot tea.
The scenery in Tuscany is breathtaking, with rolling hills, olive groves, and vineyards. It’s an agrarian society that feels oddly familiar—like the American South, but with grapes and olives instead of soybeans and cotton. The people there are warm, hospitable, and family-oriented. Sound familiar?
Hosting these tours allows me to share what I love about Italy with others, but more importantly, it reminds me of what I love about home. Mississippi will always be my heart. Hattiesburg, with its sense of community, its people, and my roots will always be the anchor.
For years, when I’d tell people I was off to work in Amsterdam, Rome, Barcelona, Venice, or wherever that trip was taking me, I’d usually get the same response. A raised eyebrow, a smirk, and a snarky, “Oh sure, you’re going to workin Tuscany.” The air quotes were always implied.
Then those friends started joining these tours. They saw the 12-hour days, the endless logistics, the constant energy required to make every moment seamless and impactful for the guests. They watched me work seven, sometimes ten days straight with barely a break. And they realized—this wasn’t just a vacation disguised as a job. It’s real work, exhausting at times, but deeply fulfilling and rewarding. I love it. And, if you must work, I can’t think of many better places than the hills of Tuscany or the historic streets of Edinburgh.
Still, the greatest blessing of all is coming home. For the past eight years I’ve been fortunate to spend part of my year overseas, immersed in cultures I love, sharing them with others. But no matter how breathtaking the landscapes or how rich the experiences, there’s something about Mississippi that tugs at me in a way no place ever will. Italy may have its rolling hills and the best olive oil and pizza on the planet, but Mississippi has my family, my friends, my people, and my roots. It has my heart. It always has, and it always will.
There’s truly no place like home.
Onward.
