Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy

Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy

Frances Mayes

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0767900383

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Widely published poet, gourmet chef, and travel writer, Frances Mayes opens the door to a voluptuous new world when she buys and restores an abandoned villa in the Tuscan countryside. What she shares with her readers is a feast for the senses as she explores the pastoral Italian landscape, history and cuisine.

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Everyone Is Italian on Sunday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Under the Tuscan Sun was published, I never imagined that anyone in Cortona would read it. Originally published in a tiny edition, I expected it to go forth in the world as my books of poetry had done—to extended family, colleagues, and friends and perhaps to friends of friends. Still, I changed names out of a respect for privacy. After the books appeared in Italian, people would pull me aside and say, “But why did you change my name?” Now, often, someone will tell me of an experience in.

Irresistible.” I suddenly realize they're in double exile, from the United States and from Rome. Max joins in. He had to go to Rome last week and the traffic was horrendous, then the gypsies accosted him, as if he were a tourist, pressing their cardboard against him in an effort to distract him while they tried to pick his pocket. “Long ago, I learned to put the evil eye on them,” he tells Ed and me. “They scatter then.” They all agree, Italy is not what it used to be. What is? All my adult life.

End of summer. In late afternoon we drive the few miles to Sant'Antimo, one of those places that feels as if it must be built on sacred ground. From a distance, you see it over in a field of manicured olives, a pale travertine Romanesque abbey, starkly simple and pure in style. It does not look Italian. When Charlemagne passed this way, his soldiers were struck by an epidemic and Charlemagne prayed for it to stop. He promised to found an abbey if his prayer was granted and in 781 he built a.

Church. Perhaps it is the heritage that gives the present church, built in 1118, its slender French lines. We arrive as vespers begin. Only a dozen people are here and three of these are women fanning themselves and chatting just behind us. Usually, the habit of regarding the church as an extension of the living room or piazza charms me, but today I turn and stare at them because the five Augustinian monks who strode in and took up their books have begun the Gregorian chant of this hour. The.

The Maremma area remained, until less than a hundred years ago, a low coastal plain inhabited by cowboys, shepherds, and mosquitoes. Its mal aria was definitely associated with chills and fever. Farmhouses are occasional whereas the rest of Tuscany is dotted with them. The Renaissance touched lightly here; towns, generally, are not permeated with monumental examples of architecture and adorned by the great names in painting. The bad air, now soft and fresh, probably kept the extensive Etruscan.

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