Cereal

There a lot of people floating around the solo traveler circuit who have been in orbit for quite some time. From time to time they like to discuss what they're going to do first when they get home. The topic is a bit overused, considering that most of the answers fall to the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy. Aside from see Harry Potter (3D? I think so.), I am looking forward to breakfast. They don't eat it here. Probably because their cereal options include corn flakes and corn flakes.  So sitting in the airport, I am thinking about cereal. And very happy that I realized ten minutes ago that I was waiting at the gate that corresponded to my seat number, as opposed to the one where the plane going to Seattle waited. Disaster averted.

Wine tasting!!

My last few days were pretty awesome. It poured rain. I tasted some wine. Played around on a farm. Went to a chocolate factory. Explored a creepy abandoned village. Got back to Rome. Decided that staying out all night is the best way to handle a 4am taxi to the airport. Waited in the longest baggage check ever.

RAIN!!

The last few days its been raining. Then yesterday, it poured. BUCKETS!! I hid in an irish pub. This turned out to be a fantastic idea, shared by many other people. This is the best photo seemed capable of taking. Doesn't do the downpour justice really.


OK FAST FORWARD!!!!  Right now I am sitting on lindsey’s front stoop, crankier than any cranky I have been yet this trip, after having torn her house apart for my “prominently placed” car keys. Yes its true. I am home. I also want to sleep now. In my own bed.

 A smattering of photos:

Julia Roberts?

Yesterday someone asked me if I was “eat pray loving it”. For those of you who are not familiar, “EAT, PRAY, LOVE” is a book/lackluster movie starring Julia Roberts. It is the epic journey of one woman trying to find herself by travelling to Italy, india and Bangladesh. Not to give the game away, but she finds out how to eat, pray and love. Anyways, I’m left wondering if I look lost. Or if I am suddenly lacking a lower lip. Eat, pray, love is a nice idea. But you can’t go out looking to find yourself.  Finding yourself is like hunting horcruxes. Completely accidental, and usually involving magic (that’s luck to all you muggle minions out there). I’m not looking to find anything more than third George Martin book.  

Travel recap: Spent another day in the Cinque Terre swimming in the sea and reading. Went to Florence. Got my culture on with a series of museums and monuments. Experienced a total downpour, reminiscent of monsoon season. Had some quality heart to hearts with strangers. Missed another train. 

Headed to a farm tomorrow. Love farms. Natural habitat of my spirit animal!

If you’re reading this, I love you and miss you. 

PHOTOS?

Riomaggiore

Yesterday evening I wrote something of the following in my journal. No shower 3 days. No place to stay. 9pm. Have some bread? 24 hours later I have an apt for nothing (including unlimted showers), tasty food, sunburn etc etc.

 

Its very pretty here, and I spent the better part of nine hours hiking/beaching/day drinking with a girl  from Vancouver.  Now I am feeling the effects of this. 

 

Life is good. Going for a mosey. 

Also, there is a train strike for the next 24 hours starting in about 34 minutes. Who cares.

Mountains Gandalf!

Went up to Alpe Scilar/Catinaccio for what my dad promised to be the best mountains Italy has to offer. Didn't disappoint. Could have sworn that LOTR characters were going to pop out from behind boulders.  The altitude and mileage were a challenge, but I came out on the otherside in one piece. Due to my train schedule on day one I had to run/speedwalk to my first hut. For the first bit I was encouraged to turn around. The second bit I saw no peoples. But made it up in time for dinner and sunset! Day two was long. Longer than the punishment tromp. Met some more nice italians, shared some more wine, got some more blisters. Day three, wake to snow. Run away home.

You can kind of see the Rifugio I stayed at in the background, and the rock that I used to prop my camera up on in the foreground! Self-timer success!

Before my gnarly descent/ascent to passo prinipe. Not really sure why I'm smiling here.

Weird sculpture sighted during snowy escape.

Skeeterbit

Street cats!

Yes. A skeeter did bite my eyelid. It looks fantastic thank you, I know. A little parting gift from Venice.  

To recap my travels: Saw some more historical sites and monuments. Spent another night in Rome making trouble and barely making my morning train to Venice. Spent a night on top of a mountain in Cortina with my long lost childhood friendsie Melissa Cafferey. Took a particularly precarious cable car to some snow and an abyss of fog. Met Marco, who invited us to Padua.  Scored some free grappa samples. Arrived back in Venice for Redentore. Drank magical lemon drank. Fell asleep during the longest firework show of my short life thus far. Woke up late. Wandered the city. Happened upon haplessly lost Australians. Almost went to Fusina with them. Woke up in time for train to Bolzina. Fell asleep at train station. Missed train. Got a new ticket. Fell asleep again. Got new ticket. Drank three shots of espresso. Currently waiting for train..

Yes. Forgetful and sleepy I am. But missed trains means misadventures of the best sort.  Plans as of right now is a three day, two night hut-to-hut tromp through more of the Dolomites.  After that maybe  Cinque Terra. It is a long a train ride, but I am told by Australians that it is possible to sleep under a bridge when accommodation  has not been arranged and cannot be found. 

Travelling alone, there is no one to get crankypants at but myself. I have however, left several crushed cans and other signs of violence at dead ends and movie theaters without subtitles. 

Shout out to my fluent tour guide in Venice Melissa. Without you I would be in a canal. Or Fusina. 

 

Shout out to George Martin. Your writing is kickass.

If you are reading this, I love you and miss you.

Now for a  little visual action in reverse order!

 

ROME!

MOUNTAINS!

Charles and Melissa at Redentore

Fireworks!

Jetlag?

Designer clothes are expensive. Like GDP of a small Romanian village expensive. Stumbling lost through the backstreets of Rome I found myself stuck in the same rut of brand name boutiques. By some I felt tempted. Others a little disturbed by faux fur placement. On a positive note, these mini-monacos had air con gushing out of them.  

I’ve been in Rome about nine hours. Saw the coliseum. Bought a phone. Lost several things (still got my dignity). Ate gelato.  Took a shower. Smoked socially with a middle aged couple in an alley. Got lost (x100).  Saw a bunch of fountains and some churches. All of the sights are a bit boring. And crowded. Probably what I like best are the back alleys, and talking to people on the street. 

some woman painting in her doorway on a backstreet

 

Drinking some wine. Going out to dinner with some new friendsies from my pensione tonight. 

Aggiungi didascalia

 Tomorrow I’m going to Vatican City. Most excited about the museums. 

Missing my sneaky little snark travel partner LW. Sad to leave arethewilsontwinsstillalive.blogspot.com for a solo venture. 

Formatting this bad boy is more difficult than I expected.

 

Reeling in the Change

Typically summer is a time of dilated time, and people in various stages of disarray.

In contrast, my last week feels like Fast and Furious 6. A blurring of pigtails and business professional; sitting on the edge of my mattress in a dress doing phone interviews, dancing barefoot and reconnecting with randoms. Two days, two job offers and a plane ticket to Italy.

Virginia Mason Medical Center, Intermediate Care, 12 hour night shifts. Yes. Soul sold.

Follow for recounts of impromptu adventures and reassurances of aliveness as I attempt to squander all of my money and remaining dignity prior to employment. I recognize that motorbikes are not a positive life choice.