Make the most of your precious commodity: your free time.

Italian Fix is a
travel company
where clients are friends,
and the world is
full of beauty
and opportunity.


So you can travel more.
So you can chillax.
And receive.
Say that word out loud.


  • Italy is your happy place.
  • Laughter is the best soundtrack.
  • The 9-5 grind needs a
    pause button.
  • Memories will always be
    cooler than stuff.
  • You’re looking for more.
    That’s a good thing.
  • Someone should take care
    of YOU, for a change.
  • The best Italian experiences
    are nuanced.
    And artful.
  • There’s a place for you …
    in more places …
    than you currently know.
  • You’ve always wanted
    to live a life that
    includes the phrase,
    “I’m going to Italy.”
  • Sunsets can replace
    vitamins and regimens
    and 3-hour lunches
    are therapeutic.
  • Traveling just to
    “see the sights”
    is boring.
    We travel to feel good.
    And go home energized.


We know it takes
courage to say yes.

You are happy being

You are busy and you just
want the good stuff.

Welcome to the club.
Our pillows are fluffy.

Feeling free and alive
is you M.O.


Authentic and inspiring.
We show you Italy from
the inside out.


The ultimate guide for your upcoming trip to Italy. Packed with value.



  • Mother
  • Wife
  • Traveler
  • Rule Breaker
  • Bosslady
  • Tea drinker


I get asked a lot, how did you get your job?
Well, I didn’t get it. I made it. I think that time is our most precious commodity. And I want to spend my time doing something I love, and help others do something they love too. The truth is, I believe a rich life comes not from the things you have, but the things you do; the experiences you create and the people you meet along the way. That’s why I own a travel company. That’s why I pour my heart into this.


Of course it was an intense transcontinental love affair.
What else makes a woman do irrational things?

Here’s the backstory: I went to Florence on a summer study scholarship at an international school. It was a decade ago.
It was my first time in Italy. Florence was epic. Moving. I loved every minute. I realized pretty quickly that the school wasn’t exactly the heartbeat of higher learning.
There wasn’t a lot of verb conjugation going down. Our “study groups” toured Florentine nightlife, not libraries.
We started saying self-indulgent things like, “The real way to learn Italian is on the street, not in a classroom.” Yeah, I know, nice excuse right?

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The week before I was “supposed” to be leaving Italy, my pretty Irish friend suggested we spend the weekend in the Cinque Terre. She told me it was “the most romantic place on earth.”
That was a dangerous truth.
I met Alessandro within hours of arrival. He was with his friend and I was with mine. We met on the patio of the local hangout. It was a rickety wooden affair that looked over the tiny harbor dotted with boats and people who gather for the summer ritual of chatting and star-gazing. Oh, and chain-smoking, ’cause of course we’re in Italy.
The odds were stacked against us. I mean, something was gonna happen. It was just too pretty not to.
As first meeting go, it was comedy. His English was bad. My Italian was worse. But we didn’t care. We just went with it.
That night, Alessandro suggested the four us go swimming. It was dark but the sky was a snowglobe of stars. We agreed. The next day he suggested we go boating. We said yes. Then it was dinner. Can you see a pattern here?
I was only planning to be in the Cinque Terre for the weekend, right?

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My flight was scheduled to leave Rome the next day, so I packed my bags, returned my room key and went out for the final hurrah: a dinner with Alessandro near the train station. I was taking the midnight train to Rome to catch my flight the next morning. My backpack was packed and leaning against the wall but it stared at me the entire meal.
I never took that midnight train. I just couldn’t.
So I stayed longer — just another week.
When I eventually took that train to catch my flight home, it was one of those “It’s been amazing…but have a nice life”-type conversations. I mean, I was Canadian, he was Italian, and it was just too complicated.
When I said goodbye I thought I’d never see him again. But I guess life had better plans.
When I got home the phone started ringing. It was an Italian number. It was Alessandro. “Bianca, I think you should come back to Italy.” Me: “No, I really can’t. I’m a student. I’m broke. I can’t pull it off.” This went on for weeks. One day I got a call that said, “I’m sending you a ticket. Come to Italy to see me over Christmas.”

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Of course I said yes. And I thought a man who knew what he wanted was kinda totally sexy.
A semester later, after I graduated with my BFA, I ended up moving to Italy to live with Alessandro (our Christmastime meeting was obviously very successful). I stuffed my most precious belongings–my thrift-store clothes, my sewing machine, and a stack of fabric–into two green 1970s tweed suitcases.
I went to Italy. I immediately freaked out ’cause I had to get a job and learn the language. But I managed both.
I married Alessandro that year–we ran off to city hall to seal the deal and followed it up with dinner at mamma’s house. It was the most un-fancy wedding in Italy. No photographer. No dress. No new shoes. My wedding budget consisted of one euro, the price of a sprig of baby’s breath that I poked behind my ear. There we were at city hall for an Italian civil service like two kids. Two kids running into their life without the brakes on.
I lived on his home turf for two years in a city called La Spezia. It’s in the northern seaside province of Liguria–just on the border of the Cinque Terre and just a skip from the Tuscan line.

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It was kinda hard. And kinda really awesome. People who’ve lived abroad know what that means.
A few years later we eventually moved to Vancouver Island in Canada (which is my turf). We wanted to buy a home and have a baby. So we did. In that order. It’s been an adventure in a totally different way. Our daughter is named Flora and she is sunshine bursting from a halo of red curls and laughter.
The best damn thing about my time in Italy was the opportunity to learn the language, make amazing friends and see beautiful places that I would’ve never seen on my own.
Living in Italy with an Italian husband and Italian friends was really different than being on my own in Florence.
I learned things. Nuanced things. Like how to eat like an Italian (it’s leisurely), work like an Italian (three-hour breaks), the daily rhythm of an Italian (complain about the government), drive like an Italian (pedal to the metal), and live like an Italian (which means too many things to list here).
Italy isn’t a postcard even if it looks like a postcard. It’s so much more. I think it’s the absolute best place to visit in the world.

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I think Italy is a place to fall in love–with yourself.

It’s a place of big inspiration and big fun. And we don’t make enough time in our lives for those two things.

We’re too busy.

And it’s turning us into unhappy stress bags.

I’m hoping to change that.

Which is why every year I take people to Italy with me to meet my places and people.

Our mission: to deliver you the most epic week of your life. Like wedding-epic and the birth-of-your-babyepic, but without the stress and the stretch marks.

Does a week in Italy with my friends and I sound interesting?

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Why travel with us

The Bianca Benefits

i speak italian
Which means you’ll never struggle with directions, or the menu, or
with anything! Don’t let not knowing the language keep you from a
true Italian experience.

my connections
In Italy, connections are everything.
It’s not what you know, it’s who
you know. I’ve nurtured amazing
relationships with locals over the
years; you’ll meet them because
we’re friends. You’ll also get top-
notch food, service and smiles
because you’re with me.

my italian family
My husband is Italian. My sister and brother-in-law live ten
minutes away. I have roots and own a home in the region. I
leverage my family network
to deliver you value and safety.

ten years
A decade of living, working and
traveling in this region means I have backstage pass here. Now you do too. You’re not just an outsider
visiting Italy –now you’re an insider.

heart-centered service
You’re not a reservation number:
you’re an honored guest. No matter
what time of day or night (even 3am),
you can count on me. I’ve built this
business from nothing to sold-
out-in-hours tours because I
truly care about people.

fierce love
I’ve got your back. I protect my people, serve my people and
love my people. You travel with a unicorn powered forcefield of Fierce Love around you. Nobody effs with Fierce Love.

the friend factor
Ever dreamt about jet-setting
with a stylish well-traveled friend who knows the best food, cocktails and shopping in a drop-dead
gorgeous place? A friend who’s
positive, uplifting and makes
you laugh but who’s also super grounded and drama free.
That’s me.

gold standard
You know what sucks rocks?
Subpar food, lackluster service
and treating tourists like dollar
signs. There are tons of tourist
traps in Italy and you need to know
how to avoid rip-offs (on hotels,
meals, taxis and events). We don’t
touch dud businesses with a
ten foot pole.

best of both
I really “get” you. I know what you want to see, do and experience
in Italy because I was once a
vacationer too. But now – I get the nuances and navigate like a local. This unique perspective gives you a “best of both worlds”