A New Home for My Writing

View of the land that's been my family's home for ages, and now is also my home.

No really! I'm writing again, for real this time. :) After a couple false starts over the last decade or so, I'm back in the saddle and writing over on Substack. You can find me here: https://aliambrosio.substack.com/

In many ways it feels like the good old blogging days of yore, back when we all were connecting pre-smartphone over RSS feeds and sidebars listing our favorite fellow writers. You all - my readers from the Austin to Africa, Brasil to the Bay chapter - made my life so rich, helped me endure homesickness and culture shock, held my hand through so many changes, and stayed with me through several major endings and beginnings.

I've missed you so much. I now live on my family's historical estate on the Italy-Slovenia border with my husband and our daughter. We basically picked up the life my grandmother left behind when she immigrated from here to the US after WWII. It's like a step back in time and into the future at the same time, for while we inherited generations worth of history, we're also making changes for what will work for us, now, in 2026 and beyond.

We've been here in the village for 4.5 years now full-time. That's how long I lived in Mozambique, which blows my mind. I think this is the general chunk of time for one to really feel rooted in a place. It's also when, if change is calling, it feels quite urgent and very scary to pick up and restart. Here it's the opposite, at least for me. I've never felt so connected to a place. I think I'd be happy here forever, even if I never set foot off the property again. Given how travel-oriented and location-independent I was for much of my younger years, it's a surprise to realize how rural and rooted I've become. Maybe I was always like this deep down, but just hadn't landed on the right location yet.

In fact, I think I've known since I was a little girl that this place on the Italy-Slovenia border would be my destiny. I first came here when I was two years old, and I've been coming back nearly ever summer since then with a few gaps here and there. There is no other place where I feel such belonging. In the cemetery behind our property there are six generations of my ancestors, and I can trace our origins on the family tree that my great-great-grandfather drew going back to the 1600's. It's wild to think about who all came before me, that we've all stepped on this same soil, watched the sun rise and set against the backdrop of the same hills.

Times have changed wildly in those 400 years, but here I am. Here we are. We've returned to care for the land and rebuild the structures, inject new life into this place so that the line can continue unbroken for another 400 years (if the world is still alive then. who knows. such are the problems we face as the generations who steward a broken planet).

In the meantime, it would mean so much to me if you followed along in my new writing home. I have so much to tell you about life right now. Where I am, who I'm with, what we are doing, and how we got here. It's free to subscribe, and I have hopes that one day I will see your names on the list of who is reading and commenting, and then I'll know it's a real housewarming party with all my OG original blog friends. I hope you're all well, and see you on my substack, which is called Origins & Routes. 

Munich-SFO

The last time I was on this flight from Munich to San Francisco I sobbed silently at takeoff.  Not because of fear of flying, which I definitely suffer from, but because I was hit with a wave of emotion and in that instant I knew my relationship was over. No more pretending an alternate destiny was possible, no more head in the sand. I had gut-level certainty that the next step was a breakup, a chapter change, and the pain that comes when a love that once flourished must be laid to rest. I was grateful when the seat belt sign was turned off and I could go to the lavatory for a real ugly cry, with nobody around to witness my scrunched up face or hear my wailing.

That was in March, nearly four months ago. Now it is the last day of June and I am on the same Lufthansa flight headed home from spending some time in Italy at my grandmother's house. I cried again, but only because I watched an inspiring film (Joy with Jennifer Lawrence). It's amazing how much has changed in this short period, how different I feel.

Unlike the last time I was on this flight, I am not dreading coming back to California (even though I know divorce papers and the slog of moving my things from one space to the next await me). I also don’t wish I had stayed in Italy, although it was tempting to extend my trip after a successful beta experience of organizing wine and culinary tours with a childhood friend and a fabulous group of ladies as guests. It’s nice to feel a balance of saudades for the place I am leaving and the place that is my next destination.

I see myself coming into a new phase: one of being single and independent, having multiple jobs I create for myself, and with no clear primary residence. I’ll be bouncing between the Bay Area (the work-live artist space I’ve created in the basement of my mom’s house), the Italy-Slovenia border region (where my grandmother was from and her big, uninhabited property awaits its destiny), Houston (where my best friend lives), New Mexico (my dad’s place), and who knows where else in between. I envision lots of geography, lots of change, wearing lots of hats. Just how I like it.

I am trying out the elevator speech about my life as I meet people on the plane: “I am a jeweler, artist, translator, traveler, writer, and dancer.” Yes, all of those things together in one complex ball of self-employment and creativity and travel. Interdisciplinary, interconnected, international. Untitled for the time being. Following my gut. Seeing where the road takes me.

Day Trip to Slovenia: History, Nature and Wine

The region where my grandmother's family is from is right on the border of Italy and Slovenia, which makes for easy cross-cultural day tripping. Several of my childhood friends are Slovene and now work in the wine industry and/or as tour guides. My mom and I spent an afternoon in the able hands of Aleks and Marjana and enjoyed some spectacular nature, history, and local wines.

We started by climbing a spiral staircase belvedere tower in the tiny village of Gonjace. Not for those with fear of heights, but the reward is 360-degree views of the Collio hills, vineyards, terra-cotta roofs, and depending on which way you are looking either the Alps or the Adriatic.

At the top of the belvedere is this compass that shows the direction of the nearby towns and cities. I have a thing for compasses, if you didn't know. :)

Our next stop was Smartno, a historic fortified village that has been beautifully restored.

My friend Alex told us many stories about the culture of the place - like the wreath of dried wildflowers on the door that would have signified there is a single woman at the house who is eligible for marriage...or the importance of having greenery and a grapevine in front of the house.

I first met Aleks and his sister Marjana we were little kids. It's so cool to see where we all are now, and how many of our interests and occupations are aligned. Aleks is a history enthusiast, personal trainer, and regional tour guide who speaks multiple languages.

Aleks took us to a hidden gem in the Brda region of the Slovenian countryside. We drove along a dirt road through grape fields and into the winter forest, and eventually came upon this clear pool with a waterfall. The water spills over a wall that apparently was built by the French during Napoleon's occupation in the late 1700's or early 1800's.

Walking down a small path from the main waterfall, you reach the truly impressive sight: another small waterfall and a natural stone bridge with dark emerald water running underneath. The water color in this part of the world is unreal - either intense deep green or milky turquoise blue - thanks to the karst limestone that makes up most of the river beds. What a gem!

After our nature walk, we headed to the wine cellar (cantina) where Marjana works. It is a large facility but still feels very personal and authentic, especially when you have an inside connection. :)

We got to tour the special reserve cellar that houses something crazy like 80,000 bottles of vintage wine, some dating back to the 1960's. Imagine being able to pick one bottle at random and taste what is inside!

Here I am with Marjana amid oak barrels. She and I are brainstorming some wine tourism ideas: stay tuned, especially if you are interested in visiting this region of the world.

Photos Including: Vineyards, Rilke, and the Spot Where the Iron Curtain Once "Hung"(?)

A portrait of Mittel Europe: view of Gorizia, Italy from the town castle.

With Marino, our good family friend, with the hills of Slovenia in the background. During the war, Gorizia was split in two; half stayed in Italy, and half went to Yugoslavia under the name Nova Gorica. Now there are no borders - truly amazing.

Marker in a plaza outside the Transalpino railway station in Nova Gorica. As Marino put it, this marks the spot where the Iron Curtain once stood.

We climbed a crazy-narrow (and very tall) spiral staircase to get to the top of this monument near Dobrovo, Slovenia. I was dizzy already from the ascent; the height and wind didn't help at all.

View of the wine-making Collio region of the border. The specialty here is white wines, my favorite being the dessert wine Picolit.

A controversial church (due to its modern architecture), built on a prominent hilltop to give thanks for Trieste having remained part of Italy after the war.

View of the Adriatic Sea from the church hill. I love the light this time of year!

Rico and I hiked the Rilke trail from Sistiana to Duino. The karst cliffs and clear blue water were to die for.

Trying to walk off at least some of the figs I ate!

View of the marina at Sistiana. This beach marks the point where, to the East along the Dalmatian coast, all the beaches are rocky; to the west, along the coast of the Italian peninsula, all the beaches are sandy.