15th century: a sailboat crossing Lago di Garda was hit by a sudden devastating thunderstorm. The vessel smashed onto big boulders at the shore, the sail ripped to pieces. Waves smashing over the ship again and again, the sail was shredded into tiny pieces. And when the storm finally moved on, the sun came out and dried all those flax pieces that had been soaked for a while, then washed ashore. Local people gathered those pieces and with the creative minds they had, figured out that this might be a good alteration the very expensive papyrus that was invented in Egypt, made of papyrus.
Over the next 200 years a paper making manufacturing process was developed right there, along the Toscolano River, along a narrow picturesque valley.
Everything was made by hand and simple machinery that was powered by the flowing water. In the 19th century Industrialization found that hidden valley, a street was built and heavy machinery could be transported up the river to those paper manufacturers, improving their work environment, speed and product quality.
One of those factories was remodeled ~15 years ago and made into this interesting museum. Every step of the process is explained in German, English and Italian, you can rent an audio device or read your way though.
Soaking the shredded fabric for a few weeks, making it into a pulp, then – with the help of a meshed frame – scoop the pulp out, sheet by sheetThose individual sheets were stacked in between felt pads and pressed to squeeze out excess water, The dried!The highest quality paper was made of silk, followed by linen and cotton
We really enjoyed our visit there! The cafe had a nice selection of tasty salads and sandwiches, drinks (of course) and my three most beloved sounds in the world: music, flowing water and cicadas!
A few years ago we travelled around for 8 months. And traveling around includes spending time in Italy. For me, it is quintessential and one of the dream destinations, because I just love Italy. Everything Italian is better than anything else. Pronto! Food, wine, style, just anything.
We spent a week on the Aeolian Islands for hiking, and a weeklong foodtour in and around Naples, then my brother recommended a vacation home his friend just finished remodeling in a quaint little village above Lago di Garda, called Muslone. We booked it, being the Guinea pigs to check if everything is working or in need of adjustments.
A year later we booked the same vacation home again, this time sharing it with family and friends. Hiking trails right outside the village, grandiose views, relaxing silence at night, because the only street up the mountain ends there and since it has no tourist attractions, the people who come here are either hikers or tree huggers, both of which are not known for beer pong parties and drink -till-you-drop-gatherings. It is so quiet here, that you wonder why all of a sudden the blood in your ears makes noise 🤣
Muslone called our names. We fell in love with the rustic houses, ancient old cobblestone streets, we liked the simplicity of daily life, and all surrounded by trees, trees, and more trees! Did I mention lemon trees? Or olive trees??? Muslone was founded in the 16th century, it has quite a colorful history: 600 people lived here at that time, 13 bars were in town, schools, a church, everything a hardworking farmer needs. Lemon, olive oil and wine were grown, produced and sold. The location was valuable, battles were fought over it! Fast forward to now, there are 60 people in the village, mostly elderly, who hang on to the glory of the past. But age comes with the advantage of poor eyesight and bad hearing. You don’t see the wrinkles. You don’t hear the sighs, moans and groans of old age. So in your inner fantasies, Muslone is still an established trade location with a thriving future. Nowadays many houses are owned by people from other parts of Italy, from Northern and Middle Europe and used as vacation homes. There is a church, an alimentary store and … nothing else. No bars, no school, nothing. According to the recent census results, there is only 1 child under the age of 4. That’s all. The mix with the newer vacationers is what keeps the village alive. The alimentary store is busy. People need to eat!
And then we heard about a house, a rustico as it is called here, that an older couple from Germany had to give up for health reasons. At 90+ they became too old to drive over the Alpes to enjoy their vacation home, so their son stepped in and tried to sell it. As is. Which was a lot! The rustico was filled with furniture and fixtures, top to bottom – and we are speaking 3 floors – filled with books and CDs, household Schnickschnack and Nippes, somebody would need 90+ years to collect! Style wise it was like secondary Ikea look after the expiration date. When I moved out of my parent’s house at the age of 19, those were the furniture I had and had left behind a long time ago. And here they were, as if the magic circle just closed and they caught up on me – just 40 years later.
I liked the house. But I didn’t like the collection of somebody’s lives. We negotiated back and forth, we had paying conditions, they had selling dreams, so the deal never happened. Unrealistic expectations vs our somewhat too creative payment plan.
One year later, we were back. My brother Jürgen joined us on that trip, to check out that house again and 6 other objects that were for sale at that time. Our payment conditions were serious and solid by then, we were ready!
These are a few photos of the houses we checked out…
Having a big dream, luck, patience, and a splash of humor is all you need to buy a house in Italy. Money helps too!
So here we are: If I had to write a manual on how to buy a house in Italy, my first chapter would be about the location. So my advice is to think about your musts and needs. Do you need an airport nearby? A trainstation? A ferryport? Do you have any areas you prefer where you have family or friends? Do you prefer bigger cities or rural areas? Do you have any hobbies that require water or mountains? Do you want a view, a convenient downtown location? That downtown location might come with noise, would that be ok?
Our decision was as unique as yours might be; I love love love Tuscany – of course. Who doesn’t? But I wanted to have an easy drive to Germany, where my family lives. My husband loves the mountains, hiking is his passion, so we decided to search around Lago di Garda My family spends a lot of time at that lake, so it was an easy decision. Lago di Garda is also called the most southern suburb of Munich, easy to reach over the Brennero pass, which is a main transit route north – south over the Alps. ~5 driving hours from Munich, that’s all.
Lago di Garda is the eastern most lake of the 5 glacier lakes on the south side of the Alps. When the glaciers melted after the Ice Age, they carved long narrow craters into the ground which ended up as those 5 lakes. BTW, Lake Como is one of those lakes, mostly known to Americans and most visited by Americans. Therefore it is called the American lake. Of course you can book boat tours at each lake, but only on Lake Como you can book „Hollywood Tours“! George Clooney lives here and lots of other American celebrities, so it’s no wonder that the Americans want to be where famous Americans live; even Rick Steves recommended Lake Como. For those of you who don’t know Rick Steves, he is an American travel guru with a huge following and if Rick says Lake Como is wonderful, you cannot visit Lake Como anymore, unless you want to be amongst other American travelers, eat American food and have signs and menus in English.
Our decision on Lago di Garda, where all Europeans end up vacationing, was mostly dictated by the proximity to Germany. The north – south trains go through the Brennero pass, so is the Autobahn. The nearest airports to the lake are either in Bergamo or Verona, both 1 hour away.
Lago di Garda is divided between Alto Adige (north), Venetia(east) and Lombardy(west).
Because of those borders dividing the lake, Lago di Garda’s history was quite turbulent. Venetian canon ships tried to destroy lombardian vessels. Every town along the shore had and still has a big fortress, defending intruders and invasions. Lots of battles happened here and you can still see canon holes in some of the old buildings on the waterfront.
Once you have decided a rough location, you fine tune it and limit the area to for example the western coast of Lago di Garda. the west side is very steep, no space for shopping centers, amusement parks or camp grounds. On that western side, you find lots of small mountain villages, glued on to the steep cliffs. That called our names…..
When I was a little girl, my sister and I shared a room and this room hosted my moms Singer sewing machine that was neatly stored in a sewing table. The rule was that we cannot use it before we are old enough to go to school.
My middle name is „curious creativity“, which is a curse and a blessing. So here we go, waiting for my mom to leave the house, so we can sew clothes for our dolls. Not a great idea as it turned out, because I zigzag stitched right through my thumb! Adrenaline kicked in (fortunately) and I ribbed my finger out from that monster, taking the whole presser foot needle holder with it (unfortunately). ☹️
Then the pain kicked in, then the guilt, then the creativity how to hide all this mess from my mom. She still doesn’t know…..
55 years forward, my thumb still reminds me of that sewing adventure, especially when the weather changes… But I’m a loyal person and after moving out of my parents house when I was 19, one of the first things I bought was a Singer sewing machine! Not dishes or bed linens, a sewing machine. And that Singer was brought to the US shortly after our plans had changed to stay indefinitely instead of the initial 2-year contract. Can’t live without my Singer! 28 years later, I still live in the US, that exact Singer is going to travel again. Destination: Italy.
Singer at SFO
It is very interesting what a conversation starter the Singer is! From “what an interesting looking suitcase you have” to “my mom used to have a Singer just like that”. It was a fun trip! And here we are in Germany, waiting for the final part of our transition. This time it will be a car drive to Italy! 🇮🇹
Ted is known for being frugal. Sometimes cheap, sometimes stingy. In order to save money on this trip, he combined all these characteristics and got a dental surgery here in Germany, saving himself at least $2000. In California his dentist told him to see a specialist for a root canal (dentist $400, root canal specialist $400), Ted decided to have his tooth extracted and I suggested to go do that in Germany instead of paying an arm and a leg in California.
So we arrived in Angermann on Wednesday and Thursday he went and saw a dentist (€27}, and a specialist on Friday morning for a consultation and the surgery at the same day a few hours later, which cost €300, since we don’t live in Germany, we don’t have health insurance, so these prices cover the entire cost! What an incredible $$$ difference this is!
Extracting a tooth is usually a $150 procedure, but Ted’s tooth was inflamed and it had developed a zyst inside his sinus that needed to be removed, with stitches and everything. So my offer to get the pliers and jank that tooth out with a few twists (and shouts) wouldn’t have been successful. And maybe would’ve ended up in a divorce…
The gold crown, a relict from the time when Ted’s teeth were still complete…
It took us 26 hours door to door. It’s a drag, but I don’t mind. All the shopping and eating you can do at the airport, all the reading and watching, talking and walking: all is good!
Munich is a nice airport to arrive: it is modern, bright, light, clean, everything works, everything makes sense. German efficiency. Kind of the opposite of the Frankfurt airport, which I would title: German inefficiency / what were they thinking? But that is another story and that’s why I try to avoid Frankfurt. So I booked a flight from San Luis Obispo to Los Angeles and from there directly to Munich. And we enjoyed every minute of it! We had great seats, lots of legroom, (relatively) good food, we had good talks, we watched good movies [OMG: “The Zone of Interest”. What a great movie about Germany’s worst time in history, written out of a perspective you’ve never seen before].
And then we arrived, had another hour car drive until we were at our final destination: the house I grew up in, where I spend my childhood, where I walked or biked to school from, where my sister and I shared a room in the attic, a room that took 7 years for my busy dad to finish. Up there it is very cold in the winter and brutally hot in the summer. I guess, I know that my parents didn’t have much money back then, so they must have saved money on insulation materials. But it was always like that, maybe that’s why I don’t like winter or wet, cold weather. Up there in the attic, the winter is inside, the wet, cold weather is crawling under your blanket and barely anything can keep you warm. Except the furnace and that is too small for the room. But here we are again! And every time I arrive I feel like arriving in my childhood again. I participate as if I never left. And today I baked bread…
And that bread has a funny story: just before we left California I had asked my friend Kimberly if she could give me some of her sourdough, since mine had died. Sure, no problem, and since both our husbands wanted to meet for lunch that day, it was an easy transition to get her sourdough over to our house. Except that it was another hot day in Paso Robles, except that the marmalade jar that contained the sourdough was very full, except that Ted put this jar in his cargo pocket of his shorts, except that he and his friend went to wine tasting after lunch, until….. until Ted felt something crawling down the side of his leg. The leg closest to the cargo pocket with the sourdough jar. Can’t blame it: it was hot and it was bored inside! So the sourdough made it into the cargo pocket until that was full and out and down that sexy leg. Fortunately there was enough sourdough left to take to Germany. Inside a ziplock bag, that was inside another ziplock bag, that was inside a plastic drink bottle, that was inside a plastic bag, that was inside my suitcase. No leakage here, you just need to be professional! The sourdough survived and got to be transformed into this delicious bread! Not that we need to bake our own bread here in Germany because Germany is famous for having quite a few varieties. 3200 to be precise! The sourdough has to make it to Italy, that is known for pizza and pasta. Not for bread, especially not for dark, wholegrain, hearty, healthy bread. So I’ll bake my own. And that’s why I brought my sourdough – or whatever was left in Ted’s cargo pocket…..
Spending a few weeks in Europe make you realize what a wasteful society we are here in the US. Is it a picnic in the park, gatherings with friends, a potluck get-together – we use plastic cutlery, paper plates, plastic cups. Buying a bucket of coffee at Starbucks will leave you with a bucket size paper cup, or doubled paper cup with a plastic lid of course.
We are in Miami for a few days before our next adventure. Our hotel is nice, clean, modern. The rooms are spacious, everything you need is provided. Breakfast is included and it’s ok. Scrambled eggs, waffles and that kind of stuff you expect there to be.
And everything is served with plastic cutlery, paper plates and paper bowls and cups. At the end of breakfast time, towards 10am, it looks like that:
I’m not afraid of flying. It’s not my favorite form of transportation, the check in and out, the hustle and bustles, all those people, etc. I just don’t enjoy it. The tight space inside the air plane, economy meaning child size seating and no legroom, nothing really appeals to me. And then the overhead space for carryon luggage: I stick to the rule to have one carryon. Sometimes it is a backpack, a basket, or a small rolling carryon suitcase. And that’s it. But I hate it when people show up with a carryon, a big shopper, and 3 huge paper bags from the @%# outlet stores where they needed to spent the last money they had left from vacation. And that’s when the overhead compartments get too small. And that’s when the stewardess gets involved, shifting things from A to B, then taking smaller bags / backpacks out to accommodate the outlet bags + suitcase + shopper combo. And that smaller backpack is usually mine, so I’m asked to put my bag underneath the seat in front of me, meaning I will not have any legroom for the entire flight as a punishment for somebody else overpacking. I’m not a complainer, but with a situation like that, I do complain, which is swept away in the hectic of boarding a plane and getting everybody and everything stuffed inside. They make me be the bad person, the complainer, although I was the one following the rules, but getting punished for it. So here you go, I’m not afraid of flying, I just don’t like it.
My carryon
Being afraid and having fear is a different story. Being afraid is more a general emotion, usually without a specific reason. You’re afraid of flying in general, because it might get bumpy. Having fear is more specific. Having fear for your life is connected to an incident. And that happened on my flight over from Europe to the US.
Halfway over the Atlantic, 3 hours away from the closest airport, a passenger decided to ignore the non-smoking sign and went to the bathroom, smoking inside. The sprinkler alarm went on, flooding the whole bathroom. And it didn’t stop. The bathroom was filled with water, over spilled into the cabin, etc. the stewardesses and stewards kept running back and forth, trying to take control. They even used those coffee pots they usually offer tea and coffee with to scoop up water, so here you go: don’t drink coffee or tea on an airplane! You never know what they used it before they made coffee for you….. This whole incident took ~45min before it was under control.
15 or 20 minutes later the pilot interrupted the entertainment program and gave a 5 min speech. I didn’t understand a single word, since it was in Spanish, but I paid attention because he sounded very serious, his voice trembling, almost as if he had cried. This was different, more serious than any pilot speech I ever heard. Everybody on the plane was listening, nobody said a word, people looked shocked. And I had fear. I didn’t know what it was about, I had no idea that it was connected to the smoker in the bathroom, I just was in a “shit, why did I never learn Spanish” state of mind. All different scenarios galloping through my brain, for example the murder/suicide in 2015, where a copilot locked the pilot out of the cabin and crashed the airplane into a hillside in southern France. All 150 people died. I had the flashback and thought that this will end up in a similar way, that our pilot is doing the same. Whom should I write a message now? How much time do we have? Why? That can’t be it! It took several minutes, that seemed like an hour or so, until another person tried to explain what had happened in broken English. Part of it I experienced first hand, sitting on the aisle seat 3 rows behind the restroom. The second part I tried to understand. Apparently the sprinkler system didn’t stop, therefore we were very close to an emergency landing 3 hours away from the next airport. Not a fun idea. The person smoking will be found and hit with a $2000 fine, on top of a criminal investigation, because their action risked the lives of a few hundred people.
But that flight wasn’t bad the entire time. I hadn’t realized that Air Europe was a cheap budget airline, not providing any food or drinks, not even on international flights. So I ended up very hungry and thirsty. On the airlines’ website I saw an option to preorder food, so I just gave it a try. Unfortunately the order didn’t go through, so I tried it again: a rice bowl and a water. Again, didn’t go through. Darn! The surprise came 5 minutes later in form of a tray, topped with a rice chicken mix, gazpacho, dessert, and a glass of water. Very impressive! And very tasty!!! I had just finished every bit of it, when the steward came back and told me that he accidentally gave me the tray that was meant to be given to another person, embarrassing! And I had thought this was my rice bowl with some water! Little did I know. Another stewardess came, telling me the same thing, trying to make me be more embarrassed! And then another steward stopped by and did the same thing: the classic guilt trip! So what should I do? Give it back??? How? My seat neighbor had a good laugh, I felt embarrassed but well fed. The steward came back and asked for my order confirmation (that I didn’t have), he came back another time to check how I actually had ordered and so on. At that point I joined my neighbor laughing. Just wait and I’ll give it back…..
It’s a very easy recipe: a beautiful area (Altmühltal) + great company (my brother Jürgen) + a cute little convertible = a daytrip filled with fun, great talks, memories, connections! Very, VERY special!!!
We saw interesting buildings, for example a church built of willows. It was planted in 2009 and is growing since. We were lucky to watch a wedding ceremony there, just in time before the next rain shower!
We also saw a few interesting animals, some a few days old, others a few million years old:
Enjoying this beautiful day and exchanging stories from the time way back when we were little, which icecream we preferred, which games we played, etc. It’s always so much fun to spend time with Jürgen! And of course we had a stop at a cute little beergarden (the 13th apostle).
And then there was soccer and the German dream of another European championship. But it ended in a disappointing loss at the quarterfinals, which was – of course – questionable. What should have been called a penalty kick was not acknowledged, what should have been a win ended up with a loss, just a minute before overtime ended. Darn! What a disappointment!!! We were so close and the German summer dream ended prematurely…
Ok, the Spanish team wasn’t bad, they were mostly lucky. Lucky and skillful, but I just liked the Germans play, not giving up until the very end, with leg cramps and everything. But it is what it is – the German are going home….. well, they are already home because Germany is the host country. So the Germans are just staying where they are already!
