Whenever I dreamed..fantasized…about going to Italy, I must embarrassingly admit it was not about seeing incredible architecture, ruins or days of non-stop touring to pack in as much as possible. No, my dream was to live among the locals, spend my day as they would and fit in as much as possible…which is pretty unreal being that I don’t speak Italian am I’m not earning an income to “live” here, I’m just a vacationing, relaxing gal pretending to not stand out too much.
The beauty of this trip…thank you, Michael so very much…is that I’m staying at one beautiful villa, where I set up “home” on day one, have meals on my terrace if I desire, and not feel an ounce of pressure to do anything other than attend my cooking classes…which for me, is a dream in of itself.
This morning I shopped and walked…about 3 hours, up and down steps and steep roads. I will say, with all the food I’ve eaten, I feel like I lost weight! And not that I was looking, but one of the older woman at my villa…I’d say in her 70’s wearing stretchy tighter pants, has incredible buns of steel..and I bet she has never set foot in a gym!
The clothes are made in Italy and many are made right in Positano. Soft, gauzy linen materials, feminine and flowing. I window shop constantly to zone in on one perfect piece. It’s not inexpensive, but it is quality and I don’t mind spending more when I know it’s worth it. Plus every time I’ll wear it, I will feel like I’m back “home”. A few phrases I learned well, quanta costa? … how much is it?” And, lo prendo…I’ll take it.
I bought my daughter pantaloni corti. I’m not translating, she will need to figure it out or be surprised.
Up a distance, I hear children, shouting and laughing and see three yellow school buses. It’s about 1:30 pm now. I’m having my lunch from my market stop in the morning. Below my terrace I hear the family owners of my villa having their lunch. Another young lady brings Paola’s little girl over for lunch. I can smell some wonderful aromas; a homemade pizza was carried down. The sound of silverware clicking on the plates..and to me..the most beautiful sensual language spoken.
Being here brings back memories from long ago when my relatives would get together; my cousins and I playing in the basement, my uncles sitting together while my aunts were around the table talking away. Then the food came out….and we were all one big, happy, loud family!