Sometimes, somewhere incredible is waiting to be known. These are the journeys that make travel exciting. I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new place, a new town, a whereabouts with a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.
In 2018 I visited Polignano a Mare again. Again, it was for a brief "passing through" visit, but I knew then that I must come back for a longer stay. This year, it happened: a month in perhaps what is one of the most beautiful and evocatice cities of Puglia..
Nothing had changed. The routine was the same: pick up rental car, make our way out of Rome’s busy Leonardo Da Vinci airport and take the A12 highway north. It was the same pattern that we had followed countless times before. The silence this time made it different. Unlike the excited chatter between my husband
We ripped through the coastal towns of Abruzzo and Molise, on a mission to arrive before nightfall. We knew that driving in the dark with unlit winding roads and sheer perpendicular drops would not be the best way to travel along this promontory. I allowed myself to escape into memories, at least for a little while to
As we slowly lumbered up the hill, our car laden with too many suitcases, through the thick shadows of the night, we discerned the Castello Chiola sitting atop the highest peak of Loreto Aprutino. For sure the views from the roads that wind to Loreto Aprutino would be really picturesque, but we were not to
It’s not surprising to me that I have taken so long to write about Abruzzo; in fact, I have no connection to this land, save the memories of a few summers spent in one part of this region with groups of high school students desirous not so much for their credit in the study of
We arrive at Oleggio Castello with looming rain greying the sky and a matinal chill penetrating the air. We wonder out loud after catching sight of the imposing Castello Dal Pozzo if my husband took a wrong turn and crossed the channel while we dozed during our drive from Tuscany. Are we in England? Image courtesy
As we merge onto the A12 toward Genova, my thoughts speed along with the speeding car, but unlike the car, to no end. Now, my mind travels of its own accord to the bobbing fleet of ships ready to sail, waiting for the brisk trade winds from the east that would eventually propel them across
A lovely young woman is waiting for us in the dining hall of the Torre. We are up early, having slept with the angels, cocooned in our tower deep in the Umbrian woods and lulled by the hush and rush of the breeze through the trees outside our window. The dining salon looks like it might
” I am presently moved by sun-drenched Parthenopea, my thanks are for you, Ischia, to whom a fair wind has brought me rejoicing with dear friends from soiled productive cities. How well you correct our injured eyes, how gently you train us to see things and men in perspective underneath your uniform light…” (from