A town called Thirty...

So a brief camp in Florence and we were on the road again. We were not afforded the luxury of electricity in the campsite and so it was a rough and ready existence, as you can see from Bills ten o'clock shadow!


I'd always been aware of the town of Trent in the north of Italy, because Chiara Lubich, the leader of the Focolare movement, which my parents were part of, was from there. However I'd always imagined it to be a large industrial town, grey and smoky, for some reason...


So when we realised Trent lay on the road we were taking, we decided to stop there for the night and see what it had to offer!

Thank God we did, for my impression couldn't have been further from the truth! Trent turned out to be a magical little town, with coloured frescos on the buildings and a medieval wall around its border. It was lovely. We spent the day there, walking around enjoying the sunshine!

The Austrian influence was really strong there, I had a red cabbage risotto for my dinner! and the Italian was mixed up with German as well!

Joe spots some little birds...Who were happy to come and eat from our table!

I'd love to visit Trent again, with more time, I have a feeling we only brushed the surface on the magic the little town has to offer!

Mary writes some postcards!

Carrot ice-cream believe it or not!