I don't have a mailbox in Paris, where the concierge sorts the mailbag on her dining room table, and drops it on the tile floor in front of my door every morning with a thump...

During my house swap in Italy this month, I have enjoyed the daily ritual of collecting the mail. Having my own borrowed Italian mailbox has naturally made me curious about what the neighbors have going, and checking out mailboxes attached to wooden doors or hung on nearby stone walls in front of homes in San Casciano, and in nearby towns and cities in Tuscany where I have visited and strolled, has become somewhat of a reflex. Studying the Tuscan mailbox has been like trying a different Chianti at each meal -- a small pleasurable exercise in subtle variation, and one of the defining details that remind me I am elsewhere.

- Kristin Hohenadel blogging from rue Vieille du Temple, Paris, France. She can be reached at kristinh @ apartmenttherapy . com