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Dear Friends and Family, Here I am, in Italy (and in a very busy and very large internet cafe!) I have had some great times since leaving L'abri. What else can I say... I love Italy! The first few days out were tough. Like I said, it's a new language and a new culture. I made fair progress while in Switzerland, and after a couple short rides found myself with Guy, who was on his way to Nice, France. This was great news, as I had hoped to see the Mediterranean, but only targeted a foothills city called Aosta for that night. Crossing the border was almost as much of a change as going from the U.S. to Mexico. As we went over the San Bernardino pass the road changed from highway to 1.5 lane rough going. The guardrails were rusty, and the road was edged by crumbled asphalt. We stopped at a cheese cave just over the border where my first experience with the Italian Lira surprised me... 1000 lire is about 45 cents, U.S. As we neared Aosta, Guy suddenly decided he wanted to go the rest of the trip alone, so there I was, disappointed and in the middle of shockingly hot Aosta. I walked and walked. Then I walked some more. Finally, finding that I had to form a new style of hitching to get further, I wandered into a campground. Unlike German or Swiss campgrounds, Italian campgrounds are "set up anywhere" and with few accommodations. Reception was closed, so I ended up under a light in the middle of a dry patch of grass. I snapped a short section of tent pole as I set up the tent... exhausted and frustrated, I managed to get it together and went to bed. The next day I was glad to find a supermarket. Unlike the markets in Germany and Switzerland, the "supermercado" is a full U.S.-size supermarket. So with at least a full stomach I got started. I had heard that it was illegal to hitchhike on even the on-ramps to the "autostrada," and so for over and hour I paced beside the state road with my sign. Not even one person slowed down. It was disheartening. I started walking again. Just as I was about to commence my attempt at hitching again, I noticed "Polizia" across the road.... what can it hurt... I went and asked them where a good place to hitch was. They pointed up the road to the nearest autostrada onramp! After that things went quickly. The law is a bit funny in Italia (stopsigns are a COMPLETE waste of tax-lira!) and so I hitched on on-ramps and freeway service stations. In two rides I was in Torino. Noel, an electrician who had picked me up near Aosta, was great. Although he speaks almost no English, we hashed out some kind of communication for the trip to his home where he invited me for lunch. It's one of those moments I travel for, eating lunch with an Italian family... seeing the people and Italia for what it really is. (note: Italy eats lunch from around noon to 3pm... it's very important!) My next ride with two guys on holiday landed me at sunset in the Riviera town of Imperia, a kind of vacation-spot for the Italians, it seems. I'll never forget my first view of the Mediterranean as we came into town. Did I mention, Italian driving has earned its reputation. Driving in Italy has an equal adrenaline content to spending a day at Magic Mountain in California. I spent two nights in Imperia, trying to get back into traveling after my long break. The campground was ok, although I first experienced the famous "squat-n-shoot" style "toilets" and did my laundry by hand there for the first time. The beach is beautiful and the water warm. Rent a beach chair and relax for a while if you ever find yourself in Imperia. The trains are quite cheap in Italy, and I decided to take one to La Spezia, which I planned to use as a base for ventures in the quasi-famous Cinque Terre. On the train I met an Italian girl who had lived in San Diego for some time when she was young. She was studying for a big entrance examination to get into veterinary school. It's very difficult to get into any kind of university here, and that one in particular. I found myself almost immediately on another train bound for the "least visited" Cinque Terre town of Corneglia. A number of American tourists were on that train, and I realized why we have a bad name as tourists. After spending so much time in relatively "native" settings as I've traveled, I was shocked and disgusted by the egocentric and arrogant attitude of those tourists. I have to be fair, and say that many of the tourists I meet are at least trying to understand the culture. Nevertheless, it was a horrifying example of the stereotype "tourist." Although Cinque Terre was beautiful and I've heard wonderful stories about it, I immediately realized that it wasn't what I was looking for. I am hoping for a place to live with Italians and learn their language, and that was not an easy place to do so. Perhaps I'll return when I'm looking for a romantic vacation with someone special, but for now, I hiked on. I arrived (after a roasting hike) in San Bernardo, a tiny town of 40 people. I have a feeling I would have been sleeping under an olive tree that night had I not unexpectedly met an Italian couple one of which spoke English fairly well. They offered to take me to Massa, recommending Firenze (Florence) as a destination where I could fulfill my goal. We had a great trip, discussing soccer, politics, and if I liked Italian girls. They took me to the tourist office to find a hostel, and then right to the hostel, where I got my first Italian goodbye kiss-on-both-cheeks. (welcome to Italy!) I thought Massa would be a small hill-town near Cinque Terre, but actually it was their hometown, far down the coast! Once again, I found myself in an Italian vacation-town. The night in the hostel was difficult. A large group of German kids screamed up and down the halls and played raucous music which easily penetrated the thin walls. About midnight I could hear what sounded like some kind of concert not too far away, and so got out of bed to see what was happening (I certainly wasnt going to sleep!). In the dorm next to mine, the Germans were having a type of mini-disco! No wonder it was so loud. I returned my room around midnight only to be kept awake by the continuous high-volume snoring of my rather bulky middle-aged Italian roommate. I was glad to leave Massa. Nothing against it... I just had bad timing. After a long wait for the supermarket to open at noon (on Monday?) I finally got a ride with a trucker who was going to Firenze after a long side-trip to Pombino. Why not? I saw a lot of Tuscany that day in that hot truck. What I learned is hard to describe, but I felt the working-class of Italia by that evening, when we finally got to Firenze. At an intersection we got halfway through before horns and traffic stopped us my friend Aleccio threw up his hands with an "Italia!" "In the U.S. red mean stop green mean go?" he asked. "yes." "In Italia - mean nothing!" he grinned. The hostel was easy to find... just follow the backpacks. Luckily, they have a campground right there. The hostel was full anyway. I love Firenze. It is a city, and I'm generally not fond of cities. It is also full of tourists and even the (pronounced "EVIL") tour-groups that come in huge air-conditioned busses and walk around in masses after people waving umbrellas in the air. It's obvious why they come here though. Firenze has one of the highest concentrations of art and architecture anywhere in the world. I spent a few days just wandering around, then visited the Accademia to see Michelangelo's masterpiece "David" and his "Four Prisoners," all of which took my breath away. Unless you see them there, I cannot describe their perfection, beauty, and power. In the Uffizi I saw literally over a thousand art works, from Roman emperor busts to altar-pieces. The most memorable and truly most beautiful was one round work of "The Holy Family" by Michelangelo, and the famous "Primavera" and "Birth of Venus," by Boticcelli. (sp?) I just sat and admired them for a while. I was surprised to find (via e-mail) that a friend of a friend was here... someone I had met only once about 3 years ago on the famous trip through the Grand Canyon. After a bit of work, we met up at the market where she is helping sell jackets and trying to survive here in Firenze. Molly is a friend of my friend Gurion, and now a friend of mine. It's great to have someone like-minded and from the past to share adventures with. Although she's quite busy with school and work, it is much better than knowing no one at all! She is attending a language school which only lasts two weeks here in Firenze, and when I heard about it, I almost immediately decided to attend. In fact, I enrolled today. As it starts next Monday, I will end up spending a full month in this amazing city. I moved my tent to the Campeggio Michelangelo across the Arno from downtown last night, and set up home. I plan to be staying there for three weeks, so I better be comfortable. From the hill where the campground is, a great view of downtown Firenze can be seen, with the famous Duomo in the center, framed by the Chiesa San Lorenzo and the Palazzio Vecchio. ) So things go. I will learn to live in the city of Florence and speak the Italian language. From here... only God knows! Never say never! I hope you think of me and pray for me as I do for you. I miss home and friends and family, but that is living. I try to enjoy every moment, even here in the city... try to enjoy every time I almost get hit by a scooter or lost in the streets. Try to enjoy the strange smells, foods, and customs. Try to enjoy the love of life the Italians are famous for... And I think I am coming to love life more. Live every minute. Close your eyes and feel a breeze. Realize that a papercut is a blessing... Ciao!! -Dustin |