It was our anniversary and Paul surprised me (and Phoebe) with a weekend in the country, in a castle.
The. Dream.
In the car we went, zipping along country roads until we wound up, a little lost.
GPS, bless its heart, is sometimes misguided. Or maybe it’s our lack of geographical expertise, combined with our sometimes sudden mistrust of the thing. When we’re not sure that the GPS really knows the best way, we’re likely to suddenly veer off “nah, it can’t be this way, let’s just turn…” It’s not ideal. So, after a 30-minute delay due to winding roads and multiple map consultations, we arrived at the Castello di Semivicoli. This delay by the way, is an improvement on our usual 60-minutes of driving around and around the location we’re expecting to find. Usually within 10 kilometers yet as they say, so far away.
This castle however, was totally worth it. Old and charming from the outside, it was as sleek and gorgeous as can be on the inside with sweeping views of the entire region.
And a humongous jacuzzi tub. A girl could get used to this. And I’m not the only one. On Saturday Paul would have a private wine tasting with the manager of the hotel. Every morning the cook prepared a full breakfast for us: scrambled eggs, coffee, juice, freshly baked breads and all the fruit Phoebe could eat. Which is a lot.
Speaking of luxury, one of the nicest things about our weekend was a private dining room for dinner. Just the three of us, and several courses of Italian food and wine (though only one of us enjoyed that part). Not only was it a beautiful space, but how nice to not worry about Phoebe running around in her jammies.
The next day, I got a manicure and pedicure in the penthouse while Paul and Phoebe took a walk around the grounds. Not bad. However things went downhill when we switched rooms (there was a wedding at the castle on Saturday and other guests had already booked the suite.) It seems that Phoebe had simply gotten used to a certain level of luxury and she wasn’t having any of this junior suite business. No napping, no sleeping. Instead there was screaming. At 4am the only thing that could console our teething toddler was a combination of raisins and music. Thank heavens we had both. Otherwise she might still be yelling.
But back to the luxe life. There were two delicious meals on Saturday. For lunch we had a great time sitting outside at a nearby restaurant; cheese ravioli for Phoebe but not just any cheese. This was made from burrata, one of the richest, creamiest cheeses in the world, literally. She just about cleared the entire plate, naturally. For dinner, we went to another great recommendation where the posh services continued. We quickly asked for some pasta per la bambina who was already dangerously close to a sleepy meltdown when we arrived at 8pm, an hour past her bedtime. It came in a twelve inch bowl, on a porcelain charger with a giant silver spoon. This however was nothing compared to what came next. A bottle full of milk was the only thing that would keep us at the table long enough to finish the single course we’d both ordered. And out it came, on a silver platter.
Teething troubles notwithstanding, this was basically the theme of the whole weekend. With two cases of wine loaded into the car, home we went. Still a little sleepy and definitely satisfied.
The Rome Report 
