La Bougie

Tag: italy

  • photoessay: under the tuscan sun

    photoessay: under the tuscan sun

    We drive from the Siena train station for some 15 to 20 minutes along hilly roads that wind through miles of grapevines arrayed in perfect rows across the undulating landscape. Signs point towards the village of Vagliagli, but we turn and turn again down a graveled road with a sign reading Dievole Wine Resort. Olive trees are to our right, autumn-hued vines to our left, and a valley dotted with an occasional stone villa before us. This is the quintessence of Tuscany—a grand but quiet agrarian landscape that I can almost convince myself hasn’t changed too much since Dievole was founded in 1090.    

    a sign on a rock reading "Dievole" with an arrow

    the resort

    The resort is laid out as a cluster of buildings on a steep hillside. Working from the bottom up, the first level is occupied by a pool that overlooks the rolling Tuscan hills. It is too cool to swim in October, but not too cool to lounge in the sun when it finally emerges toward the end of the week.

    a pool surrounded by green hills under a cloudy sky streaked with sunset
    feet in a lounge chair beside a pool

    The next level up is the main area of the resort, containing a bar, a restaurant, a rose garden, and some guest rooms.

    Higher still, a beautiful stone cottage hung with ivy turned a brilliant shade of red in October houses the wine tasting room and more guest rooms. The cellar contains rows upon rows of casks where the wine is aged.  

    a brick tree-lined path leading down to a house with old tiles and ivy-covered walls
    red ivy covers a stone wall

    All the way up the hill are the last of the guest rooms, where I stayed. As I described in my previous post, these rooms boast the most dramatic views of the valley.

    The architecture throughout the resort is simple but lovely, with stone or stucco buildings, white walls, dark wooden beams and trim, and simple décor, like hand drawings of animals that evoke a 19th century country manor.

    the grounds

    The real magic of Dievole is not indoors, but the grounds. Yellowing grapevines and eucalyptus-green olive groves paint the hills in every direction, sloping upwards to the west, and downwards to the east. There, in the mornings, the sun rises over the mist-swathed valley, breathing warmth into the chill October dawn.

    sunrise over rolling hills
    morning mist clinging to hills under a rising sun
    red grape leaves foregrounded before a rising sun over hilltops
    sun rising over hills swathed in mist

    Guests are free to roam among the vines and groves. Wandering solo on the grounds is the highlight of my time in Italy. There’s a pastoral silence that’s only interrupted by a gentle breeze and chirping birds. I meander down rows of vines, taking photographs of the yellow and red leaves and the few bunches of grapes that remain, nearly rotting, after the harvest. The harvest of the olives is ongoing, and workers shake the trees, forcing them to drop their fruit into massive tarps.

    a path through vineyards leading to distant hills
    red grapes on a vine
    a large pile of green olives
    red and yellow grape leaves
    a blue tractor beside rows of yellow vines

    There’s also a farm. Actually, I lied, this is my favorite part of the trip. On the first afternoon, I go on a walk. As I round a bend in the road, I come upon a small stone building and am greeted by a rooster and chickens scurrying away from me, while a pair of geese angrily hold their ground. A farmhand napping in a white pickup truck parked by the building awakes to tell me something like, “go ahead, you can walk down the path.” (My Italian is basic, but I get the gist.) I gesture at the angry geese and try to reply something like, “I don’t think they want me to.” I find an alternative way around the geese and spend some happy time chasing the chickens around the farm. Later in the week, I return with my long lens for some tighter shots.

    a rooster and two chickens
    an old farmhouse on a hill
    rooster with a cocked head
    two geese seated side-by-side

    food and drink

    On our first full day in Dievole, we are welcomed with a wine tasting in the tasting room. We sample a white Trebbiano, a Chianti Classico, and the Novecento (my personal favorite, which I order exclusively for the rest of the week). We also tour the cellar where the wine is made.

    wine bottles placed on a grid-like shelf
    white wine pouring from a bottle into a line of glasses
    large wine casks

    We eat like Grand Dukes of Tuscany for the entire week we are at Dievole. Breakfast is a typical European-style breakfast buffet, with platters of pecorino and prosciutto, heaps of breads and cakes, and some cooked eggs for us Americans. Each night, the chef prepares a three-course Tuscan meal—primi piatti, secondi piatti, and dolci—that are unfailingly scrumptious. Throughout the week, we sample all the various olive oils that Dievole produced—and all the wine of course!

    white bean soup
    a serving of pasta with mushrooms
    a pan slicing a ham
    foam and a chocolate leaf over a teacup

    coda

    My only regret about this trip was that we were so busy I didn’t feel like I had as much time to just bask in the wonders of the Tuscan countryside as I would have liked. It’s no surprise that the landscapes of Tuscany have inspired so many artists. While I was there for a photography class, others in our group were taking painting and cooking classes. But alas, time was short, and there was also so much to love and explore in the towns and villages of Tuscany—which will be the subject of my next post!

  • a tuscan dream

    a tuscan dream

    I awoke a little after sunrise to the sound of birds chirping. Blue sky with puffy clouds reflected in the pane of my open bedroom window, which was framed by white curtains.

    my bedroom window

    At the window, I reveled in the view. A fig tree and a cypress tree framed the two sides of the window, and from there, the ground sloped downwards, towards a vineyard, yellow with fall. Beyond that, rolling hills to which mist still clung.

    view of the sunrise from my bedroom

    I dressed, grabbed my camera, and walked down the little path outside my room, which ended at the start of a vineyard. I followed the paths through the vineyard, climbing to the top of the hill for the most panoramic view of the valley—superior to the view from my bedroom only due to the height.

    I photographed sweeping vistas and the tiny details of grape leaves in equal measure, then moved on to the freshly harvested olive groves. I actually spun around, my hands grazing the hanging olive branches as I went. This was the Tuscany that I had imagined when I booked this trip a year ago.

    I take photography classes back home in DC through the Capital Photography Center. Sometime in summer 2023, a week-long photo workshop in Tuscany had popped on their website for October 2024. Clicking through the photos from previous classes, a vivid dream took shape in my mind of cypress trees, vineyards, olive groves, and charming medieval and Renaissance villages. It would be a pricy trip, so I hesitated for a few days. But I found myself daydreaming, lost in the fantasy of Tuscany I had crafted in my mind. The dream would not be denied.

    The trip was worth every penny. The worst thing I can say about it is that the rain that dogged my first week in Italy (see posts on Bologna and Ravenna) continued well into my week in Tuscany. As we were driving through the Val D’Orcia on a dreary morning, we stopped for a photo opp. I was wearing waterproof boots with good treads, but the soil was so damp it had turned into the consistency of wet potter’s clay, wedging itself into every cranny of the boot. Effectively, I was walking on a slick sheet of clay on a surface of slick clay. Long story short:

    a woman disheveled with jeans and boots covered in mud
    I fell in the mud

    (Photo credit: Marie Joabar)

    I had to walk around sopping wet and muddy for the rest of the day while we toured Pienza.

    I share this story because a) it really was quite funny, and b) I wouldn’t want anyone to get the misimpression that my travels, bougie though they may be, are always so glamorous. Sometimes I end up covered in mud.

    (On the plus side, how great is that rain hat that I bought in Siena? Courtesy Cappelleria Bertacchi.)

    woman modeling a black rain hat
    new rain hat!

    Rain and mud aside, I have much to say about all of Tuscany’s delights… so much so that I’m going to break this up into a few different posts.

    Next week, look for a post on the Dievole Wine Resort, which was the site of the aforementioned twirling in the olive groves. I truly cannot imagine a more heavenly place to spend a week. I could go on and on about how much I loved this place… and I probably will.

    The following week, look for a post about the towns and villages that we visited on our daily photography excursions around Tuscany: Siena, San Gimignano, Radda, and Pienza. Each delightful in its own charming way!

  • ravenna: a forgotten roman capital

    ravenna: a forgotten roman capital

    On the evening of my arrival in Ravenna, I embarked upon my typical aimless journey of a new city. I had already purchased my pass to all of the city’s main UNESCO heritage churches and basilicas, studied the city’s map, and walked around town getting my bearings. I came upon the Basilica di San Vitale, which was on the next day’s agenda. The sky overhead was clear as the sun was setting, but white storm clouds billowed in the sky behind the 6th century church, concealing the last of the sun before it set.

    Basilica di San Vitale

    Fast forward to the next morning, and I am speed-walking back to San Vitale from the covered market where I had stopped for a cappuccino and shelter, my hair sopping with water. My jeans are drenched through to the skin and the water has followed the gradient of my socks down into my boots, so I am quite literally wet from head to toe.

    Finally, I reach the arched gateway to the basilica, where I have to pull out my phone in the pouring rain to show the staff my e-ticket, and then I dart as fast as I can to the entrance to the basilica. Ah, shelter! But even here, parts of the mosaiced floor are inch-deep in rain.

    mosaic floor covered in water
    waterlogged floors in the Basilica di San Vitale

    Such was my one full day in Ravenna: miserably wet. But you know? Even so, I really enjoyed the city.

    I didn’t know much about Ravenna besides its name before I started planning this trip. But just a little bit of research into its fascinating history convinced me that it was a must-visit. During the late, troubled days of the Western Roman Empire, it briefly became the west’s capital in the early 5th century CE. When the Eastern Roman Empire took Italy back from the Visigoths in the late 5th-6th centuries, Emperor Justinian built Ravenna into a city glittering with mosaics in churches that remain remarkably well-preserved 15 centuries later.

    These churches stand as monuments to a slice of time barely remembered in history books, when Rome itself had fallen but the Western Empire held on, imbibing influence from the Eastern Empire before west and east were fully sundered. The mosaics themselves are very eastern, and far better preserved than, say, those in the Hagia Sofia (for which the Basilica di San Vitale was an early prototype, according to my Bradt Guide to Emilia-Romagna). Truly, they are breathtaking works of early Christian art that display remarkable craftsmanship for their era, with human expressions far more lifelike than anything from the Middle Ages. Still, take the mosaics away, and the columns of classical Rome stand tall in places like the Basilica di Sant’Apollinare Nuovo.  

    In all, there are five UNESCO World Heritage sites in Ravenna. The Basilica di Sant’Apollinare Nuovo was just steps from my hotel. Unlike some of the other sites, this one required a pass but not a scheduled entry time. It was my first stop on the day of my arrival, before the rain started.

    Jesus enthroned
    three wise men
    Mary enthroned
    Saint Cecilia (my confirmation saint)

    The next morning, I had an early appointment to visit the Battistero Neoniano, named for the 5th-century bishop (Neon) who commissioned its mosaics. This one required that you book a specific timeslot, so I braved the rain and arrived about 10 minutes early, praying they would let me in a bit early. (They did.)

    dome of the Battistero Neoniano

    I’ve already recounted my waterlogged journey from there to the Basilica di San Vitale, where I hunkered down for as long as I could manage. Fortunately, there was plenty of beauty to photograph there.

    The namesake of the Mausoleo di Galla Placidia was the Constantinople-born daughter of the last Roman Emperor of a united and peaceful Rome. Later, in Ravenna, she ruled as regent for her son, and lived a colorful life during turbulent times for Rome. The mausoleum was built for her, but does not actually house her remains.

    My appointment to see the mausoleum, whose quaint fauna-filled mosaics were my favorites, was at noon. Once again, I braved the pouring rain for a short jaunt across a courtyard a bit before my timeslot in the hopes I’d be allowed in, rather than being forced to stand in the rain. Again, the gambit paid off.

    I did not make it to the fifth site, the Cappella di Sant’Andrea, because its limited opening hours did not align with my schedule.

    I spent the rest of the day alternately eating and avoiding the rain. After the Mausoleo, I lost time at the Osteria del Tempo Perso, ate a lovely risotto and warmed up with a Sangiovese, before venturing back out into the rain in search of dry clothes, a warm bed, and a nap. Later, the rain finally gave up, and I emerged again for dinner and wine at the charming enoteca, Ca’ de Ven. (I mean really, where but in Italy can you find a bar with ceilings like this?)

    It’s a rare city that can manage to charm me despite appallingly bad weather, but Ravenna did. The sense of being in a time capsule from a forgotten era that overwhelmed me when gazing at 6th century mosaics contrasted pleasantly with the clean, modern, small city that buzzed outside the church walls.  History aside, it seemed like a nice place to live, which not every tourist city can claim.

  • memories of italy

    memories of italy

    Italy has always called to me. When I was a sophomore in college, I participated in a summer abroad program that studied ancient civilizations, taking us students to Athens, Rome, and Tunis (Carthage in classical times). It was my first trip abroad, aside from freshman year spring break in Mexico. Of these three destinations, we spent the longest time in Rome, where I lived for three weeks in a pensione in Trastevere.

    view of the Tiber River from Trastevere

    There I took classes on classical and Christian history. For the latter, our professor sent us on a scavenger hunt of Rome’s churches, seeking out the variety of odd and vaguely gross Christian relics (like saints’ fingers) preserved therein. We visited the Vatican and the Parthenon, the Forum and the Colosseum, the catacombs and the ancient walls of the city. We were given freedom on long weekends to explore the country, which I spent in Florence and Venice.

    a Cross inside the Colosseum
    the Trevi Fountain
    The Roman Forum
    the Vatican

    I lounged in cafes, drinking cappuccinos and wine and watching the life of Italy move around me, more languid than the life I knew in the US. When Rome beat Naples in some soccer match, I joined the electrified crowds in the nearest piazza in their raucous celebration. I explored the Vatican Museum, the Uffizi, and various other museums and art exhibits, my first real introduction to art.

    Italy was my first experience of Europe, the beginning of the longest love affair of my life. I’ve been to a total of 27 European countries since then, but Italy has always held a special place in my heart. In many ways, when I think of Europe, it is Italy that I picture.

    But Italy contains multitudes, and though I’d returned to Naples and Rome a couple of times when I worked for the Navy, there were many parts of this diverse country that I had yet to explore. So a year ago, I jumped at the opportunity to book a week-long photography class in Tuscany through Capital Photography Center and Il Chiostro for October 2024.

    When I decided to add an additional week to the trip, I sought out the less-touristed regions of the country. I settled on a week in Emilia-Romagna, a region squeezed between Tuscany and the Veneto that is the birthplace of some of Italy’s most iconic foods—balsamic vinegar, parmesan cheese, parma ham, tortellini, lasagna… the list goes on. Wary of trying to cram too much into one trip (a character flaw of mine), I decided to save Campania, Sicily, the Dolomites, Lake Como, and other places for future trips. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of Italy.

    And so, my itinerary came to look like this. Four days in Bologna, which serves as a convenient launch-point for day trips to other Emilian cities. Two days in Ravenna, briefly the capital of the Roman Empire during Byzantine times and home to astounding mosaics. Then one night in Florence, which would get me near my Tuscan destination. Then eight days at the Dievole Wine Resort in Chianti, Tuscany, home base for the photography class where we would launch day trips to towns throughout Tuscany: Siena, San Gimignano, Pienza, and Radda.  Two weeks full of beautiful sights, delectable Italian food, and so much wine!

    Follow me on my journey through my next few Sunday posts on Bologna, Ravenna, and Tuscany, plus maybe some more if the mood moves me. Arrivederci for now!

    sun rising over hills swathed in mist
    a Tuscan sunrise

  • grand opening!

    grand opening!

    Today I depart for 2 and a half weeks in Italy, so I take this opportunity to officially launch a project that I’ve had in the works for about a year now: my website, La Bougie, which is both a travel blog and a space to showcase my photography.

    This launch is a long time in the making. For years I’ve wanted to write more about my travels, and I got serious about becoming a better photographer last spring. Last summer, I took a class on travel writing courtesy Gotham Writer’s Workshop, which helped shape my ideas about launching the blog.

    Last September I did something of a soft launch. I had the site up and running, but I hadn’t quite gotten it to where I wanted it. The aesthetics were off, I was still settling on a style, and it just wasn’t quite right.

    So I kept posting… about my trips to Dominica, Alaska, New Orleans, the Canadian Rockies, and assorted other trips around the DC metro area, where I live, and New Mexico, where my mom and brother live. (Don’t worry, if you’ve been with me on those trips, no names or photos of you have been used, my friends.)

    But I wasn’t quite ready to start publicizing my work. Instead, I futzed with Home page, with the Bio page, with my photography gallery. I took another Gotham class, this one on blog writing. I’ve taken many classes on photography (mostly courtesy Capital Photography Center).

    Finally, a year later, and with great trepidation, I am ready to start sharing my labor of love. Watch this space! I’m going to try to post every Sunday, but we’ll see how that works out while I’m traveling. In the meantime, watch my Instagram as I travel in and around Bologna, Ravenna, Florence, Tuscany, and Milan. Saluti!