"I don't feel like I have a relationship with Rome", I said last night as I talked to a dear friend on the phone. It's grand, it's rich in history and culture, it's exciting, and I also feel as though I am "sight-seeing" again, rather than simply living and being in Europe. Alex, from Israel, who I mentioned in a previous post, described his experience of travelling and sight-seeing as simply a background for the greater spiritual experience of simply day-to-day living in all of these places. Resonance. For me, I certainly think it's okay that this balance fluctuates; at times, "sight-seeing" is indeed in the foreground, but at other times, I do want for it to fade more into the background of the more personal journey that this trip entails. In Cinque Terre, I felt I had struck a really beautiful balance with all of this, seeing the sights I wanted to see, while feeling really connected with myself, with others, and what I saw as my purpose for being on this trip. Perhaps these types of connections come more naturally to me when I am in smaller settings and next to water, and I can imagine they fluctuate with simple day-to-day living as well. And so, I search for this in Rome.
Without a doubt, the highlight of Rome thus far has been meeting up with Brooke and Andrew, a couple from Australia who I met in Cinque Terre, and who are now also staying at a hostel in Rome not far from my own. On Tuesday night we met for some wine, and three hours of conversation easily flew by, as we talked about life and travels, and as Brooke and I entertained the flirting of several waiters. Italy. Yesterday, I was thrilled to be able to make the trip to Vatican City with them, and not only because their presence ensured that I got out of bed a good hour or two earlier than I would have had I been left to my own devices. Caring, fun, incredibly geuine, and bubbly, I have been so grateful for their company, their thoughtful questions and listening, and the laughs we have shared.
We met at the subway at 8am in order to "beat the queue" (it's not unusual to stand at the entrance to the Vatican Museum for 3 hours), and our strategy, well, Andrew's strategy really, worked beautifully. The maze of the Vatican Museums is rather confusing; there are a number of different routes you can take through the complex, which range in time spent from 45 minutes to 5 hours, and all end at the Sistine Chapel. We managed to figure out a middle-of-the-road kind of route, gazed upon lots of statuary, and yes, finished the tour by straining our necks with hundreds of others, staring up at Michelangelo's masterpiece. Truly remarkable, I must admit that I found the whole thing a bit anti-climactic, I think perhaps because of how crowded the chapel was. Similiar to the gorgeous duomo in Siena, there were annoucements over the loudspeakers reminding people to be silent and that photos were not permitted, and in addition, guards yelling "Siliencio!" and "No photo!" at regular intervals. I think this comes up against my desire for the "whole" experience, whatever that is. :) But yes, also beautiful
As we walked into St. Peter's Square, it struck me how normal my life as a traveller has become to me, as suddenly the significance of this place where I was standing, historically, culturally, struck me. I was reminded to still take time to "steep" in these moments, lest I forget that I am walking through Rome! On Wednesday mornings the pope gives a little wave from his high-up window, but we did not secure tickets in time for this, and so visited the Square post-wave. Similiar to the Sistine Chapel, the Bascilica was absolutely remarkable, and also very crowded. As I walked around this church, which has the largest interior of any Christian church in the world (will hold 60 000 people), and which was the burial site for St. Peter himself, I imagined what it would be like to roam the aisles, arches, and gaze at the art, in utter solitude, or perhaps with only a few others. We climbed the 500+ stairs to the top of the cupola for a beautiful (and again, highly crowded) view over the Vatican and the rest of Rome. And, we noted that the Pope gets a lot more green space than anyone else in the city...
I have also wandered the Collosseum and Roman Forum, which were fascinating. I wondered what it would be like to know more about the history and anthropology of all of this, so as to have a greater appreciation of all that I was seeing...But, quite incredible to be standing in a structure that was first opened in AD 80. And, it just may be true that I have been flirted with more in the last week or so, than in my lifetime. Or at the very least, more than a great deal of my lifetime...
With regards to my relationship with Rome, another friend offered that perhaps I am just not a big city girl, and this just might be the case, at least at the present day. I like the idea of the excitement of a big city, but in reality, I think I do feel more at home in smaller settings. I have no doubt there are things for me to learn in both places; it just may be that my task in Rome is to try to cultivate a sense of serenity and Connection, even while I am avoiding being run over by motorcycles, or while I am listening to guards yell "Silencio". In the spirit of embracing inner-Liz who loves being by water, my next stop will be the small village of Positano, on the Amalfi Coast (south of Naples - a UNESCO protected stretch of coastline that is known to be incredibly beautiful and rugged), where I will soak in some more sun, perhaps swim without fear of jellyfish, and do some more journalling while gazing out at the ocean.
For one of the first times on this trip, the decision as to where to head next has been causing me stress. It sounds a bit ridiculous when I say it out loud I suppose, that I'm stressed as to whether I should head to Amalfi, Sicily, Sardinia, or Switzerland. I know this is a beautiful decision to have to make, and the experience of feeling a bit paralyzed at the thought of making it has been interesting for me. I am endeavouring to view it as another opportunity to be wary of the "shoulds" and to tune into my intuition. I think, that despite the fact that I had originally imagined mysef heading to either Sicily or Sardinia (and so now can rationalize that I really "should" head there, since I have wanted to for quite some time), I am feeling as though I am almost ready to move on from Italy. Not ready enough to leave tomorrow, hence the few days on the Amalfi Coast. But, when I opened up my Lonely Planet book a few days ago and read about Sardinia, and then about Switzerland, it was Switzerland that created a deep sense of excitement, certainly not from a place of "should"....
And so, I set off today, yes, too see some more sights, but also to find a great cafe, in order to spend some time finding myself in the midst of this crazy city, throwing off the need to "see it all" and just be present in Rome.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
"The salad is delicious" "Mmm...delicious...just like you..."
The surprise prolonged stay in Tuscany, in order to stay at "Ostello 5 Terre" in Manrola, within Cinque Terre National Park, was for good good reason. I think my two days in Lucca prepared me for the slower pace of life by the sea, prepared me to fully soak in my four days with the ocean on one side of me, mountains and vineyards on the other. Impossible to capture in words, both the beauty of my surroundings, and also the beauty in connecting with others stands out from these four days, as well as a feeling of finding my travel groove once again. Of course, the quirks of being solo-traveller-Liz are always added to the mix. I experienced a great deal of sadness upon leaving today, and imagined that if reservations didn't need to be made a week in advance, I would have stayed a bit longer at my little by-the-sea version of paradise. "They" say a picture is worth a thousand words (in my case, it's likely worth at least two thousand):
Yup, that was my home for the past 4 days. Cinque Terre is a National Park along the northwest coast (Ligurian Sea) of Italy, and includes five landmark small coastal villages (Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, Monterosso). A 9km trail links these villages, and there is also a large network of trails through the surrounding hilly countryside (largely vineyards and olive groves). Rugged coastline, lush vineyards, colourful villages perched on cliffs, turquoise sea. Absolutely stunning.
I had been anticipating this hike for months, and so on my first full day, I woke up in good time in order to set out. I hopped down off my bunkbed, rummaged through my moneybelt for the key to my padlock... Nope...Looked on the shelf beside my bed...Nope...Wearing pyjamas, the only items not locked inside my locker were my novel, cellphone, creditcard, and passport: not exactly the necessities for a day of strenuous hiking. "Liz, is it possible that you have managed to stash all 3 of your locker keys in various places INSIDE your locker?" Entirely possible. Determined to laugh at myself, rather than stress about whether or not my hike would actually be able to happen (I need my shoes...camera...bra...), I visited the wonderful Niccola at the front desk, and was promptly handed a giant pair of bolt cutters, with a smile and a reassuring, "This happens all the time". I was on my way.
The entire coastal trail, including two substantial (substantially steep and substantially gorgeous) detours took a good 8 hours, including a stop to lie on a fairly secluded (and fairly nude) beach and go for a swim. Alyssa, from Boston, who I had met the night before at dinner, offered to walk with me to the start of the trail, and then decided, as we were immersed in conversation, that she would just come along for the hike (despite the fact that she had done the entire thing yesterday)! Alyssa and I had met trying to figure out how to work our 5 minute shower coins, and conversation was easy, fun, intense, and a bit more boisterous than is normal for me. ;) We exchanged stories about travel and romance as we climbed the steep hillside at the start of our trail and passed workers harvesting grapes; I was grateful for her vibrant company. After climbing a few hundred metres, the view, surrounded by vineyards, with the bright blue sea below, was breathtaking. A sense of being on top of the world...
We met Oli, from Britain, about two hours into the hike, and he joined us for the next several hours, providing sharp wit, genuine kindness, and the ability to scale rock faces in order to pick the fruit of the prickly pear cactus for these two North American women. In between the villages of Corniglia and Vernazza, Alyssa felt moved to follow a sign that led off the main trail ("Beach. 20 minutes" - if it's 20 minutes straight down, how long will it take to get back up?), which led us to the aforementioned swimming spot. The water was gorgeous, clear, cool, and my fear of jellyfish was heightened with each moment that passed (and so I didn't last for too long in the water). When we reached Vernazza (Village 4 of 5), Oli and Alyssa opted to stay for dinner, rather than complete the last portion of the trail. I was truly enjoying their company, and also noticed my intuition telling me to take some time for me, reminding me of how long I had been looking forward to this hike (with the knowledge that the weather forecast for the next two days was iffy). I was also pretty sure there was sexual tension between Oli and Alyssa, confirmed by an email I received from Alyssa the following day..... :)
And so, I walked this final (and also most strenuous and rugged) 2 hour stretch on my own at dusk, taking time to pause at beautiful lookouts, filled with gratitude for my surroudings and the gift of being present there. At this time of day the trail was much less busy, and the time on my own was absolutely filling-up for this spirit. As if on cue, the rain started just as I arrived in Monterosso. After grabbing a quick panini, I took the train back to the hostel, legs feeling like mush, and spirit filled to the brim. As I tucked myself into bed that night, in pulling down the covers, what did I find, but a small silver key.... :)
My other days in Cinque Terre occured at a much slower pace, and yet there are still far too many memories to possibly include here. Memories such as...
...Meeting Bilbo, from South Africa, just hours before I left for Cinque Terre: enjoying her effervescence, humour, and authenticity, and wishing we had met hours earlier...
...Arriving by train from inland: after being in a tunnel for a while, suddenly emerging and seeing nothing but blue sea and blue sky to the west - the train tracks were literally on the last sliver of land before the water began.
...Receiving the jellyfish warning from Niccola at the front desk upon my arrival: I was assured assured that a sting from "the purple kind" wouldn't kill me, but would perhaps make me feel like I was going to drown from the pain. After getting settled in, and then making my way down to the water, I found myself amidst many other tourists, who also were wanting to swim and thus were peering nervously into the clear water. I joined forces with an American family who were watching for jellies with carefulness, the clarity of the water allowing us to see straight to the bottom - white rocks, many schools of fish, and yes, the occasional jelly. Looking out for one another, the routine was that everyone would look in the water carefully, and when the coast was clear, someone would jump in, and then get out immediately. Repeat for the next person. I was successful in 4 jumps/rapid swims back the edge - pure refreshment, and an adrenaline rush, all at the same time.
...Three breathtaking sunsets: these were all completely different, in terms of colour, cloud formation, and reflection on the water. Not normally visible during the day, the setting sun lights up the coast (French) across this huge bay, and watching the sun sink into its hills is truly incredible.
...Dinner at "Trattoria dal Billy" on Saturday night: This is a popular local spot, one which normally requires a reservation. My decision to take myself out for a nice meal was spontaneous, and I decided to show up right at 6pm, figuring the real Europeans wouldn't be having dinner until at least 7:30. I made my way onto the patio, to the only seat without a "reserved" sign, and which also happened to have a view of the sunset over the sea. After sitting for about 15 minutes, Eduardo peeked his head around the corner, "Do you have a reservation?" I looked around at the empty tables around me (I was still the only one at the restaurant) and assured him that I would eat quickly. "No, no, take your time. You are lucky, we are full! Mama Mia!" he exclaimed, trying to appear frustrated, though clearly somewhat amused or intrigued at me, as he made his way back up the stairs. And so I sat on my solitary patio, watching the glorious sunset, drinking local Cinque Terre wine, and eating the best meal I have had in Italy yet - a fresh spinach pasta with mussels and zucchini. The meal was enhanced by the presence of Eduardo, now fully enjoying the company of this solitary North American woman sitting on his patio:
"How is your salad?" (peering around the corner once again so that I could only see his head)
"Delicious"
"Mmm...Delcious. Just like you"
...My two Australian roomates, and the night that one of them didn't come home: The next evening, I heard the details of her love-making with an apparently gorgeous Italian man, and learned of another context in which "Mama Mia" is exclaimed in Italian culture. We decided that this really should be included in the tourist books: "Don't be alarmed if..."
...The fabulous Ostello (Hostel) 5 Terre, with bolt cutters at the ready, delicious organic food, a fabulous social/eco conscience, and the warm and gentle team of Niccola and Riccardo working the front desk. This morning, when I walked down the stairs with my sheets, ready to check out, Riccardo looked forlorn: "It is a sad day". He then told another guest that I had been "the nicest guest of the week". It seems possible that Riccardo has a little crush on me, as I left today with his personal email address... :)
Last night, as I watched my last sunset in Manarola, there was a woman sitting alone, quite close to me, also watching the sunset. I felt drawn in by her somehow, interested in her story; we exchanged a friendly smile before she left. Later that night, back at the hostel, we crossed paths in the hallway, and exchanged another warm smile, recognizing each other from our lookout spot. Finally, this morning, she was sitting alone when I entered the dining hall for breakfast, and so I asked to sit with her. I felt an instant connection with Reidun-Helen, from Bergen, Norway, as we began to talk about the experience of traveling alone. She mentioned her painting several times, and so I inquired about this: "Well, I paint just for me, not to sell them or anything. I actually use art for..therapy. I am an art therapist". Most familiar with the hesitancy she said this with (the same way that I would say, "I am a music therapist" when sitting at breakfast with a stranger at 8am), I laughed, said, "Of course you are!" and explained. My intuition was certainly correct - a true kindred spirit.
As I travel more and more on my own, I am learning a lot about balance in many different forms. Over this past week, I have been reminded of the importance of my solitary time (with the desire to really soak in this and embrace it) while also acknowledging that I thrive on deep, meaningful, and intense connection with others. I am discovering how to balance both of these, while listening to my intuition, so that I can know when I need one or the other. I have been blessed with so many opportunities for both.
Oh yes, and I am writing this from Rome! More about that another time....
I will leave you with a link to a beautiful video about solitude that the lovely Jackie, from Chicago (who I met in Florence), shared with me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs
I am getting better at this (solitude, that is).
And, I send my love. xo
 |
| The village of Manarola, at sunset |
I had been anticipating this hike for months, and so on my first full day, I woke up in good time in order to set out. I hopped down off my bunkbed, rummaged through my moneybelt for the key to my padlock... Nope...Looked on the shelf beside my bed...Nope...Wearing pyjamas, the only items not locked inside my locker were my novel, cellphone, creditcard, and passport: not exactly the necessities for a day of strenuous hiking. "Liz, is it possible that you have managed to stash all 3 of your locker keys in various places INSIDE your locker?" Entirely possible. Determined to laugh at myself, rather than stress about whether or not my hike would actually be able to happen (I need my shoes...camera...bra...), I visited the wonderful Niccola at the front desk, and was promptly handed a giant pair of bolt cutters, with a smile and a reassuring, "This happens all the time". I was on my way.
 |
| Bolt cutters and a broken lock |
We met Oli, from Britain, about two hours into the hike, and he joined us for the next several hours, providing sharp wit, genuine kindness, and the ability to scale rock faces in order to pick the fruit of the prickly pear cactus for these two North American women. In between the villages of Corniglia and Vernazza, Alyssa felt moved to follow a sign that led off the main trail ("Beach. 20 minutes" - if it's 20 minutes straight down, how long will it take to get back up?), which led us to the aforementioned swimming spot. The water was gorgeous, clear, cool, and my fear of jellyfish was heightened with each moment that passed (and so I didn't last for too long in the water). When we reached Vernazza (Village 4 of 5), Oli and Alyssa opted to stay for dinner, rather than complete the last portion of the trail. I was truly enjoying their company, and also noticed my intuition telling me to take some time for me, reminding me of how long I had been looking forward to this hike (with the knowledge that the weather forecast for the next two days was iffy). I was also pretty sure there was sexual tension between Oli and Alyssa, confirmed by an email I received from Alyssa the following day..... :)
 |
| Alyssa and me overlooking the village of Vernazza |
My other days in Cinque Terre occured at a much slower pace, and yet there are still far too many memories to possibly include here. Memories such as...
...Meeting Bilbo, from South Africa, just hours before I left for Cinque Terre: enjoying her effervescence, humour, and authenticity, and wishing we had met hours earlier...
...Arriving by train from inland: after being in a tunnel for a while, suddenly emerging and seeing nothing but blue sea and blue sky to the west - the train tracks were literally on the last sliver of land before the water began.
...Receiving the jellyfish warning from Niccola at the front desk upon my arrival: I was assured assured that a sting from "the purple kind" wouldn't kill me, but would perhaps make me feel like I was going to drown from the pain. After getting settled in, and then making my way down to the water, I found myself amidst many other tourists, who also were wanting to swim and thus were peering nervously into the clear water. I joined forces with an American family who were watching for jellies with carefulness, the clarity of the water allowing us to see straight to the bottom - white rocks, many schools of fish, and yes, the occasional jelly. Looking out for one another, the routine was that everyone would look in the water carefully, and when the coast was clear, someone would jump in, and then get out immediately. Repeat for the next person. I was successful in 4 jumps/rapid swims back the edge - pure refreshment, and an adrenaline rush, all at the same time.
...Three breathtaking sunsets: these were all completely different, in terms of colour, cloud formation, and reflection on the water. Not normally visible during the day, the setting sun lights up the coast (French) across this huge bay, and watching the sun sink into its hills is truly incredible.
 |
| Day 1 |
 |
| Day 3 |
 |
| Day 4 |
"How is your salad?" (peering around the corner once again so that I could only see his head)
"Delicious"
"Mmm...Delcious. Just like you"
 |
| mmmm..... |
...The fabulous Ostello (Hostel) 5 Terre, with bolt cutters at the ready, delicious organic food, a fabulous social/eco conscience, and the warm and gentle team of Niccola and Riccardo working the front desk. This morning, when I walked down the stairs with my sheets, ready to check out, Riccardo looked forlorn: "It is a sad day". He then told another guest that I had been "the nicest guest of the week". It seems possible that Riccardo has a little crush on me, as I left today with his personal email address... :)
Last night, as I watched my last sunset in Manarola, there was a woman sitting alone, quite close to me, also watching the sunset. I felt drawn in by her somehow, interested in her story; we exchanged a friendly smile before she left. Later that night, back at the hostel, we crossed paths in the hallway, and exchanged another warm smile, recognizing each other from our lookout spot. Finally, this morning, she was sitting alone when I entered the dining hall for breakfast, and so I asked to sit with her. I felt an instant connection with Reidun-Helen, from Bergen, Norway, as we began to talk about the experience of traveling alone. She mentioned her painting several times, and so I inquired about this: "Well, I paint just for me, not to sell them or anything. I actually use art for..therapy. I am an art therapist". Most familiar with the hesitancy she said this with (the same way that I would say, "I am a music therapist" when sitting at breakfast with a stranger at 8am), I laughed, said, "Of course you are!" and explained. My intuition was certainly correct - a true kindred spirit.
As I travel more and more on my own, I am learning a lot about balance in many different forms. Over this past week, I have been reminded of the importance of my solitary time (with the desire to really soak in this and embrace it) while also acknowledging that I thrive on deep, meaningful, and intense connection with others. I am discovering how to balance both of these, while listening to my intuition, so that I can know when I need one or the other. I have been blessed with so many opportunities for both.
Oh yes, and I am writing this from Rome! More about that another time....
I will leave you with a link to a beautiful video about solitude that the lovely Jackie, from Chicago (who I met in Florence), shared with me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs
I am getting better at this (solitude, that is).
And, I send my love. xo
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
the olive: a case study in intentional living
My tale begins with a photo, entitled, "Self-portrait with olive". Ahem.
 |
| self portrait with olive, as noted |
For many years, I have declared that the only food that I do not like is the olive. About 6 months ago perhaps, I decided that I wanted to develop a taste for olives, and so set out to do this, having a little deliberate taste here and there. The tale ends with me, last night in Lucca, purchasing fresh olives for myself, sitting down in a little Piazza, and eating them straight out the take-out container, one by one, revelling in their salty goodness.
Okay, so it's a bit of a ridiculous example, but this trip too was born out of a great deal of intentionality. I shared in my first blog entry my deliberate decision to NOT plan every minute, but rather attempt to cultivate a sense of spontaneity and adventure within myself, learning to trust my intuition, rather than an agenda.
Another intention was to very deliberately choose to live my life to the fullest, celebrating all that I have to be grateful for. Last summer, at a pot-luck at a friend's place, I met a lovely lady, and we easily struck up a conversation with one another. She spoke about her family a great deal (husband and two beautiful children), as well as her career and home. She then asked me about myself, and after speaking for a short while, she remarked, "Wow, so you're really just living the life!"
Living the life. Me? I was momentarily taken aback. "I...guess...I...am...!" This woman, with seemingly so many of the things that I long for, was looking upon my life with a sense of "wow". Fascinating. And, a poignant reminder of my tendency to invest massive amounts of energy thinking about the things I do not have (in that moment, a partner, children, stability), rather than celebrating all that I do have (immense freedom to follow my various dreams without feel "tied down" in any way). This moment stuck with me, and helped in creating a new sense of resolve to live my life NOW, trusting that those longings will be met, but in the meantime, celebrating the present.
Of course, this is easier to realize on some days than others. But nevertheless, the decision to travel solo was a highly conscious one, celebrating freedom, single-ness, youth (can I still call myself that?), and big dreams, while inviting openness to all that other stuff. And here I am, eating olives in Lucca, Italy. It feels a bit unreal at times.
I feel a bit of guilt in saying this, but although I really liked Florence, I cannot say that I "loved" it there (is everyone still talking to me?) Perhaps I'm just not a city girl at heart, but, though I certainly found a great deal of beauty in many spots, I also found the crowds, noise, and pollution levels less seducing. It's true. On the other hand, the Tuscan countryside? Gorgeous. If only a wine tour were in the budget for this trip...
I feel a bit of guilt in saying this, but although I really liked Florence, I cannot say that I "loved" it there (is everyone still talking to me?) Perhaps I'm just not a city girl at heart, but, though I certainly found a great deal of beauty in many spots, I also found the crowds, noise, and pollution levels less seducing. It's true. On the other hand, the Tuscan countryside? Gorgeous. If only a wine tour were in the budget for this trip...
Certainly, Florence was loaded with beauty though. For example...
 |
| Overlooking the city, from Piazza Michelangelo |
 |
| Arno river by night... |
Two days ago, I spent the day in Siena, a town that looked like what I imagined a Tuscan town to be. One had to just stray a block or two off of the beaten tourist track to find such character, mystery, beauty. I arrived at "Il Campo", the main town square, and sat down on the concrete, amidst hoards of other tourists. I had been diligent in packing myself a lunch, pasta leftovers from a meal I had cooked the day previously. In one fell swoop, I took the container of pasta out of my backpack, the lid fell off, and the entire contents of my spaghetti lunch were on the pavement. I burst out laughing, which of course then drew attention towards me. I felt I had to declare my intention to still eat to those around me, rather than just sheepishly proceeding, and so that's what I did, laughing still. A classic Liz moment.
My favourite part of Siena were the nearly deserted streets just outside of the main downtown core, and the views of the countryside. Magnificent from the outside, I decided to pay to enter the duomo (i.e. church with a dome) as another place of refuge from the crowds and also the heat. I couldn't believe it when I got inside - stunning, yes, but the crowds were actually worse. The "correct" route through the enormous sanctuary was marked by ropes, and chairs were set up now and then. There were announcements (in vain) over the loudspeakers (!) every few minutes reminding us to please "be silent", as people were herded through this set path, snapping photos, chatting away. Am I the pot calling the kettle black if I criticize? Perhaps a bit, but, surrounded by such majesty and art, I was disappointed that I was not able to just sit in a pew, peacefully, reverently.
Another classic Liz moment occurred in in the Florence train station yesterday morning. For the first time so far in Italy, I purchased my ticket (at a self-serve kiosk) with cash, rather than with my Visa. In a hurry, and so not noticing the sign that said the machine would not give change over £9, I promptly put in a £20 bill to pay for a £5 ticket, and got no change back. Desolate, but determined to not let it get me down, I gave myself 15 minutes to look for someone official and plead for mercy: after that time, I would board my train and forget about it, either way. After trying not to stress about losing £15, but in reality stressing about losing £15, I did finally find a customer service line-up, and so got in line. I pulled my ticket out of my pocket, and found, attached to it, a credit note for £15, "rimborsabile presso tutte le biglietterie TRENITALIA" (i.e. I can just use this towards my next train trip). The lesson to read things thoroughly apparently had not been pressed upon me quite deep enough the first time!
My favourite part of Siena were the nearly deserted streets just outside of the main downtown core, and the views of the countryside. Magnificent from the outside, I decided to pay to enter the duomo (i.e. church with a dome) as another place of refuge from the crowds and also the heat. I couldn't believe it when I got inside - stunning, yes, but the crowds were actually worse. The "correct" route through the enormous sanctuary was marked by ropes, and chairs were set up now and then. There were announcements (in vain) over the loudspeakers (!) every few minutes reminding us to please "be silent", as people were herded through this set path, snapping photos, chatting away. Am I the pot calling the kettle black if I criticize? Perhaps a bit, but, surrounded by such majesty and art, I was disappointed that I was not able to just sit in a pew, peacefully, reverently.
 |
| overlooking Siena and the Tuscan countryside |
I must confess to a "twitcher" type of afternoon yesterday:
 |
| okay, so I'm a bit of a twitcher after all: Pisa, Italy |
Pisa was en-route to Lucca, and so I spent the afternoon there. Essentially, this means that I, like thousands of other tourists, got off the train, walked the 1.5km the leaning tower, snapped a picture, sat and had lunch on the grounds, and then walked back to the train station. It really is quite an alarming sight, and after having my picture taken, I most enjoyed watching others strike their various poses in front of the tower (groups of people holding it up together, using feet to hold it up, and my favourite, one man, laying on the ground, seemed to be trying to find an angle wherein the tower would emerge from between his legs...)
My day in Lucca today has been magical. It is a charming and inviting little spot - it feels truly homey. A walled town, the walls that surround the city centre were, in the 16th century, lined with 126 cannons. In the 19th century, the town turned this wall into a footpath, which is still a central point in Luccese life today. All day, locals (and tourists) bike/run/walk this 4km loop around the city on top of the wall. My jog of this route today, the sun pouring down on me, was a true highlight of the trip. I spent the better part of the day wandering the picturesque streets, sitting in churches (quiet, and also free!), and also visiting Puccini's birthplace (the locals are quite proud of their Puccini). My hostel, sparkling clean and in a great location, lacks character and the "community" feel that I have grown to appreciate about hostel life. In particular, I find that having a common kitchen automatically creates a community and a comfortable and friendly atmosphere - strangers become friends fast, when they are sharing inefficient hotplates! This spot feels more like a hotel in atmosphere, except for the dormitory-style rooms, the 4-hour lockout period each day, and the bat flying around the halls. Hmmm...in fact, it's possible that I have forgotten altogether what it is like to be in a hotel. :)
 |
| me and Puccini |
From the moment I began reading about Italy, months ago from Waterloo, I knew I wanted to hike the coast within Cinque Terre National Park. Tomorrow, I head to the little village of Manarola (one of the five (cinque) villages that gives this park its name), where I will be staying in an eco-hostel, and hiking to my heart's content for the next 4 days...
With love xo
Monday, September 20, 2010
clean laundry & red wine
On Friday night, I decided it was high time that I took myself out for dinner. I still had not eaten any pasta in Italy (aside from that which I had cooked for myself at various hostels) nor had I sipped any Italian wine. Many people have asked if this is my "Eat, Pray, Love" trip, and my reply has been that I am certainly open to all these experiences. :) However, here I was in Italy, and I hadn't even tried the wine!
I took myself out to an "Enoteca" that Lonely Planet had recommended for its food, wine, and relatively inexpensive prices. My Primo course was lasagna (all I can say is "wow"), and the secondo was a fabulous smelly cheese (starts with a "t" - I can't remember the name) with grilled veggies. With this, I had a delightful local red wine (Chianti Colli Fiorentini), and I was in a nice enough spot that for once I did not take a picture of my food.
In terms of pleasures of the senses, I must say that lasagna, smelly cheese, and red wine on the streets of Florence rate quite high on the list.
Although, giving this experience quite a "run for its money" is the smell of clean laundry, which I did just prior to going out for dinner. Two days later, I am still deliberately smelling my clothes and my money belt (yes, Sarah, I finally washed it!!!) with wonder, reminded of what clean actually smells like. Lasagna. Clean laundry. The pleasures of Florence.
Friday saw me determined to not pay any more reservation fees for art galleries, and so, I was greeted with a 1 1/2 hour line to enter the Uffizi gallery, which houses the world's most famous and extensive collection of Italian Renaissance art. The line-up (or queue, as I am learning to say) provided me with the opportunity to finish Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray", which I had picked up in Bratislava, and which has no doubt got me thinking about pleasures of the senses (however, I am content to stick with my art, red wine and clean laundry for now...!) The most renowned works at this gallery include Botticelli's "Spring" and "The Birth of Venus". Lovely. Along with being very grand and stately, I am learning that Italy's art galleries are also very dense. In many rooms, there is art from floor to ceiling - perhaps sculptures on the ground, and then several layers of paintings on the walls. It's gorgeous and also a bit overwhelming - difficult to know where to look and impossible (I'm learning) to "see everything" (especially when one already waited 1 1/2 hours to get in). I'm learning to allow my eyes to be drawn to what most resonates.
I was excited to find a lovely American bookstore Friday afternoon with loads of used English books. They offered me £0,20 for my battered Wilde (most hostels have free book exchanges, but unfortunately this one does not) and I found a copy of Naomi Wolf's "Misconceptions" for £1,50, £1,30 if you factor in my discount! I had been craving a non-fiction read, and so, as heavy as this is (both literally and figuratively), it was a perfect find.
Shortly after I arrived in Florence I saw a familiar face - Alex, from Israel, who I had met at the hostel in Venice, was also staying in the same hostel as me here. Alex's travel style is that he stays put in one place for a while, taking many day trips to neighbouring towns, but then returning to the same place to sleep at night. Liking this idea, and, as previously noted, with more time in Florence than I had originally planned for, I took a day trip by bus to the little town of San Gimignano on Saturday (http://www.sangimignano.com/sghomei.htm). Known as the "Medieval Manhattan" because of its tall towers (these ones were built in the 11th century, however), there were originally 72, and only 14 remain today. It was rather quaint, and it was lovely to be out of the big city, and to be able to find grass to lie down on! It also boasted breathtaking views of the surrounding Tuscan countryside, and many spots offering tastes of local wine from their very own vineyards (I briefly looked at the cost of shipping wine to Canada: One has to purchase a minimum of six bottles, and the cost for shipping alone is £80. The woman at this little organic wine store appeared to be trying not to laugh, looking at my backpack, and then showing me the price. She gave me my sample begrudgingly..) :)
I had a fascinating conversation that night with Alex about his travels, for nearly two hours. I was feeling unsettled, and knew that Alex had been travelling for over a year; I thought perhaps he might have some wisdom to share with me about his experiences about being a nomad for such a long time. This developed into a conversation about his daily meditation/reiki practice which sustains him and provides him with energy, solace, etc. He certainly presents as an individual who is not shaken by much, and it was fascinating to hear this travel guru speak about his experiences, as I seek to find my own travel groove once again.
Yesterday: permission to take a day "off". As of 2pm, I had eaten, journalled, emailed, eaten more, and still not ventured outside. Yes, I'm in Florence, yes, the sun was shining, and yes, again, I am learning to "live", rather than be in tourist mode all of the time. It was the best possible thing I could have done, and for the first time on this trip, I did this without feeling like I "should" be out seeing the sights. Around 2pm I met up with Jackie, from Chicago, a gentle and warm spirit, who is currently living and working in France. We wandered some gardens, and went to Chiesa di San Miniato al Monte, a gorgeous gothic church which overlooks Florence, and where, everyday at 5:30, monks chant a traditional service. One of the most striking churches I have been inside yet, we went into the lower chapel, columns, archways, and 13th century frescoes abounding, and witnessed 6 monks chanting and leading this traditional service. It was fantastic for its "reality" - this was not a polished presentation, but rather 6 individuals singing a deep expression of faith. One older monk, mostly bald with thick glasses, kept losing his place in the service book and would peer over the shoulder of the man beside him, desperately searching for his place. He also blew his nose loudly from time to time. Another older man's voice shook and wavered as he led a responsive portion of the service; he smiled through this though, and his sincerity was apparent.
I have one more night in Florence, and today I will take a short bus trip to nearby Siena, another medieval walled town in the Tuscan countryside. Perhaps more free wine samples await me there. At the very least, I am still smelling pretty good...
I took myself out to an "Enoteca" that Lonely Planet had recommended for its food, wine, and relatively inexpensive prices. My Primo course was lasagna (all I can say is "wow"), and the secondo was a fabulous smelly cheese (starts with a "t" - I can't remember the name) with grilled veggies. With this, I had a delightful local red wine (Chianti Colli Fiorentini), and I was in a nice enough spot that for once I did not take a picture of my food.
In terms of pleasures of the senses, I must say that lasagna, smelly cheese, and red wine on the streets of Florence rate quite high on the list.
Although, giving this experience quite a "run for its money" is the smell of clean laundry, which I did just prior to going out for dinner. Two days later, I am still deliberately smelling my clothes and my money belt (yes, Sarah, I finally washed it!!!) with wonder, reminded of what clean actually smells like. Lasagna. Clean laundry. The pleasures of Florence.
Friday saw me determined to not pay any more reservation fees for art galleries, and so, I was greeted with a 1 1/2 hour line to enter the Uffizi gallery, which houses the world's most famous and extensive collection of Italian Renaissance art. The line-up (or queue, as I am learning to say) provided me with the opportunity to finish Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray", which I had picked up in Bratislava, and which has no doubt got me thinking about pleasures of the senses (however, I am content to stick with my art, red wine and clean laundry for now...!) The most renowned works at this gallery include Botticelli's "Spring" and "The Birth of Venus". Lovely. Along with being very grand and stately, I am learning that Italy's art galleries are also very dense. In many rooms, there is art from floor to ceiling - perhaps sculptures on the ground, and then several layers of paintings on the walls. It's gorgeous and also a bit overwhelming - difficult to know where to look and impossible (I'm learning) to "see everything" (especially when one already waited 1 1/2 hours to get in). I'm learning to allow my eyes to be drawn to what most resonates.
I was excited to find a lovely American bookstore Friday afternoon with loads of used English books. They offered me £0,20 for my battered Wilde (most hostels have free book exchanges, but unfortunately this one does not) and I found a copy of Naomi Wolf's "Misconceptions" for £1,50, £1,30 if you factor in my discount! I had been craving a non-fiction read, and so, as heavy as this is (both literally and figuratively), it was a perfect find.
Shortly after I arrived in Florence I saw a familiar face - Alex, from Israel, who I had met at the hostel in Venice, was also staying in the same hostel as me here. Alex's travel style is that he stays put in one place for a while, taking many day trips to neighbouring towns, but then returning to the same place to sleep at night. Liking this idea, and, as previously noted, with more time in Florence than I had originally planned for, I took a day trip by bus to the little town of San Gimignano on Saturday (http://www.sangimignano.com/sghomei.htm). Known as the "Medieval Manhattan" because of its tall towers (these ones were built in the 11th century, however), there were originally 72, and only 14 remain today. It was rather quaint, and it was lovely to be out of the big city, and to be able to find grass to lie down on! It also boasted breathtaking views of the surrounding Tuscan countryside, and many spots offering tastes of local wine from their very own vineyards (I briefly looked at the cost of shipping wine to Canada: One has to purchase a minimum of six bottles, and the cost for shipping alone is £80. The woman at this little organic wine store appeared to be trying not to laugh, looking at my backpack, and then showing me the price. She gave me my sample begrudgingly..) :)
I had a fascinating conversation that night with Alex about his travels, for nearly two hours. I was feeling unsettled, and knew that Alex had been travelling for over a year; I thought perhaps he might have some wisdom to share with me about his experiences about being a nomad for such a long time. This developed into a conversation about his daily meditation/reiki practice which sustains him and provides him with energy, solace, etc. He certainly presents as an individual who is not shaken by much, and it was fascinating to hear this travel guru speak about his experiences, as I seek to find my own travel groove once again.
Yesterday: permission to take a day "off". As of 2pm, I had eaten, journalled, emailed, eaten more, and still not ventured outside. Yes, I'm in Florence, yes, the sun was shining, and yes, again, I am learning to "live", rather than be in tourist mode all of the time. It was the best possible thing I could have done, and for the first time on this trip, I did this without feeling like I "should" be out seeing the sights. Around 2pm I met up with Jackie, from Chicago, a gentle and warm spirit, who is currently living and working in France. We wandered some gardens, and went to Chiesa di San Miniato al Monte, a gorgeous gothic church which overlooks Florence, and where, everyday at 5:30, monks chant a traditional service. One of the most striking churches I have been inside yet, we went into the lower chapel, columns, archways, and 13th century frescoes abounding, and witnessed 6 monks chanting and leading this traditional service. It was fantastic for its "reality" - this was not a polished presentation, but rather 6 individuals singing a deep expression of faith. One older monk, mostly bald with thick glasses, kept losing his place in the service book and would peer over the shoulder of the man beside him, desperately searching for his place. He also blew his nose loudly from time to time. Another older man's voice shook and wavered as he led a responsive portion of the service; he smiled through this though, and his sincerity was apparent.
I have one more night in Florence, and today I will take a short bus trip to nearby Siena, another medieval walled town in the Tuscan countryside. Perhaps more free wine samples await me there. At the very least, I am still smelling pretty good...
Friday, September 17, 2010
not a twitcher
In the first novel that I read on this trip, Rare Birds by Edward Riche (thanks to Steph and Mike for this recommendation), "twitchers" are set apart from regular bird watchers. From my VERY limited understanding of bird-watching, a twitcher's goal is very specifically to see as many species of birds as possible. They will travel far distances in order to catch a glimpse of the rarest of species; once found, the bird gets checked off of a list, and the twitcher moves onto the next species.
Now, I am sure that many twitcher/bird-watcher hybrids exist, individuals who love to check new species off of their lists in addition to gazing at their favourite birds for hours on end, though they have already been sighted many times. However, I was thinking about the purist twitcher, and it seemed a good analogy for a spirit that I do NOT want to cultivate in my travels. With the notion of "living in Europe for 3 months", rather than being on vacation, I want to get to truly get to know know the places and people where I am staying, and get to know myself in the process. This trip is not about checking off countries, cities, museums, or even gorgeous coastlines off on a list. I remind myself of this on the days where I feel some kind of pressure to "see everything", to move on from one place quickly so that I can get to the next city, the next gallery, the next monument. Just like the bird watcher content to watch her favourite species soar again and again, this is how I wish to travel.
In the spirit of "living in Europe", I bought sushi yesterday for dinner (one does not need to eat only pizza and gelato while in Italy), after going to see the Accademia Gallery. Now, eating sushi in Florence is not terribly touristy of me, but the Accademia Gallery just might be the most touristy thing to do in the city, as this is where Michelangelo's David is to be found. Touristy or not, what a glorious sight this was, in a room built specifically for this statue, standing 3m high (I didn't realize that the statue was so large). I reserved a ticket in advance for this, so as to not stand in the 2 1/2 hour line. I also laughed to myself at the fact that the gallery really cleared out after David, as many people go just to see this one statue. I enjoyed walking around the second floor as well, mostly 13th century sacred art, suddenly very quiet and peaceful...
...(I think the twitchers had left)...
After climbing to the top of the Campanile (a mere 414 steps) for an incredible view over the city and surrounding Tuscan countryside, I watched a beautiful sunset over the city, from Piazza di Michelangelo, and enjoyed a quiet evening at the hostel.
I am off to see more art.
With love
xo
Now, I am sure that many twitcher/bird-watcher hybrids exist, individuals who love to check new species off of their lists in addition to gazing at their favourite birds for hours on end, though they have already been sighted many times. However, I was thinking about the purist twitcher, and it seemed a good analogy for a spirit that I do NOT want to cultivate in my travels. With the notion of "living in Europe for 3 months", rather than being on vacation, I want to get to truly get to know know the places and people where I am staying, and get to know myself in the process. This trip is not about checking off countries, cities, museums, or even gorgeous coastlines off on a list. I remind myself of this on the days where I feel some kind of pressure to "see everything", to move on from one place quickly so that I can get to the next city, the next gallery, the next monument. Just like the bird watcher content to watch her favourite species soar again and again, this is how I wish to travel.
In the spirit of "living in Europe", I bought sushi yesterday for dinner (one does not need to eat only pizza and gelato while in Italy), after going to see the Accademia Gallery. Now, eating sushi in Florence is not terribly touristy of me, but the Accademia Gallery just might be the most touristy thing to do in the city, as this is where Michelangelo's David is to be found. Touristy or not, what a glorious sight this was, in a room built specifically for this statue, standing 3m high (I didn't realize that the statue was so large). I reserved a ticket in advance for this, so as to not stand in the 2 1/2 hour line. I also laughed to myself at the fact that the gallery really cleared out after David, as many people go just to see this one statue. I enjoyed walking around the second floor as well, mostly 13th century sacred art, suddenly very quiet and peaceful...
...(I think the twitchers had left)...
After climbing to the top of the Campanile (a mere 414 steps) for an incredible view over the city and surrounding Tuscan countryside, I watched a beautiful sunset over the city, from Piazza di Michelangelo, and enjoyed a quiet evening at the hostel.
I am off to see more art.
With love
xo
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Juliet's breast...
Greetings from Florence!
Before I begin, I will share a few photos from breathtaking Venice...
Before I left home, a dear mentor of mine (the same lady who introduced me to Frida Kahlo) suggested that I write letters to myself, that I would receive while weekly while I was travelling. She remarked that it would be fun to literally mail them, except that I wouldn't know in advance where I was going to be. I came up with the idea of sending them via "e-card"; that way, I could specify exactly what date they would appear in my inbox. And so, every Tuesday, I receive a little note, written from past-Liz to present day-Liz, a very deliberate way of taking care of myself, reminding myself of my vision for this trip, and tuning into a very core part of me.
After the excitement, intensity, and beauty of Venice, Verona felt nice, but somehow didn't reach out and grab me in the same way. Perhaps a bit of exhaustion has set in, as well as my inevitable tendency for intense introspection (which yes, is always on the surface, but at times even more so than others). Some loneliness as well I suppose. I found myself becoming frustrated and anxious about little things, for example, a slow internet connection at an expensive cafe. I have been away for over 4 weeks now, which officially means I have been travelling for longer than ever before. And so, what's a woman to do, travelling for 4 weeks (with 8 more to go), feeling introspective and tired, in Italy...?
Gelato. Journal. Call a friend. Repeat.
And, as I wrote in one of my letters to myself, allow and leave room for the unpleasant emotions alongside the fabulous ones. No need to judge them. Experience them. Learn from them. Know that they will pass. And, along with allowing the unpleasant emotions, allow the trip to evolve into whatever it will be. I find myself still feeling guilty on days when I need to spend extra time on the computer (like today), as though I "should" be out seeing every beautiful thing there is to see in Florence. Travelling for 3 months is different than travelling for 3 weeks though. It helps me to remind myself that I'm not on a "European getaway vacation", but rather, I am living my life, and it just so happens that I'm in Europe. I can't, therefore, be a tourist everyday. And so, today, yes it is noon, and I still haven't ventured outside. This too is okay.
I arrived in Verona on Monday, after a lovely train journey beside a most friendly man from Sicily. The hostel was in a gorgeous old building (16th century perhaps), and after being surprised that there were no locks on the dorm doors (suprise!), and that my bunk-bed mate was perhaps the least friendly person I have met yet (when I introduced myself, smiling and warm, she replied with, "You don't snore, do you?" in all seriousness...she never did tell me her name), I settled in. I found the famous "Casa di Giulietta" (Juliet's House) without needing to consult a map or ask for directions - the HUGE crowd, even on this rainy day, spoke for itself. People flock to this spot in order to touch Juliet's right breast; then, legend has it, the world will send one a new lover. So, this statue of Juliet stands there, right breast gleaming and smooth, and men and women line up to touch and to have their photo taken. Of course, I partook. Proclamations of love are written all over the walls, and, even more interesting, is the tradition of writing letters to Juliet, seeking advice with anything pertaining to romantic love. Juliet receives thousands upon thousands of letters, so many that the city of Verona actually employs people to translate, read, and respond to each and every letter (this was portrayed in a recent Hollywood chick flick, "Letters to Juliet", which I saw with my 13 year old friend Brianna). And yes, of course I also wrote her a letter. Actually, two. One from me, and one from Brianna. :)
My favourite sights in Verona were the churches, I do believe. A feature of old Roman Catholic churches in Italy is that they also house some of the most important sacred art from the last, oh, 800 years or so. So, one can find beautiful art not only in galleries, but also in churches. These were the oldest I had been in so far, and I marvelled at the art and architecture from as early as the 11th century. Also fascinating was the Roman Arena, built in AD 30, and now used for concerts throughout the year (including a summer opera season which I am sorry to have missed!)
Nothing like sacred art from the 11th century, I went to a photography exhibit yesterday morning before I left Verona that was incredibly moving: http://www.lucianoperbellini.com/13coins.php?lang=eng. Moving in a "What am I doing with my life?" kind of way. Not guilt inducing, just a reminder to keep seeking out the most meaningful ways to be of service to others while also finding work that is a full expression of who I am. The photos, by Luciano Perbellni, told the story of 13 "ordinary" people who are doing incredible work in service to humanity all over the world. I went to a public lecture in Waterloo a couple of years ago, where the co-presenters were a young woman who had experienced significant trauma growing up in Sierra Leone (Mariatu Kamara), and a Canadian journalist who had supported her in telling her story and publishing an English novel (Susan McClelland). During the question and answer period, Susan remarked that she often heard people comment that hearing Mariatu's story "put their own troubles into perspective". She remarked that her concern with this response was that it often silences people, as they feel then that their struggles are not worthy of being voiced. Her hope was that instead, through Mariatu sharing her story, other people would in fact feel invited to share their own stories. This stuck with me, and I thought of it again today as I looked at these photos. Rather than feeling silenced by the immense suffering I saw, I was reminded of the invitation to share my story...
A few photos from Verona...
I journeyed to Florence yesterday, and checked into my hostel in the evening. Up until this point, I have stayed in only female dorms, though I have known that the time would come when, in making a reservation at last minute, I wouldn't have this option. In looking at options in Florence, I did have the option; however, a hostel that appealed to me, both for its price (including free internet access!) and also its location, only had mixed dorms available. I decided to go for it – better to try it out when making a deliberate choice to do so, rather than waiting until I am "stuck". Feeling a bit blah yesterday, there was no one around when I arrived at the room, and I regretted the decision: “I just want to feel comfortable, I want to be able to get dressed without having to hide, etc etc...” Upon returning to my room later in the evening, I was greeted by the most enthusiastic and warm young woman from Spain, her boyfriend (also very genuine and welcoming), and a friendly man from Toronto, currently teaching English in South Korea. Compared with my dorm experience in Verona, this was heaven. All is well.
And so, I am off to the streets of Florence, to find out...
Before I begin, I will share a few photos from breathtaking Venice...
 |
| Wading at Piazza San Marco |
 |
| Venice from the top of the clock tower |
 |
| I was thinking I could create a "Gondoliers of Venice" calendar or something... |
 |
| Beautiful. |
After the excitement, intensity, and beauty of Venice, Verona felt nice, but somehow didn't reach out and grab me in the same way. Perhaps a bit of exhaustion has set in, as well as my inevitable tendency for intense introspection (which yes, is always on the surface, but at times even more so than others). Some loneliness as well I suppose. I found myself becoming frustrated and anxious about little things, for example, a slow internet connection at an expensive cafe. I have been away for over 4 weeks now, which officially means I have been travelling for longer than ever before. And so, what's a woman to do, travelling for 4 weeks (with 8 more to go), feeling introspective and tired, in Italy...?
Gelato. Journal. Call a friend. Repeat.
And, as I wrote in one of my letters to myself, allow and leave room for the unpleasant emotions alongside the fabulous ones. No need to judge them. Experience them. Learn from them. Know that they will pass. And, along with allowing the unpleasant emotions, allow the trip to evolve into whatever it will be. I find myself still feeling guilty on days when I need to spend extra time on the computer (like today), as though I "should" be out seeing every beautiful thing there is to see in Florence. Travelling for 3 months is different than travelling for 3 weeks though. It helps me to remind myself that I'm not on a "European getaway vacation", but rather, I am living my life, and it just so happens that I'm in Europe. I can't, therefore, be a tourist everyday. And so, today, yes it is noon, and I still haven't ventured outside. This too is okay.
I arrived in Verona on Monday, after a lovely train journey beside a most friendly man from Sicily. The hostel was in a gorgeous old building (16th century perhaps), and after being surprised that there were no locks on the dorm doors (suprise!), and that my bunk-bed mate was perhaps the least friendly person I have met yet (when I introduced myself, smiling and warm, she replied with, "You don't snore, do you?" in all seriousness...she never did tell me her name), I settled in. I found the famous "Casa di Giulietta" (Juliet's House) without needing to consult a map or ask for directions - the HUGE crowd, even on this rainy day, spoke for itself. People flock to this spot in order to touch Juliet's right breast; then, legend has it, the world will send one a new lover. So, this statue of Juliet stands there, right breast gleaming and smooth, and men and women line up to touch and to have their photo taken. Of course, I partook. Proclamations of love are written all over the walls, and, even more interesting, is the tradition of writing letters to Juliet, seeking advice with anything pertaining to romantic love. Juliet receives thousands upon thousands of letters, so many that the city of Verona actually employs people to translate, read, and respond to each and every letter (this was portrayed in a recent Hollywood chick flick, "Letters to Juliet", which I saw with my 13 year old friend Brianna). And yes, of course I also wrote her a letter. Actually, two. One from me, and one from Brianna. :)
My favourite sights in Verona were the churches, I do believe. A feature of old Roman Catholic churches in Italy is that they also house some of the most important sacred art from the last, oh, 800 years or so. So, one can find beautiful art not only in galleries, but also in churches. These were the oldest I had been in so far, and I marvelled at the art and architecture from as early as the 11th century. Also fascinating was the Roman Arena, built in AD 30, and now used for concerts throughout the year (including a summer opera season which I am sorry to have missed!)
Nothing like sacred art from the 11th century, I went to a photography exhibit yesterday morning before I left Verona that was incredibly moving: http://www.lucianoperbellini.com/13coins.php?lang=eng. Moving in a "What am I doing with my life?" kind of way. Not guilt inducing, just a reminder to keep seeking out the most meaningful ways to be of service to others while also finding work that is a full expression of who I am. The photos, by Luciano Perbellni, told the story of 13 "ordinary" people who are doing incredible work in service to humanity all over the world. I went to a public lecture in Waterloo a couple of years ago, where the co-presenters were a young woman who had experienced significant trauma growing up in Sierra Leone (Mariatu Kamara), and a Canadian journalist who had supported her in telling her story and publishing an English novel (Susan McClelland). During the question and answer period, Susan remarked that she often heard people comment that hearing Mariatu's story "put their own troubles into perspective". She remarked that her concern with this response was that it often silences people, as they feel then that their struggles are not worthy of being voiced. Her hope was that instead, through Mariatu sharing her story, other people would in fact feel invited to share their own stories. This stuck with me, and I thought of it again today as I looked at these photos. Rather than feeling silenced by the immense suffering I saw, I was reminded of the invitation to share my story...
A few photos from Verona...
 |
| My problems in love are henceforth solved! |
 |
| Inside the Church of St. Anastasia |
 |
| Verona & the Adige River |
 |
| Roman Arena |
Interestingly, I was saying to a friend on the phone on Tuesday night that I was feeling more and more that the pace of my travelling was still needing to slow down, and that I needed to stay in one place for a longer time. Clearly, this was Heard, as yesterday (Wednesday) morning, I went to book a hostel for my time on the coast in Cinque Terre, to learn that I had to book at least 8 days in advance. Going to Cinque Terre and staying at this particular spot feels essential, and so suddenly, I have 8 nights to spend in the Florence area, rather than the predicted 4 or 5. I asked for this, and now, laughably, I am not quite sure what to with myself.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
a gelato a day...
Capturing the spirit of Venice into words feels like quite a task, and I find myself wishing I had a poet's use of language at my disposal. I use words like "beautiful" again and again - there are not enough words to choose from! - for all of these sights truly are such a marvel.
Determined not to ask for directions to the hostel from the bus station on Thursday (don't know why, just the mood of the day), I allowed my intuition to start guiding me, as I couldn't find a single street sign. There were a couple of u-turns, but overall, we faired quite well, through pedestrian streets and over bridges, and I was soon headed in the correct direction - just my gut and a "summary" map (i.e. with many street names missing) from my Lonely Planet book. When I got to what looked like the right spot, I turned down a narrow road, and found #2370, 2371 (I was looking for 2372) before the road ended, and a canal passed through. I left, walked around some more, and then returned to this little street. How could this not be it? (My backpack is getting heavier and heavier...) An older gentleman suddenly turned down the alley, and, seeing me, immediately pointed across the canal from where we were standing, while talking with great spirit (in Italian). I clarified that I was looking for a hostel, but of course, he had figured this out based on my location and my appearance (possibly also my odour). He again pointed to across the canal, and then started giving me directions with large hand gestures, and again, lots of enthusiastic Italian. I caught the word "ponte" (bridge) from everything he was saying, and his hand motions were abundantly clear - left, left, over the bridge, left. No problem. And now, the best part. I followed his directions, and as I approached the lane for the hostel on the other side of the canal from where I had just been, I heard a man's voice yelling. My Italian angel-man was now leaning out of his 3rd story apartment window, clearly watching for me coming and cheering me on, pointing me in the right direction, smiling. I smiled, waved, blew him a kiss. Welcome to Venice.
Venice is both everything and nothing like I had pictured. One sees many photos of this city, and hears: "The streets are canals!" "There are no cars!" "There are crazy pigeons everywhere!" Yes, yes, and yes. Venice looks like it does in the pictures, and this beauty is evident at each turn. Certainly not a case of the tourism department selecting a particularly nice looking canal or building and putting that one on all of the brochures, it feels as though every street, every canal, holds such beauty, romance, mystery. The city, sinking, it's true, has 118 islands and over 400 bridges. There are 6 districts, and addresses don't actually include the street name - just the district and then a number. Needless to say, my favourite thing to do is to put the map away and just walk, seeing where I end up. (On the first night, it was rather far from where I thought I would, but my accuracy is improving.) The main streets are filled with tourists, but if you leave the beaten path, there are seemingly endless narrow alleys, picturesque bridges, and good-looking gondoliers singing in Italian as they paddle...
I cannot begin to capture everything that has been these past 3 1/2 days, and so I will share some "vignettes", memories such as...
Floating down the Grand Canal on a gondola: In coming here, I knew that blowing my budget on this quintessential Venetian experience was a must, both for the sake of doing it, and also as symbolic of truly embracing the being a single woman travelling alone thing. The most expensive thing I've done yet, I took in every moment of this experience, first on the Grand Canal and then weaving through smaller and quainter ones, watching the houses go by, enjoying being on the water, enjoying the sounds of our charming and not-hard-to-look-at gondolier as he sang Italian love songs...
Eating pizza and gelato on my first night here, and, still feeling stubborn I guess, wanting pictures, but not wanting to ask anyone to take them. And so, there are a variety of ridiculous self-portraits of me stuffing my face on the streets of this lovely city.
Depth of connection with human beings, including Matthew, from South Africa, who I met at breakfast on Friday morning. We met over my organic granola and his organic green tea, and after talking about the commodification of water and Karl Marx, as well as travelling, music, people, we set out together to visit the Jewish Ghetto (the word Ghetto actually originated in Venice - Jewish people in Vienna were confined to this one island for over 200 years). We wandered together for several hours on Friday, and then the entire day yesterday. What a gift to be able to spend the day yesterday with someone who I felt I had known much longer than 24 hours. The day included a visit to the Peggy Guggenheim Modern Art Collection, (http://www.guggenheim-venice.it/inglese/default.html), espresso, ice cream, a beautiful sunset from Giudecca Island (just south of the city centre), and a traditional Venetian dinner of risotto with cuttlefish ink (which is actually completely black from the fish ink)! In addition to all of this "doing", conversations, both intense and goofy, made the day incredibly memorable.
Flooding in Piazza San Marco (flooding is a regular occurrence in Venice, at times more serious than others - at public transit stops there are city maps posted detailing the elevated points in the city, so that pedestrians have a safe route of travel when the main routes are flooded): The flooding in this most famous city square was minor on Friday, with a depth of less than a foot in the worst places. Still, the only way to get to the Basilica, or many sights in the square, was to take off one's shoes, and wade through the water. As long as this was done without thinking of the cleanliness of Venetian canal water, it was wonderful to walk around shoe-less through this majestic city square, with hundreds and hundreds of others doing the exact same thing. Absolute and wonderful mayhem.
Watching a little old Italian man fishing in the Grand Canal, while sitting on the steps of the grand Santa Maria del Salute church...Watching him catch a fish, put it in a little plastic bag, and then nonchalantly returning to his fishing while the bag moved around beside him...Watching people being dive-bombed by pigeons constantly...
Purchasing my train ticket to Verona today at the train station: I purchased this at a machine, and was taking my time in using this machine for the first time, figuring out instructions in Italian. An Italian woman behind me in line took it upon herself to, without talking to me, press the buttons for me. Clearly, my state of zen about moving through the world at a less-rushed pace is not shared by all.
The jellybean houses on the island of Burano: I visited this island today, which is famous for its lacework and the vibrant (and I mean vibrant) colours of its houses. With a lovely view of the surrounding "lagoon", I sat in the sun (30 degrees Celsius) with my journal. I also made a quick stop on the island of Murano, famous for its glasswork.
The "simplicty" of the hostel where I am staying, with regards to which I am certainly not complaining, given the relative cost of many other essentials in this city, and also the fact that all of my accommodations up to this point have been glorious. Thus, I can laugh at the bathroom where you can choose to have either a lock OR a light, or the dorm where there is one bedside lamp to share between two people, and nowhere to plug it in...
Public transit entirely by boat, the "vaporetto", where passengers are packed in like sardines while travelling down the picturesque canal system, and the crew yell "Permission! Permission!" as they struggle through this highly packed-in crowd in order to properly dock the boat at each stop.
I need to pee, so I might as well buy a coffee and sit down for a while: The cost of using a public toilet in Venice is £1,50 (paying for public toilets is quite typical in Europe, but this is by farrr the steepest price I have seen yet). When out of touristy areas, you can get a coffee for £2, and so, when you gotta go, for an extra 50 cents, you can get a coffee out of the deal.
All of the moments in which the clearly-not-the-rule stereotypes of Italian culture I hold indeed come true, from the wild hand gestures and dramatic cadence of speech in an older couple arguing in the street or of a boat driver yelling at another for running into him, to Italian children joyfully playing "football" in the alleys of Venice, to the highly flirtatious behaviour of the gondoliers. It's truly delightful, and I am excited to spend several more weeks in this country!
Tuning into my intuition continues to be an important theme, of course in the big moments, but also in small-decision making. I also continue to note my tendency to over-think everything (not new information, clearly), rather than just making a decision and going with it. My plan had been that I would spend 3 nights in this city, but I noted this morning that even the thought of putting on my backpack was exhausting. Besides, it felt like there was more here for me to see, and that I simply needed some time to let the experiences of the past few days really steep. I am truly grateful that I made this decision, as the trips to the islands today were at my pace, and the sights were lovely. I was able to extend my stay by a day with no hassle at all, and I leave for fair Verona tomorrow morning...
Ciao!
With love xo
Determined not to ask for directions to the hostel from the bus station on Thursday (don't know why, just the mood of the day), I allowed my intuition to start guiding me, as I couldn't find a single street sign. There were a couple of u-turns, but overall, we faired quite well, through pedestrian streets and over bridges, and I was soon headed in the correct direction - just my gut and a "summary" map (i.e. with many street names missing) from my Lonely Planet book. When I got to what looked like the right spot, I turned down a narrow road, and found #2370, 2371 (I was looking for 2372) before the road ended, and a canal passed through. I left, walked around some more, and then returned to this little street. How could this not be it? (My backpack is getting heavier and heavier...) An older gentleman suddenly turned down the alley, and, seeing me, immediately pointed across the canal from where we were standing, while talking with great spirit (in Italian). I clarified that I was looking for a hostel, but of course, he had figured this out based on my location and my appearance (possibly also my odour). He again pointed to across the canal, and then started giving me directions with large hand gestures, and again, lots of enthusiastic Italian. I caught the word "ponte" (bridge) from everything he was saying, and his hand motions were abundantly clear - left, left, over the bridge, left. No problem. And now, the best part. I followed his directions, and as I approached the lane for the hostel on the other side of the canal from where I had just been, I heard a man's voice yelling. My Italian angel-man was now leaning out of his 3rd story apartment window, clearly watching for me coming and cheering me on, pointing me in the right direction, smiling. I smiled, waved, blew him a kiss. Welcome to Venice.
Venice is both everything and nothing like I had pictured. One sees many photos of this city, and hears: "The streets are canals!" "There are no cars!" "There are crazy pigeons everywhere!" Yes, yes, and yes. Venice looks like it does in the pictures, and this beauty is evident at each turn. Certainly not a case of the tourism department selecting a particularly nice looking canal or building and putting that one on all of the brochures, it feels as though every street, every canal, holds such beauty, romance, mystery. The city, sinking, it's true, has 118 islands and over 400 bridges. There are 6 districts, and addresses don't actually include the street name - just the district and then a number. Needless to say, my favourite thing to do is to put the map away and just walk, seeing where I end up. (On the first night, it was rather far from where I thought I would, but my accuracy is improving.) The main streets are filled with tourists, but if you leave the beaten path, there are seemingly endless narrow alleys, picturesque bridges, and good-looking gondoliers singing in Italian as they paddle...
I cannot begin to capture everything that has been these past 3 1/2 days, and so I will share some "vignettes", memories such as...
Floating down the Grand Canal on a gondola: In coming here, I knew that blowing my budget on this quintessential Venetian experience was a must, both for the sake of doing it, and also as symbolic of truly embracing the being a single woman travelling alone thing. The most expensive thing I've done yet, I took in every moment of this experience, first on the Grand Canal and then weaving through smaller and quainter ones, watching the houses go by, enjoying being on the water, enjoying the sounds of our charming and not-hard-to-look-at gondolier as he sang Italian love songs...
Eating pizza and gelato on my first night here, and, still feeling stubborn I guess, wanting pictures, but not wanting to ask anyone to take them. And so, there are a variety of ridiculous self-portraits of me stuffing my face on the streets of this lovely city.
Depth of connection with human beings, including Matthew, from South Africa, who I met at breakfast on Friday morning. We met over my organic granola and his organic green tea, and after talking about the commodification of water and Karl Marx, as well as travelling, music, people, we set out together to visit the Jewish Ghetto (the word Ghetto actually originated in Venice - Jewish people in Vienna were confined to this one island for over 200 years). We wandered together for several hours on Friday, and then the entire day yesterday. What a gift to be able to spend the day yesterday with someone who I felt I had known much longer than 24 hours. The day included a visit to the Peggy Guggenheim Modern Art Collection, (http://www.guggenheim-venice.it/inglese/default.html), espresso, ice cream, a beautiful sunset from Giudecca Island (just south of the city centre), and a traditional Venetian dinner of risotto with cuttlefish ink (which is actually completely black from the fish ink)! In addition to all of this "doing", conversations, both intense and goofy, made the day incredibly memorable.
Flooding in Piazza San Marco (flooding is a regular occurrence in Venice, at times more serious than others - at public transit stops there are city maps posted detailing the elevated points in the city, so that pedestrians have a safe route of travel when the main routes are flooded): The flooding in this most famous city square was minor on Friday, with a depth of less than a foot in the worst places. Still, the only way to get to the Basilica, or many sights in the square, was to take off one's shoes, and wade through the water. As long as this was done without thinking of the cleanliness of Venetian canal water, it was wonderful to walk around shoe-less through this majestic city square, with hundreds and hundreds of others doing the exact same thing. Absolute and wonderful mayhem.
Watching a little old Italian man fishing in the Grand Canal, while sitting on the steps of the grand Santa Maria del Salute church...Watching him catch a fish, put it in a little plastic bag, and then nonchalantly returning to his fishing while the bag moved around beside him...Watching people being dive-bombed by pigeons constantly...
Purchasing my train ticket to Verona today at the train station: I purchased this at a machine, and was taking my time in using this machine for the first time, figuring out instructions in Italian. An Italian woman behind me in line took it upon herself to, without talking to me, press the buttons for me. Clearly, my state of zen about moving through the world at a less-rushed pace is not shared by all.
The jellybean houses on the island of Burano: I visited this island today, which is famous for its lacework and the vibrant (and I mean vibrant) colours of its houses. With a lovely view of the surrounding "lagoon", I sat in the sun (30 degrees Celsius) with my journal. I also made a quick stop on the island of Murano, famous for its glasswork.
The "simplicty" of the hostel where I am staying, with regards to which I am certainly not complaining, given the relative cost of many other essentials in this city, and also the fact that all of my accommodations up to this point have been glorious. Thus, I can laugh at the bathroom where you can choose to have either a lock OR a light, or the dorm where there is one bedside lamp to share between two people, and nowhere to plug it in...
Public transit entirely by boat, the "vaporetto", where passengers are packed in like sardines while travelling down the picturesque canal system, and the crew yell "Permission! Permission!" as they struggle through this highly packed-in crowd in order to properly dock the boat at each stop.
I need to pee, so I might as well buy a coffee and sit down for a while: The cost of using a public toilet in Venice is £1,50 (paying for public toilets is quite typical in Europe, but this is by farrr the steepest price I have seen yet). When out of touristy areas, you can get a coffee for £2, and so, when you gotta go, for an extra 50 cents, you can get a coffee out of the deal.
All of the moments in which the clearly-not-the-rule stereotypes of Italian culture I hold indeed come true, from the wild hand gestures and dramatic cadence of speech in an older couple arguing in the street or of a boat driver yelling at another for running into him, to Italian children joyfully playing "football" in the alleys of Venice, to the highly flirtatious behaviour of the gondoliers. It's truly delightful, and I am excited to spend several more weeks in this country!
Tuning into my intuition continues to be an important theme, of course in the big moments, but also in small-decision making. I also continue to note my tendency to over-think everything (not new information, clearly), rather than just making a decision and going with it. My plan had been that I would spend 3 nights in this city, but I noted this morning that even the thought of putting on my backpack was exhausting. Besides, it felt like there was more here for me to see, and that I simply needed some time to let the experiences of the past few days really steep. I am truly grateful that I made this decision, as the trips to the islands today were at my pace, and the sights were lovely. I was able to extend my stay by a day with no hassle at all, and I leave for fair Verona tomorrow morning...
Ciao!
With love xo
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
learning & planting & bound for Italy!
As promised, I will begin by sharing a photo I took when I arrived at Ruth's place on Monday. Here, my friends, is the view from her backyard garden...
In talking to a dear friend on the phone today, I was told I sounded "all zenned out". Can you blame me? :)
Today, self-care abounded. Ruth, Carmit, and Amihai (two guests here from Israel) went to Salzburg for the day, and so I had this beautiful space entirely to myself, and only my two feet for travelling on. I went for a long walk up "Ruth's Alp" this morning, and took in more of the glorious view that surrounds me here. The day has also featured more time at the piano (which I discovered is a Bösendorfer, for the music folks reading this!!!!!!), with my journal, and getting caught up with emails and a few phone calls. Most importantly though, has been a little planting ritual. I have shared with some of you my now yearly tradition (this is year two) of taking time to write down things I wish to release from my life, and then burning these pieces of paper, and then writing down things I wish to affirm and invite into my life, and then "planting" these in the ground (with credits and hugs to Deb and Christine for introducing me to this and sharing this experience with me in the past xo). Having burnt a bunch of stuff back in July at home, I brought my "seeds" for planting along with me on this trip. These invitations and affirmations have found a home under an apple tree in Ruth's garden - I loved the image of a well-tended garden and fruit tree, where deliberate cultivation leads to new life and fruit. I figure the view can't hurt either.
Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of getting to know Carmit and Amihai well - first, in sharing a lively and fascinating conversation over breakfast about their experiences with mandatory military service in Israel (which both of them have completed); I was reminded how privileged and sheltered, relatively speaking, my life has been, and how much naivety still exists within me. I learned so much from them in this conversation, and was really challenged in my own thinking, reminded that there are further grey areas than I know.
From the breakfast table, we headed to Hohe Tauern National Park in their rental car: http://www.hohetauern.at/en.html. I was so grateful for this trek, and to be able to share it with such lovely and friendly people. Before I left home, I had read about this park and was determined to visit. Not super accessible via public transportation, connecting with Ruth was the first step, as her home is about 30 minutes from the border of this beautiful area. Still without a plan as to how I was actually going to travel through the area, in yet another beautiful serendipitous moment, I learned on Monday night that Carmit and Amihai were already planning on making this trip on Tuesday, and were more than happy for me to come along for the ride. Sooo wonderful! The park features many glorious views of snowy mountain peaks, including the highest point in the park, Grossglockner Mountain at 3798m, glaciers, and a fabulously treacherous winding road with signs that periodically ask, "Brakes ok?" The trip up the mountains was beautiful and the skies were clear, affording an incredible view of our surroundings:
Indeed! At the point where the road reaches its highest elevation, there is a tunnel through a mountain - on this other side is the most frequented area in the park, the Grossglockner and the large Pasterze glacier. When we exited this tunnel we drove into intense fog, which didn't break at all on this other side of the mountain. To your left, you will see our view of this likely most stunning vantage point. A member of the park staff informed us that there was no chance that the clouds would break during the day, and so we turned around and headed back down the mountain, stopping at a restaurant for knödel (dumpling) soup once we had a view again!
Ruth had highly recommended that we do some hiking at a waterfall in Krimml, so we headed there next (about an hour west of Ruth's village). We had time to walk up the first two "tiers" of Austria's largest waterfall: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krimmler_Wasserf%C3%A4lle. After the serenity and majesty of the Alps, I welcomed this contrast; standing at the very base of the falls, getting completely soaked by their spray, I was reminded of the power within these surroundings.We were greeted back at Ruth's with a traditional Austrian meal of small dumplings with local cheese, salad, and a freshly baked cake covered in blackberries from the garden.
I have been so well taken of during this 3 night stay in Gries. The scenery, company, exquisite and healthy organic food, piano, access to technology...Ruth even approached me about an hour ago to ask if she could include any clothes of mine in a load of laundry she was doing. I am overflowing with gratitude - and to think that I discovered this little spot completely by "accident"!
I leave you with a few photos from Salz, as well as one more from Ruth's backyard. I have been so grateful for the serenity of this little village and a slower-pace of life for a few days. Tomorrow, the train will take me to Venice, where I may have to more deliberately cultivate a slower pace, should I wish for it. Or perhaps I will be ready to take this city on full force.
I don't think there is any internet access at my hostel, and I have read that the internet cafes in Venice are incredibly expensive. The next blog update may have to wait until I have affordable access to internet once again, or until I learn how to summarize and write quickly, whichever comes first. ;) Thus far I think I have been fairly successfully in navigating a balance between budgeting (i.e. buying bread and smothering it in the organic President's Choice p.b. I brought from home) while also living life to its fullest (i.e. nockerl the size ofmy head), experiencing each unique culture and making sure I do the things I have dreamed of. I may just blow the budget on a gondola ride in the next couple of days... :)
Italy bound, with love...
 |
| The view from Ruth's garden, Gries im Pinzgrau, Austria |
In talking to a dear friend on the phone today, I was told I sounded "all zenned out". Can you blame me? :)
Today, self-care abounded. Ruth, Carmit, and Amihai (two guests here from Israel) went to Salzburg for the day, and so I had this beautiful space entirely to myself, and only my two feet for travelling on. I went for a long walk up "Ruth's Alp" this morning, and took in more of the glorious view that surrounds me here. The day has also featured more time at the piano (which I discovered is a Bösendorfer, for the music folks reading this!!!!!!), with my journal, and getting caught up with emails and a few phone calls. Most importantly though, has been a little planting ritual. I have shared with some of you my now yearly tradition (this is year two) of taking time to write down things I wish to release from my life, and then burning these pieces of paper, and then writing down things I wish to affirm and invite into my life, and then "planting" these in the ground (with credits and hugs to Deb and Christine for introducing me to this and sharing this experience with me in the past xo). Having burnt a bunch of stuff back in July at home, I brought my "seeds" for planting along with me on this trip. These invitations and affirmations have found a home under an apple tree in Ruth's garden - I loved the image of a well-tended garden and fruit tree, where deliberate cultivation leads to new life and fruit. I figure the view can't hurt either.
Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of getting to know Carmit and Amihai well - first, in sharing a lively and fascinating conversation over breakfast about their experiences with mandatory military service in Israel (which both of them have completed); I was reminded how privileged and sheltered, relatively speaking, my life has been, and how much naivety still exists within me. I learned so much from them in this conversation, and was really challenged in my own thinking, reminded that there are further grey areas than I know.
From the breakfast table, we headed to Hohe Tauern National Park in their rental car: http://www.hohetauern.at/en.html. I was so grateful for this trek, and to be able to share it with such lovely and friendly people. Before I left home, I had read about this park and was determined to visit. Not super accessible via public transportation, connecting with Ruth was the first step, as her home is about 30 minutes from the border of this beautiful area. Still without a plan as to how I was actually going to travel through the area, in yet another beautiful serendipitous moment, I learned on Monday night that Carmit and Amihai were already planning on making this trip on Tuesday, and were more than happy for me to come along for the ride. Sooo wonderful! The park features many glorious views of snowy mountain peaks, including the highest point in the park, Grossglockner Mountain at 3798m, glaciers, and a fabulously treacherous winding road with signs that periodically ask, "Brakes ok?" The trip up the mountains was beautiful and the skies were clear, affording an incredible view of our surroundings:
 |
| With Carmit at Hohe Tauern National Park |
 |
| If not, it's way too late...Hohe Tauern National Park |
 |
| Fog and the famous Pasterze Glacier |
Ruth had highly recommended that we do some hiking at a waterfall in Krimml, so we headed there next (about an hour west of Ruth's village). We had time to walk up the first two "tiers" of Austria's largest waterfall: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krimmler_Wasserf%C3%A4lle. After the serenity and majesty of the Alps, I welcomed this contrast; standing at the very base of the falls, getting completely soaked by their spray, I was reminded of the power within these surroundings.We were greeted back at Ruth's with a traditional Austrian meal of small dumplings with local cheese, salad, and a freshly baked cake covered in blackberries from the garden.
I have been so well taken of during this 3 night stay in Gries. The scenery, company, exquisite and healthy organic food, piano, access to technology...Ruth even approached me about an hour ago to ask if she could include any clothes of mine in a load of laundry she was doing. I am overflowing with gratitude - and to think that I discovered this little spot completely by "accident"!
I leave you with a few photos from Salz, as well as one more from Ruth's backyard. I have been so grateful for the serenity of this little village and a slower-pace of life for a few days. Tomorrow, the train will take me to Venice, where I may have to more deliberately cultivate a slower pace, should I wish for it. Or perhaps I will be ready to take this city on full force.
I don't think there is any internet access at my hostel, and I have read that the internet cafes in Venice are incredibly expensive. The next blog update may have to wait until I have affordable access to internet once again, or until I learn how to summarize and write quickly, whichever comes first. ;) Thus far I think I have been fairly successfully in navigating a balance between budgeting (i.e. buying bread and smothering it in the organic President's Choice p.b. I brought from home) while also living life to its fullest (i.e. nockerl the size ofmy head), experiencing each unique culture and making sure I do the things I have dreamed of. I may just blow the budget on a gondola ride in the next couple of days... :)
Italy bound, with love...
 |
| Fräulein Maria's Bike Tour, Salzburg |
 |
| Salzburg Dome Cathedral |
 |
Hohensalzburg Fortress, from a different mountain... |
 |
| Eating Nockerl in Salzburg |
 |
| Chilling in Ruth's garden again... |
Monday, September 6, 2010
nockerl (the size of my head!) & mountain paradise
I sit writing this with windows all around me, a panoramic view of the Alps, both rolling hills and also snow-capped peaks, just outside of them. Immediately outside of the windows are gardens, both vegetables and flowers, a grassy area for sitting and gazing at the view, or a wrap around porch, if you would prefer. Bread is baking in the oven, the smells wafting through the house, and lunch included juice that had been made from the flowers of one of the nearby trees. Before I lost myself in journalling, I spent about an hour playing the piano and singing beside one of these windows with this spectacular view (I have the choice of the impeccably tuned upright on the upper floor, or the grand on the main floor). Books and books of Chopin lie at the top of the piles of music, as though they were just waiting for my arrival...
I believe I mentioned in a previous entry that I had connected with someone on couch surfing by beautiful accident - when I first saw Ruth's profile, I had been looking for a place to stay in the city of Salzburg. When I realized she in fact lived 90km south of the city, just outside of the village of Gries im Pinzgau, "on an Alp", I went to continue my search, and then on a whim decided to contact her. And so, here I sit, on an Alp. Ruth was in Salzburg today, and so she drove me to this mountain paradise of hers, a house she built 20 years ago. She is a homeopath, psychologist, musician, gardener, baker, mom, world traveller, among many other things. This place is a bit surreal - a true gift - and the perfect spot for me to practice my intention of actually slowing down.
When I last left you, I had just arrived in Salzburg, and successfully found my hostel thanks to the goodwill of our friends Barney and Mike. I woke up in good time on Saturday morning for my Fräulein Maria's Sound of Music bicycle tour (http://www.mariasbicycletours.com/welcome.htm). Who participates in a bicycle tour in the rain, you ask? Me! And, a woman named Sharon, in her 60s, who was travelling from Florida. The two of us, plus our lovely tour guide Gertrude, set off through the streets of Salzburg and the surrounding area, riding delightful city bikes that the Fräulein herself may have ridden. Definitely not the "Sound of Music tour" experience one imagines when picturing Salzburg (i.e. 40 North Americans in a tour bus singing "The hills are alive" at the top of their lungs), though I was a bit disappointed that there was no singing involved, riding a bike for four hours, with a light sprinkling of rain and while the city streets were relatively quiet, through winding alley ways, parks, and bike trails, was exactly what I needed. It's true that doing the tour by bike means that you don't actually get to go to the hills where that famous first scene was filmed. But, you also get to see narrow streets, parks, and trails that you would never see on a bus - in addition to seeing many Sound of Music filming locations, this was simply a lovely way to be introduced to the city. Movie locations we saw included the front and back of the Von Trapp home (two totally different homes were used), the graveyard (which was altered in studio, because the graves in real life are not actually large enough to hide behind), the concert hall, the abbey, the gazebo ("I am 16 going on 17" - the city has had to lock the gazebo due to tourists injuring themselves while dancing inside of it, endeavouring to re-create the scene from the movie) and a number of stairways, fountains, archways, and paths used in filming. On the front of our bikes we had laminated pictures from scenes of the movie, so that we were able to compare these with where we were actually standing. Twas lovely to see the movie scenes of this beloved childhood movie, but my favourite part was riding a bike for four hours, getting to know my way around the city, and gazing upon the beautiful snow-covered alps in the distance.
That afternoon, I climbed to the HohenSalzburg Fortress (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hohensalzburg_Castle), for a lovely view of the city, as well as some information about military history, torture chambers and the like (not so much my thing). The cloud cover prevented the glorious view of the mountains that would have been possible from this height, but I enjoyed taking in the history - construction of this fortress began in 1077 - and learning about how it had been developed strategically by various archbishops over the years, depending on the political situation of the day.
Yesterday morning invited a leisurely sleep in, and then a visit to Mozart's birth-house and also his long-time residence. I opted not to pay to see the museums at either of these sights (figuring that I have memorized the details of Mozart's life and works enough times over the years), but enjoyed imagining the young Wolfgang frolicking about these same streets that I was walking. I also visited a number of churches, and happened upon the grave of Mozart's widow and also his father. I also happened upon 4 women from the K-W area in a touristy salt store (3 of them were travelling together, and they had just randomly happened upon the 4th lady moments before I arrived on the scene) - it turns out that they are loyal supporters of Lutherwood, and so I thanked them for their contributions to paying my salary, and we got a group photo before we headed in our 3 separate directions!
By suggestion of Michaela, I went to a traditional Austrian restaurant for Nockerl (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salzburger_Nockerl), and felt a bit conspicuous when this dessert as big as my head arrived. (And even more conspicuous when I, of course, took a photo of it...)
The highlight yesterday was a hike around dinner time, up at least 600m, which provided a truly breathtaking view of the surrounding alps (breathtaking by yesterday's standards, that is). As I walked back down the hill, I was stopped in my tracks by the beauty around me. I stopped, allowing myself to be perfectly still, just looking, breathing. I had such a restorative, joyful, empowering, letting go kind of cry while listening to "One of These Days" (www.myspace.com/gracewandering) (shameless self promotion), still standing absolutely still. I can feel myself starting to allow myself to slow down a bit. There have been moments over these past few days where hanging out in Europe on my own for another couple of months has felt daunting at best. Yesterday, equipped with necessary reminders of the preciousness of my most important relationships, and at that moment, standing overlooking Salzburg and the Alps, I felt myself to be an empowered solo traveler once again. I also recognized, as I often do, my tendency for both literal and metaphorical mountain-top experiences, knowing that with these, comes also swings in the other direction. Noticing these without judgement, and arriving somewhere steady and grounded, I found myself actually skipping at times as I walked back down the trail, harmonizing along to Ingrid Michaelson on my ipod. :)
Empowered turned to stress this morning (again, noticing this tendency of mine), as while speaking to Ruth and getting directions on the phone, I finally said "okay" because I knew my phone was running out of minutes, but, through her thick accent, couldn't actually make out all of the letters of the street names that she had patiently spelled out for me. After Googlemaps came to the rescue (Ruth had said that she was at an apartment that she rents out to tourists; to my surprise, when seeking out her address on the internet, I found a tourist destination called "Ruth House", on a street name close to what I had interpreted). I set off, feeling confident once again, only to not find the bus stop anywhere close to where I had thought it was; when I finally did find it, the road was completely under construction, and I had to catch the bus from the other side of the river. Panic, panic...My cell is out of minutes...What if Ruth leaves for the Alps without me...Panic panic...
When I finally got in touch with Ruth to tell her I was running 30 minutes late, she assured me that she was only getting around to eating breakfast at this point (12:30pm), and that there was no need for me to rush. Reminders to slow down. When I finally arrived at the apartment, I met her son Frederic, 25, and another Canadian Couch Surfer, from just outside of Guelph. Lola Jean, around my age, is taking 6 months to travel around Europe, and is hitch-hiking for the most part. (I told her I would use her as an example to quell my own family's worries as to my safety, considering that hitch hiking is not part of my plan). It was inspiring to hear her stories about the ways in which people have opened up their cars and homes to her, and how she is learning to trust in the goodwill of others and take things one day at a time. Each time I meet a fellow solo-traveller I am inspired in some new way, and learn something new about the world.
The fresh bread that is now on the counter is calling my name.
I will hopefully post some photos of my mountain paradise soon.
Sending my love!
I believe I mentioned in a previous entry that I had connected with someone on couch surfing by beautiful accident - when I first saw Ruth's profile, I had been looking for a place to stay in the city of Salzburg. When I realized she in fact lived 90km south of the city, just outside of the village of Gries im Pinzgau, "on an Alp", I went to continue my search, and then on a whim decided to contact her. And so, here I sit, on an Alp. Ruth was in Salzburg today, and so she drove me to this mountain paradise of hers, a house she built 20 years ago. She is a homeopath, psychologist, musician, gardener, baker, mom, world traveller, among many other things. This place is a bit surreal - a true gift - and the perfect spot for me to practice my intention of actually slowing down.
When I last left you, I had just arrived in Salzburg, and successfully found my hostel thanks to the goodwill of our friends Barney and Mike. I woke up in good time on Saturday morning for my Fräulein Maria's Sound of Music bicycle tour (http://www.mariasbicycletours.com/welcome.htm). Who participates in a bicycle tour in the rain, you ask? Me! And, a woman named Sharon, in her 60s, who was travelling from Florida. The two of us, plus our lovely tour guide Gertrude, set off through the streets of Salzburg and the surrounding area, riding delightful city bikes that the Fräulein herself may have ridden. Definitely not the "Sound of Music tour" experience one imagines when picturing Salzburg (i.e. 40 North Americans in a tour bus singing "The hills are alive" at the top of their lungs), though I was a bit disappointed that there was no singing involved, riding a bike for four hours, with a light sprinkling of rain and while the city streets were relatively quiet, through winding alley ways, parks, and bike trails, was exactly what I needed. It's true that doing the tour by bike means that you don't actually get to go to the hills where that famous first scene was filmed. But, you also get to see narrow streets, parks, and trails that you would never see on a bus - in addition to seeing many Sound of Music filming locations, this was simply a lovely way to be introduced to the city. Movie locations we saw included the front and back of the Von Trapp home (two totally different homes were used), the graveyard (which was altered in studio, because the graves in real life are not actually large enough to hide behind), the concert hall, the abbey, the gazebo ("I am 16 going on 17" - the city has had to lock the gazebo due to tourists injuring themselves while dancing inside of it, endeavouring to re-create the scene from the movie) and a number of stairways, fountains, archways, and paths used in filming. On the front of our bikes we had laminated pictures from scenes of the movie, so that we were able to compare these with where we were actually standing. Twas lovely to see the movie scenes of this beloved childhood movie, but my favourite part was riding a bike for four hours, getting to know my way around the city, and gazing upon the beautiful snow-covered alps in the distance.
That afternoon, I climbed to the HohenSalzburg Fortress (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hohensalzburg_Castle), for a lovely view of the city, as well as some information about military history, torture chambers and the like (not so much my thing). The cloud cover prevented the glorious view of the mountains that would have been possible from this height, but I enjoyed taking in the history - construction of this fortress began in 1077 - and learning about how it had been developed strategically by various archbishops over the years, depending on the political situation of the day.
Yesterday morning invited a leisurely sleep in, and then a visit to Mozart's birth-house and also his long-time residence. I opted not to pay to see the museums at either of these sights (figuring that I have memorized the details of Mozart's life and works enough times over the years), but enjoyed imagining the young Wolfgang frolicking about these same streets that I was walking. I also visited a number of churches, and happened upon the grave of Mozart's widow and also his father. I also happened upon 4 women from the K-W area in a touristy salt store (3 of them were travelling together, and they had just randomly happened upon the 4th lady moments before I arrived on the scene) - it turns out that they are loyal supporters of Lutherwood, and so I thanked them for their contributions to paying my salary, and we got a group photo before we headed in our 3 separate directions!
By suggestion of Michaela, I went to a traditional Austrian restaurant for Nockerl (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salzburger_Nockerl), and felt a bit conspicuous when this dessert as big as my head arrived. (And even more conspicuous when I, of course, took a photo of it...)
The highlight yesterday was a hike around dinner time, up at least 600m, which provided a truly breathtaking view of the surrounding alps (breathtaking by yesterday's standards, that is). As I walked back down the hill, I was stopped in my tracks by the beauty around me. I stopped, allowing myself to be perfectly still, just looking, breathing. I had such a restorative, joyful, empowering, letting go kind of cry while listening to "One of These Days" (www.myspace.com/gracewandering) (shameless self promotion), still standing absolutely still. I can feel myself starting to allow myself to slow down a bit. There have been moments over these past few days where hanging out in Europe on my own for another couple of months has felt daunting at best. Yesterday, equipped with necessary reminders of the preciousness of my most important relationships, and at that moment, standing overlooking Salzburg and the Alps, I felt myself to be an empowered solo traveler once again. I also recognized, as I often do, my tendency for both literal and metaphorical mountain-top experiences, knowing that with these, comes also swings in the other direction. Noticing these without judgement, and arriving somewhere steady and grounded, I found myself actually skipping at times as I walked back down the trail, harmonizing along to Ingrid Michaelson on my ipod. :)
Empowered turned to stress this morning (again, noticing this tendency of mine), as while speaking to Ruth and getting directions on the phone, I finally said "okay" because I knew my phone was running out of minutes, but, through her thick accent, couldn't actually make out all of the letters of the street names that she had patiently spelled out for me. After Googlemaps came to the rescue (Ruth had said that she was at an apartment that she rents out to tourists; to my surprise, when seeking out her address on the internet, I found a tourist destination called "Ruth House", on a street name close to what I had interpreted). I set off, feeling confident once again, only to not find the bus stop anywhere close to where I had thought it was; when I finally did find it, the road was completely under construction, and I had to catch the bus from the other side of the river. Panic, panic...My cell is out of minutes...What if Ruth leaves for the Alps without me...Panic panic...
When I finally got in touch with Ruth to tell her I was running 30 minutes late, she assured me that she was only getting around to eating breakfast at this point (12:30pm), and that there was no need for me to rush. Reminders to slow down. When I finally arrived at the apartment, I met her son Frederic, 25, and another Canadian Couch Surfer, from just outside of Guelph. Lola Jean, around my age, is taking 6 months to travel around Europe, and is hitch-hiking for the most part. (I told her I would use her as an example to quell my own family's worries as to my safety, considering that hitch hiking is not part of my plan). It was inspiring to hear her stories about the ways in which people have opened up their cars and homes to her, and how she is learning to trust in the goodwill of others and take things one day at a time. Each time I meet a fellow solo-traveller I am inspired in some new way, and learn something new about the world.
The fresh bread that is now on the counter is calling my name.
I will hopefully post some photos of my mountain paradise soon.
Sending my love!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)