All Things Beautiful
Well folks, here I am in the Tuscan Chianti region, living a virtual Italian version of the Martha Stewart Wonderland. We have arrived to a three-story villa restored from a 16th century castle, overlooking vineyards and surrounded by Romanesque lounging pools and pathways bordered with giant lavender and rosemary. It is incredibly peaceful and serene. I have pinched myself several times in disbelief, but appear to be conscious.
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Tomorrow we look forward to a little exploration. But today, so far, we have holed up in our little piece of paradise, doing laundry, cooking for ourselves, and journeying from marbled shower to bed, and back again. We have had a pretty active vacation so far and I welcome some solace. After our bustling tours of Paris, Venice, and Rome, we spent some time on the West coast, visiting Positano and Pompeii, then bounced back up to Florence where we picked up our car. Since Florence we have taken our excursion into the Tuscan countryside at an easier pace, visiting small hillside towns and enjoying the friendliness of rural folk, many of whom don't speak a stitch of English but who also don't seem nearly so exasperated by tourists as their urban counterparts.
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It has been two and a half weeks of touring, being immersed in chaos, beauty, and ancient cities. It has also been two and a half weeks of being unmercilessly cruel to my digestive system, breakfasting on Nutella, lunching on heavy pesto-pasta (with an accompaniment of bread soaked in balsamic vinegar and copious amounts of oil), snacking on gelato, and having a dinner of some other refined, oil-saturated meal that has me grasping at my abdomen in delightful pain. All considered, I would say that my body has done remarkably well for this prolonged period, given that I cannot drink any wine to bulldoze through this thick, impenetrable orchestra going on in my digestive system, unlike my beloved companion who has been drinking wine like water. So I should not complain now that I have sharp pains near my gallbladder region that get nearly unbearable when I lie on my back. I proceed with caution, determined against hospitalization, and am now sobering up to the reality that I have seen my fair share of rich, fatty foods and now have to imbibe a more simple, un-Italianlike diet. At least so I can lie back and enjoy the Tuscan countryside without keeling over in pain.
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In response to my complaints this morning about my worstening digestive situation, my gallbladder, or it's neighbor, says to me, "Bitch, please. If it weren't for me shutting the party down early, you would be going back to Florence next week shopping for a fucking TENT to cover your fat ass". Sigh. I guess there has to be moderation somewhere.
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That aside, I look forward to another week of unrelentingly stunning surroundings until I trudge back to my northern abode in Yellowknife, where there have been Facebook whisperings of first snowfall. Strangely, I look forward to the familiarity of home. But until then I will bask in the last stretch of this indulgent adventure into all things beautiful.
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