Slow life

Italy, Swims, Food and Reads

It’s the time of the year again where that 14 hour drive to our summer destination, you name it: Italy, takes place.

Once the Brennero has been surpassed, the first Italian cappuccino from a gas station tells you, now you’re in Italy. But when smelling the fresh pine tree scents and feeling that dry summer heat on your skin and hearing the buzzing crickets all around, time comes to a halt and you can definitely be sure to have arrived in Tuscany.

For years now, upon the first hours in the hills to Florence, we spend the night and morning at Villa Di Campolungo, a family owned Agriturismo featuring twelve beautiful and each one uniquely furnished rooms in ancient stalls, olive oil orchards, vegetable gardens and honey bee stocks.

{Carefully prepared colazione with view over the Florentine hills}

It is a magical place: spotting the glimmering lights of Florence at night and waking up to a locally sourced colazione featuring, still warm focaccia d’olio d’oliva, loafs of bread made from ancient Tuscan grains, torta di mandorle among other baked delights. The marmalade and jam selection accounts for equal broadness, reflecting the abundance of seasonal produce off the land. Paired with formaggio di ricotta and pecorino displayed on gorgeous little plates, the morning kicks off quite perfectly.

{Organic breakfast creations}

Silvia and Eric, the owners, are the most heartwarming and welcoming hosts you will ever meet. Charming, personal and competent, holding a rich knowledge of expertise in so many fields.

After a nourishing time at Villa Di Campolungo, we’re headed to Isola d’Elba by ferry, for a week of pure remoteness in the valleys of a vineyard, not far from the blues of the Mediterranean Sea and dazzlingly emblematic Italian beach scenery.

{Spaggio di Sottobomba}

It’s a full on simple Italy week, no plans, you go hour to hour. Chirping birds waking you up in the early morning hours, and when opening the shutters are greeted by the Southern European summer sunshine strength. An ice-cold coffee, a morning swim and a good hairbrush, followed by local fruit. Oh, the fruit, the fruit: fresh off the side road, a small wooden open air fruit and vegetable shop selling the daily harvests and house-made preserves supply us with the juiciest of peaches and sweetest of lemons. Crack open that cantaloupe’s shell and serve it right in time.

July here in Italy is warm, hot in the week of our stay in particular. Evening swims in the salty sea are welcoming warm, mild and soft. The orange ball almost disappearing on the blue horizon, far and wide. It’s light reflects on the rough cliffs, shading it in a warm sand stone beige, one can spot the many immortelle flowers surviving and thriving off the rocks.

{My beloved immortelle}

A dip, head down in the water, wearing a black bathing suit and facing the red nail vanished toes in the glittering light, embedded in the silk-like moving, deep blue shaded water. A woman situated on a cliff nearby, facing the sunset. Some birds circling the bay, few children throwing stones in the water.

{Slowness in orange}

A salt crust on the skin and freckles more visible day by day.

The disappearing sun in the vineyards touching the landscape in a pastel colouration, until, eventually, the crickets start to sing and the stars and moon begin to shine. Silence.

After this well spent and naturally relaxing time, we’re hitting the road en route to Umbria. Years on years, the rustic farmhouse stay in the authentic Casale Dei Frontini is highlighted by Silvana’s four-course dinners in the vault on the ground floor. She is a full heart on mother and cook, only speaks Italian and would always grab my cheek and say: “Mama mia, che bella”. Silvana’s one of a kind feats are memorable for two reasons: First, the fried zucchini flowers and Second, her daily changing hand-rolled pasta dish, with a kind of sauce revolving around the farms’s produce (vegetables of all kind, lots of olive oil off the trees or her elegant truffle dish).

{L’Orto}

The special place is tucked away in the extensive Umbrian landscape, with views reaching far to medieval-like towns, alike Todi. Returning here sparks a feeling of coming home to a familiar, safe and protected space filled with endless memories deeply rooted in childhood summertime.

{Umbrian scenery}

As for daytime, I’m almost wholly hiding under my favorite tree near the natural saltwater pool, dedicating my all to reading or writing. Admittedly, I’ve never been a real bookworm until the age of 14, where my shell to finding an emotional connecting or bond to narrators cracked open. Since then, I found great inspiration and admiration in a selection of authors, columnists or journalists, one of them being Benedict Wells (I might add that he would have to be an exclusive German author I utterly aspire).

{I highly recommend!}

I indulged on his newest book Hard Land, telling the story of a 15 year old boy’s summer, based in 1980s Missouri. Sam’s summer break challenges him to front his fears, face human mortality and cope with the coming, high and loss of friendship.

Well’s remarkably emotionally intelligent, sensitive and humble, yet also humerus style of writing sparks a high degree of the recognition of self. Hard Land portrays the struggle of Coming Of Age in young adolescence, defining the wisdom and maturity coming with it that ultimately pushes one to the brim of one’s own ability to live unabashedly and freed from the constraints that like-aged people majorly live out, but also portrays the glorious abilities that are uncovered as one overcomes hardship and turns it into strength and serenity.

The sensitivity of the protagonist reminds me, in large part, to that of Elio in Call Me By Your Name, a tenderness and solitude I understand and relate to greatly.

Aside the beauteous, inspiring weeks here in Italy, I’m questioned with matters concerning future and purpose, competence and weaknesses as well as trauma from the past. It’s easy to hide away from such things online, but it’s necessary to mention for the sake of authenticity and realness of my letters.

Few days are left before I depart rural Umbria and return to Florence, where I commence on my long awaited solo trip.

I’ll keep you posted!

Fabia