Lets talk about vacations
I’m all hopped up on ADD meds and anticipatory glee. My best friend and soulmate, the talented, lovely Leila Sales, of the hilarious The Leila Texts (which has been featured on the NYT blog and in some rather famous magazines) has gotten her first book deal. This means 2 things. One: she is just as amazing as I always thought, only now she has proof, and Two: she is taking me on a celebratory vacation. Yes, I realize that I am the luckiest of the lucky girls to have such a good friend.
So after months of deliberation, with both of us moaning random things about “villas” and “warm weather” to various travel agents, we finally just decided to book the vacation ourselves. The choice was between the Greek Islands, Tuscany, and Provence.
Now, it’s true, I do love the Greek Islands. I grew up reading Gerald Durrell’s sunny descriptions of his idyllic childhood catching bugs and frolicking amidst olive groves. Correlli’s Mandolin made the area seem lovely (you know, despite the whole World War II backdrop). But there was one thing that we were looking for, abstruse and conceptual as it was, and that was…a villa. Yes, villa means “house,” however that wasn’t what we meant by it. We mean…well I can’t describe it. Why don’t I just show it to you, since we found one and are going to be occupying it for a whole week in April!
Note the outdoor arbor overgrown with vines? Yep. Villa. I plan on making home-made tomato-sauce by oven-roasting some local tomatoes and garlic, and then dipping some crusty italian bread in it. Or maybe putting it over orrechiette with some artisanal olive oil. You know, nothing fancy. Just the type of food you eat in Tuscany. Villa food, if you will.
The inside of the villa is actually quite modern and nice. Since we will be staying outside Lucca, a medieval walled town somewhere in Tuscany, perhaps near Sienna (or not), all we need is some good books, some bicycles, and some cameras, and we’ll be set for a week. Leila has another novel to work on, and I’m trying to write a novel, too. Probably I’ll just spend all my time cooking and taking photos. God damn, how nice does that sound?
So just two more months and its bon voyage and a big middle finger to cold, snowy, dreary Boston.
Because we are jet-setters. And that’s what we do.