by on
New and fast friends

“How did you two meet?”

This is an age-old question, often used to jump-start a conversation.

“We met in a class, freshman year at college.”

“We met online, in a dating website.”

“We met through mutual friends.”

“We were “fixed up” by a well-meaning friend who knew someone seemingly “perfect” for me. 

“We sat down on opposite ends of a sofa at a party and just started talking.”

“We literally bumped into one another at a concert.”

“We met at a coffee shop one morning, standing in line.”

“We both took our dogs to the park one day and they wanted to greet each other”

However the first encounter happened, it’s still something of a miracle given all the random possibilities. The fact that two people meet and really connect with one another is an amazing phenomenon. We were reminded of that recently when a friend “clicked” with someone, seemingly out-of-the-blue and they’ve been inseparable since.

Keys to a heart

He swiped right, She swiped right. They met for tea. Then they met for lunch. Then dinner. Once the “interest seed” was planted, the relationship blossomed. They discovered common values, preferences and humor. It rapidly went from being a possibility to being “something.” They’d each hoped to find a “significant other” and cautiously began an earnest search—romantic details as well as practical considerations were clearly in mind. She wanted X characteristics and he wanted Y. Each was determined to find a kindred heart to unlock.

Hidden treasure

Each was primed and felt determined to find the exact person who would match their descriptions. What were the chances? 50/50? Daunting? One in a million? Our friends took a deep dive into the proverbial haystack and re-emerged with a prize—the ever-elusive needle. Sometimes fate steps in and treasures can be found. Dreams can become reality and love grows, however unlikely it may seem.

Don’t you just love happy endings?

Music—Meant to Be

Related Music and Story—The First Time We Met

You can also find a collection of songs/stories about soulful relationships written over several decades of an evolving partnership, in the album called “Love Stories.”

 

 

 

 

by on

Imagine a hiking trail 100 miles long with no particular destination. Sound strange? What if you could actually see the focus of your wanderings, yet never arrive there? What if the trail encircled the most magnificent symbol of the Italian Renaissance—the Duomo, Cattedrale Santa Maria del Fiore—the main cathedral in the heart of Florence? Now, this is really getting interesting. Well, there is such a trail—where the real destination is a deepening of the magic and mystery of that special place known as Firenze—the heart of Tuscany—an experience like no other! (more…)

by on

A few months ago, we came across a program called “Workaway.” It’s an online organization that allows people who need help to find those people who want to help. Or conversely, people who want to help, can find someone with an engaging project. The idea is simple. If you want to spend time in Norway, then find a project and volunteer. How about New Zealand? South Africa? Peru? Just send them a message and see what happens. You might be surprised. We were. (more…)

by on

12:21 pm Wednesday—message through WordPress from Carolina (previously unknown to us) in Capetown South Africa: My Mum lives in Tuscany and I received a letter from her where she wrote about Monteloro and the only restaurant of the village. I googled it up and I came across your blog . . . Do you know by the way, Trattoria La Casa del Prosciutto (House of Ham), in Ponte a Vicchio? (more…)

by on

We decided to take a big walk!

Sometimes it’s helpful to symbolize life’s journey by creating a walk that challenges us with everyday trials, on our way to a special destination. It’s even more powerful when that path is one that’s served as The Way for millions of pilgrims over centuries of soulful walking.

The Way of Saint James is one of the most famous pilgrimages in the history of the world, and is made up of countless paths throughout Europe, all converging at Cape Finisterre, at the western coast of Spain. Finisterre means “land’s end,” and was definitely thought of in ancient times as the “end of the world.” What better destination to symbolize life’s pilgrimage? (more…)

by on

Over the next several posts you may notice a French theme laced throughout our stories, for good reason. Our plan to “get out of Dodge” (see the previous story called “Taken for Granite,”) landed us in the beautiful city of Lyon, France, which is the heart of the southwest region of the Rhone Alps. For sure, each day brings a new experience. Add being a stranger in a new town, and you’re pretty much assured of stories everywhere you turn. The tough part is choosing which ones to write about. Last weekend, the magic transpired in a delightful neighborhood park called Place Sathonay. (more…)

by on

Gordon Matthew Sumner wore a favorite black and yellow striped shirt so often, that a friend finally blurted out that he looked like a bee. The nickname stuck. You might know him better today as Sting.

We’ve always enjoyed his particular style of jazz/rock, and have waited for him to show up in concert in our neighborhood for a decade or so. That day finally arrived, and it was well worth the wait. He played at a place called Piazzola sul Brenta, which is a town not far from Venice, Verona, and Padova. Piazzola was never a particularly noteworthy destination until they decided to develop the magnificent 16th century Villa Contarini (attributed to the famous architect Andrea Palladio,) into an unbelievable concert venue. Now, it has worldwide acclaim, and for very good reason! (more…)

by on

We sat down on the perfectly placed stone bench to enjoy a quiet moment with nature. A rustling sound began somewhere nearby: perhaps two lizards playing, a harmless garden snake, or just leaves blowing in the evening breeze. However, the strange sound intensified and before we knew it, we were sitting amid rubble. Our sacred stone perch overlooking the valley had literally disintegrated beneath us. No one was even slightly injured, but our quiet meditation had been bruised rather badly. (more…)

by on

A mad dash between trains: the one from Lure, France arrived 30 minutes late. 5:45 pm, and the one to Vernon was scheduled to depart in 7 minutes.

We raced to the ticket machine. It was less than agreeable. In fact, it refused to issue the tickets that we’d selected. So we just ran for the train. We’d buy tickets on board, paying a premium for the privilege, no doubt. (more…)