I can't think of a better way to see Italy than a villa stay. I've not been that lucky to date; strictly a hotel thing, you see. But my friend Sarah and I have these ideas. I imagine it always begins the same way: After one too many glasses of Bordeaux in a corner restaurant in the city, someone mentions Italy and then in your mind, you're off.
We will stay in a small villa outside Florence. We must only drive convertibles, wear very big, very dark sunglasses, dresses with waists and kitten heels, and we will absolutely take up smoking once again (though only temporarily), and learn both very lovely things to say in Italian, but also the kinds of things a girl says in a mad flare of temper while hotly stamping her kitten-heeled shod foot into a cobble stoned street and venomously dressing down Marco or Paolo as she brandishes a Pucci scarf (for a little added color). Consumption of wild boar and sardines is optional, americano's, grappa, limoncello is - obviously - not.
But that is our dream, long honed in a place called Pierre's in Boston. You should have your own, and never fail to work toward it. I can think of no better recommendation for Italian villa stays than these.
Keep me posted on your dreams, I'd like nothing more than to hope for them with you.
We will stay in a small villa outside Florence. We must only drive convertibles, wear very big, very dark sunglasses, dresses with waists and kitten heels, and we will absolutely take up smoking once again (though only temporarily), and learn both very lovely things to say in Italian, but also the kinds of things a girl says in a mad flare of temper while hotly stamping her kitten-heeled shod foot into a cobble stoned street and venomously dressing down Marco or Paolo as she brandishes a Pucci scarf (for a little added color). Consumption of wild boar and sardines is optional, americano's, grappa, limoncello is - obviously - not.
But that is our dream, long honed in a place called Pierre's in Boston. You should have your own, and never fail to work toward it. I can think of no better recommendation for Italian villa stays than these.
Keep me posted on your dreams, I'd like nothing more than to hope for them with you.
5 comments:
Oh, but how I long to go to Florence! My daughter spent a summer there and traveled the country. So many of her photo's look like postcards that I cannot imagine which direction I would head in first. Perhaps I would just sit on the terrace of one of those fabulous villas and just ponder for a while.
Hmmm....I think I am on board with your dream! Been to Italy twice. No villa! It would be like getting in touch with my inner Sophia Loren. HA!
Dear Blushing:
I loved your post, most amusing and charming. Coincidentally, Boy and I just the other day accepted an invitation to spend ten days this June with friends who have taken a house in Tuscany. Your post is an inspiration for how we should behave, although I'm not sure I can manage kitten heels...
Lucca. Maybe Montefalco. Anywhere but Tuscany. Hide away in the heart of Umbria. 1966 white Alfa Romeo Spider. Smells of rosemary and box wood on the flag stone patio mixed with a whiff of Cuban Bolivar smoke.
A cold pool. A white towel. Lie down wet and let the sun dry my back. I want to stay forever and bake bread for a living.
Have been to Italy , the Rome and Florence regions, would love to go back and visit Lake Como, and yes! Stay in a villa. Divine!
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