Adventures of Ange

I write from Sora, a small city south of Rome. I am staying on a farmstay in the Italian countryside, there are mountains all around me and rolling hills. I can see the icing sugar covered terrain in the sky from partings in the thick fog. It has rained on and off, the sky remains murky but the grass and new blossoms of spring are succulent and bright. The vegetation is beautiful in it's diversity, from palm trees to pine trees, wild asparagus to wild mint.

For the last week I have been working with Antonello and his family on his farm, with the help of Camilla (Sweden), Jen (Quebec) and Molly (Alaska). We have shovelled manure, transported rabbits, dug holes, cleaned bathrooms and bedrooms, washed too many dishes to count, and eaten more pasta than I could ever imagine possible.

The girls are hilarious, we get up to all kinds of trouble. The farm really has character as well, Guiseppe, the father, speaks no english but always tries to tell us that we should "have more wine for good health", and that drinking raw eggs will only make us stronger. I love the twinkle in his eye when he shows us how he milks the goats or makes his own olive oil.

Yesterday we worked in the morning as usual, and after lunch walked into Sora to use the internet. We went on a late afternoon hike to this castle overlooking Sora. As we climbed the mountain it appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a sturdy fortress with thick stone walls and winding staircases. We sat on the roof and stared at the view. Afterwards Antonello took us out for Italian pizza... as he says, "Everything in Italy is about food."

I have landed in Rome. I arrived at a hostel I had chosen, sans booking. I had walked miles, I'm sure. They didn't have a bed, and the manager sat on my new sunglasses. C'est la vie! I got reimbursed for the glasses and offered a good deal to stay there tomorrow night. Life works.

I spent some time in Firenze, visited a pile of churches and saw much art. The statue of David was beautiful, of course, but I am sick of renaissance art -- how many images of the virgin and child or distinguished noblemen will it take for my mind to shut down? I saw a strange mimed Baroque comedy with a Texan -- great fun. Anyways Firenze had some beautiful parks and quaint cafes, in between the throngs of tourists.

I followed these throngs, to the Cinque Terre, a UNESCO world heritage site, five tiny mountanous coastal towns with hiking trails in between them that are truly stunning. And then, the throngs led me to Siena, where the buildings glow with a dirty pink shade and everyone sits in a main piazza in the sun, just chilling.

The throngs of tourists... I dislike being a tourist, though I am one. Is this a paradox? I believe so. I am all supporting of travel and seeing the world, but each person that visits a place puts a certain amount of detriment on the place, dilluting the culture and subtly taking away from the thing that makes the place something to see. I am conscious of my own doing, each time I buy a postcard, or fail to speak the local language when asking for help.

On the other hand, tourists support the country and it's economy. I struggle to find a happy medium in this problem with so many sides... how can I travel and not just be one of the dumb, gaping tourists? Or is this inevitable?

Well I did the Barcelona thing after a 12 hour train ride. The hostel I stayed in was massive and business-like. As usual I met a cool crew to fool around with. I went out a bit, and have to say that the Barcelona nightlife isn't everything I was told it would be. I still had some fun and danced, met a Spanish circus acrobat at one club! Life is random.

Las Ramblas is the main kind of pedestrian street in the old town. It's filled with cafes, stalls selling fresh flowers, and scores of shops set up selling pets; they have turtles, iguanas, mice, rabbits, chickens, doves, fish, ferrets, and everything in between. Even some animals I could not identify. There are no-legged beggars and guys selling beer illegally in between the throngs of well/groomed northern European tourists. Also in the square are people dressed in outlandish costumes, those statue/people street performers. One guy is dressed in black, face hidden, cape flowing as if he is not alive.... then when an unsuspecting tourist passes by, he screams and jumps at them. I don't know how he makes a living.

Barcelona is quite interesting. Architecturally fantastic; if you are bored look up Antonio Gaudi on google images, and you will see what I see. His buildings are so rounded and colourful and just add a feel of fantasy to the city when you stumble upon them.

Last night I didn't sleep a wink, I stayed up with some Australians, an American girl and the hostel bartender. I had to catch a 3:00am bus to the airport and my alarm clock died long ago. I don't even own a watch anymore. So I flew into Pisa, saw the LEANING TOWER. It was pretty in the morning light when none of the tourist booths were open and I was the only one with a camera. Then hopped a train to Florence, and here I am, in Italy. It has a really different feel. And the food is great, veggie friendly and not so ham-oriented like Spain and Portugal.

By the way on the train I think I saw some kind of an angel. An angel in babouches.

I am currently in Sevilla, and today has been a collection of deja-vus from the brief amount of time I spent here two years ago on the sightseeing trip I did of Andalucia. Today I walked a lot and followed the scent of my memories, sniffing out a familiar cafe and shoestore, I could almost see Emily and I gleefully eating strange salads and buying 10 Euro boots.

I saw some flamenco again, this time raw and real. Ate the tapas, drank the local drink at the regular watering holes. We found a club that was really happening and I got a chance to shake off some tension.

I also visited the Alcazar today, a moorish palace in the heart of the town. It was absolutely beautiful, from room to room, eyes captured by the tile, woodwork, handpainted ceilings and domed doorways. Suddenly I entered the garden, and the beauty struck me so that I cried. I am going back tomorrow, to wander the empty rooms and manicured gardens alone, pretending I am a princess.

I am so incredibly in love with the moorish past, Morocco and Andalucia and the trail of Arabs from the east. The architecture, the culture, the intensity and the power of man and woman. The sexuality and sensuality unlike anything I´ve seen in the west.

Over the past week I travelled from Lisbon to Lagos, where I laid on the cliffs and the beach. Some friends and I rented a car and drove to the most western point of Europe, we settled in a cave on a cliffside overlooking the ocean and had port and cheese at sunset.

The next day a disturbing thing happened to me and I temporarily lost faith in men. I moved on to Faro, which was quaint but uninteresting. I had trouble sleeping because there was literally an orchestra practising right nextdoor to my room -- what are the odds. Anyways, came back to Spain and felt at home again. Spain is a breath of fresh air for me, it is as foreign for me as anywhere else but I really feel it.