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As I write this, I am in a small cottage nestled in the forested hills outside of Genova, Italy. The birds are chirping and nearby there is a babbling brook that is babbling something about peace and harmony in its universal language. The peacefullness is so engulfing, so absolute, it almost feels like Buddha is rubbing my tummy. I almost feel akin to Jack Kerouac while he wrote Big Sur, or maybe even Bilbo Baggins as he wrote about his epic journey. Almost. But I’m drifting.
I left you last week in the Rhone valley about to head to Italy. My original plan was to work my way up to Chamonix, get on a tram and cruise over the alps into the Valle d’Aosta of Italy. I started right off hitch hiking and was picked up within 45 minutes by a man named Danny. He drove me quite speedily to Grenoble where I decided to take the train the rest of the way to avoid any more time delays (To anyone going to France: Grenoble and the surrounding area is decidedly much more beautiful than the rest of France. (mountains!)). I finally made it to Chamonix at 6 in the
evening only to find out that the tram doesn’t go over the Alps until the summer! Understandably, I was super pissed because the whole reason that I went this way was to go over the Alps. I plan on writing a pointed letter to Rick Steve (Author: ‘Europe through the backdoors’ which says nothing about months of operation) and letting him know that I was very dissapointed and that a large reembursment is warranted for my mental instability (aside from that, I love his book). So I ended up staying in an overpriced hostel called Le Vagabond (I was attracted to the clever name) and taking a bus under the alps the next morning (they were still $&%=ing amazing from both sides even with lots of clouds masking them)
I know I just talked about how beautiful Grenoble is, but Valle d’Aosta takes the cake so far. It has been pretty cloudy all week so I wasn’t able to get as many photos as I wanted, but I will try to describe it. With the snowy Alps on the west side of the valley, the mountains gradually turn to giant forested hills on either side of a river. I
say hills because although they have the heighth and steepness of mountains, there is no continuity to them. Each one rises and falls unto itself as if they’re giant gum drops lining the walkway to a giant gingerbread house. There are dozens of midevil castles and terraced vineyards scattered on the lush green slopes. You can almost envision the knights storming off to battle. All of the houses are built with the local dark slate, and combined with the castles, it gives the valley a dark and majestic aura. Anyways, my hosts, Jana and Simone, welcomed me warmly and took me to this sweet bridge and aquaduct that was built in 3 b.c. 3 b.c.!!! And it’s not going anywhere soon; those Romans sure knew how to build a bridge. We also ate gelato and their favorite pizza to welcome me to Italy. Then my hosts took me to a Balkan music festival, which if you don’t know Balkan music ( I sure didn’t), it’s like a mixture of a Ska brass band, Salsa, and Russian music. Lots of fun.
I left Aosta on Sunday in order to get to Alba for the last day of a wine festival
that was going on. For the non cork dork, Alba is sort of the wine center of Piemonte and is very close to the very famous regions Barolo and Barbaresco. So, my day was filled with merriment and a barrage of Barbera, Barolo and Barbaresco, not to mention the bountiful bins of bovine beauties (can a fit 25 year old have a heart attack from eating too much cheese?). Blissful (OK, I’ll stop with the aliteration now). Later on in the evening I started to look for a secretive camping spot because I had heard that Italian police do not take kindly to illegal campers. Instead, a group of people about my age started talking to me because they could tell I was American. They were all very friendly and asked if I wanted to go back to the wine tent with them to have some more wine. I find it difficult to deny such a request, so I found myself drinking more delicious wine. After 30 minutes, my new friends started to have a discussion in Italian that I could tell was about me. Another group of people joined in the discussion, which I soon discovered was about where
I could sleep that night. I assured them that I would make do, but they ignored me and came up with several possible solutions for my predicament. Eventually a couple from the group of people I didn’t know said that I could stay at their house, and everyone agreed that this was the best option. I accepted graciously and went off with the new couple (Claudia and her boyfriend, I can’t recall his name) to a Chinese restaurant to meet some of their friends. Come to find out, they didn’t even know the other group that I was with! Once again, bearing witness to the generosity of people (especially Italians; several other incidents like this have happened). Astounding.
The next day I spent 8 hours seeking shelter from the rain in a train station until my host could come pick me up. And That brings me back to where I am now. My hosts (Rogger and Francesca) bought this house 9 years ago and have been fixing it up ever since (though they’ve only lived in it for a year) So my primary duty all week has been tiling their new kitchen. It is very difficult work, but a
useful skill to have when I buy a house (I hate paying for something that I can do myself for a fraction of the price even if it is a fraction of the quality)
I don’t have internet here which really sucks since internet is a god-given right that no person should be denied. So I actually wrote this four days before posting it in a trashy cyber cafe. NOt all of the the pictures have captions so make up your own. Peace out.
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Samantha Storms
non-member comment
Amazing
Paul, I am so jealous! This trip of yours looks like it is amazing! I love getting a new blog notification! Just wanted to tell you :) Miss and love you