Bella Vita

Florence In Pictures

2013-06-06T09:42:00.000-07:00

Although my travels have taken me in or near Florence, Italy several times the past couple of years, I just realized I've never actually written about it here.

Serious blogger fail.

Florence is perhaps best-known for its famous sculptures. Well, one in particular: Michelangelo's David.

This is a replica, and I guess it's alright. If you're into sculpted naked men, I mean.

Actually, I hate to admit this, but Florence's world-famous works of art are completely wasted on me. I go to Florence for the food.

Also, this view...

The street artists are pretty impressive too.

Because it's Florence, even the light posts come with extra flair. Can't you just imagine them dancing when no one's looking?

Here are a few other pieces that caught my eye...

And, of course, no visit to Florence is complete without some oogling of the Ponte Vecchio and the spectacular Duomo.

Next up on the blog? Venice.

But first, I'm off to the Napa Valley for a much-needed girls' weekend.

P.S. You know you've been traveling too much when the TSA agent takes one look at you and says "You've done this a time or two haven't you..."

Happy Weekend!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Savvy Nomad: AirBnB

2013-06-03T10:16:00.001-07:00

This probably won't surprise you, but I get quite a few questions about traveling. Apparently, word has gotten out that I'm a bit of a nomad. One of the questions I am asked most frequently is: "How can you afford to travel so much?"

Which is obviously code for "Drugs or Trust Fund?" (The answer, for the record, is neither).

The truth is I've chosen to make travel a budget priority (with a dedicated 'adventure fund'), and I've learned loads of tips along the way to travel well cheaply. For instance, I recently discovered the website AirBnB, a must-bookmark site for savvy nomads.

AirBnB connects individuals with spare rooms or apartments for rent with travelers. There are options available in just about any city you can think of, and the rates are usually far less than you'll find in more traditional local accommodations.

All of the booking and payment is done online through a secure website. There are pictures, descriptions, and traveler reviews to help you decide where to stay. And, as an added security measure, AirBnB holds your payment for 24 hours after your scheduled arrival date in case you're unsatisfied with the place.

I chose to rent entire apartments during my stays in Tuscany, Athens, Crete and London, which gave me a bit of extra privacy and enabled me to cook some meals at home (another big travel savings).

Here are a few pictures from the places I stayed...

Athens (Link to AirBnB Listing):

Crete (Link to AirBnB Listing):

London (Link to AirBnB Listing):

Tuscany (Link to AirBnB Listing):

Virtually every landlord I met was kind and helpful, providing me with everything from maps and restaurant recommendations to help carrying my luggage. My landlord in Tuscany even drove me to Chianti and translated for me during a full-day of wine tasting at no extra charge.

They don't do that at the Four Seasons.

Check out the AirBnB website here.

Happy Travels!

{images via www.Airbnb.com}

Wagon Wheels & Flower Power

2013-05-29T11:50:00.002-07:00

You may have noticed I've fallen off the face of the Earth the past couple of weeks. I don't know about you, but it seems that the more I have on my mind, the less I have to say. I'm back in Oregon at the moment (Yes, I still owe you photos from the end of our Italian adventure), and I've been spending my time (and spare brain power) trying to figure out what this Plan B life looks like now.

It's a work in progress; this whole being a grown-up thing.

In other words, please bear with me while I put the wheels back on my wagon.

In other news, I spent the weekend visiting old friends and taking pictures of pretty flowers. That is what grown-ups do, right?

Here are a few of my favorites:

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Return to the Cinque Terre

2013-05-09T13:10:00.000-07:00

Our picture-laden tour through Italy continues. Today's stop: The Cinque Terre.

I've written about this stunning place before; five quaint villages nestled among the crooks, cliffs and crannies that make up Italy's northern Mediterranean Coast. It's one of my favorite places in the world.

Sadly, a few months after my last visit in 2011, two of the five villages experienced catastrophic flooding that swept some villagers' dreams and lives out to sea and left the survivors up to their eyeballs in mud. The communities have undergone a heroic effort to clean up and rebuild. In fact, the only evidence we saw of the flood were the pictures in shops and Vernazza's new beach (built from all the mud and rocks that washed off the hillsides and were relocated there during the cleanup effort).

Here are a few of my favorite shots from our time there...

As I said in my post back in 2011, do yourself a favor and add the Cinque Terre to your travel bucket list. I seriously considered dropping this whole writing thing and becoming a trail guide (this area is known throughout the world for its incredible hiking trails and views) for the summer instead. Want to join me?

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Rome In Pictures

2013-05-02T09:24:00.001-07:00

If you've been following along on Facebook, you already know that I've spent the last couple of weeks in Italy and the United Kingdom with my mom, who is making her first trek across the pond.

We've been sprinting (sometimes literally) through London the last couple of days and spent Tuesday on one loooooooong flight from London to San Francisco. To be honest, I'm completely exhausted. So rather than write a lengthy post describing our adventures, I'm taking the lazy blogger's way out and posting pictures instead.

Let's start with Rome.

We started our journey with a whirlwind tour here. We only had two days to explore the city's nearly 3,000 years of history, so we focused on the highlight reel:

The Colosseum...

Gorgeous St. Peter's Basillica...

The Vatican...

And spent an enchanting evening visiting Rome's tremendous squares at night. We saw Bernini's Four Rivers Fountain (psst...check out this post for more on my little Italian crush).

Checked out the neighborhood around the Pantheon...

And visited Trevi Fountain.

Legend has it if you throw a coin over your right shoulder into the fountain, you will return to Rome.

Looks like we'll be returning.

(I threw five...just in case).

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Savvy Nomad: Guide to the Turkish Bath (Hamam)

2013-04-28T05:51:00.000-07:00

I’m a big believer in pursuing travel experiences that make me a little bit uncomfortable. What I’ve found is comfort zones are expandable. Each time I push on its edges or tiptoe out of its boundaries, I find it’s a little bigger and a little more flexible than before. A trip across the country leads to a trip across the ocean. Mastering the Metro in Paris makes the one in Berlin seem a little easier.

My time in Istanbul was filled with comfort-zone-expanding opportunities. I was nervous about traveling in a Muslim-country as a solo female and afraid I would cause an international incident at the Blue Mosque, but the boundary-testing was taken to a whole new level when I decided to visit a traditional Hamam (Turkish Bath).

Hamams are not for everyone. I know plenty of people who squirm at the idea of donning a swimming suit in public each summer. If you’re one of those people, a Hamam may not be for you. But if you’re feeling adventurous (or just want a heckuva travel story) then consider visiting one in Istanbul.

And, because I believe a well-informed traveler is a happy traveler, here is everything you need to know before you go:

WHAT HAPPENS AT A TURKISH BATH?
I am, obviously, writing this from a woman’s perspective. Men, I assume your experience will be very similar (except perhaps the bikini bottoms).

When you arrive at the Hamam, you’ll be greeted by a receptionist and asked to select a service from the menu (See Which Service Should I Choose?). You’ll be given a thin towel to cover-up between the changing and bathing areas and a pair of clean bikini bottoms,* and pointed toward the changing area.

There are changing rooms with sandals to wear in the bathing area, and lockers with keys to store your clothes and bags. If you’re uncomfortable going topless in the bath, you are welcome to bring and wear your own bikini top. However, keep in mind, most patrons will be bearing it all. I’ve read forums where some women have actually felt out of place for covering up. Above all, do what makes you feel most comfortable.

Once you’re undressed, you’ll be pointed in the direction of the bath. The bath is basically a large circular room with little fountains along its edges. In the center is a large, heated stone slab.

The attendants, who will also be dressed in bikini bottoms (and ill-fitting tops), will show you where to lie down. Most likely by taking your towel, laying it down on the slab a few inches from another guest, and saying “Lie Down!” You’ll spend about 20 minutes lounging on the hot slab, which helps to open up your pores. It reminded me a bit of lizards sunning themselves. Except, of course, the lizards are topless women trying to avoid looking at one another.

Next you’ll be scrubbed down with an exfoliating cloth (kese). Word to the wise, everything that isn’t covered by your bikini bottoms will be scrubbed; legs, thighs, breasts, neck, you name it.

Then comes my favorite part: The Bubbles. As you lie on the slab, you’ll be covered with waves of thick, sweet-smelling bubbles.

A sudsy massage follows.

Then it’s time to rinse. You’ll be lead to one of the little fountains along the edge of the bath, where you’ll sit. Then you’ll be doused, over and over again, with pans of fountain water.

A quick shampoo, a few more douses, and it’s time for a dip in the jacuzzi, where it’s now socially acceptable to make eye contact with the other guests. Mostly everyone just looks a little bewildered and slightly twitchy.

When your fingers are sufficiently wrinkly, you’ll make your way out of the bath area where you’ll be handed a fresh, fluffy towel. If you opted for the oil massage, you’ll be ushered into another set of rooms. If you chose the traditional service, you’re finished and free to get dressed.

WHERE SHOULD I GO?
Istanbul has plenty of Hamams to choose from, and where you choose can determine whether your experience is a positive one or a travel horror story. Some things to keep in mind:

Cleanliness can vary dramatically from place to place, as can the staff’s ability to communicate with English-speakers.

Some Hamans offer services to men only. Some to both sexes (in separate rooms or buildings). Others are family-friendly, so you, your partner and little Tommy can all be scrubbed at once.

Always, always, always check reviews before you go.

I choose Cemberlitas Hamami, which was slightly more expensive, but had good reviews for cleanliness and being user-friendly for English-speaking travelers. I also found this website helpful during my research.

WHICH SERVICE SHOULD I CHOOSE?
There are usually three types of services provided at a standard Turkish Bath.

Self-service: You do all the scrubbing and washing yourself.

Traditional Style: An attendant does the scrubbing and washing for you.

Oil Massage: Traditional style with an oil massage at the end.

My recommendation? Traditional Style. The oil massage adds considerably to the cost, and I've heard it's more of a quick slathering than the soothing, rejuvenating massage you might expect.

If you're on a budget or just REALLY uncomfortable with a stranger bathing you, then choose the self-service instead.

*WHAT DO I WEAR?
This is where research comes in handy. Some Hamans provide guests with clean bikini bottoms to wear during your bath experience. Others do not. To be on the safe side, it’s a good idea to bring an extra pair of underwear or bikini bottoms. If you’re shy about public nudity, you can also bring a bikini top to wear. Although, keep in mind, you’re likely to be the only one in the room wearing one.

DO MEN AND WOMEN BATH TOGETHER?
No. Men and women have separate bathing areas. In some Hamams, it’s a separate entrance; in others, a separate building.

Note: Some Hamams offer services for men only. Be sure to check reviews or the Hamam’s website first.

Exception to the Rule: I found one Hamam that offers services for families and couples only. No singles allowed. In this case, the family/couple would share a private room and be bathed by male staff.

Have you been to a Turkish Bath? Would you go?

{images via Cemberlitas Hamami}

If you're wondering why this blog has been so lame...

2013-04-24T08:07:00.001-07:00

Just in case you've been holding your breath, waiting for that post on Turkish Baths I promised you and you're thinking to yourself "I'm about to pass out, and also, why is Liz being so lame this week?" I wanted to let you know that I managed to pick the only hotel in Venice (and possibly the Western World) that doesn't have reliable internet access.

Serious Blogger Fail!

So far, the access here has ranged between turtle-paced and nonexistent. Naturally, uploading pictures of women washing each other was out of the question. Apologies.

The good news is we leave for London tomorrow, so there will be plenty of picture-laden posts from Turkey and our adventures in Italy soon. Watch this space!

Until then, safe travels.

XO
Liz

Istanbul in Pictures

2013-04-18T07:49:00.000-07:00

You may have picked this up from my last post and/or my Facebook wall, but Istanbul has secured the top spot on my "Places I Must Return" list. In a word, it's incredible. The perfect blend of centuries-old culture and vibrant, modern city. The people are kind; the views, breathtaking.

And the food...Oh the food! It is some of the best I've tasted in Europe. I'm talking roll your eyes and groan delicious.

Rather than give you the play-by-play from my visit here, I thought I'd show you some of the highlights.

Let's start at the Hagia Sophia:

The Hagia Sophia is a reflection of Istanbul's position as the gateway between East and West. Throughout its history, it has been a church, mosque, and now a museum.

One of the things that surprised me most about Istanbul was the tulips. Yes, the tulips. I just missed the Istanbul Tulip Festival, but the humble flowers were still out in full force during my visit. They are everywhere; adding a splash of color to the city's squares and sites.

Another of my favorite stops was the Spice Market (Egyptian Bazaar). Stall upon stall of pungent spices, teas, dried fruits, and Turkish specialty Lokum (aka Turkish Delight) piled high, just as its been done for the past 350 years.

One last stop: the bustling, sprawling Grand Bazaar.

The Grand Bazaar is a maze of tiny shops selling rugs, scarves, lamps, instruments, and bath supplies alongside your traditional tourist nicknacks. Expect to be greeted, over and over again, by pushy salesmen who insist you come in and take a look at their merchandise. A little tip: Smile, shake your head no, and keep walking. I know it seems a little rude, but you can lose entire days in this place if you stop to talk to every 'helpful' shop owner.

To be honest, the Grand Bazaar was a bit of a disappointment for me. It reminded me of a giant tourist souvenir shop instead of the market stocked with hand-crafted goods I had pictured. I was actually much more intrigued by something happening just outside...

The Call to Prayer sounded while I was inside the Bazaar and the shopkeepers began closing up their shops and making their way to the Mosque next door. Each brought a small carpet and lined up in neat rows outside the Mosque. A group of women waited patiently nearby.

The worshippers covered every available space, kneeling on stairs and along the sidewalk leading up to the Mosque. Calls to Prayer echoed back and forth through the city as they assembled.

It was one of those moments I'll never forget.

Next up? A Savvy Nomad guide to the Turkish Bath (Hamam)

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Savvy Nomad: Guide to Visiting the Blue Mosque

2013-04-14T15:39:00.001-07:00

Since we're all friends here, I have a confession to make: I almost didn't go to Istanbul.

It was silly really; my own anxieties and pre-conceived notions about traveling in a Muslim country as a solo, female traveler. Part of it was concern for my safety, but to a greater extent, I was afraid about accidentally offending the locals through my own cultural clumsiness.

Now that I've spent a few days here, I can't believe I almost missed this.

My guess is there may be more than a few of you who are in the same boat: curious about Istanbul -- a vibrant city popping up on just about everyone's "Places You Must Visit" list -- but a little nervous to come see it for yourself. So I thought I'd do a few "Savvy Nomad" posts to share what I've learned about traveling in this stunning city.

First stop: The exquisite Blue Mosque.

Of all the places in Istanbul, this is the one I was most excited to see and most nervous about visiting. I had a whole lot of questions: Would I be seen as a welcome visitor or an unwanted intruder in this sacred spot? What should I wear? What are the rules? Can I talk? Take pictures?

So let's start with the most important thing first: You are welcome here. In fact, the personnel goes to great lengths to explain the process for entering the Mosque, answer questions about Islam, and treat you like a welcome guest. Signs with pictures and English translations clearly state rules for dress and decorum within the Mosque (you know, in case you forget to bookmark this post).

WHEN TO GO
The Mosque is open from 5:30am to 9:00pm seven days per week. Visitors are welcome inside except during prayer times, which happen five times each day. The timing of these prayers varies slightly, according to a complex calculation involving things like the Earth's rotation and daylight savings time, but a safe bet for your visit is during the morning.

Look for the signs pointing you toward the visitors entrance. Yes, they will be in English.

There is no charge to visit.

WHAT TO WEAR
The signs outside the Blue Mosque depicting appropriate dress reminded me of the ones outside the Vatican in Rome. The dress code in both places is easy to remember: Cover your shoulders and your legs. No tank-tops and no shorts or short skirts.

Women must also cover their heads with a scarf to enter. If you don't have one of your own, you can borrow one from the Mosque, free of charge. To wear a headscarf, simply place the fabric on top of your head with equal portions hanging on each side. Then toss both ends over your shoulders. Do not cover your face; the headscarf is there to cover your hair only.

All visitors and worshippers must remove their shoes before entering. The Mosque provides free plastic bags to put them in. You can either carry your bag with you or leave it on one of the shoe shelves while you explore.

RULES OF THE ROAD
It should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway, behave in the Mosque the same way you would in any other house of worship. That is to say, be respectful of the people who are there to pray. Remain silent. Or, if you must talk, use your "the-baby-is-asleep" inside voice.

Pictures are allowed, but turn off your flash. Nobody wants to face a wall of amateur paparazzi while they're praying. And, for pete's sake, don't stare or take pictures of the worshippers. Just don't. It's rude.

There is a divider to separate worshippers from visitors, as well as a separate, screened, females-only section for worshippers. Be respectful of those boundaries.

You can return borrowed headscarves and discard used plastic bags at the Mosque exit.

If you want to contribute to maintain this beautiful place, you can also make a donation when you exit. The donation is completely voluntary, and they provide receipts.

For more information on the history and architecture of the Mosque, I found this site helpful.

Ok, now that we've got the ground rules covered, let's have a look around:

The Women's Only Section

One last tip: It's even more spectacular at night.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Crete in Pictures

2013-04-10T00:44:00.001-07:00

Another day, another airport. I'm on my way to Istanbul, but thought I would take advantage of the layover and free WIFI at Athen's Airport to share a few pictures from my time in Crete. To be honest, this part of my trip might as well be called "The Lost Days." I've used my time here mainly to catch up on sleep and prepare for the final 20-day traveling sprint ahead of me.

Still, it's not a bad place to spend a little down time.

Next Stop: Istanbul.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Bucket List: Visit Greece (Hydra)

2013-04-07T12:10:00.001-07:00

They say love finds you when you least expect it. It'll smack you right upside the head when you're not looking.

I can confirm this because when I stepped off of the rolling and rocking ferryboat a few days ago, seasick and skeptical, the last thing I expected was to fall in love. I'd read about Hydra. A little island located a hop, skip, plus one jump from Athens. The guidebook used all of my buzzwords.

Pretty. Ok.

Quaint. Sure.

Expensive Yachts. Interesting.

Donkeys carrying appliances. I'm listening.

That is what I heard. This is what I saw.

SWOON! I spent the first day wandering around the maze of tiny streets that wind their way up the hill from Hydra's picturesque harbor.

During my first evening on the island, I decided to walk to nearby Kaminia for dinner. Kaminia is connected to Hydra via a slippery stone path that twists and turns along the shore. I read about a restaurant perched on a bluff there, overlooking the village's harbor and fleet of fishing boats. The description was enticing, but, as I later discovered, lacking. In fairness, how do you begin to describe this view?

The restaurant is called Kodylenia's Taverna. It's owned by lovely Demetrius, who takes his fishing boat out each morning to purchase the day's catch from local fishermen.

I ordered the spaghetti with shrimp and clams. As I peeled, I took in the view and waited for my dinner companions.

The evening was enchanting. It was capped off by a gentle-looking fisherman who walked right through the restaurant with his fishing pole and a still-wriggling fish. He gingerly handed the fish through the kitchen door. A plate emerged a few minutes later.

This being a small island, I was soon informed the fisherman was responsible for the white wine I sipped during dinner. I told him I loved his wine, and when I returned the next evening, he was there with a bouquet of freshly picked flowers for my table and a glass of his wine just for me. Somehow he knew I would be there.

The following morning, I decided to stroll over to neighboring Vlychos. I heard there was a remote beach tucked away there. It was alright.

But I decided to keep walking. Soon, I noticed a narrow path leading down the hillside, and out of sight. I've traveled enough to know I should follow it. Here's what I found:

My own private beach. Ok, so technically, it probably belonged to the guy who owned the expensive home I passed on the way down. But, as he wasn't using it, I decided to spend the afternoon there. Just me, the sunshine, and a good book.

That evening, I returned to Kodylenia's for dinner. It was an evening filled with tasty food and delicious conversation with a charming man from Wyoming seated at the next table. We sipped cocktails until the early morning hours; talking about life and our travels and guessing who owed the extravagant yacht that pulled in earlier that day.

The mules were, of course, standing by. As a sidenote, you haven't really lived until you've seen a train of mules waiting outside a multimillion dollar yacht.

I watched the sun rise over Hydra and caught the (painfully) early morning ferry back to Athens. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined Hydra would take hold of me the way it has. It was completely and utterly magical. The sort of place that makes your soul want to do a Snoopy Dance.

I'm in love.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Toga! Toga! Toga!

2013-04-04T09:08:00.001-07:00

In addition to offending any Greeks who may be reading this, today's headline was meant to clue you in that I have arrived safely in Greece. Specifically, Athens. I haven't written for a few days because, to be perfectly honest, I've been trying to find something about this ancient city that I like.

I don't mean to be all Negative Nelly here. But, unless I'm missing something, Athens has managed to incorporate all the worst parts of large cities (the noisy, dirty, rude and occasionally, dangerous parts) while eschewing all of the charms that similar cities (Rome, for instance) possess.

After spending three full days here, my best advice to would-be travelers is: See the Acropolis then get out as soon as possible. Your precious vacation time is better spent on Greece's gorgeous islands or some of the ancient sites further inland.

Don't be a hero.

That being said, the Acropolis is worth the price of admission.

And if you're not into ancient engineering triumphs, the view is pretty spectacular too.

Aside from my afternoon spent high above Athens, the other highlight of my time here was watching the Evzone Guards outside of Parliament. These gents are part of an elite infantry unit of the Greek Army and, it should be said, what they lack in balance, they make up for in style.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Bucket List: Take a Cooking Class in Italy

2013-03-30T22:00:00.000-07:00

One of my top goals for this trip was to FINALLY take a cooking class in Tuscany. I asked Annalisa, my Tuscan landlord, if she could recommend a local class to me. She promptly introduced me to Eleonora Uccella.

Eleonora is a world-class chef. She runs a little company called Cookery Club and holds private cooking classes in her gorgeous farmhouse kitchen. We arranged for me to visit last week for a full afternoon of cooking, conversation, and, of course, wine.

Not surprisingly, Eleonora's kitchen was exactly how you'd expect a chef's to be: immaculate, warm and inviting. When I arrived, she had already set up work stations on the counters with the ingredients and tools we would be using to create our 4-course meal.

Rather than walk you through each recipe step-by-step, I thought I would just post a little evidence of our work-in-progress...

And note, for the record, that I made my own pasta...from scratch.

I sort of look like an Italian grandmother in that sweater and apron, no?

Once the pasta was rolled, cut and piled onto trays, it was time to put the finishing touches on our meal and dig in. Here's what we made/ate:

Course #1: Ricotta and Parmesan Souffle

Course #2: Homemade Tagliolini With Lemon Sauce

Course #3: Roasted Guinea Fowl With Mandarins, Walnuts and Grapes.

Course #4: Puff Pastry Apple Ravioli "Della Mamma" (Eleanora's mothers secret recipe)

The biggest thing I took away from my class was good food doesn't have to be complicated. Each of these recipes used 7 ingredients or less (most used 4-5). The key is to use the best available, freshest ingredients; ours came directly from the market/garden/henhouse a few hours earlier. And, not to be too obvious about this, to eat real food. You won't find anything created in a test tube in Eleonora's kitchen.

The end result was the best meal I've eaten in Italy and, quite possibly, ever. If you're in Tuscany and want to learn from the best, give Eleonora Uccella's Cookery Club a try. She offers private or group classes for every level. You can choose from full afternoon or, if your schedule and budget allow, a series of three shorter sessions.

Buon Appetito!

P.S. Matilda the Duck is pleased to announce that no ducks were harmed in the making of this meal.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Odds n' Ends

2013-03-28T02:52:00.002-07:00

I'm off on a train to Venice this afternoon, but before I go, I thought I'd share a few last photos from my time in Tuscany. Most of these are from a visit to Pasquini, a farm in nearby Regello, where they make divine olive oil.

You may have noticed I've been posting up a storm this week. Here are a few you might have missed:

Wine Tasting in Chianti
Julie, Me and Justin B (Bologna)
My Little Tuscan Villa

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

My Little Tuscan Villa

2013-03-27T08:11:00.002-07:00

It's my last full day in Tuscany. Can you believe it? Tomorrow, I'll catch a train to spend a few days in Venice with Julie and a few other friends from home before I start the next leg of my trip: Greece & Turkey.

Anyhoo, I realized today that I never actually told you about where I am living. So, under the category of "Better Late Than Never," let me welcome you to my little Tuscan Villa.

Rather than hop around from village to village, I decided to rent an apartment (no it's not actually a villa) for the duration of my stay in Tuscany. I found a steal in Matassino, which is a neighboring village of Figline Valdarno -- about 20 minutes by train south of Florence.

The apartment is located just outside the village boundaries and is surrounded by gorgeous Tuscan hillsides and old, romantic churches.

The writer in me cooked up an entire fantasy life in this charming, little place. In my head, my days would consist of getting up with the sun, alternating between yoga, writing sessions and Italian lessons, and drinking wine in the warm afternoon light.

The reality has been...shall we say...different. I don't say this to complain; only to be truthful about my experience. The sunshine has made an appearance a grand total of five days since I arrived three weeks ago. Days have gone by without so much as a glimpse of another soul. Loneliness. Isolation. All have been part of the experience.

I mistakenly assumed I could rely on public transportation to get around this part of Italy, but infrequent buses and my inability to speak Italian have made traveling in the region very difficult. So I have relied mainly on my two feet -- schlepping my weekly groceries the 2 miles home in my little backpack and planning errands on non-rainy days.

If I had to do it over again, I would definitely rent a car. But a lack of research ahead of time, left me without the option. I'll have more on navigating Italian car rentals in another blog post as a "What Not To Do" segment.

It wasn't all bad, of course. I spent a lovely day wine tasting in Chianti, ate one of the best meals of my life, took a fabulous Tuscan cooking class (look for an upcoming blog post), and made some new friends too. Plus I got to live here:

On balance, it's been a wonderful learning experience -- one filled with joy at times and loneliness at others. But every good nomad knows when it's time to move on and, for me (and you too!), it's time for a new adventure. Tomorrow, it begins.

Ciao!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar and Annalisa Calosi for Bella Vita}

Julie, Me and Justin B

2013-03-26T14:52:00.000-07:00

I spent a large chunk of the weekend in Bologna with my new friends, Julie, Heather, and David. Julie and I have one of those shared histories that makes you wonder how it took us this long to become friends. Exhibit A: I went to Homecoming with her older brother roughly 15 years ago. He ditched me at the afterparty to defend her honor in a street brawl.

True story.

Julie is one of those people it’s impossible to dislike. For starters, she’s a preschool teacher, so she oozes energy and kindness. It practically sloshes out of her shoes. She’s smart AND funny AND pretty too. Basically, the kind of girl you’d really love to hate if she wasn’t so darned nice.

Me, Julie, and (handpuppet) Bob

Anyhoo, we spent Friday and part of Saturday wandering around Bologna, catching up on news from home, and stuffing ourselves full of the local cuisine.

But the most memorable moment from the visit came during our walk to the train station. Ahead of us, we noticed a group of people forming in the street. This was followed by a series of ‘omigodthatsacelebrity‘ pitched screams coming from the crowd.

“Probably some Italian actor we’ve never heard of,” I said.

The screams grew louder.

“Well, you know there’s only one man on the planet who can draw the screams of barely-teenage girls and fully-grown women alike,” Julie said matter-of-factly. “Justin Bieber.”

We laughed at this and joked to whoever would listen that Justin Bieber was just down the street. Woah-ho-ho were we clever girls.

It was about this time the screams turned into chants. Unmistakable. Even with the Italian accent:

“Just-In Bie-Ber. Just-In Bie-Ber.”

Not joking. Even a little.

We swam through the crowd of rabid fans and curious onlookers surrounding the pop star’s hotel. There was a balcony over the entrance, and I secretly hoped he would emerge, wave to his fans and serenade the group ala Evita.

Sadly, it was not to be. We didn’t see a single pretty hair of the wonder boy’s head. No one told him Julie and I were in town and waiting downstairs. Sad Trombone. Obviously, we can’t let that happen again, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.

Justin, If you’re reading this, we’ll be in Venice (part of our tour) on Thursday and Friday. Gelatos on me!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar and David Oh for Bella Vita}

Wine Tasting in Chianti

2013-03-24T04:38:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I ventured out into the Tuscan countryside for my first wine tasting experience. Annalisa, my new friend and landlord, agreed to drive and translate for the day, so we packed up the car and headed to nearby Chianti.

Our first stop of the day was Castello Vicchiomaggio, where we sampled three wines and learned about the Chianti region and the Chianti Classico label.

The tasting room is just down the vine-covered hill from the castle. We pretended we were part of a Spanish tour group, so we could get a better look at the grounds...

Pose for pictures...

And take in the view.

Our next stop was lovely little Greve, a quintessential Tuscan village in the heart of Chianti. It was market day, so the city square was bustling with people and booths.

I sampled the porchetta, which is basically a hunk of yummy bread and chunks of spicy pork (shaved off the hog right before your eyes). Civilized Annalisa ordered a cheese sandwich from a local shop.

The sunshine peeked out from behind the clouds, a first in days, so we sat outside with our post-lunch cappuccinos and Annalisa made friends with the locals.

Bellies full, we wandered around the Chianti hillsides and past this cool "Artist House," a place where artists from all over the world are invited to live and create. This is, apparently, the welcoming committee.

Our final stop of the day was Montefioralle, a tiny community perched on the top of a hill. The locals were holding a Fritelles festival, a celebration honoring little balls of dough plunged into a giant vat of hot oil. Festival events included making the Fritelles, eating the Fritelles, and washing the Fritelles down with sweet wine. I love Italy!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Weekend in Bologna

2013-03-22T04:06:00.001-07:00

Good morning from Bologna! After weeks of begging, pleading, cajoling, and general pathetic-ness, I finally convinced someone to travel with me in Italy. Happy Dance!

A friend from home, Julie, is in town for a few days attending an education conference, so I hopped a train for a change of pace and a familiar face. I have no idea what we'll be doing or seeing, but, as she's an Eastern Oregon girl and a kick-booty human being, I can only assume wine, good conversation and belly laughs will be involved.

Have a great weekend!

P.S. Yes, yes, I owe you about a bajillion-and-one-half blog posts. I'm going to work on that. Soon. Promise!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Love in the Tuscan Rain

2013-03-15T18:14:00.000-07:00

A first glimpse of (gasp...could it be?) sunlight from my Tuscan window

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA lately. First, I caught the plague. Then the internet and I developed a dysfunctional relationship. We’ve been on again-off again all week. It says I’m too needy. I say it’s unreliable. There’s lots of crying and shouting and stomping about. I threaten to leave; it promises to change. You know, the usual.

You’ll be happy to know you haven’t missed much. I am still in rainy, chilly Tuscany. To be honest, the weather has been a bit...ahem...disappointing. Days go by without any hint the sun still exists behind all those dark, stormy clouds. My friend, Andrew, tried to cheer me up by insisting I’m almost definitely going to have a steamy love affair with a hot Italian man/handsome American widower who I will meet in a rainstorm. Then we will write a screenplay about it and call it “Love in the Tuscan Rain” and never have to work again.

This is, frankly, the only acceptable outcome so I’m considering putting on lipgloss this week. Just in case.

Anyhoo, I am venturing out this weekend -- come hell or (more realistically) high water -- to my first wine tasting. Annalisa, my gracious landlord, has offered to drive and translate as necessary. Luckily, the two Italian words I’ve picked up are “vino” and “grazie,” so I’m fully prepared to sample and be polite too. Pictures and stories to follow. Obviously.

While I am excited to get out and about this weekend, I am slightly bummed I’ll be missing this year’s Wee Bit O’Ireland celebration back home. You know how much I like drunk cowboys pretending they’re Irish. To everyone celebrating, have a pint for me, be safe, and most importantly, Beware the Angry Leprechaun.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Chicken Hearts and Livers

2013-03-11T14:39:00.001-07:00

We now pause for a brief public service announcement:

At least the 'pollo' was local

This is not hummus. Or anything really resembling it either. Even though it looks rich and creamy like hummus should, and you desperately need something to smear on your little baguette (the bread, you understand), and you think the darker-than-usual color might just be something special the Italians add to the mix, so in a plague-induced fever you throw caution to the wind and toss it into your cart without reading the ingredients, DO NOT BE FOOLED!

This is not hummus.

Carry on.

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

I plan, God laughs

2013-03-09T10:31:00.000-08:00

If you follow my status updates on Facebook, you probably already know that I arrived in Tuscany on Wednesday afternoon. You may also know that I brought the plague with me. And that it hasn't stopped raining. Not once.

This is my way of telling you that I've been curled up in bed, possibly/most likely dying, since Wednesday. As for that delicious Tuscan food you were waiting to hear about? Over the last three days, my diet has consisted of orange juice, Biscotti, one package of mini-croissants, some dried pasta and a can of diced tomatoes I found in the cupboard.

Commence being jealous now.

{images by Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Frenchie

2013-03-06T15:34:00.000-08:00

For our last night in Paris, we scored reservations to Frenchie. We started the evening like we have every night in Paris: Champagne.

To call Frenchie 'intimate' would be an understatement. The restaurant is made up of a handful of closely packed tables. Exposed brick, fresh flowers, and soft lighting add to the cozy atmosphere. As does the fact that Frenchie is tucked away in a narrow alley away from the hustle and bustle of Paris.

We started with the porkbelly with delicate slices of meyer lemon and hearty mushrooms in a to-die-for sauce. And then helped Cori finish her charred mackerel with chunks of avocado and smoked anchovy.

For the main attraction, we chose the free-range chicken with pomelos and the best turnip I've ever tasted. Mandy went for the banka trout with leeks and carrot. You don't see orange foam every day.

For dessert, Mandy ordered the (somewhat phallic) Rum baba with tapioca pearls and coconut. Ashley went for a cheese plate, while Cori and I chose the Savarin cheesecake with a blood orange sherbert and, as a twist, black olives. The olives were, surprisingly, a perfect salty, slightly crunchy addition.

Frenchie is a lovely little nook of a place. The prix-fixe menu is based on what's fresh and in season and changes regularly. It's a nice break from the traditional French cafe scene. Fair Warning: Tables are incredibly difficult to come by; reservations are a must. Prepare to call multiple times, many weeks in advance. It's worth it.

Frenchie
5-6 Rue du Nil
75002 Paris, France
+33 1 40 39 96 19
Website

{images via Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Paris Part Three

2013-03-05T10:40:00.001-08:00

Feeling the effects of a full night of Four Seasons fabulousness, we started off Day Three with a late brunch at one of my favorite places in Paris: Angelina. While we waited to be seated, I oogled the desserts.

We settled into our cozy little table and ordered a pitcher of hot chocolate to share. It was exactly as I remembered; flowing like lava and accompanied by a dollop of freshly whipped cream. I ordered a sticky, buttery croissant to round out the meal, while the girls opted for more savory choices: soft-boiled eggs, croque monsieur, and a caesar salad.

Stuffed to the gills and hot chocolate pulsing through our veins, we ventured out for a full day of shopping. A gorgeous Hermes bracelet, a scarf, tie, and two handbags later, our credit cards were smoking, the banks were concerned, and it was time to head back to the apartment.

We bundled up and caught a cab to the Eiffel Tower.

We rode the lift all the way to the top and went straight to the champagne bar for a glass of bubbly.

We ended the day with a late dinner; Eiffel Tower sparkling in the window. Mandy and Ashley ventured out for an evening at a jazz bar. Sadly, there is no photographic evidence of the debauchery that ensued because Cori and I opted for a quiet evening at 'home' instead.

What can I say? Some things need to stay in Paris.

{Images via Cori Smith and Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Paris Part Deux

2013-03-03T17:36:00.000-08:00

Fresh-faced and bright-eyed from a good night's sleep, we started off Day Two with brunch at merci. merci is not your average brunch place. For starters, it's a used book store/boutique.

We nestled into a cozy little corner table next to a stack of French classics and ordered. I had the goat cheese drizzled with honey. The girls ordered scones with jam and butter. And, of course, cafe creme all around.

After breakfast, it was time to shop. merci is a 'Concept Store.' To be honest, I have no idea what that means exactly. What I can tell you is it's a lovely, sun-filled loft with gorgeous artwork on the walls and even lovelier pieces on the hangers.

We escaped without doing too much damage to our wallets and hopped on the Metro for an afternoon at the Musee du Louvre.

If you've never been to the Louvre, let me fill you in. It's HUGE! We purchased audioguides and followed the Masterpieces tour, which guides you to all of the must-sees throughout this maze of a museum.

We saw Venus.

And Lisa.

And Lisa's many admirers too...

We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and sitting in cafes. You know, pretending we're French. Then we needed a nap. Obviously.

After a quick change and dinner at a little restaurant around the corner, we jumped in a taxi for a nightcap at the Four Seasons.

Did I mention it's Fashion Week in Paris? We met up with two friends, Magda and Jenny, who were in town working on a show for NARS cosmetics. We drank champagne and talked about fashion, make-up, models, Paris, and men into the wee hours of the morning.

But the highlight of my night was a conversation I had in the ladies' room. Let me state for the record that I'm about the least fashionable person I know. So imagine my surprise when the well-dressed lady at the sink beside me turned, eyed my blouse, and asked "Are you wearing Prada?"

Acting cool, I responded: "Who? Me? What? This?" This was, of course, followed by a fit of giggles.

She nodded, unfazed. "It's Prada last season right? I loved that collection."

Well, the idea of little ole me wearing Prada's or anyone else's collection was too much. I laughed hysterically, thanked her for the lovely compliment, rushed out to tell my friends that someone at the Four Seasons in Paris, during Fashion Week, thought I actually belonged there.

In other words: Best.Night.Ever.

{Images by Cori Smith and Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}

Paris Part 1

2013-03-02T02:41:00.000-08:00

It's now Day Three in Paris, which means I am two days behind here. But honestly, is anyone surprised by that? Fabulous doesn't begin to describe the time we're having. Seeing Paris with these girls is like peanut butter and fine dark chocolate. Perfection.

After I stealthily arrived at the apartment and properly surprised Ashley, we headed off to lunch at our local cafe. I had the Croque Monsieur, which is basically the greatest grilled ham and cheese sandwich on the planet.

Ashley, the beautiful bride, and me after we tore into some serious grilled cheese sandwiches.

Then we took a walk down the Seine to pay a visit to Notre Dame and ask advanced forgiveness for the debauchery to come.

We wandered back to our neighborhood (near the Bastille) and stopped for our first glass of wine/cappuccino.

Then we had to pop in for a macaroon (or twelve) at Maison Larnicol. Obviously.

We spent the first evening cuddled up with glasses of wine, munching on a platter of cheese and a baguette we bought at a local grocery store, and feasting on good conversation. It was the perfect way to start off our trip.

{Images via Cori Smith and Elizabeth Farrar for Bella Vita}