tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5024617726604387382024-03-13T08:33:34.523+01:00Un Altro CappuccinoLiving la vita dolce in Italylaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-51566535713247238692012-02-07T19:30:00.001+01:002012-02-07T19:32:26.956+01:00Una Tartaruga (A turtle)<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Even a turtle doesn’t get anywhere unless he sticks his neck out”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">About a year ago we received the news that we would indeed be returning to the States in July. Though this was expected, it wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. We weren't just on vacation, we had a <i>life</i> in Italy. And a wonderful life at that. We had learned a better way to live and were so so happy. It seemed unimaginable at that point to return to the rush of America, to trudge through Walmart, to trade typical long four course meals for restaurants trying to turn tables, to trade outdoor markets for the strip malls of suburbia. I was worried we would lose it all and go back to the way things were. So together with my husband, I thought of a plan. A way to bring some of the life back with us. A way to remember the slow pace, the gathering of friends… a way to remember how to spend days in “a wonderful waste of time”. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In March 2011, I started building company to bring the best of Europe to America. The goal was a perfectly curated shop of European gifts and home décor with a focus on quality, authentic merchandise. I spent a year learning the ins and outs of import/ export regulations (not fun), months building relationships with my favorite Italian vendors (more fun), and each day gathering lists and lists of those quintessential items that bring to mind life in Europe (this is where I thrive). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We found ourselves in places we never thought we would be and establishing relationships with people we would have never met otherwise. The meetings with the owners of the hand loomed cashmere company were always incredible. This beautiful couple from Milan and were the most stylish people I have ever met. He wore super tight blue velvet suits that looked incredible and she was never seen without five inch heels. In the true Italian way, we always had coffee before talking business. The drives to Bologna to find the Fed Ex that would ship to the United States were less fun and communicating in Italian about duties for the exports was harrowing but still memorable. I’ll never forget the day the scarves were photographed. It was June and at least 90 degrees and we had mannequins dressed in sweaters and scarves on the side of a country Italian road. People stopped their cars and turned around to ask what was happening.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I must tell you, in so many ways the plan has worked. Of course we have moved on and are embracing life here. We don’t live in the past. However, at the same time I have a DAILY reminder of the life we had and I absolutely love having a way to share it. Writing the product descriptions is enjoyable as it brings to mind so many memories. There is a story or a reason behind every item on the website. I also adore staying in contact with my vendors in Italy (and having a reason to keep up my Italian), from the amazing photographer whose gorgeous photos fill the website to my source for Italian leather bags.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I named the company Via Montebello which was the street we lived on in Ferrara, Italy. The logo is inspired by the street sign. The online shop is filled with all things beautiful from Europe. In fact all of the merchandise has lived the European scene for a portion of its life. We do not sell reproductions. From the softest hand loomed cashmere to hand painted ceramics, all items are in limited quantities. Some are the only one of its kind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With the founding of Via Montebello, I am definitely sticking my neck out there, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? So far it is working out to be un bello venture.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Check it out if you wish… <a href="http://www.viamontebello.com/">www.viamontebello.com</a></span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkzLMFzVPdcMDowr-LmBq577U46eREr8CgC4ymYzVEzVOTBlElUxzt1dIy0u4eytCh7uAymKkhikqaoVsOK-sEJ1vq9zKKDfJcG7Oh2_HBcIfFZL4yOrderKEsG3jfu-iG3mlka3_mHc/s1600/Via_Montibello_4c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkzLMFzVPdcMDowr-LmBq577U46eREr8CgC4ymYzVEzVOTBlElUxzt1dIy0u4eytCh7uAymKkhikqaoVsOK-sEJ1vq9zKKDfJcG7Oh2_HBcIfFZL4yOrderKEsG3jfu-iG3mlka3_mHc/s400/Via_Montibello_4c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-43626104187980274122011-11-04T17:23:00.001+01:002011-11-04T17:44:48.939+01:00Arrivederci.We left Italy in July and it has taken me this long to write a farewell blog. It seemed impossible to sum up two amazing years in a few words…<br />
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We appreciated the opportunity of life abroad while we were there. We truly did. However, looking back, the life we lived was absolutely positively unbelievably amazing. We lived in a 500 year old Italian palazzo (palace) that was broken up into a few apartments after the war. It was still owned by the same family that bought it 300 years ago (and who still lives in one half of the building) so the integrity of the building was preserved. The rooms were the same as they were 500 years ago, with the only new rooms being the bathrooms. We slept under a 300 year old fresco, we walked on gorgeous original herringbone wood floors, our children played in a private Italian garden that was so beautiful it was visited by elite international garden tours. The house was full of history… even the strange door I hated for 2 years because it looked like a wall, turned out to be that way because it was the door the servants once used to enter a room unnoticed. I realize now, this is a part of Italy most tourists will never see and yet we actually lived there.<br />
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We traveled to countless cities in many, many countries and were not rushed in our travels. We were able to truly experience the culture in each place, sipping wine at sidewalk cafés with the locals, not rushing from one tourist attraction to the next. <br />
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We were forced to assimilate to the culture of our city where very few people spoke English, and everything was different. From the times people ate (dinner at 8, lunch never before 12:30), to buying the basic things we needed to survive. I will never forget our first trip to the big grocery store. Everything was so different, we were there over two hours and came home with little more than wine. We didn’t know how to buy whole milk for our one year old and 2% for us. Even the dish soap was baffling. Yet, at the end of our two years, we could successfully make it though cocktail parties in Italian (Not a dinner party, but we could small talk through aperitivo.) We were on a first name basis with the neighborhood grocer, the pizzeria, the guy who owned the bicycle shop, and the sidewalk café. Oh how I miss morning cappuccino and evening aperitivo at the Jolly bar (our sidewalk café).<br />
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We learned to live an urban lifestyle and thrived in it. We lived on a busy street but I loved waking up in the morning to the buzz of the city and the parking lot guy across the street yelling in Italian. I loved walking or biking everywhere. Of course the few times I did drive were precarious, and along with the buzz of the city, we were often woken up at 2 a.m. with drunk Italians singing outside our window. Even so, I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. When we walked out our front door, we were within a 7 minute walk of prestigious museums, a medieval castle, and countless beautiful shops.<br />
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More than anything we learned a better way to live. Italians really do know how to live. People are just simply happy and life just flows. We spent our days in “un bellissimo sprecco di tempo” (a wonderful waste of time). We had three hour, multiple course lunches, and when my husband came home from work, we had aperitivo in our 500 year old garden while the children played. We spent weekend mornings sipping cappuccino at sidewalk caffes while beautiful women in stilettos bicycled past. If we found ourselves with nothing to do, we could hop on a train and be in Venice in just over an hour. Our life was extremely social, yet never stressfully busy. With only a handful of Americans in the city, we tended to overcompensate and were often out and about together. Our international friends were quick to invite us to dinner, drinks or even just coffee. From our Italian friend planning elaborate dinner parties for the Americans, to my neighbor sticking her head out second story window and inviting us up for a quick drink before lunch, to chatting with my dear friend for hours in the garden, these moments with friends were what we will never forget.<br />
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On that note, I must agree with E.M. Forster that in Italy “the people are more marvelous than the land”. We came back to the United States with dear friends from all over the world… (ex-pats tend to stick together and have so much in common.) From my sweet septuagenarian neighbor who taught me how to cook authentic Italian food, to my wonderfully graceful Italian teacher who taught me the ins and outs of the culture in addition to the language, to my close, close friends who met at the Jolly Bar for cappuccino in the morning and knew my personality even better than I know myself… all are dearly missed every day.<br />
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And now, we are into the next chapter of our lives. We are in Idaho (yes, Idaho) in the middle of the desert in a town of 12,000. We are settled into a house that we bought while still in Italy, sight unseen. It turned out to be just as we expected and with new floors, new paint, antique Italian chandeliers, and the treasures we brought back from Italy (my husband bought that black mirror for me!), we have made it our own. <br />
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My son asked the other day if we would live here forever. When I told him no, he said “Good. I like having adventures.” I think I can finally agree. I’m content to experience this part of the country for a while and even more excited to see where life takes us next.<br />
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Ciao ciao,<br />
Lauren<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRw64tTz1napK7nBj5LaFha4OkgYzdCxz0LJ7fCG6xOSCSbe8GpOiG7wikmzKTZhJ1TFgKJxNDfmIFZnQyXDkvKEkyaCBKV1YXgB3mZ1pk3dsvoLRdvTDg4ZE9MGWOZBfPyqTN1XARu0/s1600/Centro-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCRw64tTz1napK7nBj5LaFha4OkgYzdCxz0LJ7fCG6xOSCSbe8GpOiG7wikmzKTZhJ1TFgKJxNDfmIFZnQyXDkvKEkyaCBKV1YXgB3mZ1pk3dsvoLRdvTDg4ZE9MGWOZBfPyqTN1XARu0/s400/Centro-36.jpg" width="400px" /></a>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-64822880635552687052011-05-09T11:50:00.001+02:002011-05-09T11:50:55.964+02:00Right now I'm loving...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pink pearls!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioELuheKDojZhvQmeJ3uUCQcne3uOjT-huOf5myvvpo4ZC0W1YWASKPCOd1JFXfoIuFs_a9c75PSfSTDu9jun3qhKxGru7fAVXFSeSSE5f5GSd7VpkcRFWjaOBOL4Cl0jUJN5G5sDTvD8/s1600/pearls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480px" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioELuheKDojZhvQmeJ3uUCQcne3uOjT-huOf5myvvpo4ZC0W1YWASKPCOd1JFXfoIuFs_a9c75PSfSTDu9jun3qhKxGru7fAVXFSeSSE5f5GSd7VpkcRFWjaOBOL4Cl0jUJN5G5sDTvD8/s640/pearls.JPG" width="640px" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Perfect for spring... perfect for Mother's Day. Ti piace?</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-25769414815426850582011-05-04T12:37:00.000+02:002011-05-04T12:37:58.010+02:00Mmmmm... Pizza!Italain pizza... Common toppings include tuna, vegetables, artichokes, arugula (not all together of course). Salami Piccante is similar to the American pepperoni and Pepperoni translates to red bell peppers. Confused? <br />
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If you want to blend in, eat with a fork and knife. The only people who pick it up are Americans and kids under twelve. <br />
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Buon Apetito!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUm79bNhG6WPyC8IIMln6RLRUofA9InxkX1B7EOIciWYNsrLgOQGB_QLUfPfW0vypOdvOcQDalX6-gfQhMwBqIHGifbqwALgcKS52LWZo4NIcRwfFSjabIYKA2TCqiA5JuEbvjjo9vzM/s1600/pizza.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUm79bNhG6WPyC8IIMln6RLRUofA9InxkX1B7EOIciWYNsrLgOQGB_QLUfPfW0vypOdvOcQDalX6-gfQhMwBqIHGifbqwALgcKS52LWZo4NIcRwfFSjabIYKA2TCqiA5JuEbvjjo9vzM/s400/pizza.JPG" width="400px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQjxjxlwc61B4JeHdAwXgJuXt7SFq50FsxPbdIlm4bm3ppR4laLIj9XpW4BW50a0wbPIvRcpBaNctcwOxkvRsFCPV0pcCRuZh4Jw2bf7SAQReXjP8MbGxxkLIFZauve3PpOvwpV7tfog/s1600/pizza+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640px" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQjxjxlwc61B4JeHdAwXgJuXt7SFq50FsxPbdIlm4bm3ppR4laLIj9XpW4BW50a0wbPIvRcpBaNctcwOxkvRsFCPV0pcCRuZh4Jw2bf7SAQReXjP8MbGxxkLIFZauve3PpOvwpV7tfog/s640/pizza+2.JPG" width="480px" /></a></div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-20049408720845731852011-04-08T12:45:00.000+02:002011-04-08T12:45:26.521+02:00Buon Compleano Italia!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyNUXHWskxPcXA0f2DH4mRjbHYHMLU_r7biRArr_E6lEbt070_VQ8U0L9FnuUN3zTM_CMD2tueTSIlGv_V3FxbBdd-nfthUT6C2BrYL0qVwNzwgRbtA0sd0X7gi3cHQif1PZj7P9nEHE/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyNUXHWskxPcXA0f2DH4mRjbHYHMLU_r7biRArr_E6lEbt070_VQ8U0L9FnuUN3zTM_CMD2tueTSIlGv_V3FxbBdd-nfthUT6C2BrYL0qVwNzwgRbtA0sd0X7gi3cHQif1PZj7P9nEHE/s640/4.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
Last month we celebrated the 150th anniversary of Italy being a united country. Strange that it is so old and has only been united for 150 years, isn't it? This day is not celebrated here every year like the Fourth of July in the States. This was the first year it was recognized and in typical Italy fashion, the government declared it a national holiday just a few weeks before the actual day.<br />
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As far as I could tell, there were no organized events but perhaps I missed it. Yet still everyone piled into the city center with flags and signs of patriotism everywhere. <br />
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The best I saw was this gorgeous lady who was at least 60 years old. She was dressed from head to toe in Italy's colors- red, green, and white- but she wasn't dressed like Americans dress for patriotism. No oversized flag t-shirt for her. No, she looked fabulous wearing a fitted red leather jacket, perfectly starched white button down, green pencil skirt, fishnet hose and four inch red stilettos. Only in Italy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPGf7w23BXAzhUNHg9ltLsDYnh8K4rmKWYYPzOBbc2MGEOchtA38tLruUp-tLACCGBFnfauTgNbb106yCn4vNgAAMmfrKEOnEIyWcBxY75Ng5JlOjQLxXIstYzWoWtgl3Tm8MBx9xPDE/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPGf7w23BXAzhUNHg9ltLsDYnh8K4rmKWYYPzOBbc2MGEOchtA38tLruUp-tLACCGBFnfauTgNbb106yCn4vNgAAMmfrKEOnEIyWcBxY75Ng5JlOjQLxXIstYzWoWtgl3Tm8MBx9xPDE/s640/1.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the dogs were dressed for the occasion</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apartments, all flying flags</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbHg4pqC_V1-f5-Gz3HwsqEXr5jZ1h18c0XPOLT-CZ229C-E1DX2jiHkeuFXPUNbRh1Ss4Uyy_e7vJrfFVf3DJvSfAa28lXBUoKtEfMHNNsaD0lt3wQFC5WZ91IbRYXvxe9vYVJlWk4E/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbHg4pqC_V1-f5-Gz3HwsqEXr5jZ1h18c0XPOLT-CZ229C-E1DX2jiHkeuFXPUNbRh1Ss4Uyy_e7vJrfFVf3DJvSfAa28lXBUoKtEfMHNNsaD0lt3wQFC5WZ91IbRYXvxe9vYVJlWk4E/s640/photo+2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IKWJbmZHHD6f_fqqQm9xvBLLpY0732dwIIoGO53azQqC8Hisy7piC7-YAs1Gcv7nNgN12_1pdQNz_OxasKKL7x_eRSjfYsrnSShgMk0zdGvdRJH7gjfnHAOb31_m7X1aa4mPWnTuY-s/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IKWJbmZHHD6f_fqqQm9xvBLLpY0732dwIIoGO53azQqC8Hisy7piC7-YAs1Gcv7nNgN12_1pdQNz_OxasKKL7x_eRSjfYsrnSShgMk0zdGvdRJH7gjfnHAOb31_m7X1aa4mPWnTuY-s/s400/3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flags out of every window in the castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-66675215363163055952011-04-08T11:58:00.000+02:002011-04-08T11:58:28.768+02:00La Vita<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"I wanted to wander through Europe to hear pop songs that could not by even the most charitable stretch of the imagination be a hit in any country but their own, encounter people whose lives would never again intersect with mine, be hopelessly unfamiliar with everything, from the workings of a phone box to the identity of a foodstuff. I wanted to be puzzled and charmed, to experience the endless, beguiling of a continent where you can board a train and an hour later be somewhere where the inhabitants speak a different language, eat different foods, work different hours, live lives that are at once so different and yet so oddly similiar..." </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">-Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There</span> <br />
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My friend Cindy sent me her favorite quote from a book she read while living in France. I could never find a better way to describe life abroad. It's this crazy mix of experiencing something new every time I step out my front door, of having amazing, interesting international friends, and at the same time having to relearn simple tasks like buying soap for the dishwasher (not as simple as you would think). Everything is different. But it is a fabulous kind of different.laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-36725361628758909762011-03-16T11:33:00.001+01:002011-03-16T16:01:01.442+01:00il Trucco di Primavera<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uJUflIVIWgrQamG-Q19ZSdpg4jZv5dIXSEFFUYUbhCRZHA3gOa15OHHAKCBFsvkkl7cJEbge6dwDfA-yWZbtsmBmDXpu8P3PalyKxmRF8WzXWci3XDjszD9onSDwlDSubzqDG6X_Jio/s1600/Bosworth%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uJUflIVIWgrQamG-Q19ZSdpg4jZv5dIXSEFFUYUbhCRZHA3gOa15OHHAKCBFsvkkl7cJEbge6dwDfA-yWZbtsmBmDXpu8P3PalyKxmRF8WzXWci3XDjszD9onSDwlDSubzqDG6X_Jio/s640/Bosworth%255B1%255D.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><br />
Spring make-up... I am seeing a lot of colored eyeshadow in Italy this season. The look is a bold sweep of color right on the browbone and it is actually pretty. This is not a look just for evening. I'm seeing it mostly during the day. Would you ever be brave enough to try it? I might but I'm not sure I have the time in the morning to be so artistic.<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">image credit elle.com</span>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-37264974985979047832011-03-11T11:32:00.000+01:002011-03-11T11:32:33.979+01:00Fare la Spesa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPdfra1eUluX6iOWYTs_77GXLTSQcVdAqazEyiXRlkba2HctrIOwJ0bWCUw1diYuLQ5a6SHy9vG0prFvPmTh-4zqlgbXCLUG7xittCVP5P49dV3ZqSq6DS7TQ56VytXnZ0d1-QzuRl60/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPdfra1eUluX6iOWYTs_77GXLTSQcVdAqazEyiXRlkba2HctrIOwJ0bWCUw1diYuLQ5a6SHy9vG0prFvPmTh-4zqlgbXCLUG7xittCVP5P49dV3ZqSq6DS7TQ56VytXnZ0d1-QzuRl60/s640/photo.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
This is not a glamorous post, but something I think is brilliant. Locked shopping carts. Here, all the shopping carts are locked in the parking lot (much like luggage carts in the airport). To get a cart, you put in a euro and unlock the cart. When you return the cart, you get your euro back. I think it is the best idea because guess what, everyone wants their euro back so everyone returns their cart. The stores don't have to hire anyone to gather the carts in the parking lot, and there are no loose carts blocking parking spaces or rolling into cars. Also, if you only need a few things and choose not to get a cart, you can truly only buy a few things because the carts are all the way in the parking lot. No impulse buys.<br />
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While we are talking about the glamorous task of grocery shopping, another Italian way I would love to see in the States is this: you have to pay for all your grocery bags. Amazingly, as soon as I am forced to pay 5 or 10 cents for every plasitc bag, all of a sudden I am a great environmentalist. Now I bring my own bags, or when I forget my bags, I cram everything into just a few bags. <br />
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However, I do really miss baggers. Here you bag your own groceries which is way more stressful than it sounds. I must bag my own groceries while trying to have a conversation in Italian and pay for the groceries at the same time, while the people in line behind me get more and more impatient. I have often come home with produce crushed by the bottles of wine I threw on top of it or shampoo leaking into the pasta. Perhaps I should have paid for an extra bag for that shampoo...laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-1299825079105658112011-03-09T10:57:00.000+01:002011-03-09T10:57:31.256+01:00La Bella Figura<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv3NWgfQs79eYzdpcgtdsonafoyJJgPGiFR4GLw0YFMj3SFzovyrxMWsUEYqmUBXUSHYlTgyldTqFyJSeDpB02ASQTeKXJijjHR8hK5N7p_X3tBIeg1ClIXc5wLHfU5GxwIojveoymqk/s1600/4494168_5tQmJmql_c%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv3NWgfQs79eYzdpcgtdsonafoyJJgPGiFR4GLw0YFMj3SFzovyrxMWsUEYqmUBXUSHYlTgyldTqFyJSeDpB02ASQTeKXJijjHR8hK5N7p_X3tBIeg1ClIXc5wLHfU5GxwIojveoymqk/s640/4494168_5tQmJmql_c%255B1%255D.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><br />
La Bella Figura. The literal translation is "the beautiful figure" but it really means always putting your best foot forward. In the Italian culture, there is a huge emphasis on looking your best, but it is even more than that. It is really a way of life. This is a great article that, in my opinion, perfectly describes "La Bella Figura" <a href="http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/36469/the_italian_philosophy_of_la_bella.html?cat=16">http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/36469/the_italian_philosophy_of_la_bella.html?cat=16</a><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I agree with the writer of the article that it is difficult to compete with the perfectly elegant Italians, BUT I think I have figured out part of the secret. BLATANLY HONEST SALESPEOPLE. I have found none of the fluff that you experience in the States. Here, if it looks bad, they tell you. A few examples...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I received a gorgeous caramel colored leather skirt for Christmas but had nothing to wear with it. I took it to a shop and picked out a few ivory sweaters to try with it. When the saleslady asked if I need help, I said in my caveman Italian "yes this was a gift and I need something to go with it. I am trying ivory." She amazing understood my Italian and smiled and firmly said, "NO. BEIGE." She put away the ivory sweaters pulled out the beige and she was right. They looked 100% better with the color of the skirt.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At my favorite shoe store, the saleslady is so honest, I won't buy anything without asking her opinion first. Often, her suggestions are even the lower priced shoes. She even was bossy to my husband, but his shoes look great.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At the salon, I asked for a shorter cut for my three year old and they refused. They said because he still has so little hair, it wouldn't look good. At my salon in America, they would have done whatever I asked and cut it right off.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I could go on and on, but I truly think that part of the reason Italians look so great is that they have help.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image Credit: <a href="http://plushpalate.blogspot.com/">http://plushpalate.blogspot.com/</a></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-57349254156846922882011-03-07T14:25:00.000+01:002011-03-07T14:25:26.729+01:00Giorno Mio (My Day)Sorry I've been missing for so long. Things have been rather regular around here with nothing new to blog about. After a year and a half here, Italy seems like just normal life. (Although a great life!)<br />
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Here's a day in the life...<br />
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8:30: take kids to school on the bike. We are late because it is Monday and we couldn't get it together in time. Luckily, this is Italy and there is no school bell that rings. When we show up (10 minutes after school starts) I realize everyone else is late too. Whew.<br />
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8:45: cappuccino and brioshe at my favorite bar (cafe).<br />
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9:30: walking and browsing Monday market (outdoor market with vendors selling everything from underwear to fresh vegetables to vintage furs... seriously.) I bought 2 huge ceramic vases (perhaps for umbrellas) and a huge ceramic pedestal bowl. Then I realized I couldn't get home with them. Left them at the vendor and decided to try to bring the car back.<br />
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11:00: stop by my favorite antique dealer's store on the way home. We get a sneak peek at his new location. He just locks up his store and we walk down the street to check out his new store. We say something about how his house must be beautiful with all these antiques. He tells us that in his house he has only art deco furnishings. Everyone in Italy (even antique restorers) love the modern things. I can't imagine it, but I guess they are tired of all the old.<br />
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11:30: I squeeze the car out of the parking lot and head back to the market. We can't get anywhere near my vases. Cars are prohibited because of the market and polizia are blocking the street. We end up pleading (and smiling a lot) with one of the police and he lets us through. I have learned that in Italy, everything is negotiable. We park kind of close but still have to walk a several blocks carrying these really, really heavy ceramics. No wonder they were a good deal.<br />
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12:30 Back at home to catch up on the mundane things of life. This afternoon is a meeting in school, mostly in Italian. It should be great practice for my Italian, but honestly, after 20 minutes of listening I get a headache. I don't know how my children do it all day long.laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-45021544469590644862011-02-07T15:34:00.001+01:002011-02-07T15:34:53.780+01:00Le MuraThe walls of Ferrara. . .<br />
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Our city is literally a walled city. The walls are hundreds of years old and circle the entire city (9 km). At one time they were an impressive defense system and were even studied by Michealangelo. Today, not only are they still standing, they are wide and lined with trees and are the perfect place to bike or walk. Really, one of the only places our kids can ride bikes in the city is on top of a 12 meter, 700 year old wall. Crazy.<br />
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Inside the walls (where we live), the city is very urban and outstide the walls almost immediately begins the countryside. So from the top, you can look down one side and see the hustle and bustle of the city and from the other, the peaceful country. Bello.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBH7o8tAyOptaF9vZmkn4gB_FnoMHIh4JHlHeOeLKRsaqTV4dVglkGmm7lmx7KSApHU8ld1kPcbBJ-BQPkcjyn2Kb9SNDY9810Xo95nTp-SsivSy2BFvsOjIdZ0uRIvLa1ws3pumgVyw/s1600/IMG_0261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBH7o8tAyOptaF9vZmkn4gB_FnoMHIh4JHlHeOeLKRsaqTV4dVglkGmm7lmx7KSApHU8ld1kPcbBJ-BQPkcjyn2Kb9SNDY9810Xo95nTp-SsivSy2BFvsOjIdZ0uRIvLa1ws3pumgVyw/s400/IMG_0261.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-27870727413108087762011-01-29T08:45:00.000+01:002011-01-29T08:45:56.541+01:00La Nebbia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwub4sAUrzVe6WH-BPyoIIJOcn2w7-jAH8n8rV20X4TAWZpTnVYCJc41VrsxFxMbnekRGVt0sVLksC-p3H2RpH5HdOSYPDQUbsr0xsHKUivbcQGwEJkRNP9L8CvuJxQRNyEi2UBpp_mUs/s1600/IMG_2285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwub4sAUrzVe6WH-BPyoIIJOcn2w7-jAH8n8rV20X4TAWZpTnVYCJc41VrsxFxMbnekRGVt0sVLksC-p3H2RpH5HdOSYPDQUbsr0xsHKUivbcQGwEJkRNP9L8CvuJxQRNyEi2UBpp_mUs/s640/IMG_2285.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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</div>The Ferrara fog. It covers the city almost every morning in winter. Before I experienced it myself, I met a girl from England who now lives here and told me about it. Of course I thought, "how depressing" but she said in her lovely British accent "no, it is really quite mystical". She's right... it is eerie and mysterious to see all these centuries old buildings bathed in fog. Mystical is the perfect word to describe it.<br />
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So I've tried to remember that and as my hair is limp and plastered to my forehead from the fog, I repeat to myself... "it is mystical, it is mystical, it is mystical". When visibility is really low, the children and I play "guess what that is" while walking to school. Someone points out something and we try to guess what it is. One time we guessed sign and it was actually a dog.<br />
<br />
These tricks work pretty well until mid-January. By then, I am desperate for the sun. Last year during the fog, I ordered a bunch of spring clothes in bright yellow. Of course I never wore them. I don't wear bright yellow but in the midst of the fog, I seemed to forget that. This year, on day 16 of no sun we booked a trip to the Canary Islands (Spanish islands off the coast to Africa) to go lay in the sun for a few days. Luckily, this week, the sun has appeared. Who knows what we would have done next.laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-26537872970154012302011-01-26T10:49:00.002+01:002011-01-26T10:53:12.413+01:00Vado a BiciclettaIt is becoming increasing difficult to think of things to blog about because life in Italy is becoming increasingly normal to me. Don't get me wrong, it is <em>wonderful</em>, but I'm just not noticing the things that are different anymore. For example, I didn't think anything was strange or different about the way I get around now. I'm simply doing as everyone else does... but when my family was in town, they were a bit surprised.<br />
<br />
Driving in this city is less than ideal and parking is even worse. Within a few months of living here, I already "bend the BMW" as the Italians say. So last year I walked everywhere because I had a two year old in a stroller. (If you have ever tried to shop with a two year old on the loose, you understand why I needed that stroller.) Even when my two year old needed stitches, <em>we walked</em> to the emergency room. It is a few blocks from my house and there is no parking at the hospital. <br />
<br />
This year, however, I have joined all the other Ferrese and I go by bike.<br />
<br />
Ferrara is the city of bicycles. The number of people biking here is among the highest in Europe. I'm not talking about Sunday afternoon leisurely bike rides. No, this is a way to get from A to B. It is common to see 80 year old women loaded down with shopping bags, whizzing past you on a bike. I often see people smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone pedaling down the street. People eat gelato while riding, teenage boys ride with their girlfriend on the bar in front and kiss while they ride down the street, people ride with their dogs in the basket. I've even seen a waiter in an apron biking while balancing a tray of espresso. This all used to amuse me, but after living here so long, it all seems quite normal.<br />
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Outside of the train station:<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When I take the kids to school...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJ5OQCK75zvWVkoCuW14Ap0spaCyq8-BORm1Twm62wq4eWYVY-S5mPN0gXEu39NUfbTXm08Xf1vB8r0-_opBJjdNfq-4Uofzpwl5kGsoWp7dlJ835HhfxEMjtFIMTgVUF_XOwGvkOM80/s1600/IMG_2800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJ5OQCK75zvWVkoCuW14Ap0spaCyq8-BORm1Twm62wq4eWYVY-S5mPN0gXEu39NUfbTXm08Xf1vB8r0-_opBJjdNfq-4Uofzpwl5kGsoWp7dlJ835HhfxEMjtFIMTgVUF_XOwGvkOM80/s400/IMG_2800.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Saturday morning in centro...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNA52U5_5JUYtmNiW5GJhaMl5mYP-QIJ9WpusEheCfhEQ30tHPpmJLcOYOaanbAvTJ3etBOzjo7n7t0JYzHdCRKGEPU1LsvTihsGGxcK3sZBUXrRte8B4ztVxxOSdeYB1LAW2FUzRVSs/s1600/IMG_2297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNA52U5_5JUYtmNiW5GJhaMl5mYP-QIJ9WpusEheCfhEQ30tHPpmJLcOYOaanbAvTJ3etBOzjo7n7t0JYzHdCRKGEPU1LsvTihsGGxcK3sZBUXrRte8B4ztVxxOSdeYB1LAW2FUzRVSs/s400/IMG_2297.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On the way to dinner with my husband...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJKEUNevQXzDJJYxlXCIYUzwr9c5jd6v9uUK3cY3RezqDkxiRqlByp-PAL6I_jLEdmGbPOub7K3CxNhrltOAX7NpEQ0ya7dRNxE461BFAQfn9pEwh25WDLZCavdc3wTJ3_kV1TwCXPpM/s1600/IMG_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJKEUNevQXzDJJYxlXCIYUzwr9c5jd6v9uUK3cY3RezqDkxiRqlByp-PAL6I_jLEdmGbPOub7K3CxNhrltOAX7NpEQ0ya7dRNxE461BFAQfn9pEwh25WDLZCavdc3wTJ3_kV1TwCXPpM/s400/IMG_0540.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sempre a bicicletta. (Always by bike). It is actually faster than driving but I'll be honest, the biggest advantage is that I can wear heels again. </div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-25964089192321073182011-01-07T21:06:00.000+01:002011-01-07T21:06:23.743+01:00Sono QuiI can't believe it has been almost a month since my last post. It has been a wonderful, but very busy month. December is absolutely lovely in this city and I spent most of the last month just enjoying it instead of writing about it. The city is busy and bustling with everyone out bundled in their furs doing their Christmas shopping. Seriously, it is like living the Christmas song "Silver Bells". Right down to the bells in the bell towers ringing while strolling the outdoor Christmas market.<br />
<br />
We've had family in town and enjoyed cooking big meals and talking over wine, shopping, a trip to Venice, a trip to Verona, a night out with an <em>eight</em> course dinner... I've been to Sorrento, the Almafi Coast, Naples, and Pompei. So much to write about but first I must catch up on the mundane things I've been ignoring. Like two weeks worth of laundry to plow through one 2 hour load at a time. Stay tuned. I might be finished by February :)laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-52303807298369804032010-12-15T09:35:00.000+01:002010-12-15T09:35:53.792+01:00At the GroceryItalian grocery stores are pretty different from stores in America. Almost everything in the store is from Italy so that means no ingredients to cook internation food (Mexican, Asian, etc). There are not aisles and aisles of processed food like in the States. No doritos, no flavored potato chips, no soups in cans, no bottled salad dressings. Hydrogenated oils are banned in much of Europe. So margarine is actually illegal.<br />
<br />
Now I am used to the new way of shopping and actually prefer it. However, this time of year, I am making many of my traditional recipes and am once again missing American ingredients.<br />
<br />
Here's my top ten list of things I wish I could buy here:<br />
<br />
1. Brown sugar<br />
2. Sour cream<br />
3. Plastic bags (like ziplock)<br />
4. Cheddar cheese<br />
5. Goldfish crackers<br />
6. Italian sausage (they sell sausage here but honestly it is not the same and not as good as the "Italian" sausage from stores in America)<br />
7. Ranch dressing <br />
8. Self rising cornmeal (I could probably use polenta but I haven't gone to the trouble to figure out how.)<br />
9. Cilantro<br />
10. Corn on the cob (They only sell corn in cans. Never fresh, not even frozen. Only in cans.)<br />
11. I know I said 10 things but I have one more. I miss breakfast food like English muffins, bagels, bacon, etc.<br />
<br />
I could go on but really, I don't miss the things I used to eat. We can do without the frozen burritos. My husband lost 10 pounds within the first couple months of living in Italy. Even though he probably eats <em>more</em> food here, the quality of the food is better. Turns out the packaged food he ate for lunch on the go was packing on the pounds, but a three course lunch with fresh ingredients doesn't. Hmmm.laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-39083712214420886852010-12-06T13:48:00.000+01:002010-12-06T13:48:24.529+01:00I LibriAddesso e inverno, now it is winter, and time to be cozy and read a good book. Here's a list of books about Italy that I have enjoyed. All are set within 30 or 40 miles of where we live. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RIYmyMtJ0jt6zg-xHhOaJa0NGnkSEC1hFeIjZrk4GiJIoiLoat3Fj7gE4aqqwP3ZN6orIoE7gIj0JsLy_caeu8VQrqxCPMUjPGCyLk3hkwA656uql0r-x7W9qfecIxf-7FfSkfdUIMA/s1600/51Y0QVH254L__AA160_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RIYmyMtJ0jt6zg-xHhOaJa0NGnkSEC1hFeIjZrk4GiJIoiLoat3Fj7gE4aqqwP3ZN6orIoE7gIj0JsLy_caeu8VQrqxCPMUjPGCyLk3hkwA656uql0r-x7W9qfecIxf-7FfSkfdUIMA/s1600/51Y0QVH254L__AA160_.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Italian Neighbors by Tim Parks<br />
Written by a British guy who lived in Italy for 10 years. Almost everything in this book has happened to me or someone I know.<br />
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Playing for Pizza by John Grisham<br />
Cute, easy read set in Parma about an American pro football player who ends up playing in Italy. I was in the middle of reading this when I met our doctor and friend for the first time. He is an American who has lived in Italy over 25 years and guess what, used to be the quarterback of an Italian football team here. This is American football, not soccer.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYqtpVzj0iS0AheOfjdqdyOO4CpLP3Zv88ymUQnW9NQIH1OEHDgVQcUyPNh931Ak0jmLEIcuZE3efBUUUO9Sk8NwFYP8LlUQEx2WRlq4gebJAcOh_GUBarKdQGp9XN9T1VpxoCvNVggg/s1600/broker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYqtpVzj0iS0AheOfjdqdyOO4CpLP3Zv88ymUQnW9NQIH1OEHDgVQcUyPNh931Ak0jmLEIcuZE3efBUUUO9Sk8NwFYP8LlUQEx2WRlq4gebJAcOh_GUBarKdQGp9XN9T1VpxoCvNVggg/s1600/broker.jpg" /></a></div> The Broker by John Grisham<br />
Another fast read set in Bologna. Great descriptions of Italian life, architecture, and food.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4r4MufwUQSnqP7p5SFNx3hgk8ALsWWHBxLHHruCHoJ3MtqlpN8ca0jJB3td8NBwME79FpUCfbtn6DM7V_riuV2183jn3QsoVtb-tLBxZPouvc27AWsIr8KddtCiw6L5lfJkGbpP0W0s/s1600/swans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4r4MufwUQSnqP7p5SFNx3hgk8ALsWWHBxLHHruCHoJ3MtqlpN8ca0jJB3td8NBwME79FpUCfbtn6DM7V_riuV2183jn3QsoVtb-tLBxZPouvc27AWsIr8KddtCiw6L5lfJkGbpP0W0s/s1600/swans.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Leonardo's Swans by Karen Essex<br />
Historical fiction about the Este family who ruled Ferrara for centuries. Da Vinci painted two of the Este princesses and this book centers around them. Set in Milan and Ferrara.<br />
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Now I am in the middle of reading Ciao America. It is the exact opposite of what I am living now. It is written by an Italian who moves to America for a year. The first thing he does in his American house is try to close the shutters but of course American shutters don't move. He is completely confused by American air conditioners and why anyone would want it to be 70 degrees inside when the outside temp is over 100. The book is a bit outdated (it was written in the late '90s) but still interesting to read that Italians are as confused in America as we often are in Italy.<br />
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Happy reading!<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">images from Amazon.com</span>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-63472419843104427262010-11-23T14:08:00.000+01:002010-11-23T14:08:46.613+01:00What Not to SayToday instead of writing about pretty things, I'm going to give a little Italian lesson about what not to say. First, let me tell you where I went wrong.<br />
<br />
It was last January at 9:00 in the morning. I had my two year old in the stroller and was going to the <strong>Friday market</strong> with my friend. (Friday market is a lovely outdoor market that fills the city center with vendors that sell everything from scarves to apples) We were short on time but as we walked past our regular cafe it just didn't feel right to not stop for cappuccino. We didn't have the time so we just decided to stop in, say ciao, and get a bottle of water to take with us to the market. We were feeling pretty good about our Italian at this point and this is what we said:<br />
<br />
Us: Ciao Bea!<br />
<br />
Bea: Ciao! Come stai? (Hi How are you?)<br />
<br />
Us: Bene. Per oggi, vorrei solo un aqua naturali da asporta (Good. For today we would like only water to go)<br />
Us: Perche addiamo a marketa (Because we are going to a prostitute)<br />
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Bea: Nothing. She just stared at us.<br />
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Luckily then her husband stepped out of the back laughing and said no, "addiamo a <em>mercato</em>"<br />
<br />
Got that? <em>Mercato</em> not <em>Marketo</em>. Easy mistake for an English speaker to make don't you think? Marketa (actually spelled marchetta in Italian) sounds just like market.<br />
<br />
It happened again this summer (but not to me thankfully). I was in the city center with my boys and these cute little American college students who were studying abroad were standing in the street saying "Marketo? Marketo?" Poor things didn't speak any Italian and were looking for a grocery store. Of course no one would speak to them because in Italian they were asking for a prostitute. <br />
<br />
Okay so remember, <em>Mercato</em> not <em>Marketo.</em><br />
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Allora, addesso vado a un mercato. Ciao ciao.laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-47028598060546015892010-11-17T20:54:00.000+01:002010-11-17T20:54:43.415+01:00Roma<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Spent a lovely weekend with friends in Rome. Such a gorgeous city. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful, ancient, and full of history. Truly unbelievable. If only the walls could talk. . . </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9KY9HQ8-xuJG1IGaQmaBip9co8tZ6hCIdtyNnTlf9WEAf2J8M4B0HqyFVHSo-XNBbNek-BV1-bVFNKv8-XRSDEmiF322m6HuaNwxY_c3P766_F8rUR4feaqgpqjWed_l_0KXnij7K1s/s1600/IMG_2220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9KY9HQ8-xuJG1IGaQmaBip9co8tZ6hCIdtyNnTlf9WEAf2J8M4B0HqyFVHSo-XNBbNek-BV1-bVFNKv8-XRSDEmiF322m6HuaNwxY_c3P766_F8rUR4feaqgpqjWed_l_0KXnij7K1s/s640/IMG_2220.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't even remember what this is but it is gorgeous!</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7kfSoDIkfESPfLTDxAgaxy1p4vP60u6CpI8zv8JSAA2jM_hHhr0bw3-eHkhJxZrhVdQzD978Tj9BcbQyI0vxJYHM8-i6NCt1rZz3vfTSJygd9L3s7XGiyfmx7l5MFM4sDdoJPLquTt8/s1600/IMG_2258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7kfSoDIkfESPfLTDxAgaxy1p4vP60u6CpI8zv8JSAA2jM_hHhr0bw3-eHkhJxZrhVdQzD978Tj9BcbQyI0vxJYHM8-i6NCt1rZz3vfTSJygd9L3s7XGiyfmx7l5MFM4sDdoJPLquTt8/s400/IMG_2258.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJml3VPOiwGprZB7o2jv0DEFBZhOYRuTXyN0N3aSMJxR3F6bDYin11J1OdBTYiLVfo15LzJVr_ShjGBGzsIf2us6zcbITgE8H2Bn86kgr0yFVfS-28V5BGVxG5irT3jJH3wQnr0VNHQA/s1600/IMG_2250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJml3VPOiwGprZB7o2jv0DEFBZhOYRuTXyN0N3aSMJxR3F6bDYin11J1OdBTYiLVfo15LzJVr_ShjGBGzsIf2us6zcbITgE8H2Bn86kgr0yFVfS-28V5BGVxG5irT3jJH3wQnr0VNHQA/s640/IMG_2250.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trevi fountain</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoUBjww5K41nilnvhUeNdD8UH8zWgBpa2EbaEW8Gr36aAx-PKqY11aV01ZRtQ3z7cQhUWVO7NYGoSGlWSlv40kOmzwOvuyFgTIqsFk0UeAYd0w4p7-RSEBXLOkq6E80oiI-7P8-b-Z6g/s1600/IMG_2266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoUBjww5K41nilnvhUeNdD8UH8zWgBpa2EbaEW8Gr36aAx-PKqY11aV01ZRtQ3z7cQhUWVO7NYGoSGlWSlv40kOmzwOvuyFgTIqsFk0UeAYd0w4p7-RSEBXLOkq6E80oiI-7P8-b-Z6g/s640/IMG_2266.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Forum. This is over 2,000 years old</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU8k1q4JsBSewbTNXTubYm6ON5dMY2YkKbtCxm1mwutDcOvvDlHWPX7tQdWplhV9F-O7oPM5Ud8pqTLFSWUdzjnYCPTjhSjYGAwmmZinJTui-28fv0hEROMYlE6cqDW4uVh2Hiwzgd4U/s1600/IMG_2271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU8k1q4JsBSewbTNXTubYm6ON5dMY2YkKbtCxm1mwutDcOvvDlHWPX7tQdWplhV9F-O7oPM5Ud8pqTLFSWUdzjnYCPTjhSjYGAwmmZinJTui-28fv0hEROMYlE6cqDW4uVh2Hiwzgd4U/s640/IMG_2271.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Piazza Navono </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVYJXwGTlrjOGWS9eSQTIvdcEXyZqD_ewh6XYNaxuLDaIwIr2oD3e0bI933Uzs0q9QcEK_7hgmo4mkcMoUHfI0uxCLrq3vRG4QMnW233UMgAGZ6hn_aZl4XOiP95h4KuNk-Ze6mKkg7A/s1600/IMG_2264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVYJXwGTlrjOGWS9eSQTIvdcEXyZqD_ewh6XYNaxuLDaIwIr2oD3e0bI933Uzs0q9QcEK_7hgmo4mkcMoUHfI0uxCLrq3vRG4QMnW233UMgAGZ6hn_aZl4XOiP95h4KuNk-Ze6mKkg7A/s640/IMG_2264.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Just another day standing around on 2,000 year old columns. Whatever.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHZURCEUqfM2AitVbW5qEkqS_FQZZGPRVCrSyk8o0MsZ7oiK032ASkcfNP4LuODp7nxv-R2cZUQV5XtxCs03s4oymFtC6ikqtEmOl9AhSjq4pZKCDUTyD5i_I4DcNb1UPatNW0-gDiAw/s1600/IMG_2223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHZURCEUqfM2AitVbW5qEkqS_FQZZGPRVCrSyk8o0MsZ7oiK032ASkcfNP4LuODp7nxv-R2cZUQV5XtxCs03s4oymFtC6ikqtEmOl9AhSjq4pZKCDUTyD5i_I4DcNb1UPatNW0-gDiAw/s640/IMG_2223.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">St. Peter's Basilica</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-67489198831785177062010-11-16T12:58:00.002+01:002010-11-16T12:58:56.262+01:00Sono Francese?For over a year I have been trying to blend into this culture that I love so much and not seem like an American tourist. Only the latter has been successful. <br />
<br />
Now they think I'm French.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure what went wrong. My spoken Italian is strongly affected by my southern accent and as soon as I utter a simple "ciao", they know I'm not local. (My pronunciation is really quite horrendous.) Now though, instead of switching to English, people have started speaking to me in French.<br />
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Oh well, could be worse. Au Revoir.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrdwts7hoRNvV0Vj0cmEwmpeSiDjU9QzBFKYJaQP8OoeiLx3vPcfZqhiNS8A2WuIUBz5mUqGBzlsylpgr3HsIBvUDYD35plnQH3cMp-bsGONKFJ4_2-_JaAI4IrVxVia1ZjFSV5i6f5E/s1600/IMG_1363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrdwts7hoRNvV0Vj0cmEwmpeSiDjU9QzBFKYJaQP8OoeiLx3vPcfZqhiNS8A2WuIUBz5mUqGBzlsylpgr3HsIBvUDYD35plnQH3cMp-bsGONKFJ4_2-_JaAI4IrVxVia1ZjFSV5i6f5E/s640/IMG_1363.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-69049702932048304212010-11-11T13:01:00.000+01:002010-11-11T13:01:17.476+01:00Let's Get Dressed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrViGWSIzY3eM-4lmiexQHtrHGqelaVCZKiTg-8vqNEnZAck1rd6QML3alqggHirVahK5l3ctGlSy2vE_uE3ysdM4mE1J6GGOFGuxhCmo931aZC-MycCWGE_Q_z2hBlAHEbsK28l8SiY/s1600/tumblr_l88jysG0Uo1qcjmxro1_400%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrViGWSIzY3eM-4lmiexQHtrHGqelaVCZKiTg-8vqNEnZAck1rd6QML3alqggHirVahK5l3ctGlSy2vE_uE3ysdM4mE1J6GGOFGuxhCmo931aZC-MycCWGE_Q_z2hBlAHEbsK28l8SiY/s1600/tumblr_l88jysG0Uo1qcjmxro1_400%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkk29zAYUGIs8ndbyg9FCx9zr6NqGBk7wKGqCQ8r6kK52zPSfMFom4GcI9-4PdQDhLWet_qd4fgJ_ghCnLNexcbbqJFLHjcx6LmnSg5XV91V-Yw6oIYlDVV485_bz4yPTiZczDhCA6VtM/s1600/tumblr_l94k17M0pY1qzs9mso1_400%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkk29zAYUGIs8ndbyg9FCx9zr6NqGBk7wKGqCQ8r6kK52zPSfMFom4GcI9-4PdQDhLWet_qd4fgJ_ghCnLNexcbbqJFLHjcx6LmnSg5XV91V-Yw6oIYlDVV485_bz4yPTiZczDhCA6VtM/s640/tumblr_l94k17M0pY1qzs9mso1_400%5B1%5D.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgES-E5NKqaHOV-npBkMHshHhSvl0jXyInns5qOiihP6NwrusTNdlvmE7w9_QMO0Hc05vDNzE7P7SbEB5hBzl9FNErMYDIymFhdecYgucSeb3m0skMLnG4iVsW-7hvasv38mvDY-MmBm1M/s1600/tumblr_lanwzzzVnQ1qarjkmo1_400%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgES-E5NKqaHOV-npBkMHshHhSvl0jXyInns5qOiihP6NwrusTNdlvmE7w9_QMO0Hc05vDNzE7P7SbEB5hBzl9FNErMYDIymFhdecYgucSeb3m0skMLnG4iVsW-7hvasv38mvDY-MmBm1M/s640/tumblr_lanwzzzVnQ1qarjkmo1_400%255B1%255D.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
Fall's big trend of ladylike, polished clothes has really taken off in Italy. I'm seeing more skirts, tights, pants and leggings than jeans this season. Don't get me wrong, we're still dressing up skinny jeans. I'm just seeing <em>less</em> jeans. (It is a common myth that you don't wear jeans in Europe. Everyone wears jeans-- just wear your nice jeans.) <br />
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The funkiness of last year is still around too so the look isn't stuffy, just more polished. Isn't it fun to get dressed when anything goes?<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">top image via </span><a href="http://prettystuff.tumblr.com/"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://prettystuff.tumblr.com/</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">bottom two images from La Dolce Vita</span>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-72264382875350577112010-11-09T20:20:00.002+01:002010-11-09T20:24:45.812+01:00l'autunno<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Autumn in Italy. . . </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNnyOud5tfM19MzC9vf0Wd9jDgGVZeW6TILTW2c4v6k68bvOsFQivl6BKHYknwc5KoXD-SJzB3m5DqOgekpJUvzZUgj1UH06gQtLCHaX9mACfC66tuYQdvVqGyozjlaSVwT3iTZGnOFc/s1600/IMG_2212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNnyOud5tfM19MzC9vf0Wd9jDgGVZeW6TILTW2c4v6k68bvOsFQivl6BKHYknwc5KoXD-SJzB3m5DqOgekpJUvzZUgj1UH06gQtLCHaX9mACfC66tuYQdvVqGyozjlaSVwT3iTZGnOFc/s640/IMG_2212.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Loving the falling leaves outside our window</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-8XkDclv1YNhVq5FX23vzf63AGBHN6A32eHXS3kt4clICzlQPEkvoPv98aQmONgB1lSMWijzd8zts2IfeSmHzFjDyIi-dCDIjGl9Alifa9IC33Ro5r6MX1Lq_mDBPXmmxS5NtzmMTXs/s1600/IMG_0536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-8XkDclv1YNhVq5FX23vzf63AGBHN6A32eHXS3kt4clICzlQPEkvoPv98aQmONgB1lSMWijzd8zts2IfeSmHzFjDyIi-dCDIjGl9Alifa9IC33Ro5r6MX1Lq_mDBPXmmxS5NtzmMTXs/s400/IMG_0536.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the coziness of everyone bundled in scarves and coats</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfXh2kFIcZ1RA-pyW9FgS3Q8h1uRBi9nQHP66UmB3tSeRaJLGkZ7PN3MYZAptnfTi-k2c2gVrA-32kEUXPoF7hCQF-smHfyn2H-O8hPK7uxARIWh_yrN-z0UVxtrmsJN4xtd-hmYgtd4/s1600/IMG_0516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSfXh2kFIcZ1RA-pyW9FgS3Q8h1uRBi9nQHP66UmB3tSeRaJLGkZ7PN3MYZAptnfTi-k2c2gVrA-32kEUXPoF7hCQF-smHfyn2H-O8hPK7uxARIWh_yrN-z0UVxtrmsJN4xtd-hmYgtd4/s640/IMG_0516.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and comfort food like Ferrara's famous cappelacci di zucca (pasta stuffed with pumpkin). Delizioso.</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-63157436567764782462010-11-08T15:48:00.001+01:002010-11-08T15:49:28.296+01:00Gli Italiani<div style="text-align: left;">I love this quote by E.M. Forester. . .</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Drop that awful tourist idea </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">that Italy is only </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">a museum of antiquities </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">and art. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love and </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">understand the people </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">for </span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">the people </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">are more marvelous </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">than the land." </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: x-large;">-E.M. Forester</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Words to live by for anyone visiting Italy. There is as much to be said for experiencing Italy by living the Italian way as there is for checking the museums off your list. Spend an hour sipping wine in a sidewalk cafe and watch the people walking by, linger over a three course lunch, chat with the locals, the waiters, the baristas, the fruit vendors... you may choose to never return home.</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-67863507390857322492010-11-07T20:30:00.001+01:002010-11-07T20:31:30.494+01:00DominicaA perfect lazy morning sipping cappuccino at a sidewalk cafe. Sono felice.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQG9hMDvk0sCUZa7RWs0c_LVpJOyfFWHWOfM65-BWpzqyK0dnLCUbD7ReBooyFoLypWq0oY766F6SNI63D0SYRtDcHqY89GEnLP8-6KVnXeMhEkIJlePWRW78UnPM-97abFS0j3PS8TU/s1600/IMG_0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQG9hMDvk0sCUZa7RWs0c_LVpJOyfFWHWOfM65-BWpzqyK0dnLCUbD7ReBooyFoLypWq0oY766F6SNI63D0SYRtDcHqY89GEnLP8-6KVnXeMhEkIJlePWRW78UnPM-97abFS0j3PS8TU/s400/IMG_0494.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLL1HMFfNSoXbditq40Cr9dbKjx_sF2G_heFL7bWAkcrT4TiEJpBh675CrgJAp4gV0G__8-h94gpDxKUJgAxkj8Kxtv8gOdEAkteD9wPZYDbmkTq1-2DEsH6wqHzYa9kG2DpmM_HBowNg/s1600/IMG_0496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLL1HMFfNSoXbditq40Cr9dbKjx_sF2G_heFL7bWAkcrT4TiEJpBh675CrgJAp4gV0G__8-h94gpDxKUJgAxkj8Kxtv8gOdEAkteD9wPZYDbmkTq1-2DEsH6wqHzYa9kG2DpmM_HBowNg/s400/IMG_0496.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Hope your Sunday is peaceful and happy. Ci vediamo.</div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-79603779436802577072010-11-06T13:16:00.001+01:002010-11-06T13:18:01.129+01:00Con Mio AmoreI am taking full advantage of having kids in school. It is nice to have tempo libero (free time) for the first time in six years.<br />
<br />
Had a wonderful lunch date with my husband last week. He asked me way in advance (completely not like him) and I forgot (completely not like me). He reminded me the night before so I quickly changed my plans. Actually, he was happy I forgot. He says now the score of forgetting things in our marriage is now 147 (Matt) to 1 (me). I guess I can forget 146 more times. I wore a short skirt and high heels to make up for it. Whatever.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvxqZeYMMRvHn3WnKm87AQX9MbsRmvd-FVWZ7OxXUNdQJ-_LQs9aBhtXQkbSeuJVJYeNqkcMGapLu14ICY9SRDkth2yzN4owki-s7e-qKFfp1Aw5ykzGhVGTW7ZDhohQYJ2y7QwT20sQ/s1600/IMG_0417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvxqZeYMMRvHn3WnKm87AQX9MbsRmvd-FVWZ7OxXUNdQJ-_LQs9aBhtXQkbSeuJVJYeNqkcMGapLu14ICY9SRDkth2yzN4owki-s7e-qKFfp1Aw5ykzGhVGTW7ZDhohQYJ2y7QwT20sQ/s640/IMG_0417.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So I drove out through the vineyards and orchards to the small town where he works and we went to one of his favorite restaurants out there. This is a regular place for the people Matt works with and it is quite normal to have a three course lunch with wine in the middle of the workday. Don't you love the European way?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWh05a4bX1BLyY_oZN4bQ_n45TV_9flY21UG3hyvT-zOElXf5n1XsMetl4szSVgvE3IQI9xJ3drqvmH2diRYUNnHGr6LsAGDIlYEZ_u5HoyWLJxWTwCWQT0DzKAaNgNhSepVc-lRIHuc/s1600/IMG_0390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWh05a4bX1BLyY_oZN4bQ_n45TV_9flY21UG3hyvT-zOElXf5n1XsMetl4szSVgvE3IQI9xJ3drqvmH2diRYUNnHGr6LsAGDIlYEZ_u5HoyWLJxWTwCWQT0DzKAaNgNhSepVc-lRIHuc/s400/IMG_0390.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1gkz-1gLkUQmaP9imA_QqtamG7H3M4hicZNLO2VraIq4bdovANuDxHC_YTqX9c_szUJw3p3jKS-rd_VuMvNkudXP39MPAbD5Ar3UoMSAEjI7mPHoMWLpNm4JMkPkHVooSWI-kolaDH8/s1600/IMG_0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1gkz-1gLkUQmaP9imA_QqtamG7H3M4hicZNLO2VraIq4bdovANuDxHC_YTqX9c_szUJw3p3jKS-rd_VuMvNkudXP39MPAbD5Ar3UoMSAEjI7mPHoMWLpNm4JMkPkHVooSWI-kolaDH8/s400/IMG_0392.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">first course</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExBKhhXDWTI17eAIzqsrDGQlfmJjjY42oiADIM7n5Cukv_NxKyXz4SQ4zEY7c-EldN9q8iOtdkijJFfnFMR7iMZ7vLTvgHrihQ-QDqH7qjxXeWuqINSNPGk1x8Da_7f7d3a7PQ3C6gzo/s1600/IMG_0394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExBKhhXDWTI17eAIzqsrDGQlfmJjjY42oiADIM7n5Cukv_NxKyXz4SQ4zEY7c-EldN9q8iOtdkijJFfnFMR7iMZ7vLTvgHrihQ-QDqH7qjxXeWuqINSNPGk1x8Da_7f7d3a7PQ3C6gzo/s400/IMG_0394.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> second course</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtYPqP8r_VnY67pp2Eh52qTr0gjfH7tZ0F8zt6Si_gYPeTj-G-fMDf4xXTTYBp2HEzIDVv8d9Fo0A9cKIoc7aJIMsto7EleRwAfsw31g0ENQQwABlE58fL5BrOo7Ak9skQ13We36cwYo/s1600/IMG_0395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtYPqP8r_VnY67pp2Eh52qTr0gjfH7tZ0F8zt6Si_gYPeTj-G-fMDf4xXTTYBp2HEzIDVv8d9Fo0A9cKIoc7aJIMsto7EleRwAfsw31g0ENQQwABlE58fL5BrOo7Ak9skQ13We36cwYo/s400/IMG_0395.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> third course</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgsLIBn4RWLOxuQYSdaOBCYtz3mESbESIt-xrrKMeSWwp4yzReCM1HW-9J-I0sMmvrSBAk22XGIucXm6ZNJmydE3N4tMs_eVQ_1GJs6m_Tw04igAhkFQZTlm1NcSJpXnyt473f4pp1Z0/s1600/IMG_0397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgsLIBn4RWLOxuQYSdaOBCYtz3mESbESIt-xrrKMeSWwp4yzReCM1HW-9J-I0sMmvrSBAk22XGIucXm6ZNJmydE3N4tMs_eVQ_1GJs6m_Tw04igAhkFQZTlm1NcSJpXnyt473f4pp1Z0/s400/IMG_0397.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> Yes. I actually ate <em>all</em> that</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">We're thinking next on the list is a day trip to Bologna <em>senza bambini</em></div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-502461772660438738.post-31192972026562952102010-11-04T15:08:00.000+01:002010-11-04T15:08:51.995+01:00How was your Halloween?With only a few Americans in this city, we tend to overcompensate on American holidays like Halloween. We always have a big Halloween party and this year we got talked into having it at our house because all our friends think our house is the scariest.<br />
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It is 500 years old and used to be a palace. I really have no idea what they are talking about, do you?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQeAvbyw0ykOlkEY5PBW0847WPFzsEvlmKHqrS0NR-I0ISXGZv85ViLzmQPgIe5eyNC0kr7lv15N24hsa9JNtk5aABKHQ-oGjkeweqJ-6xYPwPzZjhIUsoKws5mUC50HiDjisEsggPQE/s1600/IMG_2184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQeAvbyw0ykOlkEY5PBW0847WPFzsEvlmKHqrS0NR-I0ISXGZv85ViLzmQPgIe5eyNC0kr7lv15N24hsa9JNtk5aABKHQ-oGjkeweqJ-6xYPwPzZjhIUsoKws5mUC50HiDjisEsggPQE/s400/IMG_2184.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">doesn't everyone have iron spikes on their front door?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOG5c0E8X0tagb3Gvv0b_rqjQdSc3aG1AS2JKx9iyujI9pQM1VwD96-BjXfLSxNTQvFwy62AsebXyt3dh0EfabgcXU260jmI_PRTAFl_jZR5RTad3jcpf1VpE4P2J50xKd67TOAhG9J-Q/s1600/IMG_2186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOG5c0E8X0tagb3Gvv0b_rqjQdSc3aG1AS2JKx9iyujI9pQM1VwD96-BjXfLSxNTQvFwy62AsebXyt3dh0EfabgcXU260jmI_PRTAFl_jZR5RTad3jcpf1VpE4P2J50xKd67TOAhG9J-Q/s400/IMG_2186.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and is anything strange about walking through this 300 year old doorway to get to the garden?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7c_mmN_p5YGnXs3KcMphyphenhyphenGRRxzSvhFsYBHziAFLsziO_ubgSQyBvWfvAuJa-yF9AlsCZAB9ofvnV8cB2HMbJjVE0hzmXvAAk5uybOyjyGnUMfhVu4OHqHVD9d6-O7CQ8JojU8JhNxX4/s1600/IMG_2187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7c_mmN_p5YGnXs3KcMphyphenhyphenGRRxzSvhFsYBHziAFLsziO_ubgSQyBvWfvAuJa-yF9AlsCZAB9ofvnV8cB2HMbJjVE0hzmXvAAk5uybOyjyGnUMfhVu4OHqHVD9d6-O7CQ8JojU8JhNxX4/s640/IMG_2187.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ancient marble stairs leading to a original fresco</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-yF2q5fpO1qVSj9m2hiOMw687tM0pR1AGVZPQFMKsjxI4vSUU0uND4kFp94W3BDbkGkktX97B1fMMW40k-pF9H-_kP3gT-E0piiLgtIgh4uBh09JLBieS2vheV9Wtj5KIPGHjPiscpCo/s1600/IMG_2189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-yF2q5fpO1qVSj9m2hiOMw687tM0pR1AGVZPQFMKsjxI4vSUU0uND4kFp94W3BDbkGkktX97B1fMMW40k-pF9H-_kP3gT-E0piiLgtIgh4uBh09JLBieS2vheV9Wtj5KIPGHjPiscpCo/s400/IMG_2189.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and doesn't everyone pick up their mail in a place that looks like this?</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgToWhSkti0RS3TBHHhd1D1AMLHbXlI3nyhXKTeiczxaMJvBQBp1JQ_R2jrfT_TWU5L_Y9ZMU7StFN7kE3v18bFGNdv-cxMAi4YTFoZ-P-uncCn1mu3rMwPdI_QpWQ48YVnGWC-kv204/s1600/IMG_2181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOgToWhSkti0RS3TBHHhd1D1AMLHbXlI3nyhXKTeiczxaMJvBQBp1JQ_R2jrfT_TWU5L_Y9ZMU7StFN7kE3v18bFGNdv-cxMAi4YTFoZ-P-uncCn1mu3rMwPdI_QpWQ48YVnGWC-kv204/s400/IMG_2181.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">and when you lie in bed at night, who doesn't love looking at faces painted on the ceiling in the 1700's</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjeMsN8qexnHisnjlAI2iLyEDa3x5OxUBCrhEYl1lGen4fJlvgD349cfdRjhR2eoRcOLBu6DDQYbNA4o2keh-nFXlhyphenhyphenwtGurakldC7Os1WwTLgbazud-tOTe6L9DkwcwvMitM06ZiaR0/s1600/IMG_2202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjeMsN8qexnHisnjlAI2iLyEDa3x5OxUBCrhEYl1lGen4fJlvgD349cfdRjhR2eoRcOLBu6DDQYbNA4o2keh-nFXlhyphenhyphenwtGurakldC7Os1WwTLgbazud-tOTe6L9DkwcwvMitM06ZiaR0/s640/IMG_2202.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Oh I joke. I absolutely love everything about this house. The history the architecture and especially the frescoes. I was only scared one time. It was before our furniture arrived so the house was empty and I was alone. I had all the windows open and it started storming outside with huge gusts of wind. The wind of course blew through the house and started opening and closing all the french doors. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvn-MvAQG3qfyKi2ArVusn2MjuRg8MrG9EKchuNfMHdISCLUJc6SHrThh07gyBKYEGuNAE3q0gVIME_D1q4MRhu3QMHUWn4I5bywdU0hC9XCZla20xSmbSpQ7jQEbCZTBcCo2rH6VQ6o/s1600/IMG_2183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjvn-MvAQG3qfyKi2ArVusn2MjuRg8MrG9EKchuNfMHdISCLUJc6SHrThh07gyBKYEGuNAE3q0gVIME_D1q4MRhu3QMHUWn4I5bywdU0hC9XCZla20xSmbSpQ7jQEbCZTBcCo2rH6VQ6o/s400/IMG_2183.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-htHGEOPVOXHJmjBe53g3ZtxQ8YE5H7-CyB8Lzq9_SRk0ZPSZwvCdHXbdbTolq1SjQq_pWWdy6C_HAgVYmYD-xtIFPcWssguvRvgRovGqF8XN9h1DACs0rj9ARK7KsBt8cnoKxlCxngY/s1600/IMG_2179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-htHGEOPVOXHJmjBe53g3ZtxQ8YE5H7-CyB8Lzq9_SRk0ZPSZwvCdHXbdbTolq1SjQq_pWWdy6C_HAgVYmYD-xtIFPcWssguvRvgRovGqF8XN9h1DACs0rj9ARK7KsBt8cnoKxlCxngY/s400/IMG_2179.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We have seven sets of french doors so that is 14 doors opening and closing by themselves. I knew it was the wind. I could feel the wind but still I ran around and closed all the windows so the doors would stop moving. That's the only time. Now, this is truly home and we would stay forever if we could. The mouldings, the ceiling height, and the frescoes actually make it easy to decorate. Somehow all of our things even look better here than they did in our house in the States. (Oh, and I might have taken these pictures at angles that make it look extra spooky.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So for Halloween, we moved most of the furniture out and covered what was left with sheets and cobwebs to make it look like an spooky old house where no one lived. The art on the walls was crooked and I covered fresh flowers with spiders. It was lit only with candlelight and I think it was spooky enough. I would post a picture but the pictures really didn't capture the atmosphere because everyone used a flash and that made it look like broad daylight. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On another note, I am stuck at home this week while we are having a new heater installed. That's why I'm able to post something new everyday. I think they are finishing today then I'll be back enjoying Italy and posting occasionally. Ciao ciao!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14607121659661340787noreply@blogger.com4