Travel & Hotspots

onze meid in New York

While Blue and I have been reunited for a week now and we are running wildly to (and then through) the doggy park by Madison, I look back with nostalgia. It may be autumn, the fact that my winter coat is out of the closet again, or the point that I always suffer from what I call vacation blues. After Italy, however, I am slightly melancholic. I miss the insane cappuccinos that are just as good at the most shabby gas stations as they are in fancy restaurants. I miss the Italians who, in nine out of ten cases, have to call a colleague to take our order in English. I miss the sunset. I miss the chirping birds. I miss the oxygen. I miss the silence. I miss waking up with my dear fiancé next to me. I miss it all. Diagnosis? A typical case of vacation blues. Fortunately, our woolly child is there to cheer me up. Together we run through the park (and my winter coat can still be worn open, because the sun shines here too). In 220 days, I will happily return to Italy again. With that big white dress and with my fiancé. I can't wait for those roadside cappuccinos. Oh, and of course to finally turn that fiancé into my husband.

I am counting down the days, and meanwhile scrolling through my photos. Forte dei Marmi comes by. The place where we ended up after Tuscany just to lie down, order burrata and at least one bottle of wine daily, sleep with the balcony doors open, but also the place where we heard the sea gently turning on the beach. Oh yes, and where we rode our bikes to the market on Wednesdays. That was Forte dei Marmi, where Villa Grey was our temporary home.

One of those days of burrata, wine, and beach vacation we spent in Cinque Terre. In other words, the collection of five magical fishing villages where the houses are cheerfully colored and where you (unfortunately) trip over tourists. The way there is actually many times more fun than walking in the villages themselves. We went through the mountains, along the sea, and it is precisely those vista points that make you want to visit Cinque Terre at least once in your life.

And after Cinque Terre, I quickly come across that winter coat in my overflowing photo stream. Back in New York. Home again, where our house for a moment looks like a laundromat and drying house. Where Blue is. And where I have to frantically search for shoes to go under the dress. That one big white dress that I have to wear again for the first time in a week. Mom and my best friend are flying in for this first fitting. They can't wait, but I am having nightmares about it. Last night, the lady from the boutique brought the pink version of my dress, and a few nights before that it was purple... I will keep you updated and eventually tell you whether the thing is just white and whether there were tears shed. Maybe I'll give you a little sneak peek?