Dolce far niente - a way of living.

Saturday is freezing. I pass by the big tubs of paint every so often and resist the urge to open them. I don't know what I'll find inside. And why do I have to add water? Maybe it's just powder and I'll have to stir and stir. Anyway, I have to get all the strange paintings and carvings off the walls. Paintings of old Australian scenes, Balinese paintings, Aboriginal carvings, faded 60's Madonnas, strange religious reliefs. Furniture is waiting to leave the premises and I'm going to paint the walls in a honeyed terracotta shade, paint the yellow kitchen cupboards a teal green and colour up the old furniture with different shades of grey and beige.

And then we walk around the lake, the wind is iced, my teeth turn cold behind my lips, my nose is numb but the walk reveals wildflowers starting to peep out, struggling to be free of the frozen ground . But it's cloudy so the carpet of crocuses are closed waiting for better days. Finally, the cafe by the lake is open for the spring and we head inside to an open fire and sit by the windows overlooking the lake. A few fisherman throw lines in across the water as we sip on Bombardinos, - Vov liquor and brandy, warmed and topped with whipped cream and cinnamon for the same price as a coffee back home.

The daughter forages dandelion greens, the ones before the flowers appear and cooks them for our dinner with garlic and olive oil. She worries slightly that she might poison us but we survive and they're good. That night there's slurries of snow, short lived.

Sunday arrives to the sound of the church bells. There are people at the church with olive leaf sprigs in hand, something to do with Easter no doubt. We're heading up to the cemetery. On the way, we pass by information on a very early church that they've found the remains of on the hill, with artefacts. But we're here to pay our respects to my late husband and his sister who went to join him eighteen months ago. The sun is shining and the view magnificent. We look at the photos of the older generations in the Vecellio tomb and see that someone has left Maria's favourite Darrel Lea ginger chocolates next to her photo. She'd be happy with that. But I don't feel grief at the photo of my husband because so many things have happened to us on this trip that I know he is with us.

Then we walk up into the mountains behind our house, more flowers and the leaves of cyclamen and wild strawberries are everywhere. We see a couple of guys walking a tight rope high up across the road and stay still so as not to distract them. I can't watch but he makes it through almost to the end and then suddenly he drops and hangs by his harness.

We are becoming nature nomads, just the daughter and I, up in this village. The daughter has made friends with a group of old men that climb up the hill to the left of our house and sit in the sun there in the afternoon. They chat to her and try and work our her lineage in the village and she gets to practice her Italian with them. Every time she goes up they ask her to sit with them and then they tell any newcomers how she fits into this town. She's even had a proposal. She thinks it's from the same man who met me at the bank one morning when they wouldn't open the doors at the usual time of 8.35. He asked me for a coffee instead of having to wait for them. And then when I finally got my business done in broken Italian and google translate and went for a coffee myself, there he was, telling me how beautiful I was. Italian men and the 'dolce far niente' belief of Italians, basically translated to the sweet art of doing nothing. Instead of getting annoyed that the bank wasn't opening, the old guy (the potential boyfriend) said: Let's go for a coffee. And that, my friends, is how the Italians do it.

On the way back to Auronzo.

So I'm renovating and on the way back home there's an Ikea. Having sussed out the expensive lounges near our hometown, I'm realistically settling on good old Swedish design.

It's a Sunday and everyone is masked but it's packed. We do the circuit as quickly as possible, taking photos of weird names and getting out as quickly as possible. No one speaks English but I have ascertained with my bad Italian that they do deliver to the mountains. We unmask and breathe fresh air and we're on our way again.

130 kmh is not quite fast enough, I'm passed by everyone and they in turn are passed by the police. We get home fairly fast, although it's a 4.5 hour trip, so doing Australian speed, it would probably take us 6 hours.

After eating the leftover pizza, the girls head down to the lake. They are on the search for rocks. My tenant is a geologist and the daughter has always been into rocks courtesy of her grandmother who also loved them. I head down later and find them, two bird-like figures bent over looking. I ask the late husband to help them find a fossil and suddenly there's a shout and they call me over. They have found an ammonite with a tiny crystal cave in a section and then it starts to sleet. Our tenant is so excited, even though she comes from Nepal, she's only seen snow once before. Their excitement is contagious. We all start looking for more ammonites but that is the only one that afternoon.

On arrival home, as darkness falls, it begins to snow in earnest. Big fluffy flakes fall against the outside light as we rush from window to balcony and watch the hillside turn white. It continues into the night and when we awake, the village is covered, the sunrise illuminating everything.

We decide to go up into the mountains to Lake Misurina. I'm worried that the car won't make it without the snow tyres but we can always turn back but the sun has come out and the roads are clear and we arrive. The lake is frozen, there are icicles dripping from the roofs. The girls have a snowball fight and we harbour in the only restaurant that is open and we have Italian thick hot chocolate with whipped cream on the side. The daughter has a Bombardino which in the menu is described in English as a 'warm spirit with cream' - a must have of course. It's Vov and brandy warmed and topped with cream. A perfect snow drink.

A perfect day, even if no more fossils were found.

The next day we go to a geological museum in Cortina and we're blown away by the sea creatures that are found in this area. Millions of years ago the Dolomites were born out of the sea in massive collisions of the African and European tectonic plates that forced the rocks at the point of impact to push up and become the Dolomite Mountains. Sea fossils abound in this area so I know what we'll be doing at some point.

I take the girls to another river place where rocks abound and we spend ages hunting for the right rocks that may contain sea creatures and I eventually give up and sit and listen to the mountain stream gurgling over the rocks but then I see the girls waving. They have found a huge reddish coloured rock and in various places are large ammonites and other sea creatures. They have bought a hammer and screwdriver that they found in the garage here and they try unsuccessfully to dig a couple out but it doesn't matter, they are over the moon. Another great day.

And then it's time for our tenant to go back to work so we drop her at the bus stop with sad farewells then make our way to a paint shop. I have been slightly nervous all day. I don't know whether they use lime was and pigment or whether they have colour guides as we do so I take magazines with the colours I want. No one speaks English. I ask for a colour guide in basic Italian and she brings me one. We are on our way. Then a male comes out when I've made my choices, writes down all the numbers, asks the size of the room (I've no idea but we make a guess), he works out the litres and the different paint I'll need for the cupboards and I settle in to wait. But no, they will be ready late this afternoon or if I prefer, tomorrow morning. Ah, Italia, no wonder they live a long time. There are no other people in the shop but maybe he has orders.

We take off to another location and on the way a policeman pulls us over. This is the first time in thirty four years that this has occurred. He asks for my license and the hire cars paperwork and then tells us he needs to see my International drivers licence. I haven't got one, I've only ever used my Australian one. The exchange so far has been in Italian and then he leaves with my licence and we become slightly sweaty but then he returns having goggle translated that I will need an International licence. I tell him I will get one online today. He puts two fingers over his eyes and says: I'm closing my eyes. I thank him profusely. In Australia I would have been fined and felt threatened. Here, I feel the police are slightly on our side.

After our run in with the Italian police, we go to an electrical shop and I buy a vintage green toaster, kettle (they are rare here) and a blender. Then we find a super, supermercato that is beyond belief. We could spend the day there it's so interesting. I buy bathrooms towels, beautiful kitchen bowls, we find white thick asparagus and lots of interesting tins of things. There is a cafe within and it's midday and everyone is having a glass of wine. Honestly, this is how you shop! Again, everyone is masked. We go home with our haul and it takes two trips to drag everything up the three flights of stairs.

When we unpack, I go online and get my International driver's licence just in case I get pulled over again in the next thirty years.

On the Autostrada again to Modena.

We're off to Modena to meet one of our tenants. We're meeting her halfway as she's doing research in Perugia. Both the daughter and I are still nervous about driving, me trying to stay on the right side of the road and working out who to give way to in the roundabouts; the daughter because she is chief navigator. Luckily if things do go badly wrong, Italian drivers don't beep you if you stop in the middle of somewhere and try to work out where to go, they just drive around you. So civilised.

I stop for petrol, most are self serve but it's all different here so anxiously I pull in to find out what to do and a woman comes over ready to serve me. I'm so happy until I look up and realise it's 25 cents a litre more when you're served which may not seem a lot but petrol here is $2.75 a litre so that takes it to $3. Still, you live, you learn. After that experience I needed a coffee. It's a small service station on the highway but it has amazing food and so I choose my favourite - a brioche (or croissant) filled with half pistachio cream and lemon cream. It's amazing! I'm ready to go.

We make it to the town that my daughter lived in for a year and I visited regularly. It is a city of colour, of colonnaded arcades in fruity and nutty colours: rockmelon, lemon, pistachio, hazelnut. A town of well dressed people with their well groomed dogs taking the passeggiata around six, meeting up in the big square near the church, scarved, booted, high heeled and elegant (even walking over the cobblestones). It's the town of Ferrari, of balsamic vinegar and Lambrusco.

The daughter takes me to her favourite sandwich place, Mamma Puglia and we eat a Sicilian style bun the colour of sunshine, stuffed with all things Pugliese. The middle bit of the Burrata, stracciatella oozes out as we sip our first Spritz and for me the dry Lambrusco. I think everything is more sparkly, more colourful, more memorable after being in lockdown for two years, wondering if we'd ever get back here.

We part company as I go in search of a shop where the owner made the most unusual jewellery - Sarazine. I'm so worried she would have folded during Covid but she's there, looking fabulous, wearing her beautiful jewellery. She doesn't speak English so for the first time, I've got to make use of two years of Duolingo. We exchange news, I buy a couple of stunning pieces and move on, looking enviously at all the coloured shoes! They hardly exist in Australia.

We meet up with our friend and after showing her the church of the famous saint, San Gimignano, we take her off to Bar Collegio for huge Negronis. The night is just starting to hum. This is a university town so the young people are starting to come out, dressed up, ready to drink the Friday night away. The glamorous older ones, walk by in their warm winter coats and polished boots, little dogs trailing behind them, in search of fantastic restaurants. And our first night is done.

The next day we breakfast at a bar we used to go to and they have a great sign on their van - I'll be right back or maybe even not! Which says it all about Italian living.

Then I wander, it's Saturday and every Modenese and their dogs are out and there is music wafting through the air. Weddings are happening, people are onto their first wine of the day.

I meet the girls for the Pugliese sandwich and then go to the market. The Modena market is amazing and last time I was here, they were making some of it into a food hall. I was so worried they would ruin it but no, they've done it in style. Keeping it old fashioned with pink marble tables that used to serve the fresh seafood, turned into tables. I wonder and marvel at all the vegetables that we see here but not in Australia. I end up buying big thick asparagus that they wrap in brown paper; agretti which is a saltbush plant that makes soda ash and was used to making glass in Venice; ravioli made with ricotta, orange rind, almonds and cinnamon and another one made from pumpkin that you serve with a walnut pesto and beautiful new season tomatoes. I pass a stall that must have forty varieties of different flavoured tiny chocolate easter eggs and another with peas that are still attached to their curliqued stems, tiny perfect lettuces and three different types of coloured perky cauliflowers.

After that sensory experience we go home to rest and await the night of pizza. La Smorfia serves a white pizza with walnuts, pancetta and thick balsamic vinegar. We savour the flavours and then head off to the gelateria that fills the cone with warm melted chocolate. The gelato is served at exactly the right temperature so it is almost like semi-freddo but holds it shape because if it's softer, the flavour is more robust. Then we walk through the centre and it's full of people, walking arm in arm, the church is lit up, there are no cars, just people enjoying the night.