I rubbed the brass pig snout in Florence hoping to rid myself of bad Florence karma (first time there, my girlfriend left me for another guy, second time there, Donna and I parted for what was planned to be a year’s separation; this time, only a crummy dish of carbonara happened to me, which wasn’t bad at all, so it seems the brass pig works). But even in May the place is thick with tourists, so I was only too happy to say arrivederci and head for the rural shelter of the Spannocchia.  This trip was filled with out-of-the-way places not much written about.  Like, Spannocchia.  Loved this place.  They raise the hogs on beautiful pasture and in woods, the interns take them to slaughter in as stress free a way as possible; they do Read On »

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