I am Australian...??

I was born in a tiny public hospital in Perth, WA a loooong time ago. So I am Australian. Somedays I wonder though, as I seem to relate to all things Italian.

The Italian Boy's family are from Frosolone, a small mountain town in the Italian area of Molise.
Whenever we visit, I love all the day-to-day things that happen as though completely irrelevant.

Washing clothes in the town fountain on washboards.

The van driving over the cobblestone streets with a loudspeaker 'Banananananana cinque milllireeeeee'. The Church bells that toll every few hours. The pizza dripped with tomato sauce and oregano. The old boys sitting in the town square, playing cards.

 The Italian Boy's family, who hand make scissors and knives.

The market that appears on a Monday morning in a suburban street as though it has always been there...and disappears.The fact that the town greengrocer has no idea what a pumpkin or a squash is.

Life as it should be.

But then sometimes, I wish I was American. Actually, not an American, but an Italian living in America. I have serious 'availability' envy. All the good stuff just seems to be only available in America!

A machine that bakes cake pops! Ingenious.

Pottery Barn...every time I see a picture of a beautiful room, stunning furniture - credit is to Pottery Barn.

M&M's in any colour??? WOW.

The most stunning Viewfinder Bangle...yep ...you guessed it.

Mountains and deciduous trees...Colorado.

but....

A few years ago, I travelled to Tokyo...love the Cherry Blossoms and trees....

I don't know....I'm a bit of everything.