Natale in Sicilia

Ciao a tutti!

This will probably be the last time I post before Christmas, and I just want to say: Buon Natale, Merry Christmas to everyone!

I'm in Palermo right now, and Cristina, Gabriele, "and Friends" have taken GREAT care of me here!! Especially in the kitchen - we've been eating like champs :)

I'm sorry - I don't have much time to elaborate but I'll give you a little picture of my "Christmas in Sicily" so far. Sunshine. Fresh fish from the outdoor market. Cassata. Exchanging "Auguri" (Good wishes) with friends before Christmas with panettone e spumante. Overwhelming welcome and generosity. Fantastic!

Today I'm heading to Mussomelli to spend Christmas with the Bellanca family, and looking forward to it.

So Merry Christmas to all! Until the next time,

Leah

Fresh OJ

Two big pieces of news . . .

The first . . . I'm in! Yesterday, December 17th, was Selection Day for my program at the University of Bologna (The Master in the History and Culture of Food). I had my interview over the phone with the director - and I'll admit, I was sweating a little. But he was extremely nice, I could tell he made a special effort to speak clearly so as not to make me work too hard with the language, and - this is key - it turned out to be less worrisome than I thought, because they didn't reach the maximum number of people in the program. The bottom line: "I'M IN!"

And second - I am staying with Alessandro and his family in Joppolo, Calabria, and they are awesome! I've been eating like a champ and - good thing they're good for you! - eating about twenty fresh, delicious, juicy oranges every day! Great family, great food, great coast . . .

A presto.

New Photos : Vacanza Romana

Hello everyone! I've put together a few pictures from my Vacanza Romana . . . there are also a few pictures from France and the end of the Camino de Santiago (Spain) mixed in. No captions, and you might have to tilt your head sideways every once in a while - it's the best I've got for you right now :) Enjoy, and Merry Christmas! Also feel free to forward the link to anyone I've "missed" who might be interested.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=18rl5z5e.3k5yzb76&Uy=mz0iil&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0

Sciopero!

Without making this into a judgment rather than an observation, I think many of you guys will find it interesting to learn a little about strikes (scioperi) in Italy. Strikes are a bit of a different affair here: they're announced ahead of time, they happen all the time, they usually have some wiggle room and work-arounds, and they seem to get resolved reasonably quickly. Since I've been in Italy (which is about three weeks), here are some of the groups that have gone on strike:

Taxi drivers

Transportation workers, including metro, bus, rail, and airport workers

State doctors

Truck drivers (maybe you've seen this in the news? It's caused major problems not only for travel but for food prices and gas availability)

. . . and the one I think would "hurt" the most, quite literally . . .

anesthesiologists.

I hope they decided to reschedule the surgeries for another day . . .

Fast Food Nation

To prepare for my interview on "Alimentation" (which is on Monday, the 17th, if you happen to, say, make a trip to the grotto that day . . . ), I just read Fast Food Nation. If you've never read it, and if you ever eat at McDonalds, or if you ever eat anything that you didn't grow in your back yard, I recommend a trip a to the library. Perhaps the most memorable line from the book went something like this: "You're better off eating a carrot that you dropped in your toilet than one you dropped in your kitchen sink." Some scientists studied the toxic matter found in "average" American kitchens and those found in the average American toilet and found that the kitchens were worse than the toilets. This is mostly because of the - literal - shit that comes with a good portion of the meat you buy at the store. So - I think the lesson is: Grow tomatoes in your back yard and go out and kill a deer!

It is a worthwhile read, though, and I recommend it. I'll also comment that it's grossed me out because I seem to continue finding myself in living situations that are just filthy. I can't understand how people live like this. If you don't have any choice - if you don't have any water, if you don't have a house - then ok, the problem the lies elsewhere. But if you have a house, running water, and a market down the street that sells things like ashtrays (not used in my house: They use the toilet instead, which, along with other hygeine fouls, perhaps discounts the idea of eating a carrot out of the toilet), dish soap, towels . . . why not just wash your plates??? It just seems so easy to me.

Right, back to the topic of food. And here's a happy comment, and an invitation for you to participate in the blog! I had my first Roman pizza the other day: super-thin, slightly crunchy crust, the pizza as big as a plate - super! I went with Giovanni, one of my language exchange buddies, and we talked about Pizza: Roman-style vs. Naples-style, the Sicilian variation on the Naples style, and foccaccia as an ever thicker style that really shouldn't qualify as pizza but as another breed of food (oops, "alimentation"!) altogether. His conclusion: Our thick pizzas in the USA really aren't true pizzas; they're more of a pizza-fied foccaccia, super-sized becaused everything in the USA is super-sized :) . I said I'd like to get some photos for his expert consultation. So here's the debate: "American Pizza: Is it really pizza?" Here's what I'm thinking. Can you guys take some photos of different pizzas - Pino's Sicilian, Just Pizza, LaNova, ChickNPizza Works, whatever you have . . . and we'll post them here for "expert analysis"? I think Giovanni has volunteered to be the panel's expert :)

Thanks, everyone! Let the Pizza debate begin!

What we can learn from Little Old Italian Ladies

This week, a potluck.

To start, "Things we can learn from Little Old Italian Ladies":

The last may be first and the first may be last, but if you don't push and shove a little, you might not get in at all. This lesson came in handy for me the other day: I was waiting for the bus, and, when it arrived, my inclination was to wait in line patiently, mount the stairs when it was my turn, and so on. But everyone else starting pushing to be the first one to the front, so - it's my competitive side, I couldn't help it - I did, too. And it's a good thing: At one point, the driver got tired of waiting for people to get on and closed the doors and kept on driving.

I heard the Irish didn't have such a great season this year. Did the offensive line have any trouble? If so, I have the answer! Forget 330-pound supermen. They need to send some recruiters to Rome. Get two little old Italian ladies, give one of them a wheeley-cart and the other an umbrella, and they'll create an absolutely impenetrable ten-yard pocket. The best spin moves and linebacker blitz won't do a think. And if you take away the umbrella and instead give the second lady a yappy-dog on an extend-a-leash, I guarantee she makes All-American. Except that she's Italian, of course.

Next up, I've discovered what could become the latest, greatest, workout craze! Not exactly. I think it'll live and die with me, but I think it's great. I decided I didn't really want to "work out" : Get up early, put on the special clothes, run, shower, and then get on to the "rest of the day." Nah. But I realized that Rome is pretty big, and I want to see "all" of it. Why not run everywhere? So I've been a runner-tourist. I just wear my normal clothes and go wherever I want. It's awesome, because I've been able to experience lots more of Rome than I expected - thanks to taking the "fun way," so to speak, plenty of times. Of course, this only works if you are willing to commit at least one major fashion foul: You can't wear fancy shoes.

And, finally, speaking of fashion, I've possibly purchased something fashionable! It's a coat, it seems to be the same coat that everyone else is wearing, it covers up my traveler'clothes (except for the shoes), and I bought it for five euros. And - it's strange, what Italy can do! - I've even considered buying reasonably fashionable shoes.

Notes from Rome

. . . Overheard near the Pantheon, from a little boy being pushed in a stroller, as he rounded the corner and the Pantheon came into view: "Oooh, stop! I wanna play here for a while°! Me too, little buddy!

. . . To be included on the growing list of people who should be fined for major infractions of courtesy and common sense: those who approach a zone clearly occupied by someone else (me), and toss breadcrumbs to the pigeons. On the plus side, if getting pooped on by a pigeon is lucky, how lucky must I be to have been pooped on in St. Peter's Square! Whooo!

. . . Again, I have to reiterate, how do you dog-lovers handle it? Specifically, by "it" I mean the slobber and stench and destruction. Are all dogs this disgusting? If I had a choice between living in the same room as a dog (or at least a dog like the one I'm now living with) and living in the same room as a smoker, I would definitely choose the smoker. And if that option weren't available, I think I would take up smoking myself. Smoke: the carcinogenic potpourri!

. . . Favorite study spaces: (1) St. Peter's Piazza, (2) the Roman Forum. Isn't it awesome, that I can grab my books and "take care of business" in places like that!?

Happy St. Nicholas Day! Be sure to check your shoes for candy (but after checking for pigeon poop and dog droppings)!

The Bad

At the risk of offending a good portion of you - well, what risk? You're probably wondering where the real Leah has gone - I have to reiterate that I hate dogs. I can't understand why people have them. They're filthy. And they wreak havoc. So this is what happened.

I mentioned that the family whose room I rent is really strange. That's not a problem, as I've accustomed myself to strangeness. In fact I fear that I sometimes seek it. But they have two evil dogs, which, sensing, knowing that I detest their slobber and filth, wait for me to open the door. Really, they wait. I can hear them panting and scratching, and, when I have to use the bathroom, I try to "hold it" until they're gone. But the other day, I had to go. I tried my squeeze-out-the-door approach (and it's a good thing I'm skinny), but they burst into the room and attacked everything. It was caos - in italiano, un casino. They tore paints, shirt, jacket, sleeping bag. Slobbered all over my food. Peed on the bed.

So do people just live with this? The stench, the pee, the torn clothes, the hassle? As if there were any question about about my stance on man's best friend: I hereby declare that dogs can go to the devil.

Things that don't happen at home

I've had some really cool experiences here in Rome, and I keep thinking to myself . . . "now that doesn't happen at home."

. . . I stumbled upon a Baroque music concert in Sant'Augostino Church. It was amazing. I was sitting in an eight-hundred-year-old church, listening to great music, and looking at a Raphael fresco and a Caravaggio painting. Definitely not anything that's ever happened during one of my rambles along, say, Abbott Road.

(By the way, I mention that I went to a "Baroque" music concert, but . . . I'm not yet cultured enough to really know what Baroque music is. Hopefully by the end of my European tenure, I will be. I'm pretty sure I could recognize Baroque architecture, but . . . Baroque music??? I mean, I could tell it wasn't Marilyn Manson, and I'm confident I could distinguish it from the the Neapolitan folk music, but not a whole lot more than that . . . This deficit could, of course, also have something to do with my musical handicap. Rather than waiting for me to blossom in cultural and musical awareness . . . Are there any music scholars out out there? Maybe you can tell us about Baroque music? Just use the comments section . . . )

. . . Last Saturday, I was walking around "my neighborhood," and there were all these guys in red. All cardinals, just wandering around. It seemed like there was a "cardinal convention" of some kind, and they just got let out for lunch. Here a cardinal, there a cardinal, everywhere a cardinal, and they all seemed to be more or less independently searching for somewhere to grab a good slice of pizza. Turns out it was a big day, "promotion day," so to speak: The pope had just named a bunch of cardinals!

. . . And speaking of the pope, I went to see him on Wednesday during his public "audience," and I'm going to see him again tomorrow to Saint Peter's for the first Mass of Advent. I was in Saint Peter's today, and they were setting up "for the pope" - it seemed like a big deal.

. . . And I've met loads of people doing language exchanges. Two of them are, in fact, engineers . . . trying to get out of engineering. Oh - Wait - this was a list of things that don't happen at home . . . ,)

My New Apartment

You guys aren't going to believe the apartment I found! It's two steps from the Vatican ... without exaggerating, it's maybe a seven-minute walk to Piazza San Pietro. Also - and this importantissimo - I found a spectacular gelateria nearby, hidden alongside the back walls of the Vatican. This is my new routine (which I have faithfully carried ... um, every night since moving into the new apartment): Buy gelato. Walk to St. Peter's. Sit in the piazza, marvelling at St Peter's, listening to the fountains and the chiming of the clock, and - eating my fantastic gelato. I've also determined that this is the cheapest way to eat in Rome. It's a rather expensive city, but if I eat bread and fruit all day, I figure I can get a significant portio of my daily energy needs directly via gelato.

So I've been pretty successful with the various missions I came to Rome with. I made friends with the woman in the post office, and she helped me out, and I got all my paperwork in for the permesso di soggiorno - the legal document that had me sweating. It's the permit that allows me to stay in Italy, and it's complicated because it's one of those things that - basically, if you follow everything to the letter - you need the permesso to get the university acceptance and the university acceptance to get the permesso. So I'm glad to have that taken care of, or at least step one.

I found this awesome apartment.

I found a language exchange partner, and got in touch with a few Italians that I know. Lela and I got together on Saturday, and I'm hoping to get together with the others before heading to Bologna.

I bought some Italian books and I've been studying hard. Tonight I went to a Primo Levi reading at some cultural center. I think it's going pretty well.

And I've been touristing like a champ! It's a good thing I trained for Rome by doing the Camino de Santiago, because I think I walk about 20 kilometers a day. Really. And it's the best. I could walk around Rome forever.

Everything's not perfect. There was a mean guy at the market this morning who almost had a heart attack because I wanted to know the price of the lettuce, a creepy Italian guy asked for the time and then invited me to bed, and there are two pit bulls (or something like that) with fangs in the apartment where I'm staying. But - I'm trying to learn from my "host culture" a bit and chill.

So that's that. Rome is spectacular. I think I could live here. I might even be able to go to a cubicle if I could walk through the old Roman streets to get there. Hmmm. Maybe. Still not sure about that one. I'll have to think about that.

Roman Holiday

Hello! Very sorry for the delay in entries, but my internet time has been pretty focused: I've had a lot to do! The quick version is this ...
I went to the language school in France ...
The French train workers went on strike ...
It was super-challenging, but I managed to get to Annecy, via train (one of the few that was working), buses, and hitchiking. Annecy was beautiful, between the mountains and a beautiful lake. Beautiful ... but cold.
I met a guy on a bus who was from Geneva. He invited me to stay with him in Geneva for a few days, so I did. Geneva was great! But again ... cold. I am a coldweather refugee.
... So, I bought a ticket to Rome. Here I am! I am thrilled to be here. I ditched the idea of a language school, because i feel like i can do a better job studying on my own. BUt I figured > why not do it in Rome!? So here I am ... I'm searching for a room, and I think I found one. I'll have to let you know. It's a few blocks from the Vatican.
More updates to come . . . but the bottom line is: I'm in Rome, and I'm really happy to be here!

French School Dropout

Well, not yet. But I came close today. Here's the story.

I'm here in Antibes, studying with the "CIA Antibes" language school. Shall I call this the Internet Court of Justice? It's officially NOT recommended!

I opted for the "budget" residence - I figured, i'm pretty "rustic," pretty simple, right? And I figured i could put up with a handful of party boys and girls if i needed to. (after all - Greg, you've given me at least a little training in that, right?)

Right. But what i didn't bargain for was the absolute filth of this place. Picture the physical setting when i arrived...

-Bathroom: Toilet seat broken. Sink non-functional. No toilet paper ("until at least tomorrow").
-Kitchen: Dirty dishes, with all their leftover crap, piled above faucet level in the sink. Crumbs and sauce and god knows what else all over the place. Mold growing in the "common food."
-Bedroom: More food, naturally, occupying (definitely "beyond the height of the cubicle", too) every inch of desk space.

Add to the visual:

The stench! You can imagine, i'm sure, with the help of the visual aids.

The chatter of - could the company possibly be worse? - English prep school girls. Try to imagine a cross of English snobbery, disgusting privelege, and Valley Girl sensibility. (And a curious mix of all those accents and intonations, too.) Actual snippets of the conversation polluting the aural environment of the residence : (in English, of course; the Valley-Brits don't seem especially motivated to learn French, considering that they're in the same level I'm in, and I've studied for literally a train ride, and they've studied in France for three months)

- "Daddy promised to buy me a piglet for Christmas. I'm going to call it "Pony". Then I'll have a horse named "Piglet" and a pig named "Pony"; huh!"

- "And then i have to fly to Argentina. In economy; in economy! It's going to be horrible; i've never flown in economy before;"

So ... i've been spending a lot of time not there. Which isn't a problem at all: I go to the beach!

How I Became an Expert in the French Telecommunications Industry

Some of you have heard my stories about the - ah - "directness" - of Italian men (and increasing proportionally with age. which i guess makes sense - i suppose they are running out of time.) In any case, as though the French knew these stories and needed to defend their "romantic" reputqtion in the face of such strong international competition, on my very first day, two old french dudes tried out their moves.

The first dude classifies definitely as a "dude", at least in his mind; About 45, long blond hair in a ponytail, denim shorts. Approaches me on the beach and initiates conversation; entirely undeterred by my caveman french; finally asks if he might "accompany" me here on the beach. My response? Well .... uh, uh ... not to be rude, but, well of course you can sit anywhere you want, but i have to read, uh .... all this. "All this," however, constituted the contractual offerings for a host of cell phone carriers here in France.

And ... that's how i became an expert in the french telecom industry.

The second "dude" might have been a bit beyond official the "dude" stage, but he wins points for trying: Age, 79.

Barcelona

My short stay in Barcelona has been super! Among the highlights . . .

- I´m staying in the apartment of Xavi, a friend I met on the Camino de Santiago. It´s in the neighborhood called Barceloneta, and I can´t be more than fifty paces from the beach. I went for a run on the beach this morning - November 1st! - and saw all the surfers and beach bums out there. (I am, or would like to be, one of them!) What hospitality, huh?

- Yesterday was the Castanyada. I went to the home of Luis, another friend I met on the Camino, and his mother prepared the three key ingredients of the Feast of the Chestnut: Roasted chestnuts, roasted sweet potatoes, and a Catalan Castanyada dessert called panellets - made with a dough of potatoes, sweet potatoes, sugar, egg, and pine nuts. MMMMMM. Good thing I´m a food scholar, so I can say that with authority. In fact, I´m going to say it again: MMMMMMMmmmMMM!

- And I went to Montserrat. Another important pilgrimage center, though I was a bit monastery-d out, so - Catholic guilt begone - I skipped seeing the Black Virgin, which, I suppose, is the entire purpose of going to Montserrat. Well, I didn´t skip it, really; I just kind of ran out of time. (Partial dispensation? Reduction in pennance?) Instead - apparently I´m not quite tired out enough - I went for an awesome hike to the top of the Montserrat peaks. Google Montserrat to check out some pictures - it´s pretty spectacular, with a monastery "nestled" (obligatory travel writing word, I believe) in the pointy needle-rocks of the Monserrat (serrated mountain, maybe?) range.

I leave tomorrow for France. Au revoir!

One final walk

Yesterday I walked from Finisterre to Muxia. It was beautiful. We had to "ford a river" - as in the Oregon Trail - and cross a beach. We took the "fun way," as the Ashe family would say . . . which involved following the coast rather than the marked trail . . . and which probably made it a 40 km day. Now I´m definitely ready to stop. It´s been beautiful, exhilirating, and . . . exhausting.

I did a quick mileage total yesterday, and it looks like the official total from St Jean Pied de Port in France to Muxia on the Atlantic is about 900-and-something kilometers. If I add in a few kilometers for getting lost, searching for open food shops on Sundays, and turismo, I think I cap 1000!

Tomorrow: To Barcelona. (By plane.)

Camino de Santiago Photos

Here is the link ( I think) to the photo album I created on Kodak photos. There are no labels or ordering yet - sorry - but maybe you can imagine. (It´s more fun that way, anyway, isn´t it?)

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=18rl5z5e.bzir58sy&Uy=-il3hh&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&UV=783889227040_310187172306

I also sent the link by email to a bunch of people, so if this link doesn´t work, and you didn´t get an email, ask me or someone else who knows me to forward the link.

The End of the Road

I´m here in Finisterre, and I feel really good about it. I´m not sure exactly what I was looking for in the Camino, but I´m pretty sure I got "it." It was a great way to change directions - not easy by any means, but then - as usual - that´s what makes it special :) I think I´ve reached my physical limits, and in a good way. Even though the Camino gives you lots of time to think, it also exhausts you in a way that kind of strips everything to its most elemental. When I arrived in Finisterre, I was pretty much at the base of the Maslow pyramid, "driven" mostly by the need to eat and sleep. But that felt good . . . and a few days later, it feels really good.

Besides the crazies and the hippies, everyone on the Camino is an amateur philosopher, so I´ll try to refrain from too much of that and instead pass along a few "randoms" . . .

Official Scents of the Camino: wild fennel, sweaty German men
Official Fruits of the Camino: wild blackberries, figs, and chestnuts
Official Sounds of the Camino: strong winds, the snoring of sweaty German men
Official Author of the Camino: Paolo Coehlo
Best Meals of the Camino: Cocido maragato in Astorga, pulpo in Melides, "fiesta de Luis" in Finisterre
Favorite region: Galicia
Favorite cities: Leon, Santiago
Best items in my pack: earplugs, swiss army knife
Why I loved the Camino: time and space to "be", time and space to think, beautiful landscapes, interesting people, interesting conversations, awesome shared meals, intensity, fatigue, and a window to the "reality" of everything outside "real life".

(Whoops - a bit of amateur philosophy snuck in there at the end. Sorry.) Hasta pronto.

Santiago & Finisterre

Hello everyone!

I have lots to say, but only three minutes . . . Hence:

I´ve arrived in Santiago!
I´ve arrived in Finisterre, and saw the ocean. It´s amazing. I can´t believe I´ve walked across the entire country.
Next I´m headed to Barcelona for the Festival of the Chestnut (I´ve decided: I´m going to do my master´s thesis on the chestnut), and then to France to parler frances.

I promise elaboration and photos soon!

Locos

One "interesting" thing about the Camino de Santiago is the "interesting" collection of people you meet. I´ve met lots of people on my wavelength, lots from - ahem - other wavelengths, and possibly other realities, and a good handful of crazies. Among the more interesting people of recent encounter:
- A man named Tomas who is convinced he is the last Templar. He´s crazy, but sane enough to live just this side of hospitalization. He lives on the top of a mountain and runs a refuge. (Yep, people stay there. I´d stay there. They say that what it lacks in facilities - such as beds, water, or toilets - it makes up for in "character.") He dresses up like a Templar, does a "prayer for peace" while hitting his special bell with his special sword, and talks about how the Apocalypse is coming this November.
- A Lithuanian family, traveling the Camino with a stroller for their 18-month-old, a few cartons of fifty-cent wine, and a little supply of hash. Dad has conspiracy theories about 9/11, and Mom identifies herself as a witch.
- A man named Ferron who instructed me today on the "energy centers" upon which all Catholic churches were secretly built. We walked around a 12th-century church with his two metal sticks, which - obviously - help to find things such as underground rivers, solar energy nets, and faults in the earth´s plates. Priests know where to stand to open up the energy from these natural resources.
See? It really is interesting, this Camino.

Alimentation

As a future scholar of "Alimentation," I think I´ll share with you a bit of my gastronomic "research." I think yoú´ll be impressed! I´ve tried:
- Morcilla. I´m pretty sure this is similar to what the Irish call black pudding and the English call blood sausauge. It´s something that would ordinarily gross me out, but I´ve been trying to do what the Romans do. It is awesome. I stumbled upon a tasting of morcilla, freshly made, off the sizzler, spicy with onions and hot peppers, and man - was it good! One of my Spanish friends said, ¨"See, this alone is reason enough to live in Spain!" This led to a discussion about how exactly morcilla is made. I figured there was blood in it, or it was cow´s meat ALSO with blood, or something like that; but it turns out that it is really just the blood. It can´t be, I said: it´s more or less solid, right? Congealed blood. Congealed. Obviously. And it´s really tasty.
- Mollejos. At least that´s what I think it´s called. And I can´t actually translate it properly, because my dictionary - which I have faithfully carried for hundreds of kilometers while I discarded soap for the sake of a lighter pack - doesn´t issue a translation. As best our conversions could elicit, it seems to be cow thyroid. One of my fellow pilgrims said it was the best dinner he´s ever had. I had to eat some bread and tea afterwards to make the taste go away.
- Cecina. Like jamon (cured pig´s leg or ham), but from a cow. Super-good, especially when eaten as part of the ¨Festival of Tapas¨"!
- "Feos". In addition to my "one rest day every week" rule, I´ve added another rule to my list: "Pasteleria, cada dia." Pastry shop, every day! I discovered "feos" (uglies) in Leon, and they were awesome. A cookie made almost entirely out of almonds.
I think I could go on and on . . . !

Nearing Halfway

I'm nearing the halfway point of the Camino! This really surprises me, since I wasn't even sure if I'd make it 100 km. I'm not sure I'm nearing the halfway-point of the non-physical journey, though I'm definitely going somewhere.

Today I took a rest day in Castrojeriz, pretty much right in the center of northern Spain. I climbed to the town castle - imagine, if you could just regularly climb to the "town castle"! - and read my book to the sun rising over the valley village. The other day I ended up walking at night, as there wasn't any space in the pilgrim albergues (refuges) for several towns. It turned out to be awesome: there was a full moon, there were all the colors of the "magic light" that come with dusk, it was windy, and I had good company. I love that I'm outside so much: so much of my experience becomes a kind of walking meditation. Even when nothing profound happens, when I don't think anything, I "experience" so much more than I can when I'm inside: there's something important that I get out of feeling the wind sting my face, hearing my shoes crunch the path I'm walking, seeing that "magic light" every day at sunrise and sunset.

I haven't been well-connected to the internet, so I probably won't have any photos for you until I'm finished. Everything is going really nicely, though. Hasta luego.

Caminando, Caminando

I'm well into the Camino rhythm.

(Also, sorry for the lack of literary quality here . . . speed, Spanish keyboards, and, uh . . . not really caring . . . are rather impeding the quality of prose. Throw in little hand-waving, bewilderment, and some cumin, and then maybe you can kind of imagine a real Leah Ashe story. If you don´t have those ingredients easily accessible, i guess you´ll have to settle for a second-rate piece of writing. i'd add the imagination if i were you.)

Right, so I´m well into the Camino rhythm. I stay every night with other pilgrims at alguergues or refuges. Tonight I´m staying at one in Logrono. I´m taking a rest day so that I can go see a bullfight. I eat cows, so I figured that I might as well at least check out cow-torture sport. Also, the matadors look pretty good.

In a few minutes, I'm going back to the albuergue to cook the midday meal with the hospitalero-priest. Tomorrow should be another walking day. I'm surprised how quickly I´ve acclimated. I did 20 km yesterday and it felt like nothing. I did a 33-km mountain-climbing day a few days ago; that felt like something, let me tell you, but it also felt really satisfying. I´m pretty sure it wouldn´t be on Dr Snyder´s list of recommended activities, but then, i think, neither would be surfing, skiing, or traversing concrete surfaces without a helmet. I´m liking it, and I´m feeling good.

Until next time!

100 Kilometers

The Camino de Santiago is . . . (Mrs. Schwert?) phenomenal! Amazing. Incredible. I can´t believe I´ve only five days into it. I´ll apologize right off the bat: I´ve been more inspired to enjoy the beautiful walking, companionship, history, and scenery than I have to seek out an internet connection, so I have been and likely will continue to be pretty out of touch. (And I kind of like that.)

I started in St. Jean Pied de Port, France, and have made it just Pamplona to Puente la Reina, Spain, where two of the old routes to Santiago come together. I´ve crossed the Pyrenees and the Alto de Perdon (though not on my nears, nor barefoot). My pack weighs more than I thought it would (nearly 20 pounds with food and water and sleeping bag), but the buenas rollas (good vibes) are also more inspiring than I thought they would be. I´ve been traveling with an awesome group: Two Spaniards, a German, an Italian, a German, and me, and cooking every night in the pilgrim refuge with a big group. It was my turn last night, and we made a guisado, a stew straight from the Leah Ashe kitchen!

I´ll rest today in Puente la Reina - and then we´ll see.

Buen Camino :)

More to come.

Beach Tour

"I missed the train to Lourdes, so I went surfing instead."

Ever heard that before? When the credit card machine at the train station rejected my credit card transaction and I missed the train, I figured that was my sign: Tomatelo tranquilo, take it easy. So, I did what any Crystal Beach Bum would: I went to the beach. It's Biarritz in southern France, and it turns out that it's one of the surf centers of Europe. I was walking along the beach, ran into a surf school, and signed up for a class. It was totally rad, dude! I totally want to become a surfer girl. Can someone find out where the phrase "Hang ten" comes from?

Today I start the Camino in St. Jean Pied de Port, France. I like it already, and I haven't even taken a step in the direction of Santiago. All part of the Camino, I think.

And - Mark - France is awesome!

Character Preview

If you followed my last trip, you know I ran into my share of “characters.” And I’m glad I did. I like it that way. (What would Crystal Beach be without the Thong Man?) I hope I run into lots more this time around.

But I guess I didn’t need to travel to ferret out the characters; I just needed to get away from my cubicle. I’ve met a few good ones in the past few weeks. So, although I haven’t hit the road yet, I think we could all use a good “character warm-up” . . .

Preview #1:

To start off, we have Dr. Tahid, who I think counts – Geeta, hope you don’t mind the plagiarism :) – as one of the “Indian doctor friends.”

Since I’m leaving, my car had to go, too. I put an ad in the paper, and both Mary Jo Altobello (wearing a napoletano charm and coming from Niagara Falls, naturally) and Dr. Tahid (from New Delhi, just starting his residency at Mercy hospital down the street) called me the next day. Mary Jo liked the car and bought it right away; the catch is that we won’t make the actual trade-off until September 2nd, which does leave a little bit of a risk for both of us. So I let Dr. Tahid know that the car was sold, but that, if he’d like, I’d be happy to keep his number and give him a call if the deal fell through. He asked to come over and test the drive “anyway,” – and I said sure, why not. Why not, indeed . . .

So, Dr. Tahid came to test drive my just-sold car. He started down Salem Street, came literally inches from sideswiping all the parked cars on the right side of the street, and came to a complete stop . . . a good fifteen feet before the stop sign. Now, the Salem-onto-Abbott turn can be a bit difficult because the parked cars on Abbott block the view of oncoming traffic. So you have to inch your way up – peak – inch – peak – anyone coming? – No? No? – Ok, go! That’s what you have to do. What Dr. Tahid did, instead, was gun the car, from his complete stop fifteen feet before the stop sign, directly into a right turn. Do not pass go, do not look both ways at the intersection, do not collect your “my child is safe driver of the month at Franklinville Driver Ed” sticker. Fortunately there was no oncoming traffic, and we reached Abbott safely. All that, and we’d made it about fifty feet from my house.

So I thought it might be wise to stick to the side streets. I directed Dr. Tahid to turn right on Athol, which he did. Like this: He came to a complete stop in the middle of Abbott Road, veered out to the left into oncoming traffic, and finally maneuvered the car to the right and onto Athol, whence we nearly sideswiped all the cars on Athol. Now, had Dr. Tahid been on the Orchard Park Little League Royals, and had he been trying to stretch a single into a double, and – most importantly – had he not been DRIVING MY CAR!!! – this would have been great form, a perfect banana turn. As it was, however, it was NOT great form, and it was making me, ah, “a bit nervous.” (You know that line in “Speed,” which I’m embarrassed to admit having watched, where the nerdy guy on the bus has to “translate” from Keanu Reeves, fiddling with a bomb underneath the bus, to the bus driver? And he translates one phrase as “Uh . . . . Oh darn!” You can similarly translate here for “a bit nervous.”)

So, trying to be as polite as I could, I asked Dr. Tahid, “You, ah . . .you do have your license, right?”

“Oh yes,” he assured me. “In fact, I just got it,” he added, as though this were an entirely uninteresting sidenote.

“Today.”

He smiled. I smiled (somewhat less enthusiastically). We drove right home.

Preview #2:

I also had to sell my bike rack. Some guy named John bought it, and he must have called me fifteen times to clarify precisely when he was coming to my house to pick it up. His last phone call came from my neighbor’s driveway, where he was parked, having confused the number 27 with the number 25.

So we went to my basement, I showed him how the bike rack worked, that was that, and we were ready to go. You’d think it would have been easy from there, right? Nope.

John picked up the bike rack – well, actually he more thrust it toward the ceiling. KAZAM! (Imagine you’re in a 1950s Batman cartoon – the sound effects are worthwhile.) Right into the heating duct! Whoa. What was that?! Better look around . . . BAM! Right into the concrete pillar! Whoa, again! Now what was that?! Better turn around and have another look . . . WHAMMO! Right into a pile of boxes. I kept looking around for Curly and Moe.

Anyway, John was a nice guy. We had a few more encounters with basement impediments but eventually made it outside. I couldn’t believe this guy was going to drive home, much less hop on his bicycle when he got there. I hope he wears a helmet. And I hope Dr. Tahid isn’t motoring around his neighborhood.

View My Travel Map

I just figured out how Google My Maps works - it's awesome, and you should definitely give it a try yourself! I made up a map of my planned travels. You can see where I'm heading, and - if I manage to keep on top of it - where I've been and where I am now. By clicking on each destination marker, you can see the photos, videos, and links I've posted. The preliminary pictures are ones I've found on the internet - though I wouldn't have posted them if I didn't think they were good. (Especially the video of the Camino de Santiago that I posted in St. Jean Pied de Port - that's awesome, check it out for sure!) I hope to post my own photos and videos as I go along. I'll also put a link to this map in the sidebar, but here it is, straight away: Leah's Travel Map