We climbed through the tiny hilltop village of Bajardo, making our way up the steep, ancient stone stairways and narrow pathways. as I climbed up I couldn’t stop thinking about how I was yet again wearing the wrong attire- my Mary Jane heels. I gotta start wearing the proper shoes for the occasion. They’re incredibly comfortable, but let’s be real… walking on old stone steps in heels is just an accident waiting to happen. And in a dress, a dress, no less. I really should have been more prepared for all those stone steps. My thoughts continued- I didn’t know we were gonna be hiking through old villages, even though we were headed in that direction. Ding dong…

When we reached the top and learned the history of the old church and the devastating 1887 earthquake, we were completely taken by surprise. It turned what was a charming village had a longer history.

What made it even more remarkable was learning that this hill has been a place of worship and importance for more than 2,000 years, with each civilization building upon the last. Before Christianity, it was believed to have been a sacred site used by the Druids. Later came a Roman temple, then a medieval castle, and then a church whose tragic collapse claimed over 200 lives during the 1887 earthquake.

So when we reached the top, we weren’t just looking at the ruins of an old church—we were standing on a hill that has been considered sacred from prehistoric times, through the Roman era, the Middle Ages, and into the present. Somehow, knowing that made me click my heels in gratitude that I had went up to the top of the village,

It was one of those moments where the beauty of a place and the weight of its history come together and leave me feeling that sometimes places ask a little more of me before they reveal themselves.

Perhaps because I arrived expecting to see, when what was required was to listen.

                

Comments

• oh corey- a lesson for me-the art of listening.- by georgeanne

Related Stories

• Feasting on Italy
• Eatly, and be Merry
• Notre Dame de Paris

 

One village after another dots the landscape as we weave along a single-lane road never intended for two-way traffic—yet somehow two-way it is.

Around every bend, another picture-perfect village appears, drawing gasps of “ooh” and “ahh” at the view. At the same time, we can’t help but exclaim as oncoming cars squeeze past us, leaving what feels like only inches to spare.

Feasting our eyes while making decisions about what—and where—to eat. Oohing and ahhing as pesto, Parmesan, garlic, and olive oil dance around us. Feeling our waistlines expanding by more inches than the narrow space between our car and those passing us on these winding, hairpin roads.

Returning to our hotel, we fall asleep before our heads even hit the pillow—literally—our hearts and stomachs completely full after another day of feasting.

                

Comments

• OTOH, in the Azores, Farmboy Husband refuses to rent a car, ... by Kathie B.
• In reply to Pam. Shared wonder and 😳 by Corey
• In reply to Diogenes. Omg it truly was!!! by Corey
• Eating and shopping – my favorite pastimes. Looks awesome and ... by Ann of Avondale
• Wow! Beautiful pictures and that restaurant looks so good. by Diogenes
• Look at those attentive waiters in the last photo. It is a ... by Sally V.

Related Stories

• Eatly, and be Merry
• Notre Dame de Paris
• Climbing to the Top of the Dungeon

 

When in Italy espressos or hot chocolates are part of the experience, part of being part of Italy. It feels like if you can stand up at the bar order an espresso, say “Ciao” a few times, and walk arm in arm with someone then Italy gets into the blood and soaks the heart.

We are in Italy- a little over two hours away- so my cousins can have a glimpse, and a taste.

Hand drawn recipe from Elena

Little Gabriel made me smile today.

When I told him I was going to Italy, the first thing he asked was, “For how long?”

I told him, “Just a few days.”

He immediately replied, “That’s too long!”

Then he asked, “Why are you going?”

I said, “To eat pasta, of course.”

He looked at me very seriously and said, “My mommy makes great pasta. You don’t need to go to Italy to eat it.”

That’s amore!

                

Comments

• How sweet Life is full of magic and pasta by Jeanne Caron
• In reply to Ali. Thanks, Diogenes! I totally missed that, so ... by Kathie B.
• Love your stories, Corey! Sweet Gabriel❤️ by Kathy
• You have the sweetest little one in your life. That is indeed ... by Marilyn Miller
• In reply to Diogenes. I was going to say that! ... by Ali
• That's too funny! Great picture, I can see you in the mirror as ... by Diogenes

Related Stories

• Feasting on Italy
• Le Train Bleu
• Notre Dame de Paris

 

Facades, the color of sunshine. 

Four dauphins, do you know the meaning? 

Calissons: have you had one? Do you know the story behind them? 

When you were walking about remember to look up: religious statues are for watching you. 

A must see; Hotel Caumont—go there for lunch. 

Don’t bring clothes; (honestly) just go there on a Tuesday or Thursday. The market will fill your suitcase plenty. 

Whether religious or not, step into the churches- they are all over 1000 years old with beautiful art.

 Cezanne 

Grillon upstairs

L’oiseau bleu concept store.

Place d’Albertas

First Sunday of any month, the city’s major heritage museums open their doors to everyone for free

and so much more.

                

Comments

• In reply to NANCY O.. ❤️😀❤️ by Corey
• Every little hidden corner in France you find a gem. Such ... by Marilyn Miller
• We sat beside the Four Daulphins fountain in Aix in 2010. We ... by Leonie
• Yes indeed, stayed nearby, visited Cezanne's studio and home ... by Jennifer Phillipps
• Oh Corey I love Aix. Thank you for the glimpse. Please show us ... by Mary Logan
• My very best memories of France are of Aix. by NANCY O.

Related Stories

• What Do We See
• My Cousins are Coming!
• Le Train Bleu

 

It’s funny how you can see the same place over and over again and still never really see it. Then one day, someone points out one small, obvious detail, and you’re left wondering how you could have missed it all this time.

That happened to me today. A friend asked me what I saw at the top of a building I’ve passed countless times. I didn’t see anything. She had to point it out to me: the face of an angel, carved high above the street. It had always been there, quietly waiting, and somehow I had never noticed it.

Once I saw it, I found myself wondering: if I could miss something so obvious for so long, what else am I not see? Do we ever really see the whole picture?

Maybe it’s like that with most things. With places. With stories. With the images we build from what other people tell us, from our own observations, and even from the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. We collect fragments and mistake them for the whole.

My two cousins are here visiting, and I’ve been showing them the France I know and love—the streets, the places, the things I’ve come to cherish. Yet today I realized that even in a place I thought I knew so well, there was a beautiful detail I had completely overlooked. It made me wonder what details they’re noticing that I’m not. What stories will they leave with? What will they hold to be true about this place? What small, unexpected moments will stay with them long after they’ve gone home?

Perhaps we never truly see the whole picture. Perhaps all we can do is keep looking, knowing there is always another detail waiting to be noticed.

                

Comments

• In reply to Diogenes. Yes!! by Corey
• A quote I love is “notice what you notice”. Sometimes I ... by Marilyn Miller
• In reply to Mika McDonald. May this new chapter be beautiful, ... by Corey
• May Angels protect us and troubles neglect us and thanks for ... by Jeanne Caron
• Thanks for sharing these pics of your cousins Corey! I'm not ... by Diogenes
• That was beautifully noticed and shared. What a nice reminder ... by Mika McDonald

Related Stories

• Aix en Provence
• My Cousins are Coming!
• Le Train Bleu