Northern Italy

Italy!! Just listening to this musical language and saying Grazie, Ciao and Buon Giorno in my best Italian accent makes me happy! How can you not love the country that brought us pizza, pesto and Pinocchio? A country where once "all roads lead to Rome" was a true statement. The birthplace of Julius Cesar, Michelangelo, Leonardo DiVinci, Vivaldi and Galileo! The inspiration for Shakespeare, Armani, Dante and toga parties to name a small few. I was experiencing a feeling of excitement for Europe that I hadn't felt since my very first overseas trip in 1989 and it was a wonderful feeling.

I flew into Rome because it was the cheapest option and only had one day there, which I'll tell about in the next post. The following day I hopped on the train for Genova to meet my Camino friend, Antonio. We had plans for Carnaval in Venice so I arrived a couple days early to check out his city. He had sent me rough directions taking me on a scenic route to his flat. From the train station I passed by beautiful fountains, walked down the grand Via XX September with its beautifully designed marble sidewalks, past the striped San Lorenzo cathedral to the boat-filled harbor before arriving at his door across from the university. What a great place! I certainly wasn't expecting Genova to be so interesting. The guidebook describes it as a "tough, cosmopolitan port", which is accurate. It has the grit that gives it the 'real feel' which, as you should know by now, I love. Enough grafitti and trash in the streets to know this isn't a prime tourist place; to me it is a hidden gem. Nestled at the foot of the Appennino mountains, it was obviously once home to a lot of nobility. There is an entire street of palaces, most of which have since been converted into expensive flats, banks, and other businesses. From the looks of the buildings, the surrounding hills also once housed a large amount of wealthy people. Christopher Columbus was born in Genova and his home is preserved as a tourist spot. I took Antonio's suggestion to "get lost and look up." It was the perfect advice. Between the small size and water to orient, it was impossible to actually get lost but the exploring was great. So many details everywhere! Grandeur within deterioration. I also enjoyed to 'go up and get lost'. In the hills surrounding the city center there is some great architecture, nice parks and beautiful views of the city below and sea beyond; a great place to end the day watching the sun dip into the Mediterranean Sea.

There are 40 forts in the mountains surrounding the city that once acted as lookouts and protection from the enemy. Now abandoned and dilapidated, one can walk between them all on connecting paths. I went to the recommended Diamanté, the highest point in Geonva for a beautiful view all around. My directions to get there were little better than "just walk up". So that's what I did. I walked up random stairs and hills, whatever looked interesting as long as it was taking me higher. It was an hour before I made it out of civilization and another hour of walking up through nature before I arrived. It was absolutely worth it; I was completely alone and at peace with the world. I sat on the edge of a decaying wall and enjoyed the view of sea, city and mountains from this little slice of heaven. I walked to another fort then down, down, down to the city until I reached the funicular. The longest one I've ever ridden, there were three well-spaced stops between the top and bottom.

After work on Friday we caught a bus for the five hour trip to Venice for Carnaval. I was so excited! Venice has long been my most favorite place on earth and 25 years later nothing has changed; it still is. There is a magic about Venice that can't be conveyed through word or film. I couldn't contain myself and literally jumped up and down as we walked through Piazza San Marco on the way to our flat. Occasionally we would pass people dressed in their 18th century masquerade ball attire. I wish I were on a different budget and was able to join the parties but I was quite content to simply admire the stunning costumes. One of my bucket list items was to go on a gondola ride. I didn't do it last time I was in Venice because I felt it was a romantic activity, not something to do alone or with a group of strangers. So at dusk we paid an exorbitant amount of money to make it happen. For 30 minutes the gondolier gently toured us around the canals of Venice and when Antonio kissed me the gondolier began to sing a beautiful Italian song. It was absolutely perfect. Afterward we went to a cello concert and art show. We didn't actually do much else besides that apart from walk around, window shop, eat and take pictures, but for me it was enough.

Cinque Terre was the next stop and the only place with a hostel open was in Portovenere. I've really enjoyed the benefits of traveling off-season, such as low cost accommodation and fewer tourists, but this was one place that it wasn't so beneficial. Most of that town was closed in the off-season and the few eating establishments that were open were pricey and you had no choice. Still, it's a cute little town. The hostel sits high on a hill (90 steps to get there) with a lovely view of the harbor and the rest of the town. At the top of the town is a castle and it its base is a cemetery with the most stunning views. I love that they put photos with the crypts, some over 100 years old! I also found an inordinate amount of graves belonging to WWII victims. I say inordinate because there were a lot and in such a small town it must have been devastating to the population. Below that is a church and at the bottom (town level) a most spectacular chapel sits on the rocks jetting out to the sea. I loved this little chapel made out of the grey rock from the surrounding mountains and felt the power of it as it stood deserted with the sound of the crashing waves below thundering through the rocky interior.

On the first night the only other person in the hostel was a young girl from Alaska. Even the staff left after 8:00 which was a little concerning since that night there was a storm with such strong winds the power flickered several times. The next day, however, was beautiful! I loved lying in bed and waking to the sunrise over the water. I joined Alaska for a six hour walk through the hillside to Riomaggiore, the last and biggest of the five towns. But when we arrived, anything that would provide sustenance was closed. Even the supermarket! And due to recent damage, so was the trail that went along the coast to the other towns and parts of the trails in the hills. It is most certainly a place I'd love to come back to, when places are open, with a small pack and walk from town to town and stay in whichever one I wanted. For now, however, hungry, discouraged and a forecast ahead of a week of rain starting in two days I decided to head to Florence. At least there I could stay dry in museums.

Adiós Spain-Seville, Granda and Valencia

Spain, my home for two months, was coming to a close. Yet there were so many places I wanted to see before I left! Unfortunately there just wasn't enough time. The unspoken travelers' rule is, you don't go backwards, and Carnaval in Venice was a fast approaching commitment.

Seville, the birthplace of flamenco, was my first stop after Portugal and before Morocco. A beautiful city where the cathedral supposedly holds the remains of Christoper Columbus. At least there is a huge tomb dedicated to him. Portugal claims to have the remains and so does Cuba so who knows. But everything in that cathedral is enormous! It's like it was built for giants. Since it is the third biggest cathedral in the world it would probably seem odd if things weren't built to scale. It was the days before New Years Eve and Seville was more crowded than I'd expected. As such I never made it into the palace, which I've been told is a must-see. I spent a couple days walking around, exploring the city and really enjoying the non-touristy part. It had a much better feel, was less crowded and the restaurants were fantastic and comparatively cheap. Of course I took in a flamenco show and was very impressed. According to Spaniards, a proper Flamenco experience must be viewed from the first or second row and does not include food because if you are distracted by food you can not experience the feeling of this dance that was born out of discrimination and oppression. It's not about technique or flashy dress but the conveyance of the passion. This couple had beautiful outfits and very skilled technique on top of the passion so it was an all around superb show.

I left Seville on NYE for Morocco through Tarifa. Although I only walked from the bus station to the port to board the ferry, I found it a very cute town that I would like to have explored a little more. Upon my re-entry into Spain I was informed by the customs officer that I have eight days left in the Schengen zone. Not completely surprised I was a bit concerned because I still have Italy to explore and had to get there by plane on day eight. There wasn't much I could do about it; I'd just take my chances. How do they expect anybody to thoroughly explore Western Europe in 90 days?? That's what it takes to properly explore one country!

I had skipped Gibraltar and Malaga to spend the extra time in my beloved Morocco so I headed straight to Granada on the recommendation of almost everyone I've spoken with about Spain. However, the scenic bus trip told me I need to return one day and extensively explore these missed areas.

Granada is talked up a lot and it's understandable. Less than a half million people in the entire city and surrounding area, it is international yet has a cozy feel. There is a university there that keeps the city young and vibrant and the surrounding mountains give parts of the city center a ski town feel. The Alhambra is just spectacular and walking around it's public grounds is a great way to spend a day. So is walking around the hills where the caves are. People still live in them, some fully developed into homes with the front built out to look like a proper house, others are open holes with a sketchy door or sheet for privacy. Flamenco shows in the caves are also a must-see so I did one of those touristy things that includes the bus ride and a little walking tour. It, too, was very good, but very different than the one in Seville. Overall I found it to be a great place, definitely a city that made the "short list".

My flight to Rome left out of Valencia and I had a day and a half to enjoy the city. There were zero expectations as it was never a place I intended, or desired, to visit. I've found that I'm usually most impressed with places when I have no expectations and Valencia was no different. The train station there is stunning! The inside is covered with ceramic mosaics on the walls, ceiling and tile. It invokes the imagination of times gone by when train travel was grand and elegant, making me wish I were traveling by train just so I could be a part of its future past.

I arrived with no plans other than to meet up with a Camino friend who offered to show me around his hometown. When I stepped out of the hostel at the appointed meeting time I was met with a big hug! It was a wonderful reunion and for twelve hours we walked throughout the old city, went to two very impressive museums-one of Roman ruins, one of ceramics- and in two churches, watched children perform traditional dance, drove to the beach where we had a delicious lunch, wandered around the new city, then he introduced me to his family: his wife, daughter and five-day old granddaughter, among others who stopped by to see the newborn. What warm and welcoming people and what a joy to hold such a tiny thing! I can't remember the last time I'd held a baby and never one so small. What an honor it was to meet them all and spend such time with a local family. At the same time it was very sad. It's easy to meet people and have fun for a couple days and leave. Sometimes, however, there are people with whom deeper connections are made and it makes the "good bye" much more difficult. One thing this traveling has drilled into me-and I say that because I liked to think that I don't need anyone- is that I do need people in my life. Everything is so much better when shared. I'm also getting a bit tired and I'd like to stop for a while and just 'be' somewhere without any time deadlines to worry about. The big question is...Where? That remains to be seen. For now, however, it's Adiós Espagñe, Ciao Italia!

Morocco!

I was really excited to go to Morocco for several reasons. 1) Africa would be a new continent for me 2) I've been wanting to go there for 25 years 3) I was growing quite wearisome of the sameness of Western Europe and was anxious to experience something completely different. Although I was sure I'd like Morocco I had no idea how much I would fall in love with it! An ancient land where old ways are still practiced: Prices are haggled, rugs are hand woven, goods are carried on mules among the high walls of the old medinas and happy children laugh and play in the streets.

A country where cumin is set on the table alongside the salt, couscous and tagine dominate every menu, alcohol is disapproved of but hashish is bought, sold and smoked freely, and old men look as if they were born that way--not a trace of youth to be found in their weathered, toothless faces. I had enlightening conversations with young Muslim men, climbed the highest mountain in North Africa, saw camels on the beach and listened to the calls to prayer five times a day. I smoked hash in Tangier, ate camel in Fez, bought spices in Marrakech and saw my first green flash when the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean in Essaouira. I didn´t know it would be a country filled with beautiful mountains, rivers, waterfalls and incredibly blue sky. I found it to be a very photogenic country although many people don't want their photos taken.

Tangiers, my first night in the country, was so positive and it set the tone for the rest of the trip. I was lost, trying to find my hostel in the dark. I approached a couple policemen and asked for directions. They had no idea where this place was so they asked a street vendor. He didn't know. The police asked taxi drivers, the vendor asked passerby's until there was a crowd of about seven people trying to help. Eventually someone in a car pulled out their smart phone and figured it out. One guy in the crowd offered to take me there but I refused and the policeman, sensing my anxiety, said no worries they would take me there. So they walked at least ten minutes with me, stopping occasionally to ask another vendor or passerby for directions and escorted me to the hostel door, waiting until I got inside. So nice of them! In fact, the biggest surprises to me about this trip were how incredibly nice I found the Moroccan people to be and how very safe I felt in this country. Much safer than anywhere in South America. Sometimes the people can be annoying when trying to sell you something, and the old women seem to live on a diet of sour lemons, but overall they are kind folk with friendly, funny children.

My first day in Tangier eight of us filled two taxis and enjoyed a beautiful, sunny day. We passed the Kings palace, saw camels on the side of the road, stopped for a beautiful vista overlooking the blue ocean and explored the Caves of Hercules that have been occupied for thousands of years. Afterward I joined the British guys in my car as they wanted to go to a hamam. I was in need of a good scrub down but not prepared for how gross it is. As they scrub every inch of your body your skin is sloughed off in black clumps. The whole process lasts about seven minutes-and you can't be shy-but in the end you feel fantastic. My skin was so soft and my face looked younger. Of course that was short lived. Hahaha.

The next day I went with an Australian man from the hostel on a three-hour, shag carpet, magic bus ride to Chefchaouen. The whole thing was an adventure! You can't come to this country with any Western expectations or attitude. Just go with the flow and know it's all part of the experience. These people live it every day. It is their reality. You are a guest in their country and it is best to remember that so the experience can be enjoyed.

Chefchaouen-the Blue City! WOW!!! So beautiful! It's one of those places that, although it is in the guide books, you don't want to tell anyone about it because you don't want it to be ruined by so many tourists. Yet it is so incredible you can't contain your excitement--you must share! Every few steps in the medina seem to present a photo opportunity. Even though it is a very small town, and it rained for four days, I stayed on six days, not wanting to leave. When the rain cleared I joined a few others to go hiking in the Rif mountains. We walked to God's Bridge and wanted to also go to the large waterfall, which is supposed to be really nice, but only had time to make it to the small one, which was underwhelming and rather disenchanting as the path is flat and a bit commercial. If I could have stayed another day I would have gone back but alas, it was time to move on. Fes, Marrakech and Essaouira beckoned.

Fes has the oldest medina in Morocco and I wasn't too interested in going but at this point I was sort of traveling with an Australian and an American that I'd met in Tangiers and it was on the way to Marrakech so I agreed to go for a day. It turned into three and if I'd known what I know now I would have skipped Marrakech completely. The Fes market is exactly what I'd imagined Marrakech to be like. All the markets sell the same stuff...rugs, jewelry, food, shoes, scarves and traditional Moroccan clothes, lamps and other houseware items among other things. But Fes had a nice feel with its narrow but not too crowded streets, not overly pushy vendors and good food. It helps that we stayed in an incredibly beautiful Riad too. We enjoyed some gardens, strolled through the streets, got my shoe fixed for thirty cents (a strap on one of my croc sandals had ripped away), I got a henna tattoo and we checked out a leather factory. They make leather in Morocco and you can go to the top of one of the shops and look out into the enormous vats of coloring where the skins are dipped and stepped on and soaked by people literally standing in them. It's fascinating yet incredibly stinky because they use pigeon droppings to soften the hides before putting them into the dye. And apparently it wasn't even bad when we were there because it is winter. I couldn't imagine that place in 40 degree (Celsius) temps! My heart goes out to those poor guys that work in those dye vats.

It was in Fes that I parted ways with the American and Australian and traveled on to Marrakech alone. Marrakech, the city of spice and snake charmers. The one city I was most looking forward to in this country was, unfortunately, the biggest disappointment. It's sheer size is overwhelming. It's incredibly massive with people everywhere aggressively trying to get a piece of the pie. Performing monkeys are kept on a chain, yanked about by their masters. Children doing the dirty work of their parents, trying to sell you cookies or tissues. Women go from table to table in restaurants with thier child in tow, shoving a begging hand in your face. Thirty vendors each selling the exact same thing-whether it's orange juice or clothes or jewlery, amounting to literally thousands of vendors. And when you turn around after stopping to buy a snack or juice there will be someone with their hand out feeling entitled to money as well. And they are so bold about it. If performers see you take their photo they will chase you down and want money for it. And the side streets are wide so you are always being nearly run over by cyclists or mopeds. Honestly I couldn't get out of there fast enough so I was very happy when we took a day trip to Ourika to hike in the mountains among waterfalls and drink tea in a mountainside tea house.

The following day we went to Imlil to hike Toubkal, the highest mountain in North Africa at 4,167 meters. It was a two day trek, the first day staying overnight in a refuge at 3,200m. Less than one thousand meters to hike the following day it was a lot more difficult than I hoped but not completely unexpected considering my past experience with altitude. Although it didn't affect me nearly as badly as it had in Peru, I still struggled. I was sweating in the cold, we used crampons to climb up the snow covered mountain top and I made it to the 4000m pass with stunning views of the valley below but refused to climb the remaining 30 minutes to the summit. I was tired of feeling like crap and made the sometimes-treacherous descent to the refuge on my own while the American and our guide continued on. Together the three of us spent another four hours walking down the mountain, making for a 10.5 hour day of hiking.

From snow covered mountains to the beach in a day. Essaouira is a fantastic port town with an international flair and a beach that has spongy, mud-like, very fine, soft sand. When you walk on the wet, brown sand there is so much air beneath it that you see the surrounding sand rise, and become lighter in color as your feet sink, creating very deep foot prints. It's both fascinating and strange; I've never seen anything like it before. The best thing about the town, however, is that there is nothing to do. No must-see sights. It is a place to just be. After a nice breakfast I enjoyed the hours spent at the port watching the boats come in, the fishermen unload their catch, the hustle and bustle of the dock workers as they iced the fish, put them on trucks and repaired the nets. There was a nice wall to escape to where everything could be observed from above when being among the chaos overloaded the senses. Going to the medina wall and watching the waves crash against the rocks for hours was another of my favorite pastimes. Or watching the sunset. Food options here are the best in Morocco for me as there are vegetarian restaurants, seafood and non-Moroccan cuisine. But my favorite thing to eat was the falafel sanwiches for two dollars. So tasty! The vendors here were a little different too. I didn't see any rug or lamp stores but there were a lot of art stores and some very good art too. There were also more crafts made out of beautiful cedar root, lemon wood and more. Still, too many people selling the same things, but at least it was better quality stuff.

Essaouira made the short list of places I'd consider moving to and I didn't want to leave. But time was running short. I was laid up with a fever my last two days there, extending my stay by a day, and I had to go. A little bit of Spain left to explore before going to Italy. Carnival with my Camino friend awaits!