Tuscany: The Wine Region of Chianti.

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Tuscany.

Oh my Gosh. Tuscany. It's stupendous. I don't even know how to use other words. Heaven on Earth? Precious to my soul? I truly think Tuscany is a special gift from God. He was like, “Eh, humankind could use a sneak preview of eternity.” So he created Tuscany.

Let me show you.

// He got a big kick out of driving such a tiny toy car. //

The Mountains and the Valleys.

Seriously. It's nothing like ANYTHING I've ever seen. I lived in northern California for a while, and I remember visiting Napa and being so wowed by its beauty. I thought that Tuscany would be similar, since they're both wine country. But they are so different, and in wonderfully unique ways. Tuscany is laid-back, lazy in a delicious way, and hosts an appreciative attitude for the good things in life. The people are just happy. They love watching their children play. The fields are distinctly narrow, golden green, supple and rich. The olive trees are humorously short and scrappy. The winding roads are dotted with fast sports cars, sometimes a red Ferrari. The wine is pretty and satisfying (and cheap! - at least the kind we buy.) The pace. Is. Slow. Somehow you are ready for it even before you arrive. Something in your belly tells you that Tuscany is a place for calm reflection, rejuvenation, reawakening. And so that's exactly what you experience while you're here.

B&B Babes.

We stayed at a beautiful B&B in Greve called Le Lame, tucked into the hills of Chianti. In this tiny little hamlet wineries flourish at each corner and markets boast fresh bufala mozarela and basili pesto. We ate breakfast overlooking the incredible views of the grape fields. We jogged around the town, poked around old yards and tasted everything we could.

The Answer.

Need a vacation? Tuscany is the answer. Going on a honeymoon? Tuscany is the answer. Contemplating a crossroad in your life? TUSCANY IS THE ANSWER. Go to there. Drink the wine, practice your broken Italian (they will forgive you) and take a weekend-long deep breath. You probably need it more than you think.

Florence: A Class Act.

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Florence.

Well, we found the old cultural hub of Italy. Her name is Florence. She is hot, gorgeous and educated. She is the Italian leader in fashion, culture, history and art. She isn't just old, she's up on the new as well. She is splendid. Truly truly splendid.

Sleeeeeeeeeeppy Kristen.

It's unfortunate that I was hit with an overwhelming sleepiness when we arrived in fair Florence. It's such an amazing city with SO MUCH to see and do, but I was just wiped upon arrival. We did a lot. But we could have done more. So yes, I have some minor regrets. I know I sound ridiculous.

Museum Jazz Hands.

We toured the Uffizi Gallery and the Accademia, where we saw some of the most amazing art, statues and sculptures of my life. Wow Italian art. It is just so majestic. Is anyone else making art like this today? Michelangelo's “David” is simply stunning. You could just sit and stare at the statue all day long. I walked past a few American girls who were giggling and overheard one of them say, “That's him. That's the perfect man. He is just, so, good looking.” And it's really true. It's astounding how Michelangelo captured so much emotion in David's eyes, body and posture. How did Michelangelo make the marble really look like skin? 600 years later, this statue is still not only relevant, it's overwhelmingly arresting. I literally can't shake the look in his stoney, unsure eyes.

// An outdoor imitation of the real thing. I can't help but ask... Should this statue be rated R? //

Michelangelo.

Hearing stories about his childhood and his gift is really inspiring. He was from a prominent family, and his Dad did NOT want him to be an artist. At age 13 he went to live with the fancy Medici family (who ruled all in Florence) to focus soley on training and sharpening his artistic skills. He hob-nobbed with all the big dudes of the day. He was not only a renowned sculptor at a ridiculously young age, but he was a fabulous painter (he painted the Sistine Chapel) and he was an architect (he designed St. Peter's Basilica.) This guy was legit. He believed he was merely a tool of God, and when the presence of the Holy Spirit came upon him he would work for days without rest. The church (often) didn't like the provocative nature of his work, which makes him all the more compelling to me. He pushed boundaries. He fought for what he believed. He wasn't a people pleaser. And he changed with world with his gifts. Maybe this is why his art still moves people today. Stevie and I stayed for a long time near David. It's unfortunate that we couldn't photograph him, but there's an imitation just outside the gallery so you can get the idea.

// Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore //

// Stevie drove us out of the city like a champ. //

The Itinerary.

We only had about 24 hours in Florence. We had to make the most of it (and I had to push through the lag in my energy.) But we thoroughly enjoyed this special city! We pranced along the Arno River and pretended that we were members of the Medici family as we took their route to work, from the Ponte Vecchio to the Uffizi. We marveled at the olive and peach Duomo (per the gorgeous design of Brunelleschi), meandered along the fabulous Via dei Calzaiuoli and gawked at the Orsanmichele. We surveyed Donatello's St. Mark sculpture, excessively loitered in the Uffizi courtyard (which is a museum in itself – so many famous sculptures displayed outdoors!) and, per Mary's fantastic request, payed homage to Dante by visiting Chiesa di Dante. Probably most important of all, we rocked some severe cappuccino. And croissants. Pizza. Bruschetta. Caprese. Wine. Ooh and gelato. Geez I love Italy SO MUCH.

Florence, yeah, she's super classy. Up next, a few days under the Tuscan sun!

Venice: Decaying Decadence.

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// All photos in this post are taken by the spectacular, marvelous love of my life, Steven L. Hale //

Venice.

I love this place. There isn't anything like it. It will erupt within you an artistic cheesiness you didn't think possible. You might just end up slow dancing at midnight in the streets, singing and swaying to the cicada rhythm of the big brass band that, yeah, just happens to play every night. Beware. You're in for it. Waking up on my first morning in Venice, I was stunned.

The Colors.

Shades of peach, slate, mandarin and emerald strike a reluctant harmony with the sweltering sky. Sweating in the humid noon sun, old paint peels off into the murky lagoon water. Plaster lazily chips away from its ancient structures, the stone underneath exposed like the forbidden height of a gartered thigh. Brick, once heartily bearing the weight of an era, now easily crumbles to the touch. This floating city made its name by comfortably supporting a thousand years of life on its latticework of islands. This is Venezia. My feet float over the bridge. I am barely able to contain the gasping thrill within my belly.

Inspired Island.

Now I see why the world's foremost artists, painters, musicians and bright minds found themselves amongst these crowded, echoey streets. Once a town of forbidden affairs, lavish parties and casino-esque night life, Venice is now just a hint of what was once a gallant and sensual city of watery lights. Yet it still maintains a decaying decadence that whispers of an older age, a past life of vibrance and debauchery. Sipping cappuccino in the early morning, devouring pizza and gelato in the afternoon, and laughing the evening away in a dance of vino rosso and limoncello will leave your limbs tired and your heart oh so full. My memory is a messy slide show of fragrant, loud images; the filmy, striped onyx blouse of the gondola man, the pouty red lips of the aggravated waitress, the golden look of love from my husband who dreamed of bringing me here years before we were ever together. What a culmination of dreams. So many vibrato melodies waft through the canals of Venice; I am lucky if I am able to recognize just one of the tunes. Venice will make you want to sing. And dance. And eat. And write poetry. And you should do them all.

Ciao.

Takeaways From Germany

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Night Light.

We are on a night train from Munich to Venice. My oh my, this is quite an experience. We are in a couchette, which is basically a closet with 6 bunk beds (and accompanying people) stuffed into it. My headlamp is on and and my typing fingers are poised. Stevie and I are whispering back and forth so that the rest of the strangers we are closely sharing oxygen with can't hear our semi-ignorant American perspectives on Germany. Here it goes:

1. Everyone in Germany smokes. After like every meal. Pre-coffee, post-dessert, it always seems like it's a good time for a ciggy. I guess it's still cool here. But I'm a bit tired of experiencing second hand smoke, people.

2. They know how to bake mean bread. Baguettes, sandwiches, croissants. Oh yum yes. What are they doing to their bread that we aren't? It's baffling. I want it all the time. I keep finding excuses for giant pretzels. With Nutella. And marmalade. Dear God I need to find a gym.

3. The breakfast menus are Stevie-approved. And that's saying something. This man is obsessed with the first meal of the day. Every day.

4. It's so green. Lush. Luscious.

5. The aesthetic is a bit confusing. There are romantic castles and gorgeous hillsides and then really modern Ikea-type buildings. Clunk. Someone in the laundromat told me it's from all the bombs. Which then makes the aesthetic sort of mournful.

6. The milkmaids. I love them.

7. 80's American music is playing everywhere. Why? Why is that?

8. The history is pretty spectacular and scary, all at once.

Stevie's input:

10. “The beer is better for you out here.” He believes it's nutritious. I like how the foam is really fluffy, like in a cappuccino.

11. “German food is fresh. Russian food in Germany is not so fresh.”

12. Sometimes the touristy spots are better than the non. Just sayin'.

13. The trains are boss. “They put U.S. Metros to shame.” Mmm. Agreed. He's so insightful, yeah?

And we're done. Auf wiedersehen, Germany!

Fussen: Beckon Me, oh Castle.

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// Neuschwanstein Castle, It's a boss. //

Fussen. The Castle Town.

Allow me to tell you a precious fairy tale. The Neuschwanstein Castle was built by “Mad” King Ludwig in the late 1800's in the mystical, sleepy town of Fussen, Germany. Ludwig's family ruled the region of Bavaria for a thousand previous years, so he had a rich heritage of ruling and reigning in his blood before he ever took the throne. At the ripened old age of 18, he took over for Dad and began constructing the ultimate dream castle. The castle to take the cake. Little did he know that his design would inspire another man of vision: Walt Disney. Disney returned to the states after his inaugural visit to Fussen, armed with specific ideas of how to build his own version of a kingdom (and a mildly influential one), Disney World. Enter Cinderella's dream home, AKA the epitome of all little girls' dreams. Ever. In the universe. Way to go, Ludwig. Way to inspire, quite literally, drillions.

// We toasted. Give honor where honor is due, right??//

Cheers to the King.

Fast forward to my  participation. Stevie and I took a 2-hour train, a 30-minute bus, and a steep 30 minute hike to summit this castle's entry. WORTH IT. I wasn't allowed to photograph the inside of the castle, but let me just tell you that it was majestic. Tapestries decorated the walls, jewels crowned each chandelier, and portraits displayed both Jesus and dragons (not in immediate vicinity of each other, but still a humorous juxtaposition) and also displayed throughout was the most intricate woodwork I have ever seen. The really unfortunate part of the story is that Ludwig only lived in his dream castle for a total of 6 months until he unexpectedly drowned in a lake outside of Munich. I know. It's really awful. People have been touring his impressive abode ever since.

After our royal tour, we hiked up to Mary's Bridge where we could get better views of the breathtaking castle. Hence the sick photos. All via iPhone! Bless the Lord for Apple products.

// Um, yeah. I know. I half expected water nymphs and fairy angels to emerge from this lake dream.//

Swiss Mist.

It rained on us a bit, but that only added to glorious atmosphere. Because then there was mist. It was a castle set in the misty, mysterious mountains of the Swiss Alps. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the freaking glory.

// Our freakish drop-off from the bridge. // Someone had attached a lock to the bridge with our initials! A happy love coincidence.//

// Yep. That's a poncho. Sooo hot.//

Up Next: Venezia!

Off to Venice tonight, via a night train. I'm armed with ear plugs, an eye mask and the will to sleep!

Love love love.