Travel with me to ITALY - FASHION, FOOD AND MOUNTAINS

Today you get a loosely written "diary" about my trip to Tuscany. I recently discovered and deepened my interest in fashion from the beginning of the 20s to the 60s. So don't be surprised that I mix it with my holiday in Italy. But Italy and fashion are close together, aren't they?

source - By Clinton Pettee The cover picture evokes associations of colonial times and ladies and gentlemen with hats, walking sticks as well as tropical helmets and explorers entering new territories. I like the romanticizing aspect, the adventurous images that touch part of my childhood when I first saw a Tarzan film in black and white. I am aware that all this is an artificially melancholic cinematic world, but I like to indulge in it.

It is interesting to come back and then meet friends and family who ask you "what it was like". I noticed: I have little to tell.

My vacation was unspectacular from the experience factor point of view. I noticed a slight disappointment about the lack of adventure aspect of my trip. Not that I personally think I have experienced too little. No, it's more about entertaining my fellow world and being able to tell something interesting or even exciting. A story, an episode of interest. After all, I love stories and feed mostly on them.

There is a tendency to only want to experience the pleasant. But the truth is that the unpleasant is far more exciting. Whenever we are somewhere else, outside our usual existence, we pay more attention to what is unusual. You also become aware of the unpleasant things. And when I choose the exaggeration in my thoughts and imagine that the journey would have cost me no effort nor endeavour, a journey bedded on feathers, exposed to all amenities: Then why travel at all?

We took the car train from Düsseldorf to Verona in Italy.

It would have been more convenient to board the train in Hamburg, but it was already fully booked. And, it's a disturbance worth mentioning, like I said.

^{view from out of the riding train}

So my sweetheart and I drove the three-hour trip to Düsseldorf. I've only been to the airport in this city so far and my goodness, Düsseldorf is ugly!
I have rarely seen a less interesting city. Of course I saw only a small part of it and my judgement is completely irrelevant. Nevertheless, I found this ugly part of the neighbourhood somehow exciting and it served as a wonderful topic of conversation. The contrast to the beautiful Tuscany could not have been greater. The area behind the main station housed a kind of attempt to create a park for children. The only thing that could be seen, however, was a large burnt, undulating lawn with some playground equipment that was not visited under the burning sun. Behind them tall buildings without any esprit. I felt a tingling rejection of such an uncharming environment.

^{ugly site - but maybe you like it?}

Then the loading onto the car train.

I would not have thought that car trains still run at all and Deutsche Bahn has also sold this business division to a private provider. On the contrary, this way of travelling is very popular and from here to Italy you have to book a year in advance. We could be glad to still get tickets. It can't be because of the price, because train travel including a car is very expensive.

^{the finally loaded car train}

Our train attendant also told us that most of the customers are regulars. We probably won't be, but I can understand that people think nostalgically of the Orient Express. Unfortunately the train ambience is missing and no dining car and also no other feeling of Agatha Christis spirit was granted to us. Since I've just fallen into vintage madness, I missed it of course and I wouldn't have had anything against a little chic and a cosy place at a dining table with white linen.

source - By WLDiffusion - Own work
Instead we made do with an instant coffee and the same plastic breakfast packs the next morning. In the evening a tasty meal from the potato salad ration we had brought with us. My romantic idea of having dinner in the dining car and being rocked to sleep by the rattling of the train also did not correspond to reality. For reasons I could not understand I hardly closed an eye although the couches were quite comfortable and superior to a one thousand four hundred kilometres long car journey.

^{someones Old Timer who also loves the roaring 20s}

But let me rewind and stick to present tense.

I go ahead and make myself comfortable in the compartment, because I leave boarding the car to the man. It's an ancient train, probably from the 60s or 70s, I remember it from my childhood. I am surprised and delighted, because it brings back memories of past journeys. The train is as hot as an oven and the compartments smell of 50 years of use. I hear a British couple passing by and the woman saying to her husband: "Oh, look, aren't the wagons quite old-fashioned?"

^{our little cabin for the next hours to come}

The two hadn't booked their own couchette compartment so they have to share it with two other people. I really feel sorry for the lady and am almost ready to ask her into our compartment and give it to them, because in fact I couldn't think of anything worse than spending the night with strangers in a tight couchette compartment. I don't do it and I don't express the thought either. Instead I get into conversation with the couple.
I love Englishmen! I like their accent and their way of expressing themselves. They notice my interest in them. And I even get a borrowed book because I completely forgot to pack one. It is a collection of poems. How fitting, I grin inside.

^{typical narrowness in a train}

Our train attendant is a hands-on fellow and gives us some comfort, even preference. I don't know what we deserve that with. I think he has chosen me for the journey as a kind of interesting female figure and my man and I often have this happiness, I think it is because we are not people who complain immediately.

^{self portrait - above me some pillows}

During the night we unfold our beds and look out of the moving train at the changing landscape. The river Rhine is our companion over a long distance and compared to the barren north of Germany it is a feast for the eyes. Vineyards and beautiful nature touch our view.

Arrived in Verona, we drive the next morning further by the country. We are amazed by insanely long stretches and tunnels, high bridges. Unbelievable to build these tunnels through the mountains, what an effort and what a technology!

We reach our destination in the early afternoon and are warmly welcomed by our Italian host family.

The house we have rented is situated high in the mountains and we have a wide view of the landscape below us. The price was the serpentines. It is very hot.

^{our temporary home and garden - couple of houses in Dimezzano which belongs to Lucolena, a very small village up in the hills}

On the table we find a bottle of wine, a can of sweets and fresh homemade pieces of pizza with vegetables to eat cold. Gratitude flows through us. Our hosts know how to do it. The house is old, very old. As they tell us later, from the Middle Ages, and very dark. The ground floor, where the kitchen is located, has a huge fireplace, exudes gothic coolness and I immediately see that I will avoid this room.

I find rooms without light depressing. But my man likes it. Upstairs we have two bedrooms and the bathroom. In the niche, separated by a curtain and right next to the stairs an emergency children's room, a tiny alcove with a bunk bed. It remains unused. There are only two of us. The second door at the top leads to the veranda and from there Lorenzo, the son of the house, shows us the rest of the property. We climb higher up, where a big table and a huge parasol invite us. Next to it there are more niches under the trees, seats and deckchairs. The view is getting better and better.

^{entrance into the second story from our terrace}

We soon see the rich insect life as we are surrounded by garden and forest, mountains and even more forest. Pigeon tails attract our attention just like the small lizards everywhere. I think the lizards are very sweet. The pigeon tails are a curious mixture of hummingbird and insect, similar to a bee. They are numerous here and can be observed at close range. At night I get lots of visitors from mosquitoes and nothing protects against them. I get stung everywhere during the two weeks and get big red itchy bumps on my skin, which I scratch on. I soothe with the juice of ginger and disinfect as best I can.

^{here I sip my morning espresso}

We manage to explore the places around us. I say "manage" because driving up and down the hills is no fun. I get car sick ever so often and whenever we return to our temporary home I swear never to leave again! The next day, though, I am ready for a new ride to somewhere else.

^{views and memories from Castelfranco di Sopra / La Capraia Agriturismo destination high up - twenty years ago I stayed here}

Our destination is not far from Florence and Siena, it almost lies in the middle. We belong to the countryside of Chianti and the nearest town is Greve. Through Figline we catch the train to Florence. Actually our first attempt to get there fails. We are getting told that a fire at the main station in Florence causes delays all day. We decide not to make the trip and instead head towards Arezzo. Big mistake. I get car sick.

^{In the courtyard of a church. My face shows some exhaustion.}

In Arezzo we dare to leave the car in the sun as we cannot find a shaded parking spot. I fear climbing back in. Of course, it's noon time and nobody who is in his mind walks around in the heat. The market place is abandoned and we feel like walking through ghost town.

^{Nobody around but us. We take a snack in the only opened bar with air condition - right under the arcades!}

Two days later we make it to Siena. But as the temperatures climb up a new record - 38 degrees! - we carry ourselves heavily through the narrow streets, inspect the market place and the ancient buildings in a tired manner and decide shortly after only, maybe two hours, to leave.

^{Siena market place}

I arrive sick and exhausted at home and lay down. And we had not fed ourselves! Right before we are about to cook dinner - with the little left overs we possess - Mama Laura knocks at our door and hands over two dishes! One big plate of home made pasta and a bowl full of Couscous! We can't believe how lucky we are! We thank her thousand times. Next day at Greve - distance is bearable - we decide to buy her a pot with begonia flowers as a gesture of gratitude.

It's already Saturday and the weekly market opens for locals and visitors. We stroll through the stands - early still - and enjoy the offers.

I am on the hunt for garments and hope for finding a nice piece of fabric to sew a skirt or blouse. I find instead a tailors scissors for a very good deal. Had I told you to take my sewing machine with me? I did. But sadly the kitchen is so unpleasant to stay in that I do not once unpack my machine as I truly dislike the dark room downstairs and have no other table to sew on. Neither do I sketch anything, my sketchbook buried under some stuff in the sleeping room. So much for plans.

But of course I find an obsession as always. I watch numerous vintage hair style tutorials on youtube - one must do something recovering from sickness. Yes, Internet even far away in the mountains. In Greve I ask for a shop which sells foam rollers.

I succeed and buy three packs different sizes, all together 36 pieces but I still am not sure if that is enough for the mass of my hair. I have lots of hair and they are not easy to style. I smile sourly at the females presenting the techniques to form their hair into Vintage fashion as they have it much easier compared to me. But I am eager to try and complete a style.

After all, we are in Italy, the land of fashion and beautiful women. During our stay I see a lot of females dressed in elegant, even unusual clothing, in particular the more matured ones who have found their style and do not care whether it's suitable or not to wear high heals and tight skirts. I like this attitude cause the women radiate some pride and even arrogance but for some reason I must smile at them.

Through WhatsApp Lorenzo informs us that his parents want to invite us to dinner. A friend from Canada is visiting and we are asked to meet him and some friends. We seem to be special guests to them and realize during our stay that it's probably unusual to book for a total of two weeks, like we did. Though this is a very fine and generous gesture I wish that we would have split our stay, spending the second week in a valley. But then nothing of that kind would have happened.

Happily we agree on being there at eight in the evening. Before, we make a trip to Vinci, the birth town of Leonardo da Vinci. I remember my first visit twenty years ago. It was a quiet and lovely place.

But everything changed in between and we get lost. Finally a police car comes our way and we ask for directions. The carabinieri tell us "no problemo!" and wave us to follow them. Mistake. They drive like it's about to win a race and some very steep serpentines later we arrive at the museum where you can admire da Vinci's artworks. I am barley able to think, so sick I am. In the museum, I recover a little bit and of course, cannot resist to place my face next to the Mona Lisa. LOL. My man seemed to be sucked into the paintings.

^{he calls this picture "animal porn" - look at the little babies who come out of their shells :)}

^{view from a high spot of Vinci, birth town of Leonardo da Vinci}

In Florence we plan our route outside the tourist streams.

Except for the Ponte Vecchio and the Cathedral. There are long queues around the whole building waiting for admission. We save that. I myself have already visited the Duomo and no desire for it.

^{just a tiny peace of the huge Duomo}

Instead, we eat in a small restaurant around the corner and then walk my route: I have researched five vintage shops that are all nearby and there I am drawn. My man patiently waits outside or sits quietly in a corner and watches things. No problem at all, because we get to know the local corners and city life just as well.

Unfortunately, there are no photos, I only make a small video, which I do because I am impressed by the aesthetic feeling: chocolate cascades running down. I glimpse it running by a shop and can't resist to take the impression. What a luxury, what a representation of wealth and reconciliation of human appetites. I cannot show it and don't know if I will take up the effort to convert it into youtube. Probably not. Stick with your imagination:)

We lick delicious Italian ice cream and most Thrift shops have lunch break. I enter a store that looks interesting and as it turns out it is run by a seamstress. I buy a reduced light coat. A unique specimen. I am happy about this opportunity and a light chat with the shop owner. She tells me that she came to Florence from Sicily and has been running her shop there ever since. Says we better come out of season. Her name carries my country.

Tuscany lives from its history and architecture. At some point I realize I'm getting a little tired of seeing so many old towns and the past is beginning to bore me.

The eye gets used to beauty surprisingly fast and so we talk about the Florence train station on the way back. At first sight an extremely ugly box building. But also with an interesting background from an architectural point of view.

^{source: By Freepenguin - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5232723}

^{we are crossing the river over a bridge next to Ponte Vecchio}

I think Florence should not always give its visitors what they expect. Little surprising, little new is to be seen. But maybe you have to get out of the old town, who knows. But I suspect that the Florentines and other tourist attractions have specialised in preserving the past. But I wouldn't have been bothered by some disturbers who shake up the overall picture a bit. That counts for the rest of Tuscany.

Even the menus offer somehow the same things in different variations, I am probably spoiled by Germany, which has a rich multicultural cuisine and many different culinary nations can be found here. We are just an immigrant country. The rest of Tuscany is so wooded and mountainous that there is not much new to build. You can be grateful for that. But I am somehow not used to the fact that there is so little possibility to avoid the usual routes. One is somehow stuck there, is my occasional impression. As I come from the north of my country and although space is really scarce here, but not for the eye, my attitude towards life is that of more freedom, as the landscape is not limited by elevations. It is flat and could be considered boring. But you can go somewhere else for that, can't you:)

In fact, I find the flat country, now that I'm here again, much more attractive than before. As always, you have to move away to appreciate from that distance what you take for granted. Driving a car, for example, is really much easier here. I now know why I liked the west of the USA so much. There are so incredibly wide and endless stretches that just go straight ahead and are only interrupted by a few bumps.

There would be more to tell, like how we got into a party after dinner in Greve, where we danced with the celebrants in the market place and a Life Saxophone player of extraordinary beauty pleased our eyes and ears. Or I could describe the characters of the dinner guests and tell a little more about the host family. But I think it reaches as far as here and the pictures are quite vivid.

See you soon, dear ones!

At the end just some more photographs in lose order:

^{below: funnily built house in Florence}

^{Second Hand shop "Melrose" in Florence near the main station}

^{below: random shop which, of course, I had to photograph}

^{building in Verona, our very last station before heading back home}

^{left: Confectionery in Verona}

^{right: back home - pencil skirt - maybe from the 50s (?) and blouse in matching color stripes which I bought decades ago and never found a combination to wear with!}