I'm doing some traveling this summer. Of the arm-chair variety. Last summer we were blessed to travel to Italy for two weeks on an organized tour. We saw over a dozen cities, which only whet our appetite for far more. We'd love to go back at some point. Clearly, two days in Rome was not enough, more like laughable. This time, we'd jump at the chance to hike through the Cinque Terre as opposed to spending one quick afternoon. So much yet to explore indeed.
But not this summer.
Alas, arm-chair traveling it will have to be, for prudent reasons of course. However, that shouldn't stop me from experiencing some culture and semblance of travel by sinking my teeth into as many travelogues and/or memoirs set especially in Italy or France -- places that hold me (and so many others) captive for mysterious reasons.
Any book suggestions set in either of these countries would be much appreciated.
Just today, I finished Tout Sweet, which was enjoyable in a fluffy, chick-lit sort of way. I did admire the author's boldness in leaving her glamorous life in England to live in a rural village of France in her mid-thirties. Did I mention, she visits a run-down house in the village and puts an offer on the house that very afternoon? It cost her a mere 35 thousand pounds or thereabouts. Quite a steal, no? Incroyable! But what truly baffles me is not why property in some regions of France costs so little.
Rather, where in the world do people find this level of spunk and courage to take risks and pursue their innermost desires? I'd like to get me a bottle of what she's having.
Ok, I'll settle for a petit wine glass.
Alright, just a sip will do.
To the sweet life.
I've entitled this image Sunset in Sorrento. It was taken on a villa last summer, deep in the lemon groves.