Friuli-Venezia Giulia—a land where Italian charm, Slavic soul, and Austrian precision converge… only to make way for one exceptionally discerning cat. From Roman ruins where she effortlessly assumed imperial status to coastal towns where fishmongers quivered at her approach, Gigia’s dainty pawprints now adorn every corner of this eclectic region.
This cultural crossroads overflows with historical treasures, natural wonders, and gastronomic delights. Gigia’s wanderlust carried her from ancient Roman amphitheaters to Cerdevol Curnila’s cascading waterfalls, from Trieste’s adrenaline-charged Barcolana regatta to the timeless serenity of Grado’s age-old chapels. Whether critically appraising Udine Cathedral’s murals (undoubtedly judging the artist’s technique), presiding over Caffè degli Specchi’s lively terrace (where she plainly anticipated a throne), or basking in the Adriatic’s golden light, this petite feline demonstrated that even the grandest adventures demand a cat’s refined touch.
Who could have guessed such a cultured traveler came wrapped in fur?
Aquileia (UD)
Aquileia (UD)
"Once Rome's VIP city, now MY playground"
The honey-gold morning light pooled between Aquileia's ancient stones as Gigia slinked past the Basilica, her tail flicking with imperial boredom. "Another basilica?" She sniffed at the UNESCO sign. Humans and their floor tile obsession. But those Roman columns—now those were worthy of her attention. With one fluid leap, she ascended her new throne, striking a pose that screamed "I could've run this empire better." Below, tourists gasped and scrambled for their phones. "Observe closely, mortals," her smirk seemed to say. This is how you command respect across millennia.
So what if some "no pets" rule kept her from the mosaics inside? Please. Gigia had napped in grander cathedrals. "Their loss," she mused from her column-top perch, licking a paw with deliberate nonchalance. "I've seen better gold leaf in Venice." Aquileia would forever remember: Every empire falls. Catitude is forever..
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Grado (GO)
Grado (GO)
They call it the "Sun Island," but Gigia knows the truth: Grado is actually a giant, floating cat bed with excellent lighting. Between golden beaches made for lesser creatures (sand? In her paws?) and a postcard-perfect old town, this Adriatic gem is famous for boreto alla graisana—a fish stew Gigia fully intended to judge until she discovered something far more fascinating: churches that double as art galleries and napping sanctuaries.
The Basilica of Sant'Eufemia’s mosaics held her attention for a full seven minutes (a record outside of mealtime), while Santa Maria delle Grazie’s serenity was "acceptable, though lacking throw pillows." As sunlight filtered through ancient windows, she assumed the pose of a feline mystic receiving visions—or possibly just calculating how to steal a saint’s gilded halo.
Her waterfront promenade was less "stroll" and more "royal inspection of peasant beach activities." The Adriatic sparkled obligingly as she declined to step on sand ("Beneath my dignity"), opting instead to admire the view from a pristine bench—the perfect vantage point to ignore seagulls and contemplate lunch.
Ah, lunch. The tragic twist in our tale: winter Sundays in Grado mean every restaurant is fuller than a cat’s ego. As humans sighed at closed doors, Gigia demonstrated profound wisdom: "Why weep for fish stew when you can demand tribute elsewhere?" (Her method: sitting directly on guidebooks until snacks appeared.)
In the end, Grado proved the perfect destination—not for its famed seafood, but for teaching us that true enlightenment comes from chasing sunbeams in sacred spaces... and loudly reminding everyone who’s really in charge of the itinerary.
Palmanova (UD)
Palmanova (UD)
They called it an "impenetrable Renaissance fortress," but Gigia knew better—this nine-pointed star was clearly designed as her personal throne room. As the only creature allowed to break Palmanova's perfect symmetry (by sitting dramatically off-centre in the Piazza Grande), she conducted her royal inspection with typical feline disregard for military history.
The Cathedral of Palmanova erupted in applause upon her arrival—as well it should when hosting a living masterpiece. (The bishop may have called it "a choir rehearsal," but we know the truth.) Meanwhile, the town’s fan fair offered a pretend carriage ride—a concept Gigia found both baffling ("Why pretend when I deserve the real thing?") and strangely satisfying, especially when adoring subjects lined up to photograph her regal perch.
As she processed down radial streets designed to confuse invaders, Gigia demonstrated their true purpose: showcasing her profile from nine mathematically perfect angles. The star-shaped walls? Merely a frame for her star-quality presence. The strategic defences? Useless against her most potent weapon—the "I live here now" stare directed at gelato vendors.
By sunset, Palmanova’s UNESCO status had quietly updated to include "Home of the Fluffiest Conqueror." As for Gigia? She left pondering life’s great questions: If a fortress falls to a cat’s charm, does it make a sound? And where’s my golden carriage?
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Pordenone (PN)
Pordenone (PN)
This elegant town, with its Venetian arcades and prestigious Dedica Film Festival, won Gigia's heart—though her most enthusiastic purrs were reserved for the red carpet (a star is born, Tilda). Yet beyond the cultured piazzas, Pordenone reveals its wilder soul to those in the know.
Connoisseurs of natural beauty understand that past the city’s confines lie hidden gems: crystalline waterfalls tumbling into emerald pools like nature’s champagne, mountain streams so pure you can drink straight from them, and the magical Pozze Smeraldino—nature’s own infinity pools, where Gigia’s innate radar spotted a drone hovering like an inquisitive mechanical bird. The charming gateway to this paradise? Tramonti di Sopra, where the air smells of pine and adventure
Here, when summer temperatures soared to a sweltering 38°C, Gigia discovered the perfect retreat. The Prealpi's jagged limestone sentinels stood guard over valleys offering cool respite, while those secret swimming holes became her personal oasis. She approached the terrain with the boldness of a seasoned explorer and the focus of...well, a cat who's spotted a butterfly.
Hay bales became personal Everests, mountain streams turned into her private tasting menu, and sun-warmed rocks served as five-star lounging spots - as if she'd invented relaxation itself.
As truffle-scented breezes danced along trails winding toward the Dolomites, Pordenone revealed its magic: adventure becomes irresistible when paired with the possibility of "stray" prosciutto at a countryside osteria. Some might attribute her success to fortune. Gigia knows better—it's simply what happens when sublime scenery meets sublime feline judgment.
After all, in Pordenone, nature doesn't just impress—it performs. And every great performance deserves its diva, especially one who knows all the best backstage refreshment spots.
Sacile (PN)
Sacile (PN)
They call it the "Garden of the Serenissima" - a town where pastel palaces rise like visions from the Livenza River's gentle currents. Gigia approved immediately. What better stage for a feline of her distinction than this watercolour tableau of Venetian grace?
The river's reflections held her attention longest, those shimmering patterns that might (just might) reveal the flash of silver scales beneath the surface. She conducted her observations from prime waterfront terraces, where humans sipped prosecco and she practiced her most regal profile against the backdrop of centuries-old arcades.
Sacile's famous monthly vintage market offered rich sensory delights - the scent of aged wood, the texture of woven linens, the satisfying clink of glassware that absolutely needed investigating. Though no historic treasures quite matched her standards ("No gilded scratching posts? A missed opportunity," her disdainful blink seemed to say).
As afternoon light gilded the water, Gigia settled into perfect contentment. Here, where history and liquid elegance intertwined, even a restless explorer could find harmony - watching boats glide by, admiring the play of light on stone, and silently reminding every passing fish of their good fortune that day.
San Daniele del Fruili (UD)
San Daniele del Fruili (UD)
The crown jewel of Friuli’s hill towns is famous for its prosciutto, but Gigia discovered its real treasure: a cathedral that doubles as the world’s most elegant sunbeam collector. As golden light filtered through San Michele Arcangelo’s windows, she conducted her sacred duty—testing every patch of warmth with scientific precision. (“This spot? 8/10. That one by the altar? Divine.”)
The frescoed ceilings earned her rare feline approval. (“Finally,” her expression seemed to say, “art worthy of my gaze.”) Though whether she admired the brushwork or simply calculated how to reach those tempting ledges remains a theological debate. Meanwhile, the town’s sleepy piazzas became her personal runway—each café table inspected, each prosciutto-scented breeze thoroughly analyzed.
San Daniele’s magic lies in its contradictions: ancient artistry meets slow-living joy, human gastronomy meets feline gravity studies (“If I knock this breadbasket over, how fast will they bring prosciutto to appease me?”). By sunset, even the cathedral cats (yes, they exist) nodded respect as she claimed the prime sunset-viewing step—proving that while ham may draw visitors, it’s the play of light on ancient stones that truly feeds the soul.
Trieste (TS)
Trieste (TS)
For Gigia, Trieste wasn’t just a city—it was a stage where she starred as both literary celebrity and Habsburg-era aristocrat. Two venues rolled out the red carpet: Coin Excelsior, where she held court for her book Il Dono di Gigia, and Trattoria Al Collio, where three generations of chefs treated her like the descendant of Empress Sissi’s favorite mouser. (Who needs velvet cushions when you can dine on linen napkins?)
This crossroads of empires dazzled with its coffee-scented piazzas and the Barcolana regatta’s sail-filled spectacle—though Gigia considered the latter merely adequate background entertainment. ("200 boats? Adorable. I once supervised seven pigeons simultaneously.") The city’s famed buffet restaurants offered culinary fusion; she offered regal indifference. (Let historians debate Austrian-Italian cuisine; her focus was on perfecting balcony poses at Piazza Unità d’Italia.)
Amid the Barcolana’s chaos, Gigia glided along Molo Audace with runway-ready poise, her tail a metronome of confidence. At the Fountain of the Four Continents, she conducted a staring contest with marble deities (interrupted only by those pigeons—"a strategic disengagement," she insists). And when Caffè degli Specchi’s patrons became her impromptu fan club? Naturally, she accepted their admiration as tribute.
Trieste proved the perfect backdrop for her brand of exploration—where every cobblestone echoed with empire-sized history, and every café table doubled as a throne. Though she’ll admit: the real magic was watching humans fetch her water while she pretended not to notice their cappuccinos. (A queen never drinks from saucers.)
Udine (UD)
Udine (UD)
As the cultural heart of Friuli, Udine serves equal portions of visual splendor and gastronomic delight—a fact not lost on its most discerning visitor. Between Venetian palazzos, Tiepolo’s celestial frescoes, and Friulano wine so good it should be illegal, the city wears its artistry like silk. Even the Duomo di Udine gave Gigia pause—though whether she marveled at its gilded altarpiece or simply judged the angels’ snack-holding potential remains an open theological question.
Naturally, she staged her own masterpiece: a cathedral selfie radiating faux-devotion, her emerald eyes cutting through the candlelit gloom like Renaissance jewels. ("Tiepolo’s blues are nice," her expression whispered, "but have you seen my greens against this marble?")
Outside, Christmas worked its magic—the piazzas bubbled with festive cheer, cicchetti crumbs rained like edible confetti, and Gigia, ever the iconoclast, ignored the famed prosciutto to conduct crowd-hypnosis experiments. (Why chase cured meats when you can make tourists coo on command?)
By nightfall, Udine had revealed its secret: this city doesn’t just showcase art—it inspires new performances. And Gigia? She delivered a command exhibition of feline theatrics, from Baroque poses to alleyway encores, her emerald gaze the only relic worth worshipping.
#TiepoloButMakeItFeline #DuomoDiva #EmeraldEyedEmpress
P.S. The angels’ golden halos? Cute attempt. But everyone knows green-eyed goddesses outshine them all.
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Others
Vito d'Asio (PN)
Vito d'Asio (PN)
The quaint commune of Vito d’Asio (PN) in Friuli-Venezia Giulia lured us in with its hidden treasure: Cerdevol Curnila, a natural paradise carved by the Arzino River. Known for its emerald waters and serene pools, this tranquil oasis promised refreshment—though Gigia had loftier priorities. Why swim when you can lounge like royalty?
Nestled in the breathtaking Val d’Arzino, between the charming villages of Pielungo and San Francesco, Cerdevol is nature’s masterpiece—a place of crystal-clear pools and smooth silver boulders, perfect for a dip… or, in Gigia’s case, a sunbathing session worthy of a tiny queen.
While humans splashed in the water, she claimed the finest rock, basking in dappled sunlight with the air of a monarch surveying her domain. The riverbank became her runway—prancing with kittenish energy, whiskers twitching at every new scent, yet never once surrendering her paws to the water. ("You call that fun?" her expression seemed to say.)
Cerdevol Curnila is where nature’s magic shines brightest—and Gigia’s presence added feline flair to its enchantment. Whether you seek a refreshing swim, a peaceful stroll, or simply a moment of serenity, this corner of Vito d’Asio delivers. And for one particular cat? It was proof that true luxury requires nothing more than sunshine, a soft boulder, and an audience to admire her.
Cerdevol Curnila is located near the village of Pielungo Latitude: 46.2807° N Longitude: 12.9376° E