The Bed Dolls of Italy: Charming? Or Just Creepy?

When you travel in Italy, you expect to discover the big things—ancient churches, hilltop views, incredible food. What you don’t expect is to walk into someone’s bedroom and feel like you’ve stumbled into a slightly eerie doll convention.

This happened to me in Gubbio, when I was visiting a friend in her home.

Her bedroom was lovely in that cozy Italian way: lace curtains, a neatly made bedspread, everything perfectly arranged. But sitting right in the center of the bed were… dolls. Several of them.

Dolls staring calmly into the room.

I froze for a moment, trying to decide if this was decorative or if I had accidentally wandered into the opening scene of a horror movie.

Apparently, this is a thing.

In some Italian homes—especially in smaller towns and older houses—you’ll see “bed dolls,” dolls displayed on the bed during the day as part of the room’s decor. They’re often porcelain or cloth dolls, dressed beautifully and carefully arranged when the bed is made.

When night comes, they’re simply moved aside.

Simple enough.

But still.

There’s something about a group of dolls sitting upright on a bed that feels… watchful.

Of course, once I got over my initial reaction, it started to make more sense. Many of these dolls are sentimental. They might have belonged to a daughter years ago, or they may be part of a collection lovingly kept by the homeowner. Like embroidered linens or lace pillowcases, they’re part of the tradition of making the bedroom beautiful.

But where did this slightly spooky habit come from?

I’ve since learned there are two explanations people often point to.

One is that it may be rooted in southern Italian home traditions, where bedrooms were carefully decorated with symbolic objects, heirlooms, and childhood keepsakes. Dolls displayed on the bed could represent memories, family continuity, or simply treasured possessions that deserved to be seen rather than stored away.

The other explanation traces the idea to boudoir dolls, which were popular decorative dolls in Europe and America in the early 20th century. These weren’t toys for children—they were designed specifically to sit on beds or sofas as elegant decorations in a woman’s bedroom. Over time, similar dolls found their way into Italian homes, blending with local traditions of displaying cherished objects in the bedroom.

In other words, what looks a little strange to an outsider may actually be a mix of sentiment, decoration, and history.

And Italy is very good at holding onto those things.

Still, I have to admit that if I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a row of porcelain faces quietly observing me from the end of the bed… I might sleep with the lights on.

Travel teaches you many things.

One of them, apparently, is that Italian hospitality sometimes comes with an audience.

Speaking of Umbria: Let's Talk About Gubbio!

 A couple of posts ago, I talked about the wonders of Umbria...that lesser-known region attached to Tuscany. So one weekend, after too much time away, I went back there to visit a friend in Gubbio, and since it's a little jewel of a town that I think you should visit, I thought I'd blog about it. For you! And your travel pleasures.

I've just said that Gubbio is a little jewel of a town, and it is. It has a historic center that looks pretty much unchanged for the past...oh, I don't know...5...600 years?? There is a Roman amphitheater, and many Roman ruins that are being excavated. There are amazing and inexpensive restaurant options featuring Umbrian cuisine like wild boar and truffles. And it has some fun and unique features you don't find anywhere else!

So where to start?

Well, check out these views of the city:

Unchanged, right?

And a river runs through it...

Roman amphitheater!

It truly is a jewel box of a town. Small, easy to navigate, historical, such a tourist's dream.

And while I was there, our friend regaled us with lots of stories about what makes Gubbio so special.

First of all, check out these doors:

Everywhere you go in Gubbio, you see these types of doors. That is--a larger door with a sort of accompanying window next to it. As you pass by these in the city, you may just think--huh, interesting architectural feature. But there was an actual purpose!

This type of door was called "The Porta del Morto" or the "Door of the Dead." Legend has it that the larger main door was the entrance for the living, while the smaller door next to it was an entrance for the dead...ghosts, perhaps, or missing family members. 

Spooky, huh?

Cool, huh?

My friend explained this legend as the reason for the twin doors. Sadly, on doing my own research later for this blog, I found that although she was right about the legend, in reality, there was a more practical reason for the double doors. Actually, two.

First, the larger door was often the door to whatever commercial activity the family might have been involved in. Maybe they had a ceramic studio or a store. Customers would enter through there. The second smaller door would be entered in by the family, and lead straight into the home. 

You might notice that the door is raised; originally, wooden stairs would have been constructed leading to the home. They could be removed to help defend the home in case of attack--which was also the reason for the small footprint of the door. Easier to defend.

Another fun tale of Gubbio: they have their own symbol, which you see everywhere:

It's a sort of iron fleur-de-lis (giglio in Italian) on top of 5 stone mounds. Those represent the five hills the city was built on. It’s medieval branding at its finest: a proud little giglio perched on top, basically saying, we’re grounded in stone, but our identity rises above it.

A fun, very fairytale-esque story from Gubbio is the one about St Francis and the Wolf.

There was a time when a wolf was terrorizing Gubbio — attacking livestock, frightening villagers, keeping everyone inside after dark. The townspeople were desperate.

So when Francis of Assisi came to town, they begged him to do something.

Francis did what feels almost reckless: he walked outside the city gates alone to meet the wolf.

When the animal lunged, Francis made the sign of the cross and spoke to it gently, calling it “Brother Wolf.” He told the wolf that hunger had driven him to violence — and he told the townspeople that fear had hardened their hearts. Then he proposed a pact: the wolf would stop attacking, and the people of Gubbio would feed him.

Legend says the wolf placed his paw in Francis’s hand.

And for the rest of his life, the townspeople fed him. When the wolf eventually died, they mourned him.

It’s a story about peacemaking, yes — but also about something very Umbrian: the idea that even something wild can be met with compassion instead of force.

And in Gubbio, they don’t tell it like a fairy tale.

They tell it like it actually happened.

*   *    *

So what else happens in Gubbio? If you're there in springtime, perhaps you can catch the Corsa dei Ceri.

Every year on May 15th, Gubbio loses its mind — in the most gloriously organized way.

The Corsa dei Ceri is a medieval race that dates back to 1160. Three massive wooden “candles” (they’re actually 13-foot-tall wooden structures weighing around 900 pounds) are carried at a full sprint through the medieval streets and straight up Mount Ingino.

Each Cero represents a saint:

• Ubaldo Baldassini (yellow) — Gubbio’s patron saint

• George (blue)

• Anthony the Great (black)

The men who carry them — called ceraioli — run in coordinated teams, sweating, shouting, completely devoted. It’s not about winning (though don’t say that too loudly). It’s about honor, tradition, and belonging to something older than you.

It feels less like a festival and more like inherited adrenaline.

And here’s what I love most: it’s not staged for tourists. It’s for them. The families of Gubbio. The sons who grow up knowing which saint they’ll run for.

If you happen to be there, you don’t just watch it.

You feel it in your chest.

Finally, if you happen to be visiting Gubbio around Christmastime, you can see "The World's Biggest Tree." 

Every December, the hillside of Mount Ingino above Gubbio transforms into what’s officially recognized as the largest Christmas tree in the world.

And when I say tree, I don’t mean a tree.

I mean a 2,000-foot outline made of hundreds of lights stretching up the mountain, crowned with a glowing star at the top — visible for miles across Umbria. It was first created in 1981, and it’s so big it earned a spot in the Guinness World Records.

The “tree” isn’t cut down. It isn’t decorated. It’s drawn in light against the mountain itself — which feels very Gubbio: dramatic, a little theatrical, and completely committed.

Because of course this medieval stone town would decide that if it’s going to do Christmas… it’s going to do it on a mountain.

So I give Gubbio 2 thumbs up as a great medieval experience in Italy. Hans and I loved it:

And I have to thank our friend and guide Patrizia for the tour and the stories.

No really...what do I need to wear in Italy??

 I feel like this is the stereotypical topic that ALWAYS comes up when packing for a foreign country visit...or maybe that's just among us gals. Regardless, this question is as old as time.

Just what do I need to wear in Italy?

I feel like people have the general notion that when traveling to Italy, one must dress up and look fashionable. After all, Italians are known for their fashion.

Their carabinieri police have uniforms designed by Valentino. Their Olympic teams are always the best dressed in the Parade of Nations. You can probably name half a dozen Italian designers without even trying. Heck--even the Griswolds dressed up for the Italian leg of their European Vacation:

So do you need to go out shopping before you can even pack?

The short answer: no.

While Italians can definitely be fashionable, you likely aren't going to see crowds of people strutting around in Armani. For a couple of reasons. First--if you're visiting one of the more famous citta' d'arte like Florence or Rome, you're likely to encounter tourists from all over the world--not just highly fashionable Italians. And second--Italians are just people, too. And also like to wear jeans and tshirts and sneakers. 

I will say that Italians tend, as a general rule, to look more put together. They may be wearing jeans, but they were likely ironed that morning. Their shoes will probably be higher quality and better taken care of. They often wear the more fashionable muted colors like navy and black rather than loud, bright colors. And you rarely see an Italian male without his trusty foulard--a neckerchief meant to protect his neck from the dreaded colpa d'aria, or hit of air, that can strike even in the dead of summer!

So what if you want to try to blend in a bit more, and not look like one of the throngs of tourists?

Follow some simple rules:

-When in doubt, wear black. My brother swears by this, even in L.A.

-Wear comfortable shoes (read--avoid heels, ladies, if you'll be doing lots of walking. Cobblestones and stilettos don't mix.), but make them nice-looking comfortable shoes. Low boots. Nice, clean Stan Smiths. Leather loafers.

-For those of us who wear dresses: pack an abundance of sundresses in summer months. Not only will you stay cooler, but you automatically look more "put together!" Bonus--they take up less suitcase space. NOTE! Do pack a shawl you can throw in a purse. Some churches don't allow bare shoulders. 

-Italians are starting to wear more shorts, but it's not super common. They'll usually wear long pants, even in hot summer months. This is an example of where you may wish to forego style for comfort!

In short--wear what you want. Note this photo I took in Torino a few summers ago:

A couple of things stand out here. Note the long pants on everyone, despite the 90 degree+ heat. Nice shoes, clean sneakers (although that woman is taking her life in her hands with those heels! She clearly didn't read what I wrote about cobblestones). Other than that--no serious fashion on display! 

You do you. 

Have You Ever Thought About Umbria?

Have you ever even heard of it?

Most people haven't. I never had, but then ended up with my first real job in Italy there--as a tour guide, leading hiking tours through the Marche and Umbria regions. I haven't visited in some time--years, in fact, but I'm going back there in a few weeks to visit Gubbio--and that got me thinking about writing a bit about this beautiful, lesser-known region. 

Tucked right in the middle of Italy like the delicious filling in a panino, Umbria is often called the “green heart of Italy.” Unlike its trendier neighbor Tuscany, Umbria is like that effortlessly stylish cousin who always looks fantastic but never feels the need to flaunt it. This region has no coastline—shocking, I know—but it makes up for it with rolling hills, medieval hilltop towns, and lakes so pretty they practically beg to be painted. Lake Trasimeno, for example, isn’t just Italy’s fourth-largest lake; it’s also where Hannibal (yes, that Hannibal. No--not Lector) tricked the Romans in a battle. No biggie, just ancient history served with a side of scenic views.

One of my favorite cities in this region is Perugia, a city known for two things: ancient Etruscan walls and chocolate. Every October, Perugia hosts Eurochocolate, a festival so full of cocoa delights that you’ll leave wondering if there’s such a thing as too much chocolate (spoiler: there isn’t). I love it because it's gorgeously medieval, but also has a huge school of Italian for foreigners, which draws people from all over the world. So you can drop into any bar at night, run into people from all different countries, and strike up a conversation.

And let’s not forget Orvieto, which balances atop a volcanic rock like it’s showing off. It’s famous for its white wine, Orvieto Classico, so if you find yourself perched on a terrace overlooking the countryside, glass in hand, you’re doing Umbria right. Oh, and they’ve got a 72-meter-deep well built by a pope, probably just to prove they could dig all the way to Australia if they really wanted to.

Another charming little town is Spello. And in Spello,  flowers are practically VIP citizens. Known for its Infiorata festival, Spello takes floral art to the next level. Each June, the streets are transformed into an explosion of color as locals create elaborate flower carpets that would make even Monet jealous. The whole town smells like a giant bouquet, and walking through it feels like stepping into a living, breathing work of art. Even outside of the festival, Spello doesn’t hold back—every windowsill, balcony, and alley bursts with blossoms, making this charming medieval town one of the most photogenic spots in all of Umbria.

But I'm headed to Gubbio. This medieval gem has cobblestone streets so charming you’ll feel like you’ve time-traveled back to the Middle Ages, except with Wi-Fi. Gubbio is also home to the world’s largest Christmas tree—or rather, a massive hillside decorated with thousands of colored lights to resemble one. Our friend who's invited us there for a weekend sent a photo of it from her balcony, and it doesn't disappoint. Check it out--it's 750 meters high!

If you're feeling like Tuscany has become overrun with tourists (it has), or just want to experience something new in Italy--give Umbria a try! I promise you won't be disappointed.

Deck the Halls...or Churches!

This is a holiday post! 

And I may or may not be stealing this post from my other Blog: "Angie's Trekking the Globe." I'm feeling a bit Christmas-y these days, and I remembered this post that I wrote last year, when I spent some time in Italy in December.

I felt then, as I feel now, that Italians just innately know how to make things beautiful.

Like Christmas decorations. I've always thought they had a certain flair. In the cities, they always hang rows of lights above each street, and it's such a cool effect. In Torino, for instance, they have different lights designed by different artists, and each street has something different. Sometimes this results in things that look...a bit...perhaps...not so Christmasy, but certainly memorable.

Case in point:

I mean, what doesn't say "Merry Christmas" like naked people??

But last year, I saw something new.

They are now projecting lights onto buildings. But not just any lights. They're designed for the buildings so that the lights match the architecture. Like so:

That pretty much blew my mind.

I mean, how do they get it so perfect???

#goals

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire...

 Well, I know it's only October, but in Italy, that is castagne season! Castagne is the Italian word for "chestnuts," and between September and November is the peak time to collect them....or in other words, NOW!

Now we haven't had chestnuts in this country in a very long time, despite the popularity of the Christmas song. In fact, I wondered why I'd never had a chestnut as a child, and I never tasted one before going to Italy in the 90s.

And why is that?? 

Apparently, chestnuts are America’s great "almost food." We should have them, but Mother Nature threw a massive hissy fit back in the early 1900s and unleashed a chestnut-blasting fungal apocalypse. It wiped out billions of our beloved trees like a bad plot twist in a nature documentary. So now, chestnuts in the U.S. are kind of like unicorns—technically possible, but you'll have a hard time finding one in the wild.

Fast-forward to today, and we’re still importing most of our chestnuts or growing them on small farms with hybrid trees. They’re like that cool band that never quite made it big—people talk about them in cozy holiday songs, but in real life, most folks are still reaching for almonds or walnuts.

But not in Italy.

In Italy, during the cold months, you can smell their enticing aroma coming from every city corner in Italy—it’s like stepping into a warm, buttery postcard from a simpler time. Picture this: you're strolling down a cobblestone street, dodging Vespas, and suddenly, you catch a whiff of something smoky, nutty, and downright irresistible. You follow the scent like a cartoon character floating through the air, and there it is—a little cart with a weathered Italian nonno roasting chestnuts over a fire.

The chestnuts themselves? Hotter than an August afternoon in Rome, so naturally you burn your fingertips trying to crack one open. But once you finally get it—oh, mamma mia. It’s sweet, earthy, and just the right amount of toasty. The perfect snack to keep you going between your cappuccino and your next gelato.

It’s one of those Italian experiences that makes you feel like you’ve wandered into a scene from a 1950s movie, except with fewer sunglasses and more fumbling with change. But hey, that’s part of the charm—because in Italy, even snacks are served with a side of nostalgia.

Now you can also go collect them from the woods yourself, and I remember the first time I headed into the forest with a group of my friends from Pinerolo, stocked with shears and paring knives, looking for fresh chestnuts that had fallen from the trees. I remember thinking--man, 20-year-olds in the States would be doing something totally different on a Sunday afternoon. Likely something involving playing video games or nursing that hangover or dropping the little cash you have at the mall. But not in Italy. We were out in nature, collecting chestnuts, building a fire on the spot, scoring the chestnuts with our knives and roasting and eating them right there.

It's actually something I haven't done in years, and as I sit here writing this from my living room in the Detroit suburbs, I want nothing more than to be back in those woods on a crisp fall day, burning my fingers and lips on freshly roasted chestnuts.

I Hate Camping, Too, But...

 I swear to you. The Italian campeggio is like nothing you've ever experienced in the States. Or at least nothing like I have ever experienced. Not that I've experienced a lot. I'm not much of a camper.

But I have to share this tip with you, friends, because the Italian campground is a little-known secret (outside of Europe) that I only discovered THIS summer. After decades of traveling to this country!

To humor my boyfriend, Hans, I pretended enthusiasm with his idea to go on an RV trip to the south of France. I figured a long weekend in a camper wouldn't kill me--perhaps just torture me a little (I should know; I used to own one, strangely). Long story short, the RV trip fell through, but we still wanted a little getaway somewhere, and Hans told me he'd really love to get a little bungalow on the beach. I sort of snickered, thinking that this was just a dream, but not really the type of thing you find in Italy. But he was serious. 

"Look at campgrounds," he said. "They usually have that sort of thing."

"CAMPGROUNDS??" I exclaimed. I thought I'd just dodged a bullet with the RV trip, and here he was talking campgrounds! But I was still in the mood to humor him, and started Googling beachfront campgrounds with bungalows. I figured I wouldn't find anything, and we'd settle on a nice 5 star hotel. Or at least 4 star. To my surprise, however, there were some. Several, in fact, and I began to get curious.

I ended up booking a very nice looking place in Talamone--which is a Tuscan beachfront village in the Maremma--a beautiful little town in its own right.

To my surprise, Italian campgrounds are more like resorts than what I'd consider camping. And obviously, they run the gamut from rustic to almost luxurious, but they tend to cater to families, with lots of activities and amenities.

Our campground had multiple pools, a beachfront bar, a restaurant, supermarket, and lots of staff running activities day and night. And it wasn't just tents and campers. You could book just a plot of land and throw down your tent, but they also had "glamping" tents with air conditioners in them and then a variety of bungalows that were fully stocked houses.

Ours was a small villa with a full kitchen, air conditioning, and a great deck with a view of the sea. 

The beautiful campground pool:

View from the beach bar:

I only wish I'd discovered these campgrounds years ago when my kids were small. We traveled with other families, and were always looking for places where we could all stay together and our kids could run around and play without bothering anyone. These would have been the perfect solution!

If you want to recreate my trip, we stayed at the Gitavillage Talamone. I highly recommend it.