Beautiful Casoli

  As the weather began to improve, Michael and I harnessed our spring energy to take a closer look at our long-neglected property. My father hadn't used the place in years, so it was no surprise to find it more than just a little unkempt. Opening the shutters for the first time in ages, we were greeted not just by the Tuscan sun but by a chorus of disgruntled spiders, scorpions, and other critters launching surprise attacks. Michael's late warnings of "watch out!" barely reached me as I navigated through the barrage of cobwebs and vines. Clearing away nature's curtain, I caught my first breathtaking view of the valley below, and I was utterly spellbound. However, the task of clearing cobwebs and unveiling stunning vistas wasn't the real challenge. It was the deeper journey into my father's past that weighed on me. The property was his legacy to us, and stepping into it felt like crossing a boundary into a relationship that had always been complicated. My m...

Bing'd it!  As we embarked on our journey, our car was a treasury of essentials and oddities alike: pots and pans for culinary adventures, towels and soap for unexpected spills or swims, cleaning supplies for tidying up our temporary abode, and rugged attire fit for the countryside. The silver Peugeot, a recent acquisition for this very adventure, was filled to the brim.  As we set off, Bing Crosby's voice serendipitously filled the air, singing "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay! My, oh my, what a wonderful day..." It felt like a heralding of good fortunes as we began our voyage. With a playful "Choo choo," Michael and I were off, leaving Berlin behind, heading towards the Italian sun. Our journey to Italy was steeped in a mix of excitement and solemnity. In 2015, after my father's passing, Michael and I unexpectedly found ourselves as the owners of a house in Italy—a bewildering fortune that came with little knowledge of either the house or the Italian l...