Travel & Life Rhythms
Stories, photos, and reflections from the places and experiences that shaped our days.
New Orleans March 2026
New Orleans March 12-17, 2026
National WWII Museum/The Higgins Hotel/Warehouse District
A weekend built around history, food, and a little unexpected time.
Charleston, Savannah, St Augustine January 2026
Ten Days in Charleston, Savannah and St Augustine January 3–13, 2026
We’ve always looked at winter in the upper Midwest as a season to hibernate, a time to do the things pushed aside the rest of the year. Build several puzzles in a week. Binge-watch Band of Brothers over the Christmas holiday (yes, every year). Spend hours in the train room. Work on art journals.
But we’ve learned that one of the best times to travel is right after the holiday season.
By early January, most people have finished the family rounds or fought airport crowds to reach warm beaches or snowy mountains. Life returns to its regular rhythm. Hotels and VRBOs are easier to book, restaurants are eager to fill tables, and points of interest feel calm again. Tours are simpler to schedule. Everything breathes a little.
Having visited both Charleston and Savannah on separate occasions, we decided this time to experience them in the same trip and add St. Augustine for comparison. Early January had served us well during our pre-retirement years, and once again, it didn’t disappoint.
Our flight from Madison to Atlanta was easy, with the added bonus of visiting a couple of our Sweet Littles. From there we picked up a rental car and headed to Charleston, arriving Saturday, January 3, 2026. We settled into our charming VRBO, grabbed dinner, and called it an early night.
Sunday found us in Old Town Charleston in search of brunch. Success came in the form of Rudy Royale, followed by a leisurely afternoon wandering art galleries, strolling the Battery, and walking the genteel streets of a city we’ve come to love. That evening, we dined at Wild Common, one of Charleston’s Michelin starred restaurants. Sitting at the bar allowed us to watch the chefs at work, visit with the bartender and yes, the food absolutely earned the star. Content, we returned to our VRBO.
Monday began with coffee and another venture into Old Town for tours, including an excellent carriage ride with Palmetto Carriage Tours, lunch at Henry’s, and the Rembrandt exhibit at the Gibbes Museum of Art. A rooftop cocktail rounded out the day before heading back to the VRBO once again.
Tuesday was transfer day to Savannah. I woke up sick, so Michael drove while I slept. We checked into the JW Marriott Savannah Plant Riverside District, a stunning property that’s worth visiting even if you don’t stay there. The building itself houses an impressive collection of artifacts and curiosities, including a replica of the largest dinosaur discovered to date.
Unfortunately, I was completely down and out and spent the next two days in bed. We upgraded to a room overlooking the Savannah River, which at least offered a front row view of massive ships moving through the third largest port in the United States.
Wednesday, I dragged myself out of bed (poor me) to join Michael on a walking food tour I’d booked with Savannah Taste Experience, and it turned out to be one of the best experiences of the entire trip. Our host and guide, Shannon, was delightful and knowledgeable.
Friday brought another travel day, heading toward St. Augustine via Tybee Island and the National Museum of the Mighty Eighth Air Force. Our next VRBO sat directly on the ocean. Still not fully recovered, I felt an almost immediate sense of healing from the salt air and rhythmic waves.
Our friends Jim and Rachelle joined us on Saturday for the weekend, and it was truly a blessing catching up.
They served as generous tour guides. Sunday included another food tour with First Coast Cart Tours, this one beautifully layered with history and culturally appropriate dishes. A relaxed afternoon and another wonderful evening with friends followed.
Monday was the drive back to Atlanta, a flight home, and arrival that afternoon.
The goal of this trip wasn’t simply sightseeing. It was practice.
We wanted to learn how to pack for longer trips, manage expectations, and enjoy each day as it came. What happens when you forget something you truly need? How do you handle three unexpected days confined to bed despite prepaid plans? What about cold, rainy weather you didn’t anticipate or pack for? And the big one, how do you keep from overpacking?
We aren’t new to travel, but given the pace we’ve set for ourselves in the next few years, efficiency and intention matter more than ever.
Grade for this trip?
A solid B- with plans to do better next time.
Bonaire November 2025
Bonaire November 1–22, 2025
The first thing one should do when one retires is run away to a Caribbean island for three weeks with the love of your life and two of your closest friends. We left the gray of Illinois on November 1st for Bonaire to scuba dive, snorkel, float in the sea, read, eat at great restaurants, play countless games, enjoy a few cocktails, and talk and laugh for hours. No schedule. No alarm clock. Totally unscripted.
Michael started diving in 2016 and quickly found it to be his favorite activity. He refers to it as his own form of spa and tranquility. On this trip, 109 lifetime dives later, he became a certified Master Diver and completed his self-reliant certification.
I don’t dive, but I never tire of warm sunshine and the endlessly blue Caribbean Sea, so I am a willing and enthusiastic supporter of his underwater pursuits. We favor Bonaire, renowned for its shore diving, and it has easily become our island of choice for both diving and relaxing. The island offers roughly 80 dive sites, each marked by a yellow painted rock and the site’s name. Names like The Lake, Hilma Hooker, Bachelor’s Beach, and One Thousand Steps become part of daily conversation. Bonaire is also a favorite among wind and kite surfers.
Bonaire is one of the three islands that make up the Dutch Antilles, often referred to as the ABC Islands, along with Aruba and Curaçao. Located about 80 miles north of Venezuela, all three sit safely outside the hurricane zone.
There are no American hotel chains or restaurants on the island (Kentucky Fried Chicken being the lone exception). Accommodations tend to be VRBOs, Airbnbs, or dive resorts. There’s little nightlife to speak of, because most visitors are there for the water and prefer a good night’s sleep to a late night out.
Thanks to its ties to the Netherlands, highly rated chefs and hospitality professionals often migrate here to escape the dark, damp European winters. The result is a dining scene that more than satisfies the foodie in us.
I do some snorkeling, but mostly spend my days reading, journaling, working on art, and dabbling in photography while Michael explores below the surface of the sea. It’s a combination that works well for us.
Sharing the experience with our good friends Kerry and Dude made it even better. They completed their open water certifications shortly before the trip and proved to be excellent dive buddies for Michael.
Our days followed a gentle, predictable rhythm. Coffee. Breakfast, always with options. A loose plan for the day. Slow mornings, maybe a dive off the pier at our villa, reading by the private pool, catching up on emails and calls home. A simple lunch, then off for the day’s main dives. Non diving days meant floating in the sea, reading on shore, or road tripping the island.
Late afternoons usually found us at a favorite local bar for a cocktail and a snack of fries, shrimp, or a burger. We formed a sweet habit of watching the sunset together and each naming our “blessing of the day.” Dinner followed, either out at a restaurant or prepared by Kerry and Dude at home. Cards often ended the evening. Simple routines, deeply enjoyed, and now fondly remembered months later.
Bonaire didn’t win us over with spectacle or noise. It stole our hearts with rhythm, restraint, and room to breathe. It reminds us that retirement doesn’t need to be busy to be full, and that joy often shows up quietly in shared meals, familiar routines, and unhurried days shaped by light and water. For three unscripted weeks, we lived exactly where we were, and that may be the greatest luxury of all.
Places we recommend: VIP Diving (great guides, excellent service, the only dive shop Michael uses) Chefs (reserve early, hard to get into, but worth it) La Cantina/The Brewery (best cocktails, charming atmosphere, terrific staff and service) At Home (private in home dining by Manouk and Egbert. My favorite experience) Melisa Sailing (small sailing vessel, an evening of great food while watching the sun set and the stars come out) Restaurant Flora (fine dining by the sea at a boutique restaurant. Michael’s favorite) Foodies (on the east side of the island on Lac Bay. Quiet, laid back, always our last stop before departing Bonaire.)
Grade for this trip?
A solid A, only missing an A+ due to a few issues with the VRBO.
The Sweeter Things
A few photos of the people we love, and the moments we shared with them.
Traveling Home to Minnesota
February Birthdays February 6-10, 2026
Italy April 2026
Part One: Rome
The morning of our departure began with our usual coffee together, one more ordinary moment before stepping into something neither of us had ever done. Italy was ahead of us, and that had its own pull.
We left for the airport around 9:00 a.m. Traveling on a Tuesday, just after spring break had ended, felt like discovering a secret. The airport was calm, the lounge nearly empty, and everything moved with surprising ease. We looked at each other and decided then and there that retirement travel has its advantages.
After twenty years of traveling together, we approached this trip a little differently. Michael has traveled widely, but neither of us had ever been to Italy. Other than a few recently learned phrases, neither of us knew Italian. We did not fully understand the scale of Rome or whether our plans were realistic. But after twenty years together, we knew one thing with certainty: there is no one else we would rather see the world with.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, I was reminded that overnight travel changes everyone. Passengers looked rumpled and weary by morning, but so did the flight attendants. Not miserable, just tired in that practiced, professional way. It struck me that caring for a plane full of excited, anxious, restless strangers must be its own kind of endurance.
Our hotel had arranged a driver to meet us at the airport. At first, the road felt unexpectedly rural, and I wondered how far from the city we were. Then, gradually, Rome announced itself. Ancient buildings appeared as rows on the narrow cobblestone roads. Crowds were moving in every direction. The area near Vatican City was packed, even in what many would call the off season. Countless people had come before us to see these same places, and now we had joined them.
We had allowed ourselves three and a half days in the city. There is no such thing as “doing Rome” in three days, but we made a respectable first attempt. What struck me most was how many landmarks revealed themselves suddenly, almost theatrically. You turn a corner and there is the Trevi Fountain. You step out of the Metro, and the Colosseum rises across the street. Inside the Pantheon, the hush felt appropriate and deserved. Spanish Steps, no matter the hour, served as a gathering place for both residents and visitors, all talking quietly or simply sitting in the warmth of a spring evening.
For all the crowds, there was also a surprising sense of order and courtesy. People moved, adjusted, made room, and waited their turn. It was busy, but not chaotic.
We both noticed that people simply moved more slowly. We wondered whether it was the crowds or the cobblestones. One must relearn how to place each step, or risk ending up in a heap and blocking traffic. We escaped that fate, but the occasional bandaged knee on an uncovered leg suggested others had stepped and missed.
The blend of languages around us made me wonder if this was what Babel might have sounded like. Voices from all over the world layered over one another, somehow blending in harmony. One evening we stopped in Piazza di Spagna and simply listened to the melody of it all. Beautiful.
I was also fascinated by the contrast of the city itself: ancient stone and worn walls beside elegant modern clothing, beautiful shoes, polished jewelry, and effortless style. Rome does not seem interested in choosing between old and new. It keeps both.
On our last evening, we ate dinner outside at a small café just in front of our hotel. Eight o’clock feels late to Midwesterners, but there we were, settling in. Lights glowed from shop windows and restaurants. People strolled past, absorbed in their own conversations. A street seller made one final attempt at the day’s business. No one seemed rushed.
Our observation about meals in Rome, or perhaps all of Italy, was that they are not something to finish. They are a time to slow down intentionally and focus on the people at the table. The servers seemed to understand that instinctively. They appeared when needed and kept a respectful distance when they were not.
Jet lag remained my personal nemesis, and Michael was endlessly patient. At times I felt physically off-balance and mildly confused, unsure where we were headed next. At one point, intending to turn on the bathroom light, I flushed the toilet instead. We laughed hard at that.
At this stage of life, though, we have learned that when we need to stop, we stop. In doing so, we found small eateries, welcoming piazzas, very good food, good wine, and kind service. And the great thing about Rome? It is not in a hurry. It waited for us as we rested and recovered.
More time would have been welcome, and I suspect we will return. Three and a half days was a good beginning. Rome did what great cities do. It left us grateful, a little overwhelmed, and wanting more. We left to continue north with a different sense of time and place. It was a fine beginning to the journey.
Part Two: Cortona
On Saturday morning, we left for Cortona from the vast and bustling Roma Termini Railway Station. Although we arrived with time to spare, we somehow managed to be standing on the wrong platform when boarding began. So before our journey north officially started, it began with the two of us running across the station, probably ten miles, or perhaps half a mile, depending on how dramatic one chooses to be. The train was delayed, which proved fortunate for the Benners, who boarded breathless but successful.
Train travel in Italy can be unpredictable. That Saturday there was a transportation strike, something not uncommon in Italy and usually limited in timing. It slowed the system considerably. Our trip was otherwise uneventful, though we arrived nearly two and a half hours later than planned. Thankfully, our driver was also collecting another group of four travelers who had arrived on time. We would cross paths with this cheerful group from Montana several more times during our stay.
Cortona sits high on a hillside overlooking the Val di Chiana. Enclosed by ancient Etruscan walls and shaped by centuries of Roman, medieval, and Tuscan influence, it is one of those places that seems to rise naturally from the landscape. Olive groves, vineyards, stone buildings, and sweeping views surround it. The town feels both elevated and deeply rooted, as if it has been quietly watching the centuries pass.
We did not exactly find Cortona. Rather, it found us through a package we purchased at auction during an event at Hidden Creek Estates. ***More on that later.
The steep streets inside the city walls can be challenging. Some require climbing steps, and plenty of them. Others are so sharply angled you find yourself leaning forward just to continue. Nearly all are cobblestone, so while climbing hills, you must also pay close attention to where you place your feet.
The two main gathering places, Piazza della Repubblica and Piazza Signorelli, serve as the social heart of the town. Throughout the day, visitors, schoolchildren, locals, and tour groups cross through the squares in a steady rhythm. Cafés and bars line the piazzas, busy from morning espresso through evening aperitivo.
In Italy, a bar is not simply a place for cocktails. It is also where you stop for coffee, sparkling water, a pastry, or conversation. Families gather there. So do older men who look as though they have been meeting at the same table for fifty years. Babies in strollers roll by while neighbors greet one another. Life unfolds publicly and naturally.
While the bars provided lively entertainment, they also provided lively sound, often until three in the morning. Unfortunately, our first apartment sat directly above two of the busiest establishments in town. As if that were not enough, we also had residents above us in the form of pigeons.
A flock of pigeons had taken up residence in the attic space above our bedroom, accounting for the dust, the smell, and the suspicious noises overhead. Around 6:30 each morning, just as the street below had finally quieted, the pigeons would begin their own day. Scratching, flapping, clawing, cooing, and what sounded like aggressive furniture rearranging would continue for the next forty-five minutes.
Because of the noise, a cleanliness concern, and the fact that the bedroom required climbing thirty interior steps, we were graciously moved to a quieter, newer, and far more comfortable apartment a few blocks away. It was close enough to the center for convenience and far enough away for sleep, a beautiful compromise.
Now, back to the restaurants.
There are so many eateries in Cortona that it would take quite some time to experience them all. Nearly every one offered excellent wines from Tuscany, Umbria, and the Chiana Valley, along with beautifully prepared pastas, seafood, veal, and regional specialties. But the charm was not only on the plate. Each interior had its own character. Brightly glazed ceramics. Etched glassware. Stone walls that have stood for centuries. Family photographs. Local artwork. Dining there satisfied the eye as much as the appetite.
Tables spilled into the streets from cafés and ristoranti. Indoor seating existed, but most people preferred to eat outside. Many afternoons we did the same, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing at all as we watched people pass by.
The shops were equally inviting. Leather goods, clothing, shoes that nearly demanded to be purchased, jewelry, and art galleries tucked into old stone buildings. For me, the art shops were pure refreshment.
At Il Pozzo Galleria d’Arte, we spent several hours with the owner, listening to stories of restoring the building that now houses works from various artists. We shared prosecco, because in that setting, one simply does, and while Michael and Ivan discussed the engineering of ancient buildings, I wandered among paintings, papyrus works, leather journals, handbags, and handcrafted jewelry. I was especially drawn to a silver and gold piece, and my generous husband kindly agreed that it should come home with us. The building also contains an old cistern, now home to koi. Softly lit and beautifully restored, it was remarkably calming to sit beside and watch.
I could not tell you how many churches and chapels are tucked into this hill town, only that they are plentiful. Each seemed lovingly maintained. Frescoes, painted ceilings, carved wood, marble altars, brass details, and centuries of devotion remain visible in every one. The highest and most prominent is Basilica of Saint Margaret of Cortona, perched above the town. We climbed there on foot, requiring several rest stops along the way, but it was worth every step. Inside, the stillness and reverence of the space offered deep rest.
As we descended back toward the city center, church bells from across the town began ringing together. Even now, remembering the view, the sound, and the grace of that moment brings tears to my eyes.
Two of our days were rainy, but Cortona had plenty to offer indoors. We visited the MAEC Museum, which was hosting a World War I exhibit alongside several floors of Etruscan history. The displays were fascinating and beautifully preserved. We also visited Circle of Life Art Gallery, founded by sculptor Andrea Roggi. His contemporary bronze castings centered on the connection between earth, humanity, and life, were remarkable.
And when the rain lingered, there were always wine shops offering tastings led by knowledgeable and entertaining sommeliers. We brought a deck of cards with us, so on afternoons too cold, wet, or windy for wandering, we played Kings in the Corner over another glass of exceptional wine.
Our time came to a close on Saturday, April 18, and we left with hearts of gratitude for this stay in the City on the Hill. We headed north from there, again via train, albeit a much calmer exit then our entrance to Cortona.
How Cortona Found Us
Our seven days in Cortona came through a package we purchased at auction during the Joey Fecci Foundation 2025 Food & Wine Festival, hosted by Hidden Creek Estates. Joey was a young aspiring chef in Nashville who tragically passed away on April 27, 2024, at the age of 26. He was a dear friend of the Frank family, owners of Hidden Creek Estates.
The festival was created to honor Joey’s memory and his love for the culinary arts. It is a day filled with exceptional food, wine, music, and live entertainment. Celebrity chefs generously donate their time and talent, each hosting their own tasting station for guests to enjoy. Proceeds from the event are given in Joey’s honor to support the next generation of chefs.
Part of Part Two: Siena and Florence April 2026
Michael wanted to see the Piazza del Campo in Siena, where the famous horse races are held twice each year. I wanted to stop in Florence to see David. So we compromised, and we did both. A day trip to Siena, followed by an overnight stop in Florence on our way from Cortona to Monforte d’Alba. That is how marriage works when you make it.
Siena
We arranged for a private driver from Cortona and arrived in Siena for breakfast, ready to explore. We wandered the winding streets until we found our way to Piazza del Campo, where we met our walking tour guide, Anna. She was wonderful, a petite, middle-aged woman, with long dark curly hair, olive skin, and the kind of warmth and confidence that made history come alive.
Anna first showed us two newly opened bars, one of them located inside the historic Accademia Musicale Chigiana, a renowned music institute founded in 1932 by Count Guido Chigi-Saracini as an international center for advanced musical study. Through her connections, she was able to take us beyond the restaurant space and into the preserved private rooms of the Count’s residence, which is not generally open as a museum. It was extraordinary.
From there we continued to the magnificent Siena Cathedral, dedicated to the Assumption of Saint Mary. Anna explained the layers of architectural history, the sculptures, the intricate marble floor inlays, and the significance of Siena’s twelve contrade, or districts, each represented by its own flag.
We passed the great medieval hospital, Santa Maria della Scala, where Saint Catherine of Siena once cared for the sick before her death at only thirty-three years old. As we continued through the streets, Anna pointed out cafés and hidden corners before bringing us to Basilica of San Domenico, where the stained glass was breathtaking.
It was a day rich in art, faith, and history.
Florence
Saturday morning found us boarding another train, this time to Florence. It was a far calmer departure than our earlier station sprint in Rome. No confusion, no strikes, no drama. Just a smooth ride north.
We arrived at the station with no transportation plan in place. The app would not work. Texting failed. Then, as if on cue, a taxi appeared out of nowhere. Off we went.
We checked into The Social Hub Florence Lavagnini. Very modern, very youthful, very hipster, and we were a little outside the target demographic. Still, it was a fun and interesting stay.
We headed to the rooftop for a quick refreshment. There, stretched across the skyline, stood the glorious Florence Cathedral. While we admired the view, the Italian Air Force flew overhead in formation, trailing the green, white, and red of the Italian flag across the sky. Another breathtaking moment.
Next we walked to the Leonardo da Vinci Interactive Museum, which features more than fifty full-scale models of Leonardo’s inventions along with reproductions of his paintings. For anyone visiting Florence, I would call it well worth the stop.
Lunch followed, where we enjoyed what may have been the best lasagna and Chianti of the trip, or perhaps I was simply starving.
Then came the Galleria dell’Accademia. We waited only about thirty minutes, very manageable on a pleasant spring afternoon. In the height of summer, I would absolutely recommend advance tickets.
Walking into the great hall where David stands was unforgettable. Lit from above beneath the dome, he seemed almost to glow. I had not expected the many additional Renaissance works housed there, which made the visit even richer.
Afterward we walked around the exterior of the Duomo and Baptistery. By then, after a long day, it was enough simply to admire them from outside.
That evening, Tim had recommended Locale Firenze for dinner. He was right. The décor, food, and service were all exceptional.
Sunday morning, we rented a car and headed north and west toward the Piedmont region, ready for the next chapter of the trip.
Part Three: Monforte d’Alba: Castles, Vineyards, and Wineries
Leaving Florence, we took a taxi to the airport car rental office, picked up a Peugeot 2008, and set out for Piedmont. Michael drove carefully while learning the rhythms of Italian roads. He had studied the signs the night before, but we quickly discovered that highways and side roads are not always as straightforward as back home. At times, we wondered if getting lost was part of the national character. Still, we made it out of the city, onto the A1 north toward Milan, and eventually turned west.
A few hours later, heading south again, wine country appeared in full glory. Rows of vines covered the rolling hills like a giant green patchwork quilt. We fumbled with directions more than once, but eventually found our way to Franco Conterno Agriturismo Cascina Sciulun.
I had booked this stay, along with our next one in Sestri Levante, during some very early morning hours only a few weeks before the trip. Booking accommodations at dawn may not be best practice, but in this case it worked. We were delighted to discover we would spend four days on a working winery, surrounded by acres of vineyards.
Our hosts, busy with the starting season, always had a kind greeting, time to make a European continental breakfast each morning that started our days feeling cared about, and making sure our room was always in pristine order. Their hospitality will long be remembered.
Our room had a large veranda overlooking the family’s vines, with views stretching to Barolo and La Morra on the western hills. Everywhere we looked were vineyards, wineries, and hill towns that once held castles or fortified walls. Our hosts also had an east-facing patio with comfortable chairs and warm blankets. Each morning we sat there with coffee, Americanos for me, cappuccinos for Michael, until the day slowly introduced itself.
By then, the sightseeing portion of our trip had softened into something better. We no longer felt the need to chase landmarks. Our days became drives through vineyard roads, wandering castle towns, stopping for lunch, coffee, or a glass of wine whenever it seemed right. No one appeared to be in a hurry.
Except the vineyard owners.
This time of year, the grapes were just beginning to form. We could almost see the vines changing each day. Crews were pruning and tying by hand, and by eight each morning the small tractors were already moving down the rows, carefully cultivating the soil. A vineyard is a living thing. It demands attention in every season, because no part of its life can be neglected without consequence later. What appears effortless at harvest is built through months of pruning, watching, repairing, and patient daily care long before the fruit is ever seen.
I said I could smell the earth as it was being worked. Michael said the tractors on metal tracks sounded like distant WWII tanks rolling across a ridge. Naturally, we were both right.
One evening, we met a former colleague of Michael’s from his years at Honeywell for dinner in Monforte d’Alba. They had not seen each other in eleven years, since their days working from the company office in Switzerland. Over sunset, a wonderful meal, and two bottles of local wine, they talked about old coworkers, world travel, and retirement. Two men who had spent decades moving at full speed, now learning a different pace. When dinner ended, a hard rainstorm met us outside and gave Michael another lesson in Italian driving. We found ourselves on dark roads, unfamiliar signs, steep hills, and one accidental detour into the wrong valley before GPS rescued us.
We celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary while staying at Cascina Sciulun. It was a cold, misty morning after the storm, but the weather could not touch the gratitude of the day. We found each other in the middle of life, and somehow twenty years arrived faster than either of us expected.
After breakfast and our usual slow coffee, we drove to Serralunga d’Alba for lunch at Osteria Tre Case, a modern restaurant that still gracefully showed its ancient bones. The meal was one of the best of the trip. Beautifully set tables, warm hospitality, and food worthy of an anniversary toast. It was the perfect place to reflect on all we had shared.
Our next stop was Ettore Germano Winery. We had met Sergio Germano at a wine dinner back home in March and were invited to visit if we found ourselves nearby. That afternoon the family and crew were busy capping bottles of their 2022 Alta Langa Brut, one of our favorites, preparing it for shipment in the months ahead.
We were fortunate to visit on a rare and busy production day, just as the bottles of Brut were being disgorged. The temporary caps were removed, the sediment expelled, and the wine prepared for its final closure with the traditional mushroom cork and wire cage. Watching that last stage of the process was a special glimpse into the craftsmanship behind a bottle that usually reaches the table with all the work hidden from view.
For Michael, with his manufacturing background, and for me, having worked in agricultural finance, it was fascinating to witness the production side of the business. After watching the bottling line, Paola guided us through the winery, explaining their vineyards, winemaking, and family history. She also introduced us to five wines we had never tasted before. Their tasting room was extraordinary with an expansive view of their generational land and vines.
It was one of those experiences travel occasionally gives you: unplanned, personal, and impossible to recreate.
We ended the day with dinner at a lovely country restaurant, then returned to the Cascina to pack for the final leg of our trip. Our bags were readied once again, but we left with more than what we had brought. We carried the quiet beauty of those hills, the kindness of the people, and memories that would stay with us long after we had gone.
Part Four: Sestri Levante on the Ligurian Sea
We ended our stay at the Cascina with breakfast and warm goodbyes, then drove north and west to Genoa Airport to return our rental car. It should have been a simple drop-off, but between unfamiliar traffic patterns and road signs seemingly designed for hummingbirds, it took some effort. Once sorted, our driver, Umberto, met us, and soon we were traveling east along the coast beside the brilliant blue waters of the Ligurian Sea. The moment I saw it, my spirits lifted.
Sestri Levante, our final stop, is perfectly placed between Rapallo, Portofino, the Cinque Terre, and within reach of Pisa. During one of my late-night booking sessions, I found what was described as “a seaside apartment with great views.” Experience has taught me that such wording can sometimes mean one tiny glimpse of water if you lean out a window at the proper angle.
This time, it meant exactly what it promised. It was perfectly named Sogno sul mare meaning “Dream on the Sea”.
The owner, Stefano, met us outside and led us upstairs to the second floor (third, by our counting). The moment we walked in, I wanted to book it again for some future date we had not yet planned. There were sweeping views of the sea from two sides, a wraparound balcony, and the kind of comfort that instantly tells you to exhale.
Stefano shared that we would be his final guests, as he had sold the property. Short-term rental regulations had made profits harder to sustain, and with retirement approaching, selling made sense. He was a gracious host throughout our stay, checking in on us, offering dining suggestions, and even inviting us to remain a few extra days at no charge. We could not accept, but we appreciated the kindness.
Sestri Levante is known as the “City of Two Seas,” built around a rocky peninsula called Isola Peninsula that reaches into the water. On one side lies the smaller, sheltered Bay of Silence. On the other is the broader Bay of Fables, where we stayed.
The dark, rocky beaches were filled each day with families, couples, and sun-seekers stretched across towels and smooth stones. Even in the cooler temperatures, some determined souls were swimming.
Small cafés lined the beach and the wide Promenade along the Bay of Fables. Our days followed a rhythm of coffee and breakfast on our balcony, lunches by the water, coffee and a sweet in the afternoon, an occasional aperitif, and morning and evening walks among the other strollers making their slow circuits along the sea.
Away from the waterfront, we spent time in the Old Town, which deserves to be wandered rather than visited. Pastry shops, cafés selling slices of pizza, gelato counters, and a shop making fresh pasta daily seemed to appear on every street. There were leather goods, artisan jewelry, and clothing elegant enough to suggest it had just arrived from Milan. Between the aromas, the shop windows, and the people watching, we took the long way every time.
We noticed that the people of Sestri Levante were likely residents or Italians traveling to the sea. Not much English was spoken in the crowds. Stefano told us that most tourists want to stay in Portofino with a faster pace. More appears to happen there than in Sestri Levante. Those who travel to or stay in this city are looking for quiet and anonmity. We were good with that.
During our final four days, we spent a lot of our time on our balcony, soaking in the sun, listening to the waves, and resisting any urge to do more than necessary. The nights were cool, but we left the windows open so the sound of the sea could follow us into sleep.
The sunsets were breathtaking. We never missed one, staying outside until the sun disappeared behind the mountains across the bay. We talked about what we were grateful for during the trip. The list was long. That in itself is a blessing.
Part Five: Home
This morning we returned to Rome by train, and tomorrow we fly home. When this journey began, I expected we would return with much to discuss and perhaps a few profound conclusions neatly tied together. The truth is less dramatic and more useful.
Planned or not, each day unfolds on its own terms. Sometimes it goes as expected, but you might miss a turn, get lost, and find something you would never have discovered otherwise.
Being away from home for so long placed us both on unfamiliar footing. I do not only mean cobblestones, though they certainly played their part. There were times I found the moving from place to place a little unsettling. Michael, in his own way, missed the daily structure he had begun building at home.
Packing, unpacking, and packing again should have become easier with practice. It did not. We have concluded that learning not to overpack must happen before any future expedition. This may be the clearest wisdom Italy gave us.
We also learned that kindness matters most when tiredness arrives. Jet lag can make one of us unreasonable. Missed turns can add unexpected hills, extra blocks, and more stairs than anyone ordered. In those moments, grace is more valuable than efficiency.
During our travels, we also found ourselves keeping a running list of movies made in or about Italy. With our slower pace in Sestri Lavente, we rented two and watched them late in the evening after dark. The first was Under the Tuscan Sun, set in Cortona. It was fun to recognize the piazzas, overlooks, and even our first apartment building in scenes we had just walked past ourselves. The second was Roman Holiday, with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Many of its scenes were places we had already visited in Rome.
I mention that not because watching movies is some grand travel achievement, but because travel enlarges your world. Returning to those places through film gave us another way to understand them, and perhaps to understand a little more about the lives lived there.
But those are small lessons inside a larger one.
The most interesting lesson was we realized that we no longer vacation. Vacations once belonged to working life. Our vacations consisted of carefully rationed days approved by someone else, to be used wisely because they were limited and slow to return. What we do now is travel. Our trips are shaped by the boundaries we choose, like finances, family calendars, grandchildren’s birthdays, and common sense. Within those boundaries, time feels different. We are no longer racing a clock or mourning the final days before returning to obligation. We can enjoy where we are, move when it is time, rest when it is needed, and let the experience unfold.
Three weeks in Italy have given us memories that will remain and reasons to return. But for now, there is also a good life waiting for us at home.
Planes, Trains & Automobiles by Michael
Catherine begins Part 5 by mentioning our train ride back to Rome. That reminded me of the movie title Planes, Trains and Automobiles.
During this trip, we used plenty of all three. We flew on four aircraft: an Airbus A330 twice, a Boeing 737, and finally an Embraer 175. We took four trains: a local passenger train from Rome to Cortona, an intercity train to Florence, another from Sestri Levante back to Rome, and finally the Leonardo Express to Leonardo da Vinci International Fiumicino Airport.
Italy’s rail network is excellent, with an impressive number of tunnels cut through mountains, and service that makes long distance travel practical and comfortable.
Automobiles included a bus ride to O’Hare International Airport, another at the Rome airport to and from a hotel. We rode in a BMW van transfer from the Rome airport into the city, three van trips while staying in Cortona, four taxi rides in Florence, and a Peugeot 2008 Hybrid rental car. It was a sporty little SUV that handled the mountain roads like a rally car.
And in between all of that, we walked.
The range of transportation on this trip was very different from life in the United States, where we usually just get in the car and drive to wherever we are going. After this experience, I could get used to taking the train much more often.
Cozumel June 2026
Another Great Day by the Sea
Cozumel June 6-11 then 12, 2026
In May Michael and I read about the diving in Cozumel and began making plans for a quick five day trip to check it out. Located off Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, Cozumel is best known for its coral reefs, drift diving, and clear Caribbean waters. Just twelve miles from Playa del Carmen, it feels surprisingly removed from the crowds of the Riviera Maya. We invited our friends, Kerry and Dude, to join us again, and in short order, Presidente Intercontinental Cozumel Resort and Spa was selected for our stay.
Despite being one of the oldest luxury resorts on Cozumel, Presidente does not feel dated. The mature palm trees, established gardens, and lower building heights give it a sense of permanence that many newer Caribbean resorts lack. It feels cared for rather than brand new. The total occupancy is 212 rooms, and this week it felt less than 40%. This is always to our liking, and worked perfectly for a short stay to dive and relax.
At check in, we were surprised with room upgrades to an outdoor shower suite with a ground floor deck facing the sea. This was a great area to unwind and talk about the day or read or watch the aqua blue waves roll in and out.
Diving in Cozumel
Michael found Cozumel to be the busiest dive destination he has yet experienced. He and Dude used Scuba Du Diving and Water Sports, the resort’s onsite operator. Most of their dives were by boat, with only one shore dive during the week. Scuba Du handled everything from tanks and weights to boat logistics, allowing them to focus on diving. The divemasters were personable, attentive, and kept the experience running smoothly. During surface intervals, fresh fruit appeared each day, and one morning the crew even anchored at a deserted beach and served pineapple, watermelon, and chocolate cake.
Most dives took place among massive coral formations, some with overhead structures rising 20 to 30 feet from the sea floor. Swimming alongside them felt like moving through underwater caverns. Drift diving was new for both Michael and Dude. The current does the work, carrying divers over the reef at a pace that is part thrill and part blur, with sea life passing by faster than you can take it all in.
Among the highlights were the largest turtle Michael has seen to date, along with spiny lobsters, nurse sharks, manta rays, squid, and starfish. Dude had received new camera equipment at Christmas, and he was able to capture great shots of the underwater world that allowed Kerry and me to experience some of the world they had been exploring below the surface.
Snorkeling is another water option at the resort. There are lots of colorful sea life in the sandy areas in front of the beach. Some of the types of fish that are more prevalent here are parrot fish, blue tang, sergeant major, bandit butterfly and peacock flounder. I don’t dive or snorkel, so being able to walk into the water and see them so clearly was a great experience. I can’t say I liked when they nibbled at my ankles, but they were still entertaining to watch.
Life on the Beach
When Michael and Dude dive, we found June actually is a great time for Kerry and me to be above the sea. Both the property and the staff feel relaxed. The Presidente offers two spacious beaches, and a third smaller one by the large center area pool. There is a second “Tranquility” pool tucked back among some of the outlying buildings. We had no issues with finding a beach palapa, lounge chairs by or even in the pool, and with fewer guests, pool and beachside service is quick. This is critical when receiving an iced cold drink. Melting ice cubes is never preferred! The laid back atmosphere lends well to meeting any possible reading or napping goals one might bring with them to the Island.
Another plus was how easy reservations were to make at the spa without competing with holiday crowds. The Ikal Spa, located on property, is small with only four treatment rooms, but staff seemed to keep guests flowing through without feeling rushed. The black circular infinity pool you walk past at reception is a soothing way to enter the experience. The outdoor area, which we had the use of for 48 hours, had a whirlpool, warm pool and a cold plunge. A Sauna and steam room complete with eucalyptus in the locker area. It is small, but all very nicely situated under a huge palapa.
The Serenity Room, where guests wait for treatments, is minimally decorated with comfortable seating areas, beautiful green plants and that quiet undertone of chill music. Mix in the island scents, and it is an instant feeling of relaxing luxury. I chose an 80 minute hot stones massage with Island Spice aroma treatment. I can’t really remember how it went, since I am sure I slept through most of it, but I assume it was good.
Reservations at any of the two upscale dinner restaurants, Faro Blanco Restaurante or Alfredo Di Roma Trattoria, are easily available. The wine and food offerings are varied enough we easily returned a couple times while staying on the resort and found something new to enjoy. Both are appointed in such a way, I felt transported to another place as a result. Restaurante Le Cap, a smaller Mediterranean option on the water’s edge, was a nice spot for a light lunch or fresh catch dinner, with an atmosphere suited to both lively conversation and quiet evenings watching the boats.
The Restaurante Caribeño, also on the water’s edge, is a large open air palapa with a bar in the middle and three levels of tables in the round. In the morning, the buffet is 40’ long and filled with stations of fresh fruit, plates of cheeses, waffles, pancakes, fried plantains, bacon, sausages, chorizo, scrambled eggs, tacos of any kind, omelettes made to order, chips, guacamole, pico de gallo, habanero sauces and moles.
Because it is an open air structure, and the cat birds feel the buffet is also available to them. The resort has employed a falconer to walk slowly around the inner perimeter of the building in the mornings. With his beaked and hooded companion on his shoulder, their job is to deter the birds from selecting any of the artfully arranged food. An occasional wave of his hand or a whistle, and the smaller birds scatter, often with high shrills of complaint.
We often played cards here before dinner, anticipated the sunsets, and listened to the music of a local artist. A refreshing cocktail with chips and salsa all made for a good way to transition from the day into evening.
A Day in the Life
Our mornings started at Restaurante Caribeño. Michael and Dude ate a light breakfast before heading off on the dive boat. Kerry and I arrived later, and while we drank our coffee or tea and enjoyed our first meal of the day, we made our loosely held plan for the day. The welcoming, accommodating staff never hurried us as we decided whether to first find loungers on the beach or at the pool. These are the decisions of a well designed Caribbean trip.
The evenings in mid June are balmy with a constant breeze off the sea. Because of the tropical depression and subsequent storms, only one evening did we have a true sunset, but it was spectacular. We continued our Bonaire initiated tradition of each of us naming one blessing from the day as we watched the sun leave the sky. Inevitably, one of us will comment with “another great day by the sea”.
At dinner we again used question cards for discussions (back to Bonaire) that were sometimes deep (What is one moment from your childhood that you can still feel?) or sometimes funny (If you were ever arrested, what would family and friends assume it was for?). Both provide conversation immediately and also that we can build on in the future.
We were introduced to Pinochle while in Bonaire, and Kerry and Dude have patiently been teaching us since. The two of us won’t be competing in Las Vegas anytime soon, but it’s a great way to spend a few, or several, hours, especially near the sound of the Caribbean. The trade winds made the game even more challenging by attempting to blow our cards into the sea.
Bonus Day
Thursday was our Bonus Day. Tropical Depression Cristina, and a few of her friends, had joined us for the trip and made a mess of the weather, so we extended. It was still raining and could have been considered a washout by some travelers, but we found it relaxing in its own way. The collective mood of the resort was even slower and quieter than usual, and we all found another level of relaxation. Guests not diving or snorkeling lingered this morning over coffee and made extra trips back to the buffet for another plate of breakfast.
Michael and I came over to the palapa early (or its island equivalent, 7:30 a.m.) for coffee and found a table adjacent to the dive boat dock. Even in the rain, it’s a paradise rush hour. Divers of every age and size are waiting to board one of many incoming vessels. As one filled, it quickly departed while another came in for more waiting underwater adventurers.
Kerry and Dude joined us shortly thereafter, and we watched a Carnival cruise liner arrive, disappearing and reappearing in the rain like a ghost. During a break in the heavy downpour, it made its way through the small dive boats hurrying to get their occupants to the dive sites.
Two Magnificent Frigatebirds perched above the dive boat dock, preening and fluffing their feathers in the quieter morning weather after the night of rain. Magnificent Frigatebirds are large seabirds with long, hooked beaks and deeply forked tails, often seen soaring on thermals with barely a wingbeat. With wingspans reaching more than seven feet, they spend much of their lives soaring above the sea, rarely landing except to nest. Watching them circle effortlessly over the water felt like a fitting image for Cozumel itself, unhurried, graceful, and completely at home near the sea.
The rest of the Bonus Day was spent doing even less of anything we had done all week. It was fabulous. In the evening we strolled to the north side of the property and watched the cruise ships leave for another port of call. Over dinner we played a few more games of Pinochle (I’m quite certain Kerry and I were the overall winners), and enjoyed the quiet of the evening. Cristina still kept the sunset and stars hidden, but the sea serenaded us with her gently rolling waves and the lights reflected brightly on the water.
Leaving Day
Friday, Leaving Day, started the same as the previous mornings with breakfast in the palapa, and then, because of late check out, more time by the pool with a book or a last dip in the sea. By the time we had our bags packed, Cristina was finally breaking up and becoming only a weather memory, but she had given us something we hadn’t planned for. An extra day spent the way we’d spent the rest of the trip. Long breakfasts, conversations under a palapa during a rainstorm, sunsets, card games, good friends, and another reminder that some of life’s best days don’t require a schedule packed with activity. Sometimes another great day by the sea is enough.
Until Next Time,
Catherine
