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! 🇮🇹
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…..
I love railroad stations. And I hate them. Let’s get the bad feelings out of the way to make room for the good, ok? So the story is, that I felt the most lonely ever at – guess – a railroad station. In Munich. On Christmas Eve. With a big bag full of gifts for my family. And there was no train in – what felt forever. My boyfriend and I had plans to visit my family for Christmas, so we got his parents car for that trip, prepared a nice stay with my family and I was bursting with anticipation to be swallowed up in hugs and kisses and laughter and talk and food. Of course there will be food! Delicious Christmas cookies, stollen, marzipan and all those good smelling gingerbread. I was 21, and I thought: this guy is the love of my life. I really did! And I was very wrong. So we had an argument and – just when we were supposed to leave – he decided to not go. So this was the end of the idea to go see my family, which lived an hours train ride north of Munich. And I so wanted to go and see them, I had a gift for each of them, mostly handmade little somethings, but hey: it’s the thought that counts, right? So I packed all those little goodies in a big bag and left. And it was freezing cold! It was already dark outside and because it was Christmas Eve, there was hardly anybody out there on the streets. Christmas Eve is when in Germany everybody is with their loved ones. It is the main event. The highlight! And for me it was the lowlight. Catching a bus to the next subway station was a challenge, taking the subway to the railroad station was the next challenge, because every public transportation was on a holiday schedule. Well and then there was the railroad station, deserted, just the announcements through the speakers and I. I’m not sure, but I must have waited for hours to be able to get on a train to Ingolstadt. I was freezing, I was sad, disappointed, hurt and in disbelieve what I had let somebody do to me! But I made it!!! Another 30minute walk to my parent’s house and everybody was there: it was warm, cozy, happy, perfect!
Railroad stations on the other side are fantastic! They are the start to an adventure, there are trains from everywhere, going to somewhere else. There are announcements, magazine kiosks, bakeries. You can watch people hurrying, running, waiting, strolling. Everybody wants to go somewhere, nobody wants to spend time there. Railroad station are not for staying I guess: they are just in-between launches to somewhere exciting. They are a promise to the next destination!
Airports are also temporary locations, similar to railroad stations, but in a different way. You are forced to stay there longer than you want, 2 or 3 hours before your departure, sometimes even longer if your connection flight leaves 8 hours later, like yesterday, when we flew from California to Munich and had a leisurely forever break in LAX. So you have time to kill and the airport gods know how they want you to spend your time: you should eat. Especially in airports in the US there are significantly more places to eat than anything else. You grab food to go, you sit down to eat, you hang out at a bar at 8am, everything is encouraged. Eating and drinking is the main focus what people should do when they are bored. And you have at least 2 or 3 hours to be bored, that means you can eat a tremendous amount of food! In any airport outside the US you’ll find way less food opportunities and more shopping and relaxing places. An occasional restaurant, yes, but your boredom should be filled with shopping. Not much better, but at least you’ll be healthier. Think about all the food you’re not eating and all the steps you’re walking!
And then there is the mystery about the carpet. Why do airports have carpet on the floor? Of course you think they want you to work harder pulling your suitcase, that makes you burn more calories and because of all the calories burnt your appetite builds up and – voila! – you will be happy to see all the food choices!
No, that’s not really the reason why there are carpets. The only true thing is, that it is harder to pull your luggage around. Another reason you will think is noise reduction. And you are right: it is significantly less loud if there are carpets on the floor. No matter where you are: houses, restaurants, airports, etc.
And here comes my fun fact about carpets in airports: researchers have found out that people feel more homey and cozy when they walk on carpets and therefore – drumroll – they spend more money shopping. In fact, 25% more money is made in airport areas with carpets than in those without (because without a carpet they think they are at a railroad station and they are in a hurry and don’t have time to shop. Maybe…)
Puerto Rico is an unincorporated territory of the United States. It was founded in 1521 by Spanish colonists, which makes it older than the United States! San Juan is the capital and largest city.
Ted is heading out by himself today since I’m sick of🤒. Fever, coughing, headache. The medical staff test me for Covid and influenza, run some blood work, X-Ray, and decide that it’s a bacterial infection.
Timo bought me a „get-well-soon“ gift, a tile from Puerto Rico. What a sweet guy! He’s bringing soup and water and checks in frequently.
Cruise ships are fun. They offer a nice variety of entertainment, a hypnotist show, a comedian, live music in every bar, etc. And then there are games, trivia of all kinds, competitions, couples games and more. And then there was the announcement of the Mr. sexy Leg Competition. And since Ted has great legs, and I mean GREAT LEGS, I suggested he’d participate. And because Ted is a great sport, he got up there on stage at the pool, along with 20 other guys, Timo included, to show off their legs. Each of them did a little something special, a dance or movement that would show how great their legs are. Ted, funny Ted, introduced himself and said he wants to get laid tonight. He started with a pole dance, followed by a (safe) striptease, flinging his hat off, pulling his T-Shirt off and finishing with another little pole dance. All the women were roaring and he was chosen to be Mr. Sexy Legs. Oh my, we had a good time! Timo was a runner up, but his dance moves just couldn’t compete with Ted.
Fast forward: random people on the ship approach Ted, congratulate him, buy us drinks and have a good laugh about his performance. The next day they ask if he got lucky, if he was successful, if he got what he wanted. And when you switch on the TV and check out the entertainment program, they show a video with – guess what – Ted’s pole dance and striptease! Oh my!!!
Another day at another beautiful port: St. John on the island of Antigua. But Irma left her mark in 2017, destroying infrastructure, housing, basic needs. So you see a truck with pumpkins that also serves as a primecare doctor’s checkup point, the local hospital still closed…..
We walk around the local markets, avoiding the meat and the fish buildings, because the smell is just a little too much. Market means people sitting at the side of the road selling something: plantains or coconuts, another person sells bananas and avocados, or just garlic, etc. Sometimes the market booth is a table, the bed of a pickup truck or just a piece of tarp on the ground. Very basic. We don’t have any temptations to buy any food, the hygiene police in my head is ringing all alarm bells.
“Zeitgeist”
And we’re not allowed to bring any food onto the ship anyway. They have a very strict policy, not only here, but on any cruise we’ve taken and any port we’ve been. No food or drink can leave the ship and no food or drink can be taken onto the ship. And still, when I got back on board today, a group of 3 young adults tried to bring a whole bag of fruit onboard, being surprised that they were not allowed to do so. Once we saw a guy who tried to bring a whole big birthday cake onboard and they didn’t allow it. But that was last year in Sicily. Different cruise, same story…..
