Guys, I like to eat. Love it in fact, there's not much that makes me happier than sitting down to a great meal. And, not to brag, but I can kind of hold my own at the dinner table. Now that we've gotten the foreshadowing taken care of, onto the main event.
On Saturday, we were invited by one of Anthony's cousins, Maria Olympia (can we please agree that this is the best name ever? She's the one standing up with the great smile) to a late lunch at their home just outside the walls of Barga. They were so welcoming and kind and when we sat down to eat I was pretty flipping happy.
The food was incredible, but I quickly learned that eating a true Italian meal is not a sport for the faint of heart. As my pasta dish was refilled again and again as if by magic I began to feel as though I had shown up to a marathon, without ever having run before. My brain began to cloud, my arm moved on autopilot. Cake from an old family recipe? Yes please. More wine? But of course. Thirds on the rosemary potatoes? Please get in my mouth right now. And on it went. Bite after delicious bite.
Somewhere around my fifth glass of wine, I began oscillating between a floaty warm ball of pasta happy place and a fluffy pillow of cake happy place. At that moment, Maria Olympia's husband leaned over and said "so, do you guys want to see my guns?"
Above I give you Anthony, renegade killer of boars. Or at least he will be in September when he comes back to go hunting. I will be at home trying unsuccessfully to control my jealousy.
Anthony and his other cousin, Ivo. Owner of a very cool jacket.
After we had digested to the point at which movement was no longer painful, we took a trip over to see some property that Maria Olympia had inherited.
Above, an outbuilding on the land.
The house was in rather (charmingly) rough shape, but the property was beautiful.
Rolling hills with a great view of Barga in the distance.
All in all, a great day.