A Month Of Italy - What can possibly be said about Italy that hasn't been already? Primarily, that you can enjoy it too! Refreshingly relate-able in a genre previously populated by wealthy expats and Hollywood stars, this book chronicles an ordinary family taking an extraordinary trip, and most importantly, paves the way for you to take one of your own! With hilarious wit and fast-paced narrative, Brady thrills with honest commentary on what a "trip of a lifetime" actually feels like, and most endearingly, he succeeds in convincing you that not only should you take a similar one, but that you will! Within a few pages you'll be visualizing panoramic Tuscan vistas and breaking open the piggy bank, laughing as you turn the pages and dreaming of your own escape. This story is one of going slow in order to go fast; it's about rediscovering and bringing back into favor a lost art, namely, the art of vacation, and it is, or rather should be, a story about you. "This book is not so much about how to travel as how to live." - - Orrin Woodward
Chris gives an overview of the book:
Italy is known around the world for its design. This applies to cars, motorcycles, architecture, clothing, leather goods, what have you. There is a style to the things Italians make that is unique and appealing. In most cases, they just get it right. Not so, however, when it comes to beach chairs. Everywhere we went, from the hotel pool in Sorrento, to Villa Scarpariello, to this beach in Maiori, and later at our villa in Tuscany, we encountered these same awful chairs. They were everywhere. Pick up any brochure for a hotel and you’ll see them by the pool. Drive by any beach and it’s all they’ve got. Yet for us, the darn things were impossible. We couldn’t figure out how in the world anyone could get comfortable in them. Take the lounge, for instance; it was adjustable to two settings: 1) backache and 2) neck ache. Whoever had designed this highly popular chair had never taken a look at the human skeleton. In the lower position the lounge required one to bend at the shoulder blades. In the upright position one was expected to bend at the kidneys. More time had apparently been invested into the contraption that folds up over the head, ostensibly to shield out the sun. Instead, this device invariably ends up in one’s face or hair. Eventually I concluded this handy feature must be there to hide one’s grimacing face.
The upright chair was no better. Sitting in it was an experience reminiscent of those baby bounce seats one hangs in a doorway. The baby fits down into it, fully trapped, and bounces up and down. This is exactly how this chair felt, minus the bouncing part. That would have made it fun. Instead, as soon as you plop down into it you realize you’ll need help extracting yourself. This chair, too, has two helpful settings: 1) pinch fingers and 2) pop pelvis.
Terri and I took turns trading back and forth between these two delightful contraptions of our most recent real estate transaction as our children frolicked in the sand.
Chris Brady has one of the most unique resumes; including experience with a live bug in his ear, walking through a paned-glass window, chickening out from the high-dive in elementary school, destroying the class ant farm in third grade, losing a spelling bee on the word "use...