Leaving Lerici

Tuesday morning I load our few belongings into our car and drive from Lerici to our new home near Falcinello. It's fortunate that we don't have much to move, because Jim is at sea and because Lerici has a no-drive zone for visitors in the summer and we are parked just outside that zone, about 200 yards up the road. I want to ignore this restriction, but the cameras at the beginning of the zone prevent me from tempting a ticket. Everyone has told us that if you try to sneak into the zone, you should expect a ticket in the mail in 3 to 6 months.

It takes me over two hours to ferry our baggage up to our recently purchased 2002 VW station wagon, "Dora." The last load includes Bella and Boomer, who squeeze into the remaining space.

Lerici was the perfect place to spend our first six weeks in Italy. Jim commuted to work by bus; I walked everywhere. The village was beautiful, the people were generally friendly despite being overrun by tourists, and our landlords were wonderful. But the location had its challenges. The dogs couldn't leave the apartment without being on leashes, particularly after Boomer was caught with the owner's prized turtle in his mouth in our bedroom! Walking the dogs was acrobatic at times, trying to maneuver the two of them away from people, dogs, food and tidying up after them. (You can't really appreciate how much dogs poop until you have to pick up every one of these gifts!) Also, it was clear that we weren't going to get used to the noise. The buses, the two-stroke engines, the loud TVs were too much for our spoiled suburban-American ears.

Driving the road to our new home was like doing yoga. I feel my body relax and my mind empty. The road up here has me laughing; although not everyone would find it funny. It's so narrow in places that it's challenging for one car to get through. The switchbacks are so tight and the road forks in so many places that frequently the main road disappears until the last second. Fortunately, there is little traffic. It takes me 12 minutes to drive the length of Via Prulla. When I can drive no farther, I park the car and let the dogs out. We are home.


I've spent the last two days marveling at the 1900-built, recently renovated farmhouse and the surrounding views. The house sits on a hillcrest. To the south is our nearest neighbor who has a lovely villa with swimming pool and friendly old German shephard. To the east, houses with red tile roofs are sprinkled throughout the forested hills. To the north is a beautiful grove of pines with an inviting trail that has yet to be explored. To the west, expansive views of the sea and the town of Sarzana below. The property has eight olive trees, which is enough to harvest and press for our own supply. It also has fig, pear, apple, and cherry trees. The parking area has a 3-foot-high hedge of rosemary that Boomer must be peeing on because he smells like the herb, and dill and oregano are sprouting up everywhere. There are signs of owl and wild boar, which is a delicacy in this area, and yesterday I saw a raptor fly low over the house.

Our friend, Jim Pollock, used to have a saying about his magnificent home overlooking Lake Washington: "Is this a little slice of heaven or what?" In fact, he said it so much that a friend turned it into an acronym so that it was quicker to say: ITALSOHOW. That's how I'm feeling now and as I write am realizing that the acronym almost spells "Italy." Maybe I can work a "Y" into Jim's saying! "Is this a little yard of heaven or what?" Bella and Bruno think so!