changing seasons

Naples grew on me, as I was told it might. :) Wednesday morning, I had a chance to wander the city before my train to Bern. In broad daylight I felt much more confident in my exploring, and I found myself being pulled in by the chaos and excitement, mesmerized a bit by the constant flurry of activity, and enjoying the people-watching very much.  Naples was a thriving center centuries ago, and this is readily apparent in the grandeur of its architecture. The port and view across the Bay of Naples, and also the view of Mount Vesuvius, were also lovely reprieves from the busy city streets.

So as not to disappoint, and as Italian men have been a theme in recent entries, I have one last story to share (I share this with the disclaimer that I have met countless Italian men who do not fit the stereotype that I am reinforcing through these stories...but the stereotype reinforcing makes for great blog posts, no?)...

So. Whilst wondering about Naples on Wednesday morning, I decided to buy myself a sweater, preparation for the rest of my travels further north. Saw a cardigan in a window for 15 euro. Perfect. And so I entered, and was greeted by Franko, age 49: "Ohhhhh, Elizabeth, you are top-model!  Yes!  Top-model!  Bellissima!" (and so on)  This went on and on (and on), as Franko hovered around me, wanted to help do up the buttons on my sweater (and so on). "When do you return to Naples?  You are top-model!  I think of you. You think of me".  (Just give me the damn sweater, Franko.)  Our interaction ended when Franko pointed to his cheek, and asked, "Kiss?" (as is culturally quite acceptable). One cheek kiss, and when I turned my head to kiss the other, Franko went in for the lips...

And with that, I said farewell to Italy! :)

Fabienne, Couch Surfing host extraordinaire, met me at the station in Bern, when my train arrived Wednesday night after the eight hour journey from Naples. What a treat - after a month in Italy with eight different arrivals at eight different train stations, disoriented, trying to make my way to a hostel on my own - to be met and taken under someone's wing immediately. Within minutes, I knew I was in good hands for my stay in Bern.  Warm, thoughtful, generous, full of life, Fabi and I hit it off right away.

Fabi and her boyfriend Stefan live in a "community" in Bern with 18 others, aged 1-50. The 20 of them share a kitchen (and also food and cooking/cleaning responsibilities), a living room, music room, and a yard. Then, there are 5 floors with 4 bedrooms on each, as well as additional living rooms and bathrooms. I was so warmly welcomed by each person I met there, and was inspired and somewhat enthralled by this living arrangement. A real challenge to the typical Western values of independence and personal-space, I felt this community had struck a beautiful balance between shared space and privacy.  20 bikes lined up outside, 20 chairs at the dining room table, the back door always unlocked, and guests are always welcome.  And there was piano!  So remarkable.  Fabi and Stefan, and also their good friends Oli and Dani who I also hung with a great deal, truly embody the community's values within themselves - they were beyond generous.  It was such an honour to stay there for three nights...

Some highlights from my time in Bern include...

...Visiting the beautiful Rosengarten (Rose Garden) with Fabi on Thursday morning before she headed to work, and gazing over the city centre from the lookout point at this garden:

View of Bern's City Centre from the Rosengarten

...Wandering the city centre with Oli, a gentle soul currently studying philosophy, and discussing politics and philosophy as we visited the baerenpark (the bear has been the city's mascot since the 12th century, and Bern stays true to its heritage by keeping a bear, or a family of bears, in captivity at all times...In 2009, a "park" was built to replace the less appealing bear "pit"), and the Munster Cathedral (a gothic masterpiece).

Papa Bear: Baerenpark

...The Shnit Film Festival, which Fabi, Stefan, and Dani and I attended both Thursday and Friday nights, viewing quirky international short films (and falling asleep, due to the 11:30 start time on Friday night). Artistically and culturally speaking, there is apparently always something going on in Bern!

...Chestnuts galore: Chestnuts are in season right now, and I named Friday "Chestnut Day", as it included chestnut yogurt, chestnut purree with whipped cream (soooo good) and roasted chestnuts from a little street stand...mmmm....



Fabi and I eat roasted chestnuts while waiting for the bus...

...Hiking to the top of the Gurten "Moutain" in Bern, with Fabi and her sister Monique. More of a "big hill" than a mountain, the Bernese call this their "house-mountain" (the direct translation from the German). It was a foggy view of the city from the top... 

The foggy view from the top of Gurten Mountain, Bern



...Fall colours: When I arrived in Bern, though I knew the temperature would be significantly lower than Naples had been that morning, I hadn't thought about the fact that the leaves would of course be turning (and the last several hours of my train journey had been in the dark). Sitting talking to Fabi, Stefan, and Dani upon my arrival, I suddenly asked, "Have the leaves changed?", and Stefan and Dani went out to the backyard, and brought in an assortment of vibrantly coloured leaves.  Yes, I miss the Meditteranean a wee bit, but I have always loved autumn, and I think I would be disappointed to go directly from summer to winter. The colours are gorgeous here. 

Culturally speaking, the trip from Naples to Bern in one day was an interesting experience. There is a part of me that misses all the things about southen Italy that felt exotic - certainly, the goal of my travels is not to remain "comfortable" at all times, and learning about, and soaking in different cultures is so important to me - this journey is about much more than "sight-seeing".  That being said, culturally, life in Switzerland feels a bit more homey, and that feels somewhat comforting right now. I feel a bit guilty about this, but perhaps it is well timed with my trip and with my inward journey. Three times on this trip, I have spontaneously thought to myself, "I could live here": in Vienna, Austria, in Lucca, Italy, and now in Bern.

Yesterday afternoon, I said a goodbye that felt far too soon to my newfound community in Bern (although not before trying the slackline in the backyard), and took a gorgeous trainride to Lauterbrunnen, a little town surrounded by Alps (very close to Interlaken, which is the city name more people are familiar with). I have a breathtaking view of the Jungfrau, the peak known as the "top of Europe" at over 4000 metres.  And, I will close this post by saying that I spent the day today hiking (a full 8 hours, including a 1400m climb) with Dani, from the Bernese community (he took the train to meet me here today). Incredible.  A bit of a cliff-hanger, I know (literally and metaphorically, even) - you'll have to wait for the next post!

Good night.

Sending my love xo

avoiding the mafia since 1982

Greetings from Napoli!

I will begin my post with a rather telling example of the Italian male. Recently, I have signed into Couch Surfing several times in order to search for accommodation in Switzerland.  Upon signing into the site, other users can see your location (not an exact address, just the city and country). Though I have never had any issue with this feature of the site before, I got the following message in my CS inbox yesterday:

Ciao Elizabeth...i've seen that you are in Napoli's area:i've the honour to give you my welcome!! i'm sure that you've already fallen in love with the beauty of this magic city!!...if you too like the idea i'd be so glad to meet you in my city, maybe for a walk or to share a cup aof real neapolitano coffee as the tradiction wants!! my number is (phone number here) ( we can communicate via sms ) my mail is (email address here) kisses!!Valentino

Apparently, in Italia, the Canadian women don't need to contact potential hosts, as per the usual custom of the site; rather, we can just wait for offers to come to us.  Kisses?  Really, Valentino?  

I find myself presently at a really lovely hostel in Naples: the streets aren't safe after dark, and the internet is free, and so blogging seems a good idea.  A city of nearly one million, Naples is a known mafia hotspot, and in addition is socio-economically less "developed" than the well-polished north. This was my first hostel where, upon check in, I was warned to keep my valuables locked and to guard my passport closely. My trusty Lonely Planet guide describes the city as a "raucous hell-broth" (I fit in about as well as I did in Beverly Hills 90210), and this description seemed fitting, as I emerged from the train station this afternoon and trekked the 30 minutes to my hostel. Horns honking, cars and motorcycles swerving, sirens blaring, a middle-aged man making kissing gestures towards me, and the streets incredibly crowded with pedestrians, garbage, and vendors. Simultaneously fascinated by the cultural differences in this city in comparison with any others I have visited on this trip, while also terrified of being run over by a vespa, I endeavoured to people-watch and take many mental photos of my surroundings, as I walked confidently and quickly to the hostel, trying to look at my map as little as possible, and literally jumping out of the way of traffic on several occasions.

When I set out on this journey, I had imagined that I would spend a few days in Naples: I knew I would be spending a lot of time in Italy, and culturally, I saw great value in experiencing the chaos, history, and rawness that is Naples, and not simply the polished touristy destinations. That being said, and as I noted recently, my appetite for big-city hell-broth is much less pronounced right now. And so, I am staying here one night only, more a stepping-stone than a destination, although I will have some time to do some wandering before my train tomorrow at 1pm.

So.  When I last wrote, I was about as far from "raucous hell-broth" as one can get:

Duomo cathedral (view from the beach), Positano

Walk of the Gods, with Positano in the background: Amalfi Coast

Amalfi Coast

View of Positano from the main beach

Fresh pasta with seafood

I LOVED the Amalfi Coast.  I loved its rugged beauty, its ridiculously skinny and treacherous little roads and my little friendly hostel, I loved lying on the beach, swimming in crystal clear water and jumping in the waves, and I loved walking out onto the terrace the last four mornings, cereal and Americano in hand, and eating breakfast overlooking the Mediterranean.  I feel confident that the trip to Switzerland tomorrow is well-timed, but, similar to my departure from Cinque Terre, I felt sad this morning as my bus pulled away from the little town of Positano.  Sad to leave the Amalfi Coast, and also sad to be leaving Italy; when planning this trip, I knew that my stay in Italy would be a significant portion of my stay in Europe, and it is hard to believe that I am about to begin the next "phase" of this journey.

Yesterday, I hiked the famous "Walk of the Gods", a path that begins in the town of Nocelle, high above Positano (where I was staying), and leads along the coast for some spectacular views. With geckos running across the path nearly constantly, lush vegetation (including vineyards and olive groves for a portion of the hike), birds and insects singing, and very few people around, it was truly breathtaking. I opted to take the bus from Positano, rather than walking straight up to Nocelle, but did do the stairs down at the end: over 1000!  The pictures above don't really do it justice, but they give a good idea. Incredible. I also realized yesterday how much I enjoy hiking on my own: going at my own pace, stopping to journal while sitting above the most beautiful lookout spots, and taking in my surroundings while also staying in my inner-world. I had been feeling that my time in Italy required some kind of intentional closure (being the therapist that I am), and this hike was the perfect way to say farewell to Italy, after having been here since September 9th. The hike was also one of the (albeit, many) highlights of the trip thus far: empowered, connected, grounded, and surrounded by natural beauty.

My ability to remain connected and grounded was challenged when I arrived at Praiano (the town at the bottom of the 1000+ stairs) around 2:30pm, sweaty, hot (30 degrees and full sun), dehydrated (my water bottle had been long empty) and hungry, to find the entire little town in the middle of their siesta - shops were all closed between 1pm - 4pm, and the local bus back to Positano did not run again until 4:15pm. The inter-city bus was still running, but required a ticket that needed to be purchased in one of the shops that was closed until 4pm...Alas, I delved into my Alice Munroe, and enjoyed my last splash in the waves when I finally got back "home" around 5pm.

Today, on my way to Naples, I visited Pompeii (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pompeii), the famous Roman town that was destroyed/buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted in AD 79.   Re-discovered in the 16th century, the volcanic ash preserved buildings, art, and even people incredibly well, and one can walk through the streets and buildings of this town, which was founded in the 6th-7th centuries BC. I did not have enough time in Pompeii to see everything (as I needed to get to Naples and find my hostel before sunset), but highlights included temples to Venus and Apollo, a bakery, thermal baths, and several brothels (one in which the original artwork, detailing a number of acrobatic sexual positions, is preserved, along with graffiti from those who frequented the place. Brothels were indicated on the streets by a penis shape protruding from the walls: also preserved).

By the time I arrived in Naples this evening, I didn't have enough time to wander, but did have time for dinner. It was the Neapolitans who invented pizza, and so the best pizzerias in the world are considered to be here (and, as far as I am concerned, that is reason enough in and of itself to visit this city)!  I ate dinner at L'Antica Pizzeria Da Michele, arguably the best pizzeria in the world (and recently made famous by Elizabeth Gilbert and subsequently Julia Roberts' meals there). In true Neapolitan tradition, they serve only two kinds of pizza: Margherita (tomato, mozzarella, oil, basil) and Marinara (tomato, garlic, oregano).  Dripping with oil, covered in incredibly fresh cheese, huge, and delicious.  Eat, Pray, Love, indeed. :)

The longer I travel, the more I realize that I desire to seek those moments of empowerment, groundedness, connection, no matter what my outside circumstances may be. Easier said than done, I notice that I have these moments when I have been in a place for several days (and often when my surroundings are breathtakingly beautiful), and that it is on the days of transitions in which my anxiety level is heightened, where I feel unsettled and unsure. Of course this makes perfect sense, and of course the transitions are hard. I am striving to be more aware of myself in them, remaining connected to solo-traveller Liz, and not just stressing about connection times and pickpocketers. And I will have ample time to put this into practice tomorrow, when at 12:50pm, I take the train to Bern, Switzerland. Despite many people's (rational, indeed) suggestions that I stay south, since the weather is starting to become quite cool (and backpacking in cooler weather simply weighs a lot more), I feel my intuition drawing me to Switzerland. I have Couch Surfing lined up in Bern, and am excited to wander a capital city with a population under 200 000. The same Lonely Planet book that describes Naples as a "raucous hell-broth", portrays Bern, on the other hand, as having "the genteel old soul of a Renaissance man". So long as it's a genteel soul that doesn't make gross kissing noises to me on the street, I am set.

With love

xo

my Roman confession

My gelato (coffee and coconut...mmmm...)enjoys a view of the Colosseum, Rome

Okay, so I went riding around the Colosseum at midnight, on the back of a Vespa, with a little bit too much alcohol in my system (although let's be honest, it really doesn't take much for me) and a guy who worked at the hostel. There, I said it. Naz had been flirting with me since my arrival, and, I'll give him credit, had to be pretty persistent in convincing me to come out for a ride after he finished work at 11:30pm on Thursday night. There was a brief snag in our plans when my giant head (it's true, I have a giant head - this story is proof) didn't fit into his lovely and feminine pale blue helmet, however; he gladly wore the pale blue one so that I could wear the men's model. My nervousness (I had never been on a motorcycle or vespa in my life) remained a subtle presence, but was soon overshadowed by the wind and the lights of Rome blurring past me. I have heard this phrase used (and have been guilty of using it) at pretty lame moments, but I do think this experience gives me the right to say, "When in Rome..."

Brooke and me in St. Peter's Square, Vatican City

Me & Medusa, Vatican Museum

Aside from my motorcycle ride, I spent my final day in Rome listening to my intuition and moving around at a much slower place. Saw the Pantheon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantheon,_Rome), a number of churches, and wandered around some different areas of the city. Had delicious pizza for dinner with Brooke and Andrew, a good cry on the phone with a dear friend, and then my vespa ride. As someone who typically wears her emotions pretty close to the surface, something that is tricky to find when travelling alone and sleeping in dorm rooms is a place for a good cry. I have often said (prior to my travels, even) that I wish that crying was as socially acceptable as laughing, that I believe we would be more 'well' as a society were we not forced to keep our tears locked away in private places. I don't want the others in my dorm to worry about this quirky solo-traveller, I am totally okay, I just need a good cry every now and again. And so, apparently the place to do this is in scuzzy internet cafes in the termini district in Rome... :)

I've been lugging around a Therma-rest pillow this entire time, and on most days, I find myself cursing its presence, as I've used it very little and it will not decompress to the same tiny size it was when I purchased it in Waterloo. However, for Friday's train trip, post crazy motorcycle night in Rome, my little pillow was worth its weight in gold. The journey to Positano, on the Amalfi Coast, involved a train ride to Naples, a train(ish)/subway(ish) & sketchy train ride from Naples to Sorrento, and then a bus ride from Sorrento to Positano. The scenery along this journey was incredible, as the landscape and vegetation changed as we headed further and further south: the mountains to the east and the sea to the west. Socio-economically, the view changed as well, as there were more and more areas of tired apartment buildings, peeling paint, houses in shambles, set against this background of mountainous spectacular-ness.  It felt very real and very raw, compared to the more polished north of the country.

I had been warned to bring a vomit bag for the bus trip from Sorrento to Positano, and certainly there were moments, as the bus wound its way around hairpin turns with little room to spare from the cliff-faces below, that were harrowing; however, in comparison to my busride down the mountain in Ecuador at night in the fog, I felt remarkably safe. The view of the bright blue sea, lush green mountains, and towns built into the sides of cliffs, was rather mesmerizing.

And this was how I found my way to my low-budget hostel (complete with a top bunk with no ladder or rails, a single blanket that has the texture of an old dishcloth that was turned into a rag about a month ago, and the kindest front desk staff and a terrace with the most stunning view of the sea) in the midst of this kind of resort town.  Positano was built from the seaside straight up the cliff; the main tourist area is of course at water's edge, and my truly delightful little hostel is 300+ stairs straight up. There is thus quite a commitment involved when one heads to the beach for the day.  :)  It is absolutely beautiful. After my long journey here, I enjoyed a delicious dinner of homemade pasta with fresh seafood, and crashed well before 10pm.

Yesterday was my first full-on beach day of the trip. The beach felt a bit like being on the set of an episode of Beverly Hills 90210 (and so I fit in perfectly), (I learned later in the day that this is a hotspot for young and beautiful American college students, who are studying abroad, to come for long-weekends), however; lying in the 30+ degree full sun on the shores of the Mediterranean, reading, napping, writing, swimming, repeat, was exactly what I needed after the chaos of Rome.  After the beach, I decided to brave an Italian haircut, using lots of dramatic gestures to explain what I was looking for. (She did pretty well - certainly well enough to last me until I am back in Waterloo once again!)

 Last night was the town's yearly "Festa Del Pesce" (Fish Festival), and so at 9pm, I headed to the beach along with Shannon and Colleen, from Vancouver, and ate local and fresh squid, octopus, and smaller nameless fish with heads and eyeballs still remarkably intact and staring up at us ("When in Rome..."). :)  With a live band and then a dj, we danced on the beach, sang along to Celine Dion (3 in a row!), drank the local wine for 50 cents a glass, and soaked in the local culture.  It feels good to be back by the water. I knew when I left Cinque Terre that I wasn't done with being by the sea, and I am loving the fact that there isn't a ton that I feel I need to "do" here. I also love the fact that I can stay day-by-day at this hostel, letting them know each morning whether or not I plan to stay another night. True spontaneity in practice - I apparently am actually capable!  I will head to Switzerland soon enough, but not before a few more dips in the sea, perhaps a hike up a cliff, and a bit more Vitamin D...

xo

flirtation & my relationship with Rome

"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.

"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):

The village of Manarola, at sunset

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.

Bolt cutters and a broken lock

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..... :)

Alyssa and me overlooking the village of Vernazza

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.

Day 1

Day 3

Day 4

...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"

mmmm.....

...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 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...

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.

overlooking Siena and the Tuscan countryside

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!

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

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...