I was so inspired by the beauty of a hotel I saw last night on the Amalfi coast, in Italy. It was converted from a convent built in the early 1600's. It only had twenty rooms, each room named after a medicinal herb used by the nuns that lived there. Past 400 hundred year old gardens, the infinity pool on the edge of the cliff, blended with the Mediterranean beyond. It was so beautiful it made me gasp. I got up, made a lemon balm tisane, and decided to change into heels and a more elegant dressing gown. It felt fun, as though I was participating in graciousness somehow.
If I were Barbara Hutton, one of the richest women in the world, I would have gone there. Then again they had no internet when she lived, but if I were her, and being me, I am sure I would have made it to the Amalfi coast. I would have gone disguised, and travelled with pseudonyms, disappearing into beautiful settings, reading my book under lemon groves and reappearing in the cafes of Portofino, or on the Orient Express, leaving big tips and hearing people's stories. (Barabara had several marriages, was relieved of most of her fortune by her husbands and died of a heart attack.)
I feel as though I have been on vacation. It beats shlepping around.
 |
| "Pots" by Maryanna Gabriel |