But first a Bellini says Danielle and I sit on the terrace sipping sweet nectar reminiscent of my home in Venice and think about these notions- Home. Family. Home is where you make it. Family is who you choose. I love these people. My colleagues, @danipelletier my head Diva Guide in Paris. More than colleagues. We are family.

The landscape looks like the set for a movie. I imagine the stories told of heroes and vendettas to be the perfect scripts for a black and white movie. You know the films. The ones seen at 4 in the morning when you can’t sleep. Drama packed, heroines with dark eyes, long lashes and exposed shoulders, ample decollete and pouty red lips. This is Corsica.

Elba appears like a ghost, in the horizon. I watch it come in and out of the mist from the balcony in Corsica of @danipelletiern summer home. The clouds play cache cache with the horizon. Elba. An island I had only read about. Napoleon escaped from here. 10 months he was in exhile. He befriended the island.

Family comes in many forms. Some is by blood. Some is by choice. I’m in Corsica and I am with family. I am not alone. With Covid I don’t know when I’ll be able to cross the globe and be with blood family again.

Many of my own clients are multi passionate entrepreneurs. And I like to see the red threads that connect their careers in the most unexpected ways. A dancer turned antique dealer. An antique shop turned wine shop and gourmet takeaway. Be innovative. Do you.

It was the perfect Sunday. Up early - an adventure in the morning. We stepped off a secret dock - like platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross - but this was at San Zaccaria. We were looking for the Vaporetto 20. Platform B. But a side gate which is rarely opened.

We left Venice and 15 minutes later arrived in an Armenian outpost - Սուրբ Ղազար, Surb Ghaza - San Lazzaro degli Armeni.

And then there are the nights that remind you there is no place else you’d rather be than in Venice, happy to be home from vacation wondering why you ever left for vacation or otherwise. It’s late - nearly 2 am as I crawl in bed which is very late for me. I’ve had dinner with friends in the moonlight on the Zattera. Glasses clinking. Candle light flickering. Laughter.

It was a melancholic end to our vacation. We wanted one more day. Just one more day. My friend Andrea booked us to stay in this agritourism estate @aziendaagricolatollena near San Gimignano- from the balcony of our apartment we could see the town's towers. It was supposed to be a stop on the road home. An overnight stay and a mild detour returning to Venice to break up the long drive.

Italy. Puglia. San Foca. The heel of the boot. And then we sang. Me Amazing Grace. Lori a Tibetian chant. The lights flickered. We were staying in an old monastery the history of which had served as a halfway house between the East and West. Now a converted restored Masseria. The first settlement on this land was in the year 400. The arched ceilings of the hall built for the sound of prayers.

I dreamed of the number 7 the night before our trip. 7 shouted out like Meg Ryan’s cafe scene in When Harry Met Sally...7! 7! 7! Then in Rome I kept dreaming of the number 8. All week long 8 appeared in my sleep. During the day it’s pattern was spelled out in a continuous swirling loop on the mosaic cathedral floors throughout the eternal city. 8. Notice me. 8. AlexiAndrea always tells me to notice numbers. So I listened.

One of the things I love about staying in apartments or houses when I travel is the opportunity to cook on the road. Sometimes they are impromptu meals thrown together with inventiveness other times well planned thought out endeavors.

These vacation days seem never ending - one day rolling into the next. My mind empties. I’m relaxed. So relaxed I forgot to post the last 2 places we visited. I don’t want you to miss out on seeing things - I know you’re traveling along beside me #armchairttraveller when you’re stuck at home. This is Alberobello - a town of maybe 10,000 people - best known for its trullo.

Fortuny and Fiorella have gotten good at traveling. Like me they are a contrast in studies- adventurous yet loving routine. Traveling with cats takes planning - they have their own suitcase- a portable litter box and cat scratch pad as well as their own carriers - Fortuny rides in my straw bag. At home he sleeps in this basket in my office- so when it’s time to go it’s more familiar than a pet carrier. It smells like him.

Perhaps it’s actually the food I fall in love with in Rome. I really must diet. Post Covid the situation is quite dire. And yet in the heavy stomach of Rome it’s not the time to diet. August 1st I promise. I will live on Tuna and baked salmon, giant leafy greens. And stop drinking so much wine. - I really must stop drinking wine. I’m getting a wine belly.

I never had a love affair with Rome before now. I didn’t understand it. It was hot and crowded. I tried to do too much and found myself seeing nothing in an attempt to do everything.

Alone.

I saw her standing there.

Standing alone separate from me and Raphael.

It was just us 3.

Me. Raphael and Lori.

And a handful of guards in the Sistine Chapel.

Cappella Sistina - without tourists

We did the pilgrimage for Redentore yesterday, walking across the Guidecca canal on the makeshift bridge build for the Festa del Redentore.

It’s 11.30pm. July 18 2020 and Venice is silent. We are the on the vaporetto returning home from a day trip to a Valdobbiene to replenish my cantina with Prosecco. It’s the first time I’ve left town in 6 months - since the pandemic struck. Paris has Bastille Day. America has 4th of July. Venice has Redentore. Today is Redentore. The feast of the most holy redeemer, honored every year since 1576 in gratitude for the ending of that plague.

Hallelujah!!! After 7 months of captivity in my gilded cage in Venice I have finally flown the coop. Hello Prosecco Country. This is the longest I’ve been in one location in my adult life. Let vacation 2020 with Lori Lassen begin!

I woke with a start. The Roman Empire fell.

I spent the evening before the sleep planning a getaway in July with a friend to Rome. After so many months at home I get to travel! I laugh answering the question like in Peter Pan, “Would you like an adventure now or would you like to have your tea first?” “Oh certainly, the adventure first!” I cry with delight.