Embracing Uncertainty

Life is full of uncertainty.  The quality of one's life is directly proportionate to the amount of uncertainty one can live with. And yet, for me, uncertainty acts to bring up all the usual fears. Fear of the unknown causes me to waste valuable energy and over time puts a negative spin on my perceptions and life.  I know many people who correctly embrace uncertainty with excitement and take it on as a challenge.  My natural tendency is to focus on what I lack -- that special man, hair that cooperates the way I believe it should, a perfectly sculpted body (according to my ideal); blah, blah, blah -- instead of all that I do have right now.  I strive to change my perceptions to positive from negative.  I'm just saying...

My fears of all the uncertainties keep me stuck.  I might live a more secure, safer life, but how about its quality and richness?

I had planned my move to Italy for 4 or 5 years.  I did all the legwork -- tons of research, extra jobs to reduce debt, hours and hours of dreaming what my life would be like in Italy.  After a few years I had done the research and was debt-free, but I had excuses as to why that moment was not the right time to make the move.  Then one day after a series of incidents, I had a moment of clarity.  I would turn 50 the following year, and I got scared.  But this time I was scared into action.  I did not want to get to the end of my life and wonder what if.  What if I had moved to Italy?  What would it have been like?  How would my life have been different?  What if I went to Italy and changed my mind? What if I decided I prefer Italy as a vacation destination instead of a place to call home? What if I allowed my fears to keep me stuck in a place I didn't want to be? What if I lacked the courage to make the move?

In that moment of clarity, I realized that I did not want to be on my deathbed and look back with regret for not having followed my heart, my dream to live in Italy. Wherever you go, there you are.  So here I am two and a half years later.  Each new day brings with it new experiences. I still marvel over the beauty that surrounds me:  the art, the food, the culture, the people, the pazza ("crazy" -- I am being polite using the word for crazy) language.  Yet life in Florence, Italy, is far from perfect. Some of my experiences are not how I imagined they would be. There are many life lessons still to be learned. My work in Italy is not yet finished; therefore, I intend to stay.

Letting go of some control, I packed my bags and moved to Italy.  I had so many questions unanswered.  (Not the way I used to do anything.  I had to have everything figured out first.) I moved here with faith that, in time, everything would fall into place, doors would open, I would survive.  That faith in my future redeemed my decision many times over.  Of course, money remains scarce.  I wonder whether I will have the means to survive this month, or next month, but somehow I do. And then I go through that fear all over again the following month.  (Hmm, I wonder when I will  learn that lesson.)

My progress and growth are slow.  Sometimes so slow that I do not recognize my forward movement, that things do come together, doors do open, life here does work out.

I began to teach yoga classes two months ago.  Yoga is important to me and has been an integral part of my life for several years.  The teaching, though,  is new to me, and I am aware I have much to learn.  But this opportunity to share something about which I am passionate excites me. Even more than that is the precious gift of students who like my teaching style ... and return for the next class. Together we laugh, we sweat, we stretch, we build strength, we do partner poses, we open our hearts, we Om, we unite.  Two Sanskrit words come to mind when I reflect on the hour or so I teach: sangha ("community") and samadhi ("complete absorption, bliss"). I get lost in my teaching.  By "lost" I mean I get in a zone where my head shuts off, mostly, and I teach from my heart. I realize later when I reflect back that I have lost sense of time, I am completely absorbed and enraptured in something I love. During that brief hour or so, my world is perfect.  I have no problems.  I am completely full, fulfilled.  I am love.  I realize that what I experience is a state of WHOLENESS, a form of meditation, bliss.  Fully charged, not lacking a thing.

What surprises me is that had I not embraced the uncertainty and my fears -- leave the USA, come to Italy, settle in Florence, and reach out to everyone, friends and strangers alike -- this opportunity to find myself, to be happy never would be mine. So perhaps peace and serenity can be found in not controlling every last detail, instead letting go and embracing uncertainty.

How Even an Ordinary Day in Florence, Italy, Can Be a Special Day

Today has been one of those totally spontaneous days.  I finished all my deposition-related work at 1:30 a.m. last night. Then early today, Mabel and I went out for our usual morning walk.  We returned home at 4 p.m.  The sun is out. Temperatures are now in the low 50s; cold, but the recent bitter cold has passed.  Another day or two purportedly will begin the rainy season.  When we left the house for our walk, I had no intention to be gone all day.  


The warmth of the sun, the physical and mental exhaustion from a recent heavy workload now complete, the freedom of not having to be anywhere at any particular time, the movement of the body, the feeling of almost spring in the air, Mabel and I just kept going where our feet led us Forrest Gump-style. On our way, we bumped into one person after another -- some friends and acquaintances and others complete strangers -- and engaged in conversations and laughs with all we encountered.  We enjoyed lunch, Lebanese food, with one of my friends.


Late afternoon we returned home, and I had a wonderful feeling of satisfaction, joy, and peace.  Mabel too.  She looks so content on her bed right now.  After a short time to recover from the bliss, I headed out with another friend to participate in an evening of Bhajan and Kirtan, a kind of devotional music, chanting and mantra in Sanskrit, and meditation.  Mabel stayed behind, content and sleepy.


Such simple pleasures.  Really, just an ordinary day.  I had no expectations, no demands, no worries, and therefore, I was able to just absorb and appreciate how lovely and special something so simple can be.  My brother believes "simple" also can mean "elegant."  Now I understand what he means.


I have no pictures to share of this glorious day because I was so unencumbered that I did not carry my camera, not even my purse.  Good thing my friend bought lunch!

Dark Days, Light Heart

We are only a few days away from the winter solstice, the darkest time of the year, which also means we are well into the holiday season.  In America, the Christmas holiday season officially begins with Black Friday, the day following Thanksgiving, and that offers sales galore for shoppers.  In Italy, the Christmas season officially begins the day of Immaculate Conception, December 8. The streets are lit with Christmas lights and decorations. Christmas festivals fill piazzas. Stores here also are busy with holiday shoppers.  The hustle-bustle of the holiday season has taken hold.


This time of year can be emotionally challenging and stressful for many of us. Many people can grow disconsolate, even despondent.  I am one. I find the holiday season to be especially trying, as my family and long-standing friends are scattered around the world with the greater majority in California.  I am in Florence, Italy.  My newer friends here have mostly all returned to their "homes" wherever those might be. An Italian family has yet to adopt me.  As a result, this time of year can feel very dark, just like the winter solstice.


In a time of gift-giving and romance and great cheer and spirits, it is unnerving to be alone and apart no matter how beautiful and memorable your surrounding environment.  Florence is that beautiful and memorable.  The choice is clear, even stark:  We can focus on what we do not have or lack rather than what we do have. 


I choose to be grateful for what I do have this season.  Though my situation is not exactly how I envisioned it would be this year at this age, I make the most of what it is.  In addition to my general good health is where I live.  And I have work.  I moan and whine about having to work. (At my core, I am a lazy slug.)  But having work not only earns some money, it keeps me involved in my career and it makes me accountable to someone somewhere and helps keep me out of trouble.  I have people in my life that matter to me, and I know I matter to my family and friends.  This year I stick to my routines and rituals, which ebb and flow. However, the last couple months I am in the flow.  It feels good to do some of the things that support my emotional, physical, and spiritual health.


In only a few days we will be on the other side of the solstice, and the days will begin to get lighter and brighter and so will the spirit.  During some of the down time during the holidays, I make it a practice to reflect on the year now past and map out where I want to go and what I want to accomplish for the year ahead.  I note my specific and clear intentions on paper.  I look forward to that project, which requires my attention and diligence and is positive in direction and result.


What holiday / year end / new year rituals and practices do you engage in?

Florence Marathon 2011 / Firenze Maratona 2011

I devoted 12 years of my life to long-distance running, which feels like another life ago. Sometimes I ran marathons, which surprises new friends because I am not now in my best physical condition, shape, nor weight.  I do not miss running.  I always had a love-hate relationship with it anyhow.  As with many past relationships, I stayed in this one too long. 


Despite the time invested and my efforts, I never was the level of athlete who stood a chance of winning the race.  I trained hard, yes, but I also made a point to have fun with my training and the marathons. While training on the weekends of long runs -- 16, 18, 20 mile runs -- it took me close to double the time of the fastest runners.  Now that I think about it, that makes me more of an endurance athlete than those winning the purse.  Don't you agree?  Elite athletes today finish a marathon in just a little over two hours, whereas I finish in about five hours.  Think of how much time I spent on all those long runs.  Do you see my logic?  I trained double the time the elite athletes do.  They might be elite athletes, but I am the endurance athlete.  Okay. Somehow I think I have not convinced you. 



The sky today was crystal clear and bright blue in Florence, Italy; the temperature barely 60 degrees Fahrenheit, at its warmest, and dry -- an ideal day for a marathon race.  I raced to the start line of the Firenze Marathon to watch approximately 11,000 marathoners take off on an all-new, completely flat course.

The new course

I watched every runner cross the start line.

 At the start

The very last person to cross the start was one sole racewalker.  

Lone racewalker

I could have been the second racewalker. I considered it a few months back, researched to see if they even had a racewalking category.  Nope.   When I quit running many years ago, I took up the Olympic sport racewalking, which I love.  I even completed one half marathon as a racewalker, which was satisfying for me because after the halfway point and all the way to the finish, I passed many joggers who were envious that I walked faster than they could run.  I would love to get back into this sport and prefer to train with friends. Please contact me, if racewalking interests any of you local readers. A heads-up, though: racewalking is a funny-looking sport and does draw a bit of attention.


Throughout the day, I raced around to various points on the course ... and eventually ended up at the finish line.

I love seeing the elite athletes and am proud to see the woman in the lead on the course (known in Italy as the "prima donna").


But the athletes who most excite my interest are the ones like you and me, average, and the athletes with physical challenges, who, just by running the race, remind me that anything is possible if we choose to believe.

Barefoot

 

 A man and his posse

I saw miracle after miracle cross that finish line today.  And I choked up with tears many times.  I know from personal experience the many emotions runners experience during the hours of running a marathon.  Seeing the runners as they turn that final corner and can see the finish line just 100 or 200 hundred meters ahead provides a surge of adrenalin that gives the power to sprint home with all you have got -- all you have left -- head held high, across that finish-line tape.  Some runners in sheer pain and anguish; some overwhelmed with triumph and victory; some crossing arm in arm with someone who gave them strength to keep going not only today but during their training; some with their child or spouse who supported their run; one hopping on crutches.  

  

They spent all their energy

My hero.  Very young man ran his first marathon in 4:20

Perhaps next year I will volunteer for the Florence Marathon 2012, or perhaps I will be  racewalker No. 2 to compete and go the distance 42 kilometers and 195 meters (26.2 miles). Wanna do it with me?

Day After Day in Florence, Italy

I hope the day never arrives when I take Florence for granted, that it becomes ordinary. Because Florence is not ordinary, it is not plain, it is not just another city.  I never want to stop noticing this city's beauty. Florence, for me, is magical.

  Costa de' Magnoli

This morning I attempted to capture, in a photograph, that feeling of magic Florence inspires in me.  The scene above is one I walk past several times each day, and each time its beauty takes my breath away. 


In the morning light, a patinaed wall takes on a softer shade of orange, the brilliance of pink bougainvillea stretching towards the sunlight and groping an ancient wall, the curves of an ancient cobblestone street, the bombardment of light just beyond the tiny, dark tunnel....  Simple, I know.  Perhaps it is unordinary in an ordinary way, and so extraordinary. See what I mean?  The total effect equals beauty. Spectacular.  Magical. 


Perhaps you agree.

Roots

Two years ago today Mabel and I said goodbye to L.A. and hello to Florence, Italy, when we boarded the plane for our flight to our new home.

Leaving Los Angeles, one last ride in our car

I worried about her traveling for so long in the cargo hold below me: the noise, darkness, items shifting about.  After all, my brother's dog, Sparky, made a similar flight from L.A. to Brugge, Belgium, a few years earlier.  He went deaf from the flight but enjoyed the best year of his life living in Europe.  A dog's life is pretty good here because people in Europe welcome dogs to go almost everywhere.  No need to leave them behind anywhere.


Mabel is a real trooper.  She acclimated immediately to her new environs.  Never will I forget the picture I keep in my head when two airport employees hand-delivered Mabel to me, still in her crate, at the Florence airport.  She was pert and alert.  In the taxi ride to our new digs, Mabel rooted her tushy to the seat of the car between the taxi driver and me as she extended herself as tall as possible to look over the dashboard and out the window at all she would soon get to explore. She quickly spotted sights and smells centuries old that she filed away for future exploration.  

Jetlagged, Mabel naps with her baby after arriving to Italy

Mabel is a lucky girl.  Everyone does their part to spoil her, and she is adored by all.


It can be an exciting and scary adventure to uproot yourself from everyone you know and everything that is familiar and comfortable and transplant yourself to a different country with a foreign language. To move to and live in a city that welcomes thousands of tourists every day makes getting close to the locals even more of a challenge because the locals measure their roots by generations, not days. Why invest in a friendship with people who come but do not stay?


Not every day is la dolce vita (the sweet life/the good life), of course, but the obstacles and challenges are, for me, worth the deeply felt gratitude, joy, and happiness I now experience. Sure, I continue to find my way here.  Slowly and con calma, everything begins to fall into place.  The life of the expat has its own process and rigors to endure -- many days present new and different challenges -- but its objective remains true to our passion: to arrive safely on the other side of the wide chasm that separates our past lives from the future we envision and strive to create.

Radici (Roots)

My roots grow deeper as I make Florence, Italy, my home.

Satisfying Heart, Soul, and Belly in Florence, Italy

You know that sharing my experience and knowledge of Italy in general and Florence in particular is something I love to do, if you have been reading my blog. Every now and then, though, I am embarrassed or disappointed when my sharing does not go off so swell.  You know those times when you take your friends or family to a favorite restaurant, but it turns out to be an off night and the service is less than usual and you know your guests are unhappy or even displeased.  Perhaps the waiter forgets to place the order of someone's pasta dish, or the food comes out one plate at a time and lukewarm. That type of thing happens, of course; so I become a bit reluctant to share my beloved favorite places.  We all do.

Sweet pleasures

For the love of cappuccino

The other evening I passed a woman on the street whom I overheard asking in English to her husband, "Should we just ask someone?" I spoke up, as I usually do, and offered my assistance.  The woman was delighted and receptive.  They wanted to have a good meal, and I sent them to one of my all-time favorite restaurants in Florence. And off they went. I hoped my recommendation would prove just the place they sought...

This morning while Mabel and I were on our morning walk, that woman was standing at the base of Ponte Vecchio on the Oltrarno side staring at me. I didn't recognize her. She spoke up, "You are the woman who sent us to the restaurant for dinner, aren't you?"

Uncertain whether her experience was good or bad, I responded with hesitation, "Most likely. Where did I send you, and how was the food?"

The girls at OSP

She replied that throughout their dinner, she told her family that she wanted to find me and kiss me.  The family loved their food, the service, the locale, and the piazza. And they loved that they were the only American family there, or so they believed.

Osteria Santo Spirito

Osteria Santo Spirito is one I happened upon in 2003, my first time in Italy.  I was attracted because of the energy and atmosphere, and, all these years later, I keep coming back because the food is that good.  It is simple, not fancy, elegant, nor expensive.  The food is authentic and, oh, so delicious, though many tourists now know about it. (I am certain the fact that I direct nearly every tourist there that asks me for a dinner recommendation and each friend I take there ends up adopting the trattoria as their own adds to the number of tourists that eat there.)

Amy with risotto zucchini

As we were talking, the rest of her clan showed up - they are a family of 8 from Minnesota - and she told her family, "I found her; I found her. This is the woman that told us where to have dinner two nights ago."

Chitarra

A young girl about 9 years old asked her mother if she had kissed me yet. And the little girl told me she loved her spaghettata (spaghetti meal).  I inquired which pasta dish she ordered and realized it was the chitarra (guitar).  I explained to her the reason that particular homemade spaghetti is called chitarra is because, when the fresh pasta is being made, it resembles the strings of a guitar as it comes out of the pasta machine.  She immediately grasped the connection, and her face lit up having that little bit of new information to take home with her. They all piped in, speaking at the same time, saying they needed me for other recommendations the last two days and wished they had had my phone number. 

Mango, fragola, lampone gelato?

Local gelato supporters

Today is their last day in Florence.  They asked me about gelato.  I volunteered a lesson on the real stuff (gelato, that is) and sent them in the direction of Cantina del Gelato.

Getting coned

The ultimate compliment for me is the genuine feedback I receive and happiness I witness in others as a result of sharing my passion and experience. It's so simple and pleasurable that it makes me want to sing.

Nostalgia / Homesick

After five days' travel in the nearby regions of Le Marche and Umbria and a week-long absence from Mabel, my dog, who enjoyed her own holiday with an Italian family, we are again reunited.  Mabel stays close to me and tells me when she wants to be petted and just how and where to carezzarla (to pet her).  She is by nature a non-demanding little girl, but today she has no qualms asking for exactly what she wants and needs.  I love her style.

Crossing the central Apennino mountains

Meanwhile, it has been my desire to see every square inch, or centimeter, of Italy since I first fell in love with this amazing place.  However, this trip, I observed something out of character.

Fermignano (Le Marche)

Urbino (Le Marche)

Urbino (Le Marche)

I was homesick.

Abundance of sweet, fresh cherries

Castello della Pieve (Le Marche)

I have no memory of ever being homesick.  I have traveled on my own, without my folks, since I was a fairly small child, and I do not ever remember looking forward to going back home.  I always found it interesting when people say what a great trip they had, "but there is no place like home.  Home Sweet Home."    Only one time a few years ago do I remember being excited to return to Los Angeles, and that was because I was dating someone I was pretty crazy about and could not wait to see him again.

Urbino (Le Marche), Italy

Mercatale sul Metauro (Le Marche)

Sant'Angelo in Vado (Le Marche)

Only five days away from home this time, yet every day I longed for my home.  I missed my people; Mabel; my daily rituals and routines (never thought I would say that); my bed, a matrimoniale (two twin beds zipped together and not long enough for my altezza (height) but I missed it nonetheless); my yoga mat and hoop; certain routes I take; certain people I see daily; a certain someone who gives me a juicy kiss.

Gubbio (Umbria) (above 2 fotos)

I could not help but wonder:  What is wrong with me?  What happened to my sense of adventure and my love for exploration?  Maybe it had to do with the space I was in. This was a first for me.

Amicizia (friendship)

 Lifelong friends and local men of  Mercatale sul Metauro (Le Marche)

Old bridge and house at Mercatale sul Metauro

Without needing to figure it all out, what I observed this past week confirms for me that home is where the heart is, and Florence, Italy, is my home.  

Growing old together

Gubbio (Umbria)

I am home!

My Dog, Mabel, Leaves for her Holiday in Campi Bisenzio, Florence, Italy

written by La Mamma Ansiosa

Today Mabel packed her suitcase -- a blue Ikea bag filled with her favorite things, food, and toiletries -- and has left to begin her week-long vacation with a family in Campi Bisenzio, a suburb of Florence, Italy. Her adopted Italian family for the week includes the two cutest 2 and 5 year olds, Niccolo and Sara, with gorgeous giant globes for eyes.  It is like summer language camp.  Mabel will have a week of immersion and return home with a much stronger understanding of the Italian language and culture.  (I want to go to summer camp too.) The little girl arrived with a couple of her stuffed animals to take Mabel to her house.  I do hope Sara will hold on tight to her toys because Mabel has a thing about hoarding other dogs' and children's toys.  She places them under her neck and all around her body, and when the dog or child wants one of their toys back, Mabel just looks at them very smuggly as if to say "haahaa, you can't have it" while the other wimpers and cries afraid to reclaim the toy.

Mabel sprawled out on two of her beds on a hot day

I hope Mabel and her host family will enjoy many adventures and lots of fun together.

Mabel was unaware that she is going on vacation and that I will not join her.  After the children were buckled into their car seats, Mabel climbed into the back of the SUV and settled in.  We closed the door after many kisses.  My heart broke as they all drove off.  Mabel looked at me, her eyes fixed on me, not understanding why I was left behind.  The look in her eyes was as though she thought that would be the last time she would ever see me.

I cried.  

But meanwhile, there is the mommy, La Mamma Ansiosa.  That would be me. I am in favor of Mabel going off and exploring new things, but she is still my baby.  

A giant sea separates attachment and detachment. Letting go is very painful for those of us who suffer from our attachments.  But in this case, I know we will soon see each other again in just under a week.  

Non vedo l'ora. I can't wait / I look forward to it.

Sleeping and Sightseeing in Florence, Italy

Most of us get only two or three weeks' vacation a year, which makes travel to far distances a challenge of time and planning. And, of course, once we get to where we are going, there is much to see and experience. Especially in Europe because it is my home now.  The natural temptation is to take in as much as possible in as brief a time as possible, but who is a fan of whirlwind travel? Certainly not me.

My first trip to Italy was 30 days long. I began my Italian adventure in Verona and ended in Rome.  For any vacation, 30 days is not exactly a whirlwind trip, but staying only a night or two in a town does not allow you to get too familiar with a particular place. Sure, I saw the highlights, and I experienced several regions of the country, but I have learned through experience that if I do not spend at least one night in a place, I will quickly forget that town because it didn't have an opportunity to penetrate my soul. 

Now, before I venture out, I study a map and tour book and then place them in my purse or day pack in case they become necessary to refer to. Maybe I have a museum, castle, or cathedral destination in mind, but I allow my feet and my heart to lead my way, possibly wandering down this street or alley and not ending up at the originally intended destination until much later, if at all. Should a tour book indicate one day is all that is necessary in a town to see its highlights, I will choose to stay overnight and spend the next day in the town, which allows me to see the attractions and also have time to take it all in by sitting in a cafe, piazza, or park bench, meeting and speaking with the locals and absorbing the ambiance of that location. Creating and taking advantage of the opportunity to get to know the local people, to live and share in the life of the locals is my primary definition of traveler.  Each holiday, each experience adds to my rich reservoir of easily recalled travel memories.

The first three times I traveled to Italy, I stayed in B&Bs or small, family-owned and -run hotels. No chain hotels for this girl! Because I fell in love with and kept returning to Italy, I decided to rent apartments if my plan included a stay in a town longer than a few days.  Having an apartment offers the feeling that I live in a place for that moment in time. It also is a more economical way to travel. Each holiday, each experience, adds to my rich reservoir of easily recalled travel memories.  And never forget that longer stays lessens the frequency of the least desirable part of traveling: continually packing and unpacking and schlepping around a suitcase. 

A terrace

The holiday season is over.  Winter is complete. Spring is almost halfway over.  Summer will be here sooner almost than the blink of an eye.  Now is the time people plan for their vacations abroad for the prime summer travel season.  How about you?  Do you consider a visit to Florence, Italy? You could rely on guidebooks and the Internet.  They are excellent resources, but they all say the same thing. In Firenze (Florence), you must see the Duomo, the David, Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, eat Bistecca Fiorentina and gelato.  But if you prefer to see and experience the real Firenze, the locals' Firenze, then you must add some lesser known places.  Or so I believe.  See the artists at work in their studios, have an aperitivo on a rooftop terrace overlooking the city, see some equally important artwork yet less well-known, experience a calcio (soccer) game, visit places off the beaten path. I am no travel expert, but my knowledge and experience of Firenze is of the type that can help you plan your itinerary, logistics, or practicalities. My travel experience and knowledge, especially of my adopted hometown, Firenze, is something I love to share.

For example, does the notion of staying in an apartment instead of a hotel appeal to you?  I can refer you to a friend of mine, from whom I have rented seven different apartments in Florence. He has many more from which to choose in Centro Storico (historical center).

A kitchen

Also available to rent is my beautiful apartment, steps from the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) in Oltrarno (other side of the Arno River) and still in the heart of town.  Some readers might think it odd that I rent space to travelers, but I love the opportunity to meet new people and help guide them with their itineraries. Contact me via email (link below) to discuss the particulars of sharing my apartment at a favorable rate.

Living area and stairs to the loft of my apartment

No matter your final travel plans, please be sure to contact me if your travel will bring you to Florence. It is always nice to have a new friend in the city.

Chocolate Festival, Florence, Italy

Are you feeling sad and blue?  Too many dark, dreary days of winter getting you down? I have good news if you want to positively raise your seratonin level and enjoy an anti-depressant ... without taking a pill.  

Start your day with a banana in the morning.  Put on your sneakers and walk or jog over to Piazza Santa Croce in Florence, Italy, in the sunshine and warmer days that we are finally experiencing (a sure sign of spring's approach).  You'll get a bit of exercise.  Go any time between 10 a.m. and 10 p.m.  And then load up on your dose of chocolate in whichever form you prefer. Chocolate-covered coffee beans, chocolate salami, cremino (chocolate cream, essentially the Italian equivalent of fudge), chocolate kebab are some of my personal favorites.  But there are many more choices. The chocolate vendors are representing most regions of Italy with their local specialties in chocolate.

 And while you are at it, you can buy your honey a chocolate treat for St. Valentine's Day.

I promise you the samples are certain to cause you to wear a smile.  The chocolate festival began only yesterday, and I have already stopped by three times, and more than likely I will go get my chocolate fix every day until the festival closes on Sunday, February 13.