Thursday, October 25, 2007

The High Peaks (and costs) of Switzerland

October 25 - 27, 2007


As a miserable rain swept across Italy, I was thankfully boarded onto an 8 hour train whisking me away to Lucerne, Switzerland. The temperature had dropped significantly from Italy, and I still had only a windbreaker and two long sleeve shirts to keep me warm, shortly to be supplemented by a much needed toque. Nestled between the fogged-in foothills and the calm lake, Lucerne seemed eerily vacant, similar to the way it would leave my wallet if I chose to stay very long. The cold wind breezed through the empty streets as I sought refuge in the only pub showing any signs of humans. Even the pub was quiet, but upon being presented a bill for $9.50 a pint, the desolation suddenly made much more sense. I knew my time in Switzerland wouldn't be much longer than the time required to scarf down an overpriced, over-touristed Toblerone.

Interlaken was an intriguing stopover with paragliders constantly dropping from the steep mountains that rose straight up from the small town. This adrenaline-filled mecca showed no mercy in its attempts to tease my sense of adventure, while mocking my quickly-draining pocketbook. With self-restraint, I settled for watching the premier outdoor screening of an adrenaline film (Play Gravity) while nested under a wool blanket. My distinct lack of understanding the Swiss-German language left me looking at the pretty pictures and bobbing to the soundtrack! My next closest encounter to an adrenaline rush was watching the tennis tournament being televised from nearby Basel while spinning on a wind-trainer at the local gym.



Lucerne, Switzerland. One of two covered bridges in the city.



Lucerne, Switzerland. View of cafe and old buildings along river.



Lucerne, Switzerland. Famous frescoe building front.



Approaching Interlaken, Switzerland. View from the train during the descent into the valley.


Interlaken, Switzerland. Several paragliders swooping from the steep hills surrounding the city.


Interlaken, Switzerland. Paragliders landing in the field in the middle of the city, with the mountains teasing me in the background.


Interlaken, Switzerland. Another stunning view of the cliffs, river, and paragliders.

Gastronomical Tour of Italy

Florence, Tuscany, Lucca, Cinque Terra (October 14 to ???, 2007)


Travel in Italy is implicitly a lesson in gastronomy. The Italians understand how to prepare food and create a social atmosphere, both drastically different than the Italian served in North America. Because the stomach rules divine in Italy, all other issues are considered insignificant, often at the expense of efficiency, common sense, and business practices. Eight in the morning typically means sometime closer to eleven, or whenever they aren't having lunch or dinner. Road signs are often completely obscured by other road signs placed in front of them. Customer service is virtually non-existent.

In attempt to escape the smell of urine, tourist crowds, overrated museums, and leather merchandise booths in Florence, two Aussie girls and I rented a car to explore the countryside of Tuscany. The steep rolling farmlands were covered in vineyards, olive groves, and were serviced by tractors that required tracks... why is it that tractors without tracks are still called tractors?? We visited many historic towns, enjoyed an Italian cooking course, stayed in aged buildings including a castle-side stone farmhouse and the quarters of some ancient monks. The chianti wine, olive oil, garlic and spices, Tuscan bread, good home-cooking, and a roaring fireplace in the evenings made for a welcome escape from the chaos of the cities!

Cinque Terra is a group of 5 small villages on the coast just north of Pisa, where multi-coloured buildings cascade from the hills into the sea. A picturesque hiking route through the vineyards and hillsides connects the villages to each other, and the relaxing atmosphere of the towns gave us plenty to explore. We gathered on our hilltop patio for happy hour in the evenings as we watched the vibrant sunset cast an orange glow over the sea and the small town of Riomaggiore.



Tuscany, Italy. This is a relatively well-organized example of the placement of street signs in Italy. This particular intersection allows the driver approximately 1.5 seconds to find the sign, read the sign, and determine the appropriate direction.

Florence, Italy. The market stalls that crowded nearly every historic square in the city.

Florence, Italy. The bridges, with the pedestrian Ponte Vecchio in the front where the butchers used to prepare and sell their meats... and spill the blood and bad meat into the river which flows down towards Pisa. Finally Florence decided that the river stunk too much, so they banned the butchers and moved jewellers onto the bridge. Then the river flooded, and washed many of the jewels downstream!

Tuscany Countryside, Italy. The rolling hills with winding roads. Tractors in this area all use tracks instead of wheels to be able to navigate the hills.



Tuscany, Italy. Somewhere randomly along the road, I spotted a lonely farmhouse against a clouded sky. Setting up the tripod and pretending to be a real photographer nearly caused a few accidents as tourists slammed on their brakes to see what I was looking at through the lens!



Siena, Italy. Old town in the middle of the rolling hills of vineyards and olive trees.



Siena, Italy. Grocery store displaying their goods.



Tuscany, Italy. Old farmhouse outside of a castle in the middle of the vineyards. Two Australians and I hung out by the roaring fireplace and enjoyed wine, cheese, olive oil, and bread.




Tuscany, Italy. Wine tasting at one of the cellars!


Tuscany, Italy. Sitting on the stairs waiting for the girls to finish pottery shopping, I noticed my own reflection in a small window.



Riomaggiore, Cinque Terra, Italy. This is the small village we stayed in while hiking and exploring Cinque Terra.


Cinque Terra, Italy. The start of the hike with the Australian girls, overlooking the first village of Montorosso.


Cinque Terra, Italy. Overlooking another village Vernazza from the hiking trails above.


Manarola, Cinque Terra, Italy. These colourful houses seem to almost spill into the rolling ocean.


Manarola, Cinque Terra, Italy. Manarola at night, but unfortunately the moon wouldnt cooperate with my camera!

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Venice Is Sinking, but Slowly

Venice, October 10 - 13th, 2007

Venice is a dizzying maze of 118 islands joined by about 400 bridges, where your sense of direction is guided more by quantum theory principles than standard compass-logic. While it is usually possible to find your end destination, the journey from point A to point B refuses to allow you to navigate the same way twice... even following supposedly the exact same directional signs. This makes it particularly difficult, if not impossible, as a wanna-be-photographer to later return to an obscure place of interest found along the way.

As luck would have it, the Biennale di Venezia, a famous arts festival, was showing the works from questionably talented artists from many countries. The Yeti-/crystal-/taxidermy-obsessed LSD-inspired Canadian artist failed miserably to make me a proud Canadian. The Russian exhibition was particularly intelligent, with the highlight being the media shower, where live television literally cascaded down and around the viewer and showered them with media overload. By turning the shower knob, the viewer could immerse themselves in different themes ranging from news, sports, nature, soaps, and pornography. Also of obsessive interest, a French exhibit by Sophie portrayed video and/or critique from 107 ladies on the email breakup letter offered by her last (ever?) boyfriend. Critiques were offered by psychologists, actresses, linguists, a parrot, comedians, and other media names such as Feist and Miss Kitten. This exhibit was really bizarre and obsessive and left me laughing, crying, and running for cover all at the same time. I will add the name 'Sophie' to the list of girls never to date...

For the record - Venice is in fact sinking, and the merchants of Venice have been replaced by illegal immigrant hawkers selling fake purses...


Venice, Italy. The Grand Canal, the main highway.


Venice, Italy. A minor canal full of tourist gondolas.


Venice, Italy. A quiet and lonely gondola in the supposed off-season.


Venice, Italy. Night shot along a casually curving canal.


Venice, Italy. Under the bridge(s).


Venice, Italy. Biennale Art Festival. A Russian exhibit, a literal construction of being showered by media, as 400 live-feed channels cascade down and around. Turn the shower knob, and the channels change by categories including news, sports, nature, soaps, and pornography.


Venice, Italy. Biennale Art Festival. A French exhibit by Sophie, with videos of 107 ladies commenting and/or critiquing the email break up letter offered by her last (ever??) boyfriend. Critiques were offered by psychologists, actresses, linguists, a parrot, comedians, and other media names such as Feist and Miss Kitten.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

High On Slovenia

October 1 - 10, 2007

LJUBLJANA, Slovenia
As the train gently crossed the Croatia/Slovenia border, the rolling hills almost instantly transformed into steep tree-covered hills that stretched for the sky. As the train approached the capitol Ljubljana, I began to see the already snow-capped mountains in the distance. I didn't realize that I would soon be at the summit of one of the peaks. My hostel was supposed to be one of the top-rated hostels in Europe, and had the dubious distinction of being a former prison in an area that had been transformed into somewhat of an artist's district.

It was immediately obvious that LJ was a city obsessed with fitness… as I wandered through the pedestrian-friendly city a stream of joggers, rollerbladers, and cyclists constantly whizzed by. The cool brisk evening air still did not deter anyone from practicing outdoor yoga, cycling, walking, or drumming in the massive park on the edge of downtown. Other locals kept the social vibe alive by crowding the many outdoor cafes alongside the downtown canals, where they could watch people crossing the historic bridges such as The Cobbler's Bridge, The Dragon Bridge, or perhaps the Triple Bridge.

BLED, Slovenia
Only an hour bus ride outside of LJ, the touristy town of Bled typically attracts many tourists for its beautiful lakes and mountains. It was great to be amongst the mountains… the hills smelled of adrenaline, while the town still lingered of Ben-Gay from the hordes of recently departed blue-haired tourists. My first task in Bled was to investigate the local adventure guides to see what mountain adventures were happening. I spent the rest of the day walking around the lake and walking amongst the forests until I received a text indicating there was a hike/climb that would leave at 6am the next day to the top of Mount Triglov, the highest peak in Slovenia.

Since I was already supposed to be back in Canada, I was completely unprepared for any excursions such as this, and I had to borrow all the outdoor gear except for socks. The next morning, under the rising sun, a German girl, myself, and our tour guide began to hike up to the base lodge located more than a vertical kilometer above us. The weather fluctuated drastically throughout the next six hours as we trekked through teaming rain, baking sun, and ankle-numbing snow. A short lunch at the base warmed us up enough to begin the 2-hour ascent to reach the top of Triglov at 2984m above sea level. The final climb included helmets, ice-axes, ropes, and a little bit of concern. This is a popular hike in the summer, where the ant-like formation of tourists apparently file along one by one up to the peak, but the snow-covered cliffs deter all but the most fearless (or possibly naive)! The view from the top was stunning and we managed to take in the panorama before descending for 2 more hours back to the warmth of the base lodge.

I spent the next several days in Bled walking through neighboring small villages, a local gorge, and the gorgeous Lake Bohinj. The damp weather was comforted by the delicate smell of fresh flowers and the warm scent of wood-burning stoves wafting through the misty streets. Before leaving for Italy, I spent another day back in LJ to visit a photography exhibit that was spread through many of the micro-galleries throughout the city.



Ljubljana, Slovenia. My hostel, a former prison, was located in a district named Metelkova which has been taken over by some rather artsy folks. These are the faces that I woke up to when going for a walk the next morning...


Ljubljana, Slovenia. The Dragon Bridge is guarded from evil and danger by... well... dragons.


Ljubljana, Slovenia. A view down the canal, with mountains in the background.


Ljubljana, Slovenia. The canals are lined with busy cafes full of young people.


Ljubljana, Slovenia. Another canal view where the willows and other colourful plants sweep along the walls.


Ljubljana, Slovenia. The morning market in LJ.


Bled, Slovenia. Lake Bled and the surrounding hills.


Bled, Slovenia. Another view of Lake Bled with the castle up top.


Bled, Slovenia. A church in the middle of the lake, with the castle in the background.


Bled, Slovenia. A view of the church in the middle of the lake.


Bled, Slovenia. This is the hut near the top of Mount Triglov and is where we stayed a night after summitting the highest peak in Slovenia.


Bled, Slovenia. View from the top of the world... well, at least Slovenia.


Bled, Slovenia. We had to ascend and descend using ropes and ice-axes, and here proves that I actually made it all the way up to the top of Triglav!


Bled, Slovenia. The trees were changing colour in the valleys. The highest point Mt Triglov.


Bled, Slovenia. This is part of the hike that we had to do in ordre to get to the hut at the base of Triglav.


Bled, Slovenia. The gorge.


Bled, Slovenia.


Bled, Slovenia.