tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34797630593768199942026-06-06T03:00:00.438+02:00Travel news, information on the best places to visit in Italy, where to go for vacation suggestions of travelers, personal trip experiences, and HIKING: follow me on my exploration of the most exciting adventuresLiudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.comBlogger638125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-31302853411687046482026-05-08T23:52:35.226+02:002026-05-08T23:52:35.226+02:00

 Choosing between a big city and a small town in Italy involves significant trade-offs regarding cost, career opportunities, and social integration. Here: Confrontation outlines of pros and consTwo kinds of expats move to small-town Italy. The ones who romanticise it so hard they forget to check whether there’s a pharmacy within 30 kilometres. And the ones who actually stick around.I’ve

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com010035 Mazzè TO, Italia45.2990766 7.937578299999999316.988842763821154 -27.2186717 73.609310436178845 43.0938283tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-19302545293031481462026-04-28T21:18:43.088+02:002026-04-28T21:18:43.088+02:00

 The miracle of wanting to go somewhere again, after months of numbness.The car thudded. Then it creaked. Then — I swear — it meowed. And then it stopped.I was somewhere on a mountain road, sixty or seventy kilometers from home, and I felt the familiar cold hand of dread. This is it. Tonight I’ll sleep in the car. I have mandatory insurance, but the kind that looks good on paper

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Varallo VC, Italia45.8144712 8.254350517.504237363821154 -26.9018995 74.124705036178852 43.4106005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-9152385323917969692026-04-12T19:34:00.005+02:002026-04-12T19:34:49.260+02:00

 Five Euros, One Field, and a Business Idea: The Expats Who Brought Their Homeland With Them — and Made It BloomA few days ago, I drove about an hour from Biella to see tulip fields — entire fields of them, not just a vase on a windowsill. I’m a devoted tulip planter, so when I read there were farms worth visiting, I woke up early and went.The town nearby is medieval and half under

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Piemonte, Italia45.0522366 7.515388516.742002763821155 -27.6408615 73.362470436178853 42.6716385tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-16463501452530622812026-04-04T14:27:00.002+02:002026-04-04T14:27:45.199+02:00

 Psychological and metabolic thriller — blending rigid scientific accuracy with mystical, serialized story. A Mediterranean Diet Series where every meal is a story, and every story feeds something.For anyone who has ever stood at a stove and felt, without knowing why, that they were not cooking alone.Episode OneThe Jar That Never EmptiedI. The Curve of CoastThe complex sat on a curve of

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-42305422233467645462026-03-28T10:45:00.004+01:002026-03-28T10:45:00.117+01:00

The Rise and Hollow Fall of the Frichignono. Much more than just a name in a dusty ledger.The tunnel does not merely lead you underground; it swallows you.The vaulted stone ceiling presses down with the weight of a thousand years, the air turning cold and damp — the temperature of a held breath.Ahead, a dim amber glow flickers; behind you, a darkness so thick and deliberate it feels like a

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013836 Castellengo BI, Italia45.532817400000013 8.18698817.222583563821168 -26.969262 73.843051236178866 43.343238tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-48200452197066476002026-03-19T11:50:59.027+01:002026-03-19T11:50:59.028+01:00

 Historical detective: a silent record left by women who had no other voice.Stand on the hill of Castellengo Castle and look down. The plain spreads out endlessly before you, flat and quiet.But look closer, just below the castle hill: there is a church. The Church of Saints Peter and Paul sits there as it has for centuries, and even from a distance, something about it feels odd. Its

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013836 Castellengo BI, Italia45.532817400000013 8.18698817.222583563821168 -26.969262 73.843051236178866 43.343238tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-30944923331509807352026-03-13T19:12:00.002+01:002026-03-13T19:12:18.883+01:00

 At Castello di Castellengo, a glass of Nebbiolo is not just a drink — it is a conversation with four million years of history. And it begins with a very steep climb.You already know the stones.If you read Part 1 and Part 2 of the Castellengo story, you know about Alberico, who crossed all of Italy with nothing but a name and a sword. You know about the political tragedy sealed into the

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013836 Castellengo BI, Italia45.532817400000013 8.18698817.222583563821168 -26.969262 73.843051236178866 43.343238tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-87930870579236118692026-03-06T13:07:00.003+01:002026-03-06T13:07:35.841+01:00

 Before the tourists arrive and the season truly begins, Italy belongs, for a few precious days, to its farmers. Every spring, Italy exhales. And somewhere in that first warm breath, you will find a farmer’s fair.There is something quietly magical about the agricultural fairs that mark the arrival of spring in Italy.National Agriculture, Livestock and Food Exhibitions.Long before the

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com006025 Nocera Umbra PG, Italia43.113521899999988 12.787624214.803288063821142 -22.3686258 71.423755736178833 47.943874199999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-81927550507890008742026-02-28T12:41:00.002+01:002026-02-28T12:41:26.900+01:00

 The “Pragmatic Nobles” who used diplomacy and Church alliances to rule for 400+ years. Dynasty that would learn to survive by being much ‘smarter’ than the rebel Alberico but… TOO muchThe confiscation of 1014 was not the end of Castellengo. It was, in retrospect, only the prologue.Part II: The Pragmatic Heirs — The Mystery of the Postern GateInto the space Alberico left behind

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013836 Castellengo BI, Italia45.532817400000013 8.18698817.222583563821168 -26.969262 73.843051236178866 43.343238tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-34565138910935960812026-02-19T20:46:00.004+01:002026-02-19T20:46:38.835+01:00

 Every castle has its ghost. At Castellengo, the ghost isn’t a specter drifting through corridors in the small hours — it’s a political tragedy, sealed into the limestone like a man walled up alive.Before the grand balconies, before the cellars heavy with wine, there was only a cliff, a river, and a man with a loyalty that would cost him everything.Part I: The Exile’s Gamble — From the

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013836 Castellengo BI, Italia45.532817400000013 8.18698817.222583563821168 -26.969262 73.843051236178866 43.343238tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-67882106965015273032026-02-19T20:20:00.002+01:002026-02-19T20:21:04.638+01:00

 Winter has finally arrived in Biella, and I find myself in the peculiar position of wanting snow. After 22 years of southern living, this is character development I never saw coming.Snow in Biella is a rare guest — arriving perhaps once or twice, staying for a polite day or two before disappearing, as if it had forgotten an important appointment elsewhere.But this year? This year, I’m

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Bielmonte BI, Italia45.6624943 8.089237899999998817.352260463821153 -27.0670121 73.972728136178844 43.2454879tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-29563717086227782142026-02-06T22:27:00.006+01:002026-02-06T22:27:48.417+01:00

 There’s something about Italy that makes people want to believe in magic again. On witch-hunts, wish-granting, and what happens when modern women chase ancient magicThere is a walnut tree that grows over a gorge in the mountains between Salerno and Benevento. I know this because I danced around it with four other women on a Thursday afternoon, and the universe answered back.Benevento

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com082100 Benevento BN, Italia41.1297194 14.782657712.819485563821154 -20.3735923 69.439953236178837 49.9389077tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-66169316492131906012026-01-31T18:56:00.002+01:002026-01-31T18:56:21.949+01:00

Formula 1 track in the fogThe weather in Biella was miserable—not just cold, but the kind of cold that settles into your bones and whispers that winter has come to stay.Freezing. The sky hung heavy with dense clouds, threatening rain that never came, as if the world itself was holding its breath.I’ve been spending too many days trapped indoors, a prisoner hunting for work, my eyes burning from

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com010013 Borgofranco d'Ivrea TO, Italia45.5154496 7.8548867-1.9304866706395813 -62.4576133 90 78.1673867tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-76423291031562240282026-01-23T21:30:00.004+01:002026-01-23T21:30:32.831+01:00

I was writing a text for prospects, agricultural companies, offering them a promotion of their products – vegetables, meat, honey, wine... Suddenly, I had the idea to tell it to you as a parable...The old woman at the market in Biella counts differently than you or I.She doesn’t count in euros or dollars. She counts in hours—the hours between when her husband’s hands pulled a zucchini from the

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Piemonte, Italia45.0522366 7.515388516.742002763821155 -27.6408615 73.362470436178853 42.6716385tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-89893044330924375282026-01-14T13:01:00.008+01:002026-01-14T13:16:56.805+01:00

Milan, in this post’s focus, is a beautiful, snowy city, and its secrets are revealed here.We created this winter song inspired by photos of Milan and Moscow, me and PerplexitySnowflakes dance on lamplight gold,City veins in silver cold.Windows glow, a whispered spell,Evening’s beauty, pure and fell.Breathe the frost, embrace the night —Winter’s kiss, pure delight!Continue with me on our

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Milano MI, Italia45.468503 9.18240269999999917.158269163821153 -25.973847300000003 73.778736836178837 44.3386527tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-46654439279870342192026-01-11T11:14:00.001+01:002026-01-11T11:14:07.950+01:00

I wrote this story many years ago, when I was (yet again) in the situation described here. It's happened to me many times. But I still believe it's written accurately.A small, small, impossibly small man stood before a wall of fog.It seemed the entire world lay ahead of him—a vast, impossible Universe rising from the earth at his feet and stretching into infinity. These clouds, so voluminous,

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-47509382252754285622026-01-11T10:47:00.005+01:002026-01-11T10:47:39.064+01:00

Life in Italy was never easy. Virtually every place and every period could be included in a survival manual. Let's talk about castle secrets again. Once upon a time, there was a castle... “How do we get into that castle?”“You can’t,” I said.The car had stopped beside us on the hill. We looked up at the ruin—another forgotten Avogadro fortress, crumbling behind rusted gates and NO TRESPASSING

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013040 Buronzo VC, Italia45.4785753 8.264992099999998817.168341463821157 -26.8912579 73.788809136178855 43.4212421tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-91407474033324744202026-01-01T20:09:00.004+01:002026-01-01T20:11:24.437+01:00

 Every year between Christmas and New Year's, my friends and I engage in what has become our sacred ritual: eating our way through Piedmont while pretending we're not just avoiding their in-laws. This year brought complications. Our usual pilgrimage site—Oropa, home to the best polenta concia and panna cotta in Italy, perched dramatically at 1,200 meters—was buried under snow. My

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Italia41.87194 12.5673813.561706163821157 -22.58887 70.182173836178848 47.72363tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-38428250007538535082025-12-26T12:09:00.000+01:002025-12-26T12:09:02.063+01:00

Guarded by carved oak against winter's bite, a bas-relief freezes 1400s nobility: stern lords flank ladies in shockingly short tunics. No trailing velvet trains; these hems skim the knee. Why?  This story is my interpretation of the Saint-Pierre bas-relief on a door in the castle. Tourists visiting the castle do not notice its protagonists, and the guides don’t know what to say to you.

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com011010 Saint-Pierre AO, Italia45.7084207 7.225819217.398186863821152 -27.9304308 74.018654536178843 42.382069200000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-3728468216281349532025-12-17T22:30:00.001+01:002025-12-17T22:30:25.312+01:00

 Across northern Italy, some of the oldest stones in the region hold secrets from a distant past, where children were interred with reverence and ceremony.The path through the woods above Roppolo is carpeted in copper leaves, and the winter light falls thin through the bare chestnuts.I climb slowly, following no signs, only the old knowledge that sacred places choose high ground. Below, Lake

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013883 Roppolo BI, Italia45.4201996 8.068963617.109965763821151 -27.0872864 73.730433436178842 43.225213600000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-67914639746867802252025-12-11T20:21:00.002+01:002025-12-11T20:21:12.128+01:00

 Twenty-six kilometers separate Biella from Ivrea, but they might as well be centuries apart.I’ve already told you about Ivrea—the city that dreamed outward, that built its utopia around Olivetti’s vision, that wanted the world to see what it had created. Biella chose differently. When the textile industry that defined it for generations disappeared, Biella didn’t dream of the future. It

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013900 Biella BI, Italia45.562884200000013 8.058339717.252650363821168 -27.097910300000002 73.873118036178852 43.2145897tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-81336698294466537712025-12-07T13:20:00.007+01:002025-12-07T13:21:38.644+01:00

Walk into any landscape that's bigger and more powerful than you are—any mountain, any ocean, any desert, any forest dark enough to remind you that you're not actually in control—and boots up.You’re walking an Alpine trail, hours from any village, when you find it: a wooden cross wrapped in weathered ribbons. Or a tiny shrine built into a boulder, half-hidden by moss. Sometimes there’s a saint’s

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Piemonte, Italia45.0522366 7.515388516.742002763821155 -27.6408615 73.362470436178853 42.6716385tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-48390412806328642732025-11-28T23:06:00.003+01:002025-11-28T23:06:28.085+01:00

A Sunday Walk Through 4,000 Years of Mystery (and Wild Boar Territory) in Bessa Natural Reserve, PiedmontSunday afternoon, trapped at my computer, the November sun mocked me through the window. Then salvation arrived via email: a package waiting at the Locker. Fifteen minutes there and back, I told myself. Just fifteen minutes.But the day was impossibly beautiful—that rare late autumn gift when

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com0Riserva Naturale Speciale la Bessa, Via Crosa, 1, 13882 Cerrione BI, Italia45.4860525 8.03602817.175818663821154 -27.120222 73.796286336178838 43.192278tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-79066389404722079612025-11-22T21:22:00.007+01:002025-11-22T21:22:28.514+01:00

Inside Rosazza—Italy's Most Mysterious Village, Built by Freemasons to Transform the Soul Rosazza, Province of Biella, PiedmontSometimes the rain knows something you don’t.Google promised a dry afternoon, but the sky had other plans. By the time I left my car at the village entrance, the drizzle had turned serious, insistent, the kind of rain that soaks through optimism and practical planning

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013815 Rosazza BI, Italia45.6757487 7.977729999999999317.365514863821154 -27.17852 73.985982536178852 43.13398tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3479763059376819994.post-61016204784924613922025-11-20T17:30:00.003+01:002025-11-20T17:30:17.657+01:00

The wild boars weren't expecting company for dinner. Neither was I hoping to find myself clinging to a rocky slope in the Italian Alps.No proper path beneath my feet, just brambles and determination, chasing a mysterious temple that hung somewhere above my head like a promise. But that’s what happens when you follow Federico Rosazza’s ghost through the mountains near Biella.In 1850s Italy, while

Liudmilahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05338028909924145395noreply@blogger.com013900 Oropa BI, Italia45.6283442 7.978808199999998717.318110363821155 -27.1774418 73.938578036178853 43.135058199999996