Northern Italy

So, I am sitting on our veranda in Vercana overlooking the stunning blue of Lake Como after an easy day of exploring the tiny town and strolling along the river and lakeside.  Bill is doing laundry after an unfortuate incident with a poorly sealed jar of truffle cream in his suitcase.  I just walked in on him using the bidet... to wash his socks.  Ah, this popular European appliance has so many uses.

Our drive from Verona to Vercana over two days was spectacular.  Driving here is not as scary as we had imagined, says I from the navigators seat with Bill behind the wheel.

We have travelled through so many different landscapes on this trip -- Rome with its big ancient things with big things on top, the west coast with its blue water and pastel clusters of buildings, the rolling hills of Tuscany, a patchwork of gold and green crops, the forested hills of Chianti lined with vineyards and cypress trees, the canals of Venice, flat Abbotsfordesque highway stretch of Brescia, and the dramatic looming majestic mountains of the north.

The bread has changed with the regions too -- hard and stale throughout Tuscan (peasant bread), soft focaccia in Chianti, crispy bread sticks in Veneto.  Olive oil is served with bread everywhere, but we only got balsamic vinegar in Rome and then again in Veneto and the north.

I'm struggling with this particular post.  How do I portray just how jaw dropping the Dolomites were. Or how unpleasant it was driving through one super long tunnel after the other along Lake Como -- Bill was especially unhappy with me for pointing out how awful it would be to be trapped in one of these tunnels during an earthquake.  And how totally bizarre it was to arrive at our rental apartment to find only 100 year old nonnas to greet us before Maria finally answered the call and took us next door to our gorgeous two bedroom apartment on a hill overlooking the lake for miles in every direction.

We both feel full.  There is nothing more Italy needs to provide for us.  We are not coming home with a suitcase full of shoes or olive oil, just a few leaky truffle oil products and some vacuum packed porcini mushrooms and sundried tomatoes, and so many memories of a lifetime to cherish.  And an extra 30 pounds between us!

Two more nights and then we begin the long flight home.  I miss my dogs.  I miss my little bean.  It has been so gorgeous here and I am so grateful to have such a full life to come home to.

Caio!