As I sit and ponder on the months of tireless research. The anticipation, disappointment and angst I endured, in pursuit to purchase my personal slice of Tuscan paradise, you might ask, was it all worth it?
Is life in Italy truly what the media portray or is it purely myth?
Does “La Dolce Vita” truly exist? Or perhaps it’s a fantastic fable designed by Italians, to make the rest of us lust for what they apparently have?
My personal experiences, as an Italian born Australian, will be very similar to many of you reading this article, I’m sure.
Living in a large, global city, like Sydney, some might say, I was fortunate, even lucky but that’s far from how it felt for me.
I constantly spent my days yearning for a slower life. One with the freedom to simply be me.
To live the life I felt I deserved and would want to share with my family and friends for the foreseeable future.
A life worth writing about.
A simpler existence that would fulfil my heart’s desires and leave me content at the end of each day.
Sounds idyllic right but isn’t that what life is supposed to be? Where did we loose our way and think otherwise?
We rush forward through life, clambering an invisible ladder of success, trying to achieve so much but is that truly what brings us the most joy? I fear not.
I know that purchasing your dream home in Italy, can be fraught with so many variables and I emphasize with those who spend their lives feeling lost and unable to “take the plunge”.
So let me share with you, how my amore and I came to the conclusion of choosing Tuscany as our forever home and why we have never experienced one solitary regret.
Let’s start at the beginning.
I am the daughter of an Italian father and English mother. A lovely mix, I’ve been told and would have to agree, as I feel I have benefited so much, from the wonderful blend of both cultures and the gift of languages.
Having migrated from post-war Italy at a young age, my father forever yearned to return to Italy. He was a happy immigrant but never-the-less, Italy always remained engraved deeply on his heart and soul. He hankered to return, maybe even buy a home for all of us to share but none of his plans ever eventuated.
Fate decided otherwise and his faded dream is something that I have held tight for decades.
It’s not as if I had made promises to my father, to follow his path or fulfil his dream but I innately wanted the same things as him.
The older I grew, that feeling of belonging elsewhere, grew within me.
When the Global Pandemic hit us, a horrible sensation of imprisonment struck me. Out of work and locked at home, I was overcome by a dogged determination to search for that elusive place of peace, “Far from the madding crowd” as Thomas Hardy eloquently described it and closer to my heart’s truth.
Yes, I could have given up and sunk into a quagmire of “What’s ifs?” or negativities but instead, I remained steadfast in the pursuit of my beautiful Italian dream.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, as I travelled virtually via countless websites, online videos and old DVD movies, researching areas of Italy, which were unknown to me.
I was completely intrigued with these hidden gems of cultural heritage with their extraordinary natural beauty, stunning ancient architecture and abundance of that forever mythical “Dolce Vita”.
During this time, I came across a tiny dot on a Google Earth map, named Chianni. A place where time appeared to decelerate and I became instantly obsessed.
Originally, I had done what most people do when house hunting in another country. I looked at the most obvious, the names I knew, the places I’d seen either online or during my travels to Italy but this tiny, unknown Tuscan village seemed to cast it’s spell and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I was besotted.
What could it possibly have, that all the thousands of villages I had already researched didn’t possess?
The reply is, absolutely nothing. I can’t put my finger on it, nor tell you a story of a fairytale village because it isn’t that. It’s perhaps the complete opposite and it’s minor imperfections, seemed a perfect fit for us.
We were not seeking postcard perfection or a place that would be overrun by tourists. We didn’t require constant stimulation or the throng of noisy bars that keep you awake at night.
We sought only peace.
The type of peace that wraps you in it’s arms and never lets you go.
The serenity that only rural life can kindle and a silence so striking, that the stars sing as they twinkle in the night sky.
A sense of authenticity and community, which in this fast paced world, seemed an impossibility.
How could I know from a virtual tour on Google Earth that I had found such a place?
Well the fact is, that I didn’t but I followed my intuition and was lead to a place where I know, I now belong.
During this wondrous journey of discovery, I began to understand the infinite number of uncovered treasures and hidden gems that Tuscany holds.
I was held in constant awe, by the beauty I uncovered each day, in the simple things.
The dance of the summer winds, through the fields of gold.
A soft scent that wafts through the trees at twilight, accompanied by a symphony of a thousand buzzing bees.
The carefree laughter of the village children, as they scamper across the paved streets, kicking a ball.
The bobbing heads of the bright red poppies, that announce the arrival of summer.
The boisterous banter of the old men playing cards at our local bar.
An espresso served with a “Buongiorno Marisa” and a cheeky smile or a loud “Ciao” yelled from a window, as I make my way home.
The vibrant yellow of the sunflower fields, that bow their heads to an unrelenting sun.
That explosion of oranges, russets and reds, as the soft light of autumn arrives and the vines are ripe for the harvest.
The wonderful grey greens of the olive groves, which embrace every hillside and comfort me on my walks. There’s truly nothing better than the shade of an olive tree, in my opinion.
The majesty of the Cipresso Toscano, or soaring Cypress, so symbolic of Tuscany and a constant companion no matter where you roam.
The pepper that catches in the back of your throat, from the newly pressed olive oil…such a delight as it makes me cough and giggle.
The flavour of every fruit or vegetable, grown for centuries, in soils untainted by man and taste better than anywhere else on the planet!
The perfume of the jasmine, as it bursts into flower and climbs skywards upon ancient ochre-coloured stone walls.
The first sip of a chilled Vermentino Toscano on a balmy summer’s evening or a glass of my favourite Sangiovese, with a slice of Truffled Pecorino.
The soft melody from my husband’s guitar, as it drifts outdoors and is carried upon the breeze.
My washing which resembles an art installation, as it floats freely from our balcony.
The bells that toll each hour, keeping an eternal rhythm that has rung for centuries and will continue to do so, way beyond our existence.
The pure love, endless laughter and boundless care, shared with us by our “new Italian family”, our darling neighbours and village friends.
My list is long and I could write endless pages of love for Tuscany but I think I’ve made my point.
Tuscany is not just a region to love.
It is a region to embrace, to listen to, to speak with, to taste slowly, to breath deeply and look upon with fresh eyes.
Eyes that see beyond the ordinary. Eyes that look past the soiled ancient surfaces or the wrinkled faces.
For eyes full of wonder, that seek the spirit and soul of Tuscany, will be blessed with boundless possibilities and infinite beauty.
I hope, that via my words, you too have felt that passion, which I now hold for my beloved Tuscany.
I am proud to announce that, as a new Tuscaner I will endeavour to share my stories, experiences, discoveries, knowledge and love of this magical region with you, well into the future.
Viva la Toscana… Long live Tuscaners!
Marisa Barillaro
