Author: leanagallagher

The travel has been great. Logan was empty, JetBlue Mint was worth it, and there was not a single person ahead of me in customs at Gatwick! Landed at 7:15, through customs, bags collected and on the train at 8:02.

We both got enough sleep to function. The flat is beautiful, our host is accommodating, and Marleybone is the Beacon Hill of London. The flat is as described: Luxurious, spacious and modern, in a quaint old part of London with a park across the street.

The day was crisp and sunny so we decided to get out into Regent’s Park, which might be the largest park in London proper – formal gardens, tropical gardens (yes, palm trees and agave in London) gilded gates, ponds, lakes, tennis, playgrounds and gorgeous trees.

So much to explore just right nearby – museums, shops, restaurants, and pubs, not to mention the architecture. First stop….

I took such good notes on every dish on the menu, peppered the staff with questions and vowed to bring the group to try EVERYTHING! We poked through the famous Daunt Bookstore, went in and out of many pubs and have all their histories, and made an appointment to spend an hour with 16 cats at Java Whiskers Cafe.

We came back home, soaked and showered and relaxed a bit before heading out to see the Wallace Collection. The Wallace Collection is an amazing art collection of some of the finest paintings and furniture in England housed in it’s original mansion, Hertford House. You don’t know which is more dazzling, the Rembrandts and Van Dycks or the elaborate porcelain and French furniture. It’s exhaustingly beautiful and over the top.

The best part about the Wallace Collection is the Wallaces! I started to research them, and generation after generation of mistresses and illegitimate children, and affairs with royalty, and you name it. They must have been part Kardashian. Fabulous to Google over dinner.

Speaking of dinner, what did we eat today?? Not much to report – a sticky bun at brunch and a modest early dinner – vegan kale salad for me, fish and chips for Brad at a good average restaurant that would have us on a Friday night. Tomorrow is another day.

I am now officially bleary eyed after just three hours of sleep on the way over and 11 miles of walking in crisp cool air. Nighty night, my people. Talk with you tomorrow.

The Standell’s singing Dirty Water is my Boston theme song.

You can fly to London all kinds of ways, and we debated many. With air travel so unpredictable, the chance of missing our overseas flight loomed large. We decided on a morning flight to Boston with a 6-hour layover before departing in the evening.

Lunch with my sister and her husband, a trip to the MFA, and a leisurely wait at the new JetBlue terminal seemed sane.

Lovely exhibit of John Singer Sargent’s portraits – two of which were Sassoon ladies from that lovely book, The Last Kings of Shanghai. You forget the treasures in your own back yard.

So far I seem like a rock star travel agent. Saw this New Yorker cartoon and thought it perfectly described how I’d like the trip to go.

Now I just hope we can get a bit of sleep on the plane after all our traipsing around. These two are what we aspire to.

Talk to you from London.

Leaving for London in the morning via a long layover in Boston. Weather will be cold and wet, but we’re prepared. Three pairs of pants, three sweaters, three undershirts, three pairs of shoes, a coat and an umbrella.

A week with the kids and 4 days in Scotland. Can’t wait to see London through the eyes of the grand children.

Talk to you from across the pond.

Plane delayed two hours, but we are still at the spa hotel and now get to enjoy another world class Italian breakfast in a bucolic setting.

That we are 7 minutes from the airport, and are in this most enchanting spot is amazing. The hotel is located within a nature park which was a former Ancient Roman port. The buildings were were part of a Tenuta (farm) established in the 1850’s. The photos of before and after are amazing. Four broken down farm buildings were totally reimagined into this indoor outdoor spa with 75 gorgeous rooms.

The Italians have a style and culture of beauty that is unparalleled. When they do things well, there is nothing better. It is not all like this, though. Normal day to day living for most people is sub par by American standards. There is a quiet acceptance of things, a rhythm to their days, a joy of small things, the knowledge that things don’t change much. It’s good and bad. Americans are a culture of improvement. Italians revere the past. When Italians improve the past, you get this place.

I love it here — in the improved past of Italy — but I’m not sure I could live here, unless it was in this fairy tale part. The day to day frustrations would break me. I don’t shrug well. And for all the socialist tendencies of the Italian populace to make things right for everyone, there is a lot of prejudice. There is still an unspoken class system that is almost impossible to break. The migrant farm workers are treated like slaves, and there are almost 350,000 of them that come in for harvest. The poor people have almost no hope of ever being rich people, it is not like America where that is possible.

Yet, I am drawn here. The physical beauty, the grace, the culture, the food! My God, the reverence for food. Every piece of fruit, every cheese, the way it is served — all of it. An interesting note, Italians do not drink half of what Americans drink. They savor 5 ounces of good wine. We drink 2 8-ounce glasses to get drunk. Big difference. A small cocktail, not 3 large. Things are done with the pace of slow enjoyment here. They are not in a hurry to get to the end.

Could I spend a month, maybe two? Yes, for sure. Could I live here? Absolutely not. I am an American through and through. I love the ability to chose my destiny and work as hard or as little to become what I want. I can emulate the lifestyle of Italy in America, but I’m not sure I could emulate American lifestyle here. But boy, do I love it here.

As we waited in the airport I noticed that there were many black Americans traveling. By virtue of traveling to Europe, they were clearly middle class or better. The only black people we saw in Italy (if we saw any) were dirt poor. As much as we need to continue to fight for equal rights, it is clearly better in America. We tend to romanticize Europe, but truth is truth. Italy tries to take care of their citizens, but so much so that the drive to work is stunted. There is a balance, and I think Massachusetts has it – thriving economy, great public schools, universal healthcare, and by and large a just police force. We are lucky to live there.

I will begin dreaming of and romanticizing Italy again tomorrow morning when I wake up in my own house on the 4th of July. I will also be grateful that I live in the best country in the world. As sad as I am about current events, I do know that our activists and journalists and citizens can change things. That is what makes us great. We take the best of everything and eventually make it our own.

Another trip, another broader perspective. It’s good to get outside your bubble and see the world. Hope you all get to try it soon.

Jeff and Cath and I woke up at 5:30 to go walking one last time in the countryside. We ran into 3 different dogs that chased us off the properties. July 1, the natives and their pets have arrived. It was a nice way to end the stay. Cool and colorful and such a magnificent place to explore. All these ancient buildings hidden in little places — who lived there? The smell of fig trees was everywhere. I savored every second.

We decided to drive to Rome rather than taking the chance that our flight would be cancelled at the last minute. It was a lovely drive and we got to see the countryside of Campagna province into Lazio. So much agriculture, so many hilltop towns, so many gas stations with amazing food!

Brad chose a roast beef dinner (think he’s missing home?) and I got a plate of broccoli rabe and artichokes (think I’d like to stay?).

We checked into the world’s best airport hotel, QC Terme Roma. It’s a health spa on an old estate 10 minutes from FCO. We got our robes and jacuzzied and lounged until dinner under the lime trees. It is a gorgeous little gem, and you should always stay here for a day if you land in Rome.

Tomorrow we head home on Delta. And if we don’t, I’ll let you know how the spa was on day 2.

I haven’t written much about the cats. I’ve kept them to myself. It has been a delicious affair. Grouper will have to understand that it was just a fling.

Lots of cats in Monopoli, but there are two who live here. This one greeted us upon arrival and made herself available for three square meals a day. She is ridiculously tiny, yet eats copious amounts of food ravenously. Then we found her husband and babies.

The black cat lets me touch her now. We started feeding them prosciutto scraps, then good Italian tuna, then cat food pouches, then fresh fish. They are adorable and part of our daily routine. I hate to leave them, but we’ll always have Puglia.

It seems like we’ve been here forever. Was the wine tasting on Monday? It seems like it was weeks ago. It also seems too short — we’re just getting into a routine. It’s been a great vacation and we are all ready to get home, yet sad that it’s ending.

We have had a fairy tale week, yet it’s been so very real. The people and the land and feeling here are exactly what you hope for. It’s honest and charming and spectacularly beautiful and friendly. We have had a luxurious time, but there is no stuffiness or pretentiousness. Not many principessa moments, just the soul of Italy.

The generosity of the people is overwhelming. They forgive your accent, they talk with their hands, they accept you. They walk slowly, they savor moments, they smile at children, and they are proud. They show you peaches like they are babies, open an apricot and feed it to you and nod in approval, tell you where they grow their garlic and who made the ceramics. And you love them and get to know them on a spiritual level — they are sharing their souls with you.

We finally made it to a rosticceria tonight. The butcher cuts the meat and grills it and brings it to you. My mom and dad would have loved this!

Our final family meal. We have had such a great time together. I can’t wait to do it again!

It seems like we’ve been here forever. Was the wine tasting on Monday? It seems like it was weeks ago. It also seems too short — we’re just getting into a routine. It’s been a great vacation and we are all ready to get home, yet sad that it’s ending.

We have had a fairy tale week, yet it’s been so very real. The people and the land and feeling here are exactly what you hope for. It’s honest and charming and spectacularly beautiful and friendly. We have had a luxurious time, but there is no stuffiness or pretentiousness. Not many principessa moments, just the soul of Italy.

The generosity of the people is overwhelming. They forgive your accent, they talk with their hands, they accept you. They walk slowly, they savor moments, they smile at children, and they are proud. They show you peaches like they are babies, open an apricot and feed it to you and nod in approval, tell you where they grow their garlic and who made the ceramics. And you love them and get to know them on a spiritual level — they are sharing their souls with you.

We finally made it to a rosticceria tonight. The butcher cuts the meat and grills it and brings it to you. My mom and dad would have loved this!

Our final family meal. We have had such a great time together. I can’t wait to do it again!

Jenn and Jeff headed out for a romantic evening, leaving the lovelies with us. We decided that a gelato tasting might be the best way to enjoy a hot summer night, so we all loaded up into Uncle Lorenzo’s car and headed to Cisternino.

The kids weren’t the only ones who enjoyed the gelato! We also tried the pizza at Doppio Zero. The best we’ve had in Italy.

The town was buzzing and beautiful. It was like a movie set — outdoor dining, families strolling, shops open for perusing well into the night.

We came home sated and happy and fell asleep putting a puzzle together. We really missed Auntie Kirsten then.

I forgot to mention the Nutella crepes….. what a night!

I woke up early again and went for a walk in the silent, still morning. It’s cool and quiet and there is no one but roosters and bees making any noise. The fields around the Villa seem so uninhabited, but as I walk through, there is a small Trulli here, and a little farm there, and a tiny vineyard someone must be tending. It is all so ancient and I keep wondering what it was like 100 years ago or 1000 years ago — probably not much different. I found dried olives on an very old stone wall under a tree, fig trees everywhere (we eat them every day), and desolate paths that all must lead to somewhere. It is enchanting.

Before breakfast we got in the car and decided to see the surrounding towns, Alberobello, Locorotondo and Cisternino. Each were beautiful and had their own personalities. Alberobello is the Taormina of Puglia — Disneyish, lots of tchotchkes, and perfectly restored Trulli by the hundreds. It was lovely, but a bit manufactured. Locorotondo is a precious little town built in a circle. Cisternino has a real Southern Italian vibe with tremendous little restaurants and a very earthy food scene.

So you know which town was my favorite. We bought fresh foccacia stuffed with Proscuitto and cheese, eggplant parmigiana and the famous Santoro sausages in Cisternino and had lunch together.

Life is good in the country. After our big lunch a storm cloud came in and it started to rain and broke the heat. I’m on the covered terrazzo writing, listening to the rain and watching the valley. Dolce far niente.