The last few weeks have blurred in my mind, repeating an endless cycle of air conditioned nights and hot sandy days. For three weekends, I’ve packed the same bag to a new location just to return each Sunday and melt onto my bed, summoning strength for another Monday morning. But here we are, just days away from September. Sweet, beautiful September with cool breezes and changing leaves. I missed you, little 9th month of the year. After the hurried weekends and hot weeks, the fall has come to save us all. The sun is setting noticeably earlier but no one seems to care. My tan lines remember the summer and I’m all too ready to pull out the light jackets and colorful scarves.
But suddenly time has stopped. With just four days left in frenetic August I hear each minute, lapping like the Hudson River against the pier. Rhythmic. Unhurried. I’ve lived the last weekend ten times over. The sands in the hourglass are moving against gravity in slow motion uphill. Four long days before EUROPE.
My trip in 2014 felt like the experience of a lifetime. I do not regret a single second of the cities I walked and the people I met. Including this little lady. The chance to return to Italy and watch Serena marry the love of her life feels like the perfect invitation to dust off my passport and pack a suitcase once again. What’s better than watching love happen in one of the most romantic places on earth? Having someone to share it with.
I remember walking along the canals of Venice and watching the sunsets in Santorini. I have incredible memories of the pizza in Bologna and the waterfalls in Croatia. I truly believe that anyone who loves to travel should try it alone, at least once, just to experience the true freedom to explore and thrive. But there were moments- on the park bench in Nice and in the colosseum in Rome-where I wished I had someone with me to share it with. There would be no one back home who could reminisce, no one to say “remember when…” during a particularly delicious meal or fortuitous meeting with a stranger. There are times of aloneness when you reach out your hand and wish someone was there to interlace fingers and squeeze tight.
This time I’m traveling with a plus one. Finally I have the chance to show him who I am at my best with a guidebook in hand on unfamiliar turf. I will show him the gondolas in Venice and tell him about the Australian sister-brother duo I traveled with through St. Mark’s square. I’ll take him to the pizza place I loved and make him eat gelato at every hour of every day. Together we’ll visit Vienna (for the first time!!) and laugh our way through operas, museums and famed cafes.
And then finalmente, we will take a train across Northern Italy and arrive in Torino to reconnect with two of the loveliest people I’ve ever met for their wedding no less! In the beautiful countryside near the town of Asti surrounded by their friends and family, it’s a dream come true. This time, I will reach out and know someone will take my hand. I’ll squeeze it once, twice, just to make sure he’s real.
I spent the last ten days on the Greek island of Santorini, exactly six more days that I had originally planned. My trip was partly delayed due to the black sand beaches and the perfect weather. The connecting ferry to Turkey only ran three times a week and Thursday became Sunday, which became Tuesday all too fast. But my trip was also delayed because of the incredible group of travelers I met during my stay. This group of people seemed to be as captivated by the island as we were with one another and we spent every waking moment enjoying this little slice of paradise together.
The group, composed of Canadians, Australians, Germans, Philippinas, Haitians, Spanish, Greeks, Colombians, Indians and Americans, all shared a love of travel. And in this love, we also shared a mutual desire for some change from our lives back home. Three women (including myself) quit their jobs to travel alone. One woman spent a month in a meditation retreat and an Australian girl longed to return to Santorini instead of attending university in the fall. Chanae, the person I met in Athens and followed to the island, hadn’t been back to Australia in almost two years and had no clear date for returning home. I felt as if we were all searching for something–an answer perhaps–without clearly defining the questions at hand.
Some travelers want to see the world. For them, the questions are simple: “How can I travel forever?” or “How can I increase my maximum vacation time?” But for others, I think the search is much less defined. Will I find someone to love me? What should I do with the rest of my life? These questions will not be found within stamped passport pages or months overseas. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.
One evening, I found myself wandering the streets of Oia before meeting up with the group for the famous sunset. The day had been full of sightseeing and my skin was tight under a layer of sea salt and sweat from my morning swim and afternoon hike. I was dehydrated and my legs threatened to give out as I trudged up a rocky path to get a better view of the coast.
Down the hill and to the right, I spotted a car. It had been unoccupied for quite some time based on the model and the thick layer of rust underneath the faded blue paint. No wheels remained and someone has piled large rocks onto the driver’s seat and under the hood. On the back left end of the car in scratched white lettering, the words Whatis life? had been written. I sat in the fading light of the Santorini sun for a long time staring out to sea and contemplating the words of the car. I thought about this new group of friends: our morning yoga during the sunrise on Perissa Beach and the nights spent comparing cultures over wine and ouzo shots. I thought about my imminent move to New York City and my undefined relationships with people back home. I thought about the pressure I put on my European exploration to conquer some great internal unknown I had yet to identify.
Despite my desire to travel alone, I secretly craved a community of people who loved exploring the world as much as I did. I wanted to find others who would rather shoulder a backpack and book a flight than map out their next logical career path. And in every hostel in every country, I found those such people. They, like the car, didn’t have the answers to life’s big questions either. And that was something…
For I’d rather spend time contemplating the meaning of life with equally confused people than trying to figure it out all alone.
Late afternoon in Rome. The wind blows dried leaves into piles along the sidewalk; they crack and whisper against one another. The early October weather is warm and the afternoon sunlight baths Rome in King Midas’ kisses. I pass stores and restaurants opening after their post-lunch hours, ready to pull meandering customers in for a pre-dinner drink.
Without warning, I am overcome with a sense of longing for the autumn I remember back home. Maybe it’s the leaves–brittle and brown–or the sunlight that streams through the trees making playful shadows on the sidewalk and the windows of the parked cars. I ache for the bags stuffed with freshly picked apples and the taste of Dad’s baked pies, hot from the oven. I miss carved pumpkins on the steps of front porches and the crisp fall air that reddens cheeks and scatters the nicely raked leaves. I miss inventing fall drinks with fresh apple cider and the smell of pumpkin brownies with extra eggs and fudgy swirls. For the first time I can remember, I am homesick not for a person or a favorite food but for a season I will never see.
My friends and family are sending me reminders from back home. Hannah and Devin are sending baked good recipes with pumpkin spices. Billy mentions the changing leaves surrounding the Connecticut golf course. In my Inbox, Mom has listed her favorite fall memories:
sitting in lawn chairs with cold toes on the sidelines of high school soccer games…
forcing a crying three-year old [me] to wear fairy wings
picking apples with Grandma Audrey and Grandpa Frank
becoming aware of the shortening days each Saturday afternoon on the ride back from Schenectady
waiting for the afternoon school bus among the fallen and crunchy leaves
family eating orgies of apple cider and cider donuts
Back-to-School nights
This year, my October is full of sunny days at the Roman Colosseum, sandy Santorini beaches and Athens’ rooftop bars. I will spend my remaining autumn days island hopping and exploring the coast of Turkey. By the time I return to the United States in November, bold winter weather will have pushed autumn back into the closet with the fall coats and leftover Halloween costumes. The seasons wait for no traveler.
From longing, I now feel comfort imagining the maple trees in western Massachusetts and upstate New York changing colors of red and yellow just as they did every year since my memory began. My current life is so devoid of routine and structure–as I struggle through yet another crowded city, airport, and ferry terminal–that the knowledge of another autumn season occurring back home provides me with a sense of order and peace. And when I struggle through another day of logistical planning or worry about my future after my return home, I remember that wherever I am and whatever I do, the seasons will come and go just as they always have. As predictable as the ocean waves that play on this Santorini shore.
I get a specific feeling the moment before I set foot in a destination I’ve eagerly anticipated for years. It is a strange combination of intense joy and great disappointment: joy at finally reaching this long imagined place and disappointment that this fairytale kingdom will soon become a grounded location rooted in its’ own problems and standards of beauty. So I planned a solo trip to Venice, knowing that this feeling was an inevitable part of seeing the world.
I imagine Venice was constructed similarly to the way my friends and I played SimCity, the popular computer game focused on designing entire cities in a made-up world. It was as if one small child decided to replace all roads with waterways and changed all the buses, trucks and cars into boats with a click of the mouse. Perhaps this major port city believed the development of a “waterlogged” infrastructure was a strategic decision but it seemed that the sheer number of tourists only accelerates the city’s deterioration.
So while the “floating city” may indeed be sinking, it is hard not to marvel at Venice’s unique transportation and homes with front steps leading directly out the door and into the water. It is a city where your chosen shop or restaurant, located directly across the canal, lacks a bridge to efficiency take you to where you need to be. All the shop windows are filled with ornate masks and beautiful glassware ranging from hand-blown vases to friendly animal miniatures. The sunsets are beautiful and the restaurants are filled from dawn to dusk with coffee drinkers and couples enjoying just one more glass of wine.
I spent two days with an Australian brother-sister duo who were spending a couple of weeks traveling Europe together. They happily included me in their plans and we followed the overly popular “get lost in Venice” advice while exploring St. Mark’s Square, the various museums and pizza restaurants. The following day I met a Canadian traveler who had just graduated from university and we bought an all day boat taxi ticket to see a couple of the islands surrounding Venice before capping off the night with an evening trip down the canal.
What can I sum up from that time? The Doge’s Palace was incredible and took almost 3 hours to visit each room and floor. The Australian brother wandered down a side street and found a free outdoor showing of Taming of the Shrew (Oh Kate). St. Mark’s Square is lit in the evening and on my last night, I walked through the vast piazza lit from street lamps and serenaded by a solo piano player. I ate incredible gelato and listened to loud American couples trying to decipher the various Italian flavors. There were people, so many people, that finding a side street or empty bridge felt like a breath of fresh air.
Venice continues to be a city rich in artistic, economic and political heritage. It is unlike any city I have ever visited and I can only hope climate change will not erase this unique island off the map. But as I walked the streets, ate dinners and visited museums, I realized Venice would not be the city I fall in love with. It would not be the place I’d return to on a honeymoon or my first choice for a romantic getaway. Despite it’s beauty and stardom, I would take a quiet lake or empty beach any day of the week.
Even with a month and a half, Italy has so many amazing places that it is almost impossible to choose which cities and towns will make the short list. Before meeting Lorenzo, I’m sad to say that Turin might not have made my itinerary but I am so glad it did. The city itself has so much history, museums, and beautiful streets that even without the best homestay and tour guides, I would have had an amazing time. Luckily I got both.
Top Things to Know About and Do in Turin:
Turin is probably best known for the headquarters of Fiat (the car company), the 2006 Winter Olympics, and the famous Italian soccer team Juventus (which Italians love or love to hate). However, the number of beautiful outdoor markets, museums, and well preserved open squares makes it a beautiful city for anyone coming to Italy. There are so many blogs and articles with top places to go and with the limited time I had in the city, I can only give you my highlights from the trip.
Museo Egizio- This Egyptian museum is a major source of local pride, boasting the second largest collection of Egyptian Art and Culture in the world just behind the Cairo Museum in Egypt. As you may have guessed, I visited on a Monday when the museum is…chiuso (closed). This whole Monday thing is really a problem. Click here for other museums that are worth checking out.
The Holy Shroud- The Holy Shroud of Turin is located in Turin’s main cathedral on Piazza San Giovanni near the palace. This important linen dates back to the mid 1300’s and has retained the imprint of a man’s image. Many scholars believe this is the sheet that wrapped and held Jesus’ body after the Deposition. The shroud itself is now housed within a box behind a large screen but is still definitely worth a visit.
Mole Antonelliana- This landmark building rises high above the red tiled rooftops of the city and is a defining feature of the Turin skyline. It was originally built in 1889 and now houses the National Museum of Cinema as well as a glass elevator that takes visitors all the way up the spire for a 360 degree view of the city. The museum itself has a detailed history of moving pictures and cinema moving through history up to present day with hands on exhibits and an incredible main floor filled with plush recliners to view the many large screens displayed above your head. I spent hours walking through the exhibits and up the open winding staircase with pictures and descriptions of every actress who won an Academy Award for Best Actress since the beginning of the Oscars.
Porta Palazzo market– This food market stretches the full length of the piazza and into the large industrial looking building behind. There are so many stalls filled with fruits, vegetables, and spices, you could spend all day wandering the narrow aisles. It is also apparently the largest open-air market in Europe. As the bus past through the piazza in the late afternoon, there were only small trucks left in the otherwise empty square selling fresh San Marzano tomatoes that overflowed from large wooden crates.
In Turin, I had fresh buffalo mozzarella topped with penne pasta in a simple tomato sauce and a generous sprig of basil. I spent two amazing nights with Lorenzo’s parents (and dog Nora!) who treated me like family. I drank espressos every morning and spent the days wandering the city, making my way down to the River Po and up along Turin’s main shopping street Via Roma. On my last night, Serena and her boyfriend took me out for aperitivo where we made plans for future visits in the United States and promises (on my part) to really learn Italian. By the time it came for me to jump on a train bound for Venice, I still wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
What if I got a job as a receptionist at a hostel? I think while riding the train from Levanto to Turin, watching the changing Italian landscape outside my window. All the employees I’ve met seem so cheerful and young. One Canadian now living in Belgium used to work Saturday and Sunday evenings in a hostel in Naples. He said the job consisted of letting people in who forgot their keys and watching Gilmore Girls’ reruns. I could totally do that. I imagine myself greeting weary travelers with a smile and a map. I would recommend the best restaurants with the cheapest prices and circle key areas “not to be missed” on their stay. Young people helping young people sharing a mutual zest for life and adventure. Wonder if it would pay the bills…
This next section of my trip (Bardonecchia, Turin) would not be possible without the kindness and generosity of one person who I met while working and living in Massachusetts. Lorenzo, originally from Turin, became an amazing travel advisor while I was planning my trip and set me up with the best train travel websites, maps, and tips for his home country. He went so far as to introduce me to some of his friends still living in Italy who offered their time and couches for me to stay. So by the time I arrive in Turin, I already have a lunch date planned with a cheerful young woman who will quickly become a dear friend. May I introduce…Miss Serena.
I meet Serena outside the train station and she recognizes me instantly with my array of maps, backpacks and confused expression. She welcomes me with well-spoken English and highlights important parts of Turin as I try to keep up with her surefooted steps. We go to a local restaurant near her work and I scarf down focaccia-style pizza surrounded by other Italians grabbing a quick pranzo (lunch). After introductions, Serena invites me to stay with her and her family in Bardonecchia, a beautiful mountain village in the Alps with slopes that hosted the snowboard events for the 2006 Olympics and views that would take anyone’s breath away. Naturally, I say yes.
Early the next morning, I set out to buy a gift for Serena’s parents before making my way to the train station. With a little help from my Lonely Planet guide book the night before, I have decided on some sweets from Baratti & Milano, a famous chocolate shop originating in Turin back in 1858. The shop looks far but not too far so I finish my morning blog and make my way to the designated piazza…which is much father than expected. I make a hurried selection, drop my map in a frenzy and speed walk to the train station sweaty and out of breath.
[I wish I could say that as I spend more time traveling in Europe, I learn to avoid frantically running along narrow streets through crowded cities in order not to miss a bus or train. Sadly, this will not be the case. See: Levanto, Venice, all of Croatia, really any time I have to go somewhere.]
Bardonecchia is located on the border of Italy and France in the northern Piedmonte region. It is both a summer and winter destination for extreme skiers and sunny August afternoons in the Alps. The air here is sweet and the water is refreshingly pure. After I arrive at the station, Serena and I take a walk through the wooded countryside and through the main downtown, past a small church and yellow shops with wooden shutters and tiled roofs. Then begins the eating. Serena brings me on a continuous Italian food tour to make sure my mouth has tasted as much of the culture as my eyes have already seen.
We wait in line at the bakery Ugetti for one of the famous krapfen pastries (German for donut) that’s served hot from the oven and oozing with apricot jam. Feeling slightly thirsty, we hop across the street to the market for a four pack of EstaTEA, the juice box of Italy and the American version of a CapriSun/Nestle Tea. For dinner, the whole family goes out for pizza and I get my first taste of deliciously melted buffalo mozzarella with a simple tomato sauce on a crispy crust. By the time evening comes, I get the best night sleep I’ve had in weeks and wake to a full breakfast of Italian pastries, yogurt and steaming hot espresso. Before getting back on the train, Serena encourages me to get a coffee granita, a combination of espresso, shaved ice, and whipped creme. It has the consistency of clouds and tastes like heaven. I decide I never want to leave this mountain oasis but Serena already has many more things for me to see (and taste) back in Torino.
Happy Anniversary WordPress! Today the darling blogging website & I are celebrating our 4 year anniversary. Together we have traveled the world, gone through periods of neglect and apologizes, and decided to tie the knot when I purchased my very own web domain name. Thank you, dear WordPress, for always standing by my side and giving me the confidence to send my words out into the big wide Interwebs.
Cinque Terre
I’ve wanted to go to Cinque Terre (Five Lands) for years. I remember putting it at the top of my list four years ago when I decided not to go to Italy during my two week travel break while studying abroad. I will save that country and that trip for another day. And when that day finally came, I couldn’t have been more ready.
Cinque Terre has gained popularity with American tourists in the past couple of years. My friend’s Italian boyfriend asked me at dinner why people are so obsessed with these coastal towns and I didn’t have a good answer. Maybe because the hiking is amazing. Maybe because pictures of these villages are all over the Internet. Or maybe it’s because when someone goes there, he or she cannot stop talking about the visit for months. Either way, it was a must see destination for me and it should be for you too.
The coast is comprised of five villages: Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, Riomaggiore. I stayed in Levanto, the next town over from Monterosso and found it extremely easy to take the train there and back. A variety of trails crisscross the mountainous coast connecting all five villages as well as the train system for those who don’t want to trek on foot. Landslides in the last year or two destroyed some of the popular coastal trails and the main route connecting Corniglia and Riomaggiore through Manarola is still closed to the public. Still there is no bad trail since every path and series of steps lead to amazing views overlooking the Ligurian Sea.
If you are going during high season, be prepared for many MANY people. The morning trains are the best because they are pretty empty and run on time. By the afternoon, the trains are 20-40 minutes delayed and each car is jam packed with people. But it’s worth it. Since many people opt to use the trains, the trails are pretty clear and there are so many options beside the coastal route that weave up into the hills. The beaches are very popular too and something I would have loved to enjoy if I had stayed more days.
With just 3 nights and 2 days, these were my top six favorite things:
Getting wildly lost walking from Monterosso to Levanto
My favorite part of blogging used to be writing about one thought or one event. My words were focused on trying to pull out one idea that was bouncing around in my head and make it bounce around on the page. Now I have a zillion bouncing thoughts all at once. I spend 48 hours with just one or two people before jumping on a train not knowing if or when I’ll ever see them again. I download hundreds of pictures to my computer every day before planning my next destination and booking my next hostel. It’s amazing and crazy and a 24/7 adventure.
But maybe I can slow down life just a little bit. Give descriptions of just one day or just one person. Because I’ve found the people and the individual fleeting moments have made this trip unforgettable.
I spent a short yet lovely day and a half in Genoa (Genova) en route to Cinque Terre. I got very lost before finding my hostel mostly because I printed out directions to another hostel in another city but also because it was located at the top of a hill. I blame the hill. I wish I could provide you, dear reader, with valuable information about the museums to see and churches to investigate but instead I will impart one very important piece of information that should NOT be overlooked.
ALL* museums are closed on Mondays.
*Well almost all. There is a small list of five or so museums that remain open. The tourist offices have small pieces of paper with a list to the unlucky Monday travelers. The aquarium is also open.
That being said, I had a wonderful time walking along the port and seeing some of the churches throughout the city. There is a rich history here of merchant families as well as the birthplace of Christopher Columbus. A replicate of his house stands downtown which Genoa seems to be quite proud of although the tourist descriptions of the house are underwhelming at best.
Walking tours as well as tourist buses and mini trains traverse the city, spouting off some of the many facts and dates about Genoa. I took a short 1-hour walking tour on my first full day although I got talking to another Italian man and the tour left without us so we missed the first 15 minutes of precious information. Chatty Kathy over here…
Aquarium of Genova-is the largest aquarium in Italy and one of the biggest in Europe. This massive fish tank museum is situated along the port jutting out into the water and was designed for the Expo ’92 Genova where the city celebrated the 500th year anniversary of Columbus’ voyage and “discovery” of America. The admission price is steep (€ 24,00 for adults) and I didn’t have enough time but I heard amazing things.
The Metropolitan Cathedral of San Lorenzo was built between 1100 and the end of 14th century in a Gothic style. The Cathedral is a perfect example of the Genoa’s black and white marble layered in alternating stripes. Our tour guide informed us that only four prominently named Genovese families had the prestige to build with this design from the ground to the roofline. All other constructions had to stop midway up the wall and the distinction is evident throughout the city. I loved the whimsical look of the checkerboard buildings, a sharp contrast from the red shingles and brick walls. I saw this style replicated again throughout Italy including in the town of Montorosso while hiking through Cinque Terre.
Pesto alla Genovese-is the famous and delicious pesto traditionally eaten over homemade trofie pasta. I tasted the dish in Eataly, a famous chain of high scale grocery stores with small eating stations specializing in meat, fish, pizza and pasta. A favorite in Italy, the store has branched out with at least one location in New York City near Union Square where I ate shortly before leaving for my trip. I would highly recommend visiting one to wander past the shelves of homemade pasta, freshly baked bread and wide selection of Italian wines.
On my last day, Genoa’s sky turned dark and started to rain which it kept up until I left. I got to try out the Mom-approved poncho, as ugly as it was effective. I was a dry walking marshmallow as I finished my tour in a hurry.
Despite my short stay, I liked the feeling of Genoa. It feel like a hard working port city redefining itself as a key destination for tourists and locals alike. The location is also perfect for day trips to Portofino and other coastal towns. The historic buildings, piazzas and navel museum makes it a perfect destination for anyone traveling along the coast go to or coming from France.
Due to the large Catholic holiday on August 15th, I decided to hunker down and spend a whole week in the coastal city of Nice. I would only recommend that much time if you are in the mood to relax and enjoy the weather, casino and local bars. Considering it was the beginning of my trip, I didn’t want to spend most of my days lying on the beach but still found fun things to do while I was there.
Vieux Ville- The “old city” in English, this was my favorite part of Nice. I walked through narrow streets filled with small cafés, souvenir stands and specialty shops selling Provence lavender, soaps and artisanal cookies. The gelato and pizza stands were outnumbered only by the tourists that shuffled along the cobblestones with cameras in hand. At the center, the streets opened up to reveal a large open market. In the morning, the stalls are filled with fresh fruit, vegetables and fish. In the evening, the food is replaced by watercolor paintings, purses and jewelry for sale. The perimeter of the square is lined with restaurants and outdoor tables under awnings boasting the freshest fish and cheapest wine.
Beach- Crowded and pebbly. I would recommend waiting until evening, picking up a cheap bottle of wine and finding a spot on the shore to watch the sunset.
Matisse and Archaeological Museum- Not only are both museums free, they are necessary stops in this French city. The Matisse museum is well situated in the middle of a large garden, perfect for picnics and dog walkers. I spent about an hour in the museum looking at the Matisse collection before heading over to the Archaeological Museum to see stone ruins of ancient Roman baths as well as the smallest Greco-Roman amphitheater, well persevered next to the museum’s entrance. Near these two museums is another church with beautiful botanic gardens and an expansive view of the city.
Main Square and Fountains- The main center is perfect for families with children. The wide network of water jets are built into the ground and erupt without warning, shooting plumes of water high into the sky, disappearing as quickly as they come. Kids can also plan in the massive jungle gyms shaped like water creatures located to the east on the way toward the contemporary art museum (also free). I spent over an hour writing on a park bench, listening to the sounds of splashing feet and high pitched giggling.
Park- I found a large patch of green in the northwest corner of my Nice map. Feeling adventurous, I somewhat skillfully navigated the network of local buses and made my way to the center of supposed patch of wilderness. My excitement in finally finding the location was replaced with disappointment finding the gates closed with a sign indicating the park was closed for the entire month of August. No one in Italy works in August including the wilderness.
[Finally, my French blogs are done. Next stop: Italy!]
If you have an extra day in Nice and want to get away from the beachside crowds, I would recommend taking a day trip to Eze. Eze Village, and its stone fortress, is located on the hilltop 429 meters above sea level with an incredible view of the French coastline. The various touristy shops, restaurants and history make it a great day adventure before returning to Nice for some nighttime fun.
Eze was original part of Provence but became part of the County of Savoy in 1388. The oldest building in the village, known as the Chapel of Sainte Croix, dates back to 1306. Since that time, the stone fortress was built and rebuilt as power-hungry men with large armies destroyed its walls (Ottoman fleet of Solomon the Magnificent, soldiers of Louis XIV etc.). Eze was also the home to many wealthy families and even Prince William of Sweden during the mid-1900’s. Eze Village is now the location of the swanky Château de la Chèvre d’Orhotel and esteemed restaurants tucked away into the many wooden doors lining the narrow cobblestone paths.
I spent the entire afternoon walking through the winding alleyways shaded by tall stonewalls in a maze-like pattern leading up the hill. Each doorway led to a small art gallery or souvenir shop to attract the hordes of tourists like moths to a flame. Hand painted fans, jewelry and small restaurants selling sweet smelling crepes waited around every turn.
For an additional fee, I gained entrance to the Exotic Garden and up to the highest lookout point in the village. The gardens were beautifully arranged to include desert plants (cactus, aloe) as well as luscious flowers, pools of water and elegant female statues carved from stone.
Another claim to fame for this little hill town village is a rocky stone path that Nietzsche climbed while composing one of the chapters of “Thus spoke Zarathoustra.” I was not as inspired to write philosophy while walking the path myself but I was going downhill which inevitably discourages such inspiring thoughts.
This trip has so far been divided into three types of days: solo exploration, group activities and travel. Eze Village was a completely solo trip beginning with the small but important discovery of finding the elusive bus stop. I disappeared among the tourists and navigated myself easily while taking pictures of the architecture and gifts for sale. I like these days, the moments of quiet and solitude when there is nowhere else to be and no time to return. I appreciate the days when I don’t speak to anyone except the waiter at the cafe or hostel employee before heading off to bed. It’s new for me, this aloneness, but I’m trying to wear it well.
Just as important are the days when I do have companions to go on exploration adventures with or friends to accompany me to the nearest bar. I am thankful for these friends even if our time together is brief without any plans or knowledge of ever seeing each other again. They have given me the needed companionship that I can’t imagine life without.
But here we are, just days away from September. Sweet, beautiful September with cool breezes and changing leaves. I missed you, little 9th month of the year. After the hurried weekends and hot weeks, the fall has come to save us all. The sun is setting noticeably earlier but no one seems to care. My tan lines remember the summer and I’m all too ready to pull out the light jackets and colorful scarves. 
ate afternoon in Rome. The wind blows dried leaves into piles along the sidewalk; they crack and whisper against one another. The early October weather is warm and the afternoon sunlight baths Rome in King Midas’ kisses. I pass stores and restaurants opening after their post-lunch hours, ready to pull meandering customers in for a pre-dinner drink.
If you have an extra day in Nice and want to get away from the beachside crowds, I would recommend taking a day trip to Eze. 
Twelve-toed Traveler 
