Wednesday, June 26, 2013

War and Pieces

There is a song by the band, Depeche Mode, called People Are People. Some of the lyrics go pretty much like this: " what makes a man hate another man, help me understand. People are people so why should it be that you and I should get along so awfully".
I am not going to pretend to understand the ethnic differences or racial strife that caused this former large nation, Yugoslavia, to get busted up into little pieces. But I can tell you what I have seen and felt by walking through parts of it.

When I last blogged I was on my way to the national park. I had no idea I was going to be walking through the former frontline of the war in Croatia in a place called Saborsko. It was a village filled with crucifixes and bullet holes. There were hardened faces and amputees. It was quiet and not particularly very big. But it still carried a feeling. Later when I made it to the park, there in the woods was a sign for Plitvicka Jezera, and above it, another sign, oddly, that simply said BREATHE. And I could. All the trees and mountains and then those gorgeous lakes and cascades. It was the follow up to Saborsko I needed.

From the beauty of the park I continued past Homoljac and then a side road through Frkasic (say that fast 5 times, I dare you. Actually, I dare you to say it once!). It was there I had my first invite into someone's home, a very basic place where I was given water, cookies and a chair to sit by a very nice man who spoke not one stitch of English. But kindness speaks volumes and it is often the poor who give the most of what little they have. I continued on. This road ended up going high into the mountains and for the next several days I was on the most remote roads since my journey began.
Croatia is a beautiful country. I mean, drop dead gorgeous. It has much to offer the nature lover and I suspect within 5 years it will be a major vacation destination. There were many times through the country where I just stared in disbelief at the beauty and stunning scenery. A crown jewel. Some of my best camping has been in Croatia too. Desolate, silent spots with only the forest animals making noises in the night.
But there was nothing in those mountains. Nothing. No food, no water. So I was very happy when I knew I would be coming to the big (on a map) Donji Lapac. OMG. Imagine my shock when I felt liked I'd stepped into the late 19th century. Shepherds with their flocks, a family skinning a slaughtered sheep hanging from a tree in the backyard, men in straw hats with pitchforks making haystacks. There was a store there to be sure, but it had so little of anything. I had so wanted to sit in a cafe and eat a meal. Instead, I bought what I could and figured I would find better in Srb. Not a chance. The whole area was empty. It was wonderful walking, amazing views that kept me dazzled the whole time. But no food and very little water. And that is hard when the temps are in the 90s (they had been for a solid week) and humidity is high. It meant carrying a lot of water. And I gotta tell you, water is a walker's best friend and worst enemy. It keeps one hydrated, joints lubricated, head clear. But it is also the heaviest thing to carry and so it becomes a catch 22; one has to carry more water to quench the thirst but the extra weight makes the sweat pour harder and faster.

I climbed another mountain, slept under a full moon on a lovely high plain and figured I would get amenities at the crossroads to the red road (I was on a yellow road that felt very much like a white road), in Sucevici. HA! as it turned out that place had but one house! That was it. But my walk to Knin was jaw dropping spectacular following this ridge alongside a narrow valley. I put up with the thirst until it got so bad I had to beg when an infrequent car drove by. Nobody stopped, I'm sure they thought I was crazy. Finally I came to a habited place with water (prior to I walked through some ghost villages, war remnants).

Monday morning I crossed the border into Bosnia Herzegovina. Getting there through Knin meant going 40km out of my way because the police had told me the day before that I could not take the small mountain road which straddled the border to the border town itself. A whole extra day of walking. But the landscapes made up for it. On the way out there were a lot of destroyed homes, and left over destruction from the war. The mountain red road I was on was deserted. No one was crossing the border here. Imagine me walking into this forested area with very little action at the border patrol. They looked at me, then my passport and were quite surprised I was an American (the police in Croatia had stopped me several times also to "routinely see your documents" and were equally surprised).

It was a long climb up a mountain for many miles with incredible views, a really wonderful walk and well worth the effort. Storm clouds were brewing too. A sign? I made it to within 1 KM to the town of B. Grahovo, about 20 km from the border, when the rains started. Man, it came down. Hard! I ducked into a place I was told was a restaurant but looked from the outside like the second floor to a home. It was, however, a small place with only 4 tables and no one else inside but the waitress/cook.  For the next 3 hours I ate while it poured outside.

The woman who was running the joint had a sad, sunken face. She watched the tv which aired some Bosnian movie while the jukebox played Bosnian music. None of it was too loud. But the jukebox flashed these lit pictures every few seconds of nature scenes, automobiles, and naked women. A family restaurant?

When the rain abated I had a look around the town. Oh my. Everyone had long, sad faces and I could see why. Poor Grahovo was in ruins and squalor. What looked like the former village center was in horrible shape. The municipal building was gutted. Homes collapsed, bombed. I was taking a picture of one building and a man on a bike came up and said it used to be a nice hotel. It was devastating. And very sad. And so went my introduction to Bosnia.

Now I was really scared where to pitch my tent; I had been careful for days and days. But I was lucky to find a spot in an off-road cinderblock cell covered with cow manure on the dirt floor. If the cows hadn't blown up then neither would I (although the walk out to the structure terrified me) . It rained and thundered more in the night. By morning there was just a dark gray, ominous sky with a COLD chill. I wore a coat and I walked all day. There was nothing again. No ameneities I should say. Each town on my map really didn't exist anymore. There were so many ghost villages, so many destroyed homes and buildings, so many bullet holes. For every new home I could see way back at the hill base, I saw a dozen places in ruin. It broke my heart. What these people have endured. The scars that can never heal. It was depressing. Oh, and the "mine" signs. The skull and crossbones markers all over the place. To think you cannot leave the asphalt and enjoy the countryside or your former home's land for fear of being blown up or losing your legs. This morning left a branded impression on me. Again, the things I am grateful for that others cannot enjoy.

In Crni Lug there was one tiny spot where an old man had beer and juice. A kind of cafe but not really. More like one little concrete block, dingy room with beer and juice. A trucker was in there drinking beer at 9AM. I asked for food, the old man said he had none. But within 2 minutes he came back with bread, green onions, tomatoes and homemade cheese (totally gross stuff). I was ordered to eat and eat a lot. It was hard getting the cheese down. But they were kind. They offered me a beer....no thanks. I offered to pay for the food. They refused. So I decided to buy a juice. I drank it and they would not let me pay for that either. I had been warned in Croatia to "be careful" in Bosnia because the people lost much in the war and I might be a target. But I was finding the Bosnians to be some of the best folks on this trip.

All day I walked through this sort of expansive valley with hills and mountains on both sides. The cooler temps and clouds made the lack of water available much more tolerable. Thank you. There was space to breathe too which was necessary amongst the ruins. One man pointed to me his destroyed father's home and his brother's too. The "Serbs" shot them up. Then I came to this long area that looked like a National Park. Just beautiful. But eeerily quiet and I knew. Nothing is here, no one, nothing, because the place is still full of mines. My suspicians were confirmed. I came to Celebic and things seemed a little different here. A home was being built and I went up the long drive to get water. A man who had "run away" was back with his family rebuilding. And so it was. He pointed out his window to a place where he said, "beyond there there are no more mines". The sun came out full on. And within a few miles there were fields being plowed, kids on bikes, new homes, flowers, color. And I could feel the heaviness lift. And it felt wonderful.

I walked through Livno this morning, a town with lots of life and very sweet people. There was a large grocery store so I could buy much needed food. And I bought a lot. Now I am on the shores of a lovely lake, which I believe is called Bisko.

I have caught myself a few days back starting to dream of the things I will enjoy when this walk is over. But I did not want to keep going there so I reminded myself that in (now) 35 days (I am projecting July 31st as my end date....a clean 4 months) it will be over and that sad notion reminds me to keep enjoying all aspects of this epic adventure, even the parts I am not digging too much anymore. My pants are tattered and faded with holes and a broken zipper ( not my fly), my shirt is fraying, my undies are ripped (all clothing lightweight and non replaceable on this trip so I must wear it). A tent pole has broke, my new pack has a few small tears and I am even feeling myself getting a little whacky which I am trying to keep at bay. I remember this point on my trip across the US. I am trying for better this time. (But I could not help dancing and singing in the grocery store to Billy Idol's "Dancing With Myself" this morning). I am feeling like a homeless man, very much. And I don't care too much really. It has become my norm. But I know this all comes with limits. I am not living in a destroyed village. I have not been through war directly. I can quit anytime if I want (fat chance...I'm going for broke baby).

I am off to Mostar. Time for new shoes. I still have a lot of miles to go. But by the middle of next week, my days left will be in the 20s. And before I know it this will all come to an end.
Time to enjoy what's left.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Landmines and Mountains and Bears, Oh My

I have crossed the border into Croatia ( Sunday) and should be in Plitvicka National Park tomorrow. It will be a good place to ring in the summer solstice.

 Slovenia was great, short and sweet. I found myself on some quiet, forested backroads and one that went through a Ntl Park. I camped next to a stream that cut through a rockface creating a natural bridge. It was very peaceful until about 3 AM when the frogs started croaking. One sounded as if it were saying, "Felix, don't do it!". It felt like I was in some B horror movie. My last meal was in a small village with nearly all consonants in the spelling of the name. The style of the food was local and my server had been to Cleveland before for a big Slovenian reunion. I got a bowl of fresh forest foraged mushroom soup, fresh picked greens from the garden out back, smoked then cooked salmon plus potatoes with leeks. The costs are half then they were in Italy so I could indulge. It sure beat the tunafish in a toothpaste tube I tried the day before. Hours later at the border, Babno Polje, the woman running the bar was making someone an ice cream sundae. I ordered a juice. She gave me a juice then poured me a shot of some clear spirits and insisted I drink it. I gave in and merrily walked to the border.

Croatia joins the EU on July 1 so I am one of the last to get passport stamps at this very unused border. The mountains on the Croatia side are much bigger and my first two days have seen some hefty climbing up and down. The slopes are steeper and the forests choked with tall pine and deciduous trees sometimes so impenetrable I could not even put two feet inside. They are home to wolf, lynx and bear and locals shudder when I tell them I sleep in the forest at night.

Croatia is so full of mountains and dense forests, it's a veritible lumberjack's wet dream. And those saws are going all day long. Homes have dropped timber in their front yards that they then splinter into jumbo wood piles; the winters must be long and brutal here. This place seems rougher around the edges. Some villages look Bavarian while others are recovering from the war. I am starting to see abandonded homes with bullet holes all over the walls. Some villages have dramatic statues, the one with the young man hurling a hand grenade sticks out. But there a flowers everywhere and people seem reasonably happy. I have been offered alcohol each morning as I pass someone's house too. Maybe this is how they learned to cope.

I now spend money called kuna. It is not cheap here. A couple place names I've walked through: Gorica, Crni Lug, Ravna Gora, plus a super forest road from Vrbovsko to Ogulin. I have to be careful now because there are leftover mines from the war. I knew to expect this but I was not entirely sure where to worry. Well, that day is here. Know that I will take all precautions to be safe, esp when camping at night. My maps aren't the best either but I'm making do with what I have. And with that I am going to go becuz i may lose this again....bad computer. ps: i have gotten recent emails but cannot reply from this computer for some reason. thank you.
 this is not proofread.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Trans Slovenian Express

This country is smaller than it looks and I feel like I am breezing through it. Too bad too; it's so lovely. But with Slovenia comes my "downhill", third leg. If you look at a map, from Gibraltar to Andorra was upwards, Andorra to Slovenia was across and now from Slovenia to Istanbul is down. Of course it's not really down, there's still lots of mountains to climb, but there is an illusion looking at a map that allows my mind to think that I am just sliding down.  I have, in fact, climbed my first mountain yesterday, the first in nearly two weeks. It was wonderful!

I've had time to absorb Venice more. Arriving by ferry from the islet into the San Carlos Square stop was like cruising right into an old master's oil painting. Up until this week I have only seen Venice that way, in fine art museums; the bulbous clouds, the baby blue, powder sky, the row of opulent old buildings in various states of life and decay and color lined along the lapping lip of the Grand Canal with all the boats in the water. Marvelous, simply marvelous. The only thing NOT in those paintings are the hordes of people. I knew to expect them in June. Everyone wants to see Venice. And who can blame them? But for me, Venice came most alive when it was deadly quiet....early morning.

My first morning in Venice I just strolled for hours before the shops opened. I walked the Rialto Bridge with no one on it. I went to the Jewish "ghetto" and got lost in the maze of lanes and streets and small bridges that makes Venice exciting. It is a city with no cars so it was perfect for me and my day "off" from walking. I still got to exercise but on a lighter scale.

The morning I left Venice was even better. Since I arrived in Venice with no reservation for a place to stay I just picked an area to scout for a bed since I was clueless about the city. The only direct ferry to Cavallina islet, my reentry walking point after leaving Venice, was from San Marcos Square so I decided to find a place there. The info center was no help so I asked around. And in a little-lane restaurant a waiter went to the building across and rang a buzzer to a friend. There, in an unmarked building, was a room in a kind of hostel/hotel/b&b that was nice, clean and quiet and priced just right. I stayed two nights. When I left on Tuesday morning it was early AM and I found myself in San Marcos plaza alone. It was incredible. Venice came to life in that still square. Slowly the dawn colors tinted the Doge Palace and the Basilica and the buildings all around. At the water's edge the pastels of morning light turned the place into magic. I shall never forget it.

However, I was glad to leave Venice. That whole "body shutting down" thing I last blogged about was wrong. My body was ecstatic to leave & start walking again. What it had trouble with was all the busy-ness. There is a trait I have. When I absorb too much info without the time to process it I go into automatic shut down mode. Which is why I was so tired in Venice. My body and mind couldn't take it all in. I have not been in such a big and frenzied place on this whole trip. To give you an idea: a few days earlier walking through a small place called Rolo, a young Pakistani man helped me with directions. That whole flat area between Parma & Venice is an economically troubled region so consequently land is cheap and there are communities of Punjabi Indians, Pakistani, some Chinese and even migrant African workers plus the older school Italian farmers that have been there for eons. This man was so excited to help me. He said, "I think you are the first American to come through Rolo". Most of where I am walking is like that. The people don't see tourists and neither do I. So the bombast of Venice threw me and my body into a tizzy.

I left Venice, walked through Cavallina, on the lagoon side of the island, and afterwards, hopped onto the smallest roads I could find because I could not deal with heavy traffic which exists all around Venice. I went through Cortellazzo, Torre Di Fine, walked atop levees that ran along rivers, hit a super cool back road where a guy had to open a gate 2 miles down the road in order for me to continue (he also left me a bag of fresh walnuts from his trees....very agricultural area:corn, wheat, veggies, fruit & nut trees). I went through S. Giorgio Di Livenza, Precenicco, San Giorgio di Nogaro, etc.

What I've been amazed with is how many older people are out & about on bikes and with no helmets. I am talking men and women in their 70s and 80s on roads with trucks and cars, some just doing shopping. The women are all dressed up in dresses or skirts and ride simple older bikes. I loved them all.

My last day in Italy was a bit tough. It was hot, at times the road was very heavy with traffic. When it is that way I feel very violated by each vehicle passing. It is like each one plows through me with a total disregard that I am a human being. I am pleased there has not been not too much of that kind of walking that I've had to do so far. I met a bicyclist who stopped to talk. He was an Iraqui man who lives in France. He had just bought the bike two days earlier after walking around (true wandering, no intended "goal"), for two years in the Middle East and eastern Europe. He was rail thin and said he got by on 30euros A MONTH which I found hard to believe. He ate discarded foods from stores and also camped. He seemed happy. He had a lot of enthusiasm for my walk too, to meet a fellow, like-minded road warrior. And I found it comforting to talk with someone who could understand where I was inside because this walking does change you.

Off the red roads I went to Turnaco on my way to Doberdo Del Lago when locals told me it would be way easier to go all the way north and then over to get into Slovenia. On the map that looked super long so I decided to go the map route. Well, guess who had to walk a whole lot of extra miles and up a steep hill onto a road that turned into a trail that splintered into several other trails to where I thought I was suerly lost? Yours truly. I was so mad at myself but the fact is- and I realized this later in the day- not every moment in life is a pleasant one, not every decision is the "right" one. As it turns out though, this one was a "right" decision. Sometimes, you just don't realize it until later, when it reveals it's charming secret.

At Doberdo I had to end up going north anyway to Marcottini and then from there I was told I had to still go further north because the border crossing from there was not open. I was hungry, hot, and disgruntled. Then, in the middle of nowhere, a restaurant appeared and I told myself, whatever it costs, I would buy myself a nice last meal in Italy. So I went inside. It was early so no one was eating inside. But the owner greeted me and asked me what I needed. I said FOOD! He told me the cook wasn't in yet but he would prepare me something "great".

The owner's name was Robert. He was so cheerful, so friendly, so wanted to help me. When he found out about my journey I was ordered to sign his guestbook. He told me to relax. He got me orange juice and then a frittata appetizer with pesto and then a huge, delicious plate of gnocchi. He told me it was on the house. He allowed me to shower in the basement, gave me water and a sandwich to go, gave me several hugs and congratulations for my journey. He kept asking, "what else do you need?"

What can I do to make this person feel good?

I was so touched, I cried. "You should be happy", he said. Oh, I was. I was very happy. But walking and being vulnerable as I am , also brings out emotions that don't always surface as easily. And they were out then and there. Robert was Slovenian but this restaurant was just inside Italy. It had been his parents' place and after his brother died (who I think was running it), Robert came back to give it a try. He deserves much success and I wish him all the best.

This day turned out to be a pivotal one for me. I will never forget Robert or that moment.
What can I do for you?
Weeks ago, during a torrential downpour with crashing lightening and thunder I sought refuge in a church. Some prayer circle finished and the nun came up to me and told me I had to leave the church. We opened the church doors and the weather was horrible. I asked her, "where can I go?" and she shrugged her shoulders. And with the biggest smile on her face she said, " I don't know. Out you go".
I will never forget her either.
Both of these people are teachers in my life.
To be or not to be.....that is the question.

I walked a few kilometers more from the restaurant & crossed the border very quietly into Slovenia late on Thursday. It has felt wonderful to be here. It is quieter, simpler, prettier. Yesterday I got to know the place a bit more. It's woods, then a small village, them more woods again. There are hills, the land is not flat. The mountains are all around. I went from Opatje Selo, where a man found it hilarious that I wanted to walk to Komen when he offered a ride. In Komen I sat with a young man under a cherry tree and he talked about the area. He was on break from restoring the gothic frescoes in the old church. Apparently a lot of treasures in Slovenia were decimated in the wars. Stanjel was very charming but Stjak was dreamy, perched high up in the mountains. The views of the Slovenian Alps were stunning. I could not take my eyes off them and spent a lot of the day just admiring the beauty. My camp last night was phenomenal with this vista of these majestic mountains and a superior valley below. The sunlight wrapped up all that nature into unbelievable beholdings.

I have a special affection for Slovenia because one of my favorite bands, Laibach, is from here. I've heard their music playing in my head all day today. Their heyday was years ago. They have always been controversial and the government, years ago, pushed them out of country because they poke fun of nationalism. But most of their work is parody. They have redone the whole Beatles, Let it Be record (except the title track), have covered Macbeth, a whole record of their own versions of National anthems for various countries, a disc called Jesus Christ Superstars and a disco, NATO record.

Today I have been though Vrabce, Senozece and now am in Postojna. The food is different, the language is very different, the prices cheaper, the feeling is a world away from Italy.

By Monday morning I should be in Croatia. I am heading towards the National Park that begins with a "P" and is famous for their lakes (map not handy). I saw pictures of it years ago and told myself, SOMEDAY. Well, that someday is soon. It is in the interior of the country near the north. I am not going to the coast.

Tomorrow begins week 12 (or as i now say counting in reverse, week 7). The countries are all smaller. I will go through them faster. In fact, it will be 9 countries during the rest of this leg. I have some trepidations about a few places further on but it's all just one day a time right now.

The Iraqui bicyclist I met told me Italy was so busy, the roads turmoil. That was the reason he got a bike, to get through it. He told me, once you get out of Italy and into Slovenia then "you are free". It has felt just like that.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Venice the Menace

Yes, I have arrived. Venice is another milestone for me on my walk. I arrived yesterday morning after a night on a BEACH! And from there took a ferry in. It's wonderful here. But it's also full of menacing tourists. GOBS! I haven't had so much activity around me since I was in Fez (before the trip started). It's actually terribly overwhelming. But I also knew to expect it. Everyone loves Venice. Well, except for a number of Italians I met. I am grateful it is dry. One Italian I met a week ago had been here recently with three full days of rain. He hated it. I think I would have too. But the hustle and bustle is very strange and is jarring to my space. It is a menace.

After I left Parma it's all been FLAT! My feet are doing ok with it and it has been a nice change from the mountains. But this week has brought something else new=heat.  I have gone from April to August in the span of a few days and my body has not been happy. My feet have swelled inside my shoes which now feel too small. My baby toes are crushed, blistered and the nails red with dry blood. It has been painful at times to walk but with Venice on the horizon I persisted.
Fortunately, I found mostly white and yellow roads the whole way here. Leaving Parma was terrible because of traffic so I ditched the red road I was on and followed a maze of yellow backroads which were quieter. I often found myself on raised levees or dikes with a river to one side and farms on the opposite. Even a few mountains showed up in the distance (they were not the Dolomites). But I sweated and languished as I tried to adjust to the new temps. At night I sleep in my undies and wake up without needing a coat. HUGE change.

For those following my route I have written down a few places since I left Ovada in the Little Alps..Lerma (very nice castle and some sweet people), Mazzarelli, Voltaggio (really liked this place on a hill with olden twisty lanes and stone streets), Montoggi, Torriglia, Cabanne, Pontolo, Forno di Taro, Poviglio, Meletole, Santa Vittoria, Fabbrico, Concordia Sulla Secchia, Fossa, Stopparia, DRAGONCELLO! (I saw that name and had to go thru there. I wanna learn to play the cello just so I can perform as DRAGONCELLO!)(not an intersting place....the only thing I will remember there is the one bar with squat toilets...aka, hole in the ground, and no running water), Calto, Trecenta, Boara Pisani, Anguillara Veneta, Cavazere, and then to Chioggia where it got hectic for about 2 hours with  the frenzied return of civilization at large. From there I hopped on a free ferry across to the Litorale of Pellistrina and walked the spit of land up. It was there I camped on a beach, IN SAND, with water all around me (Gulf of Venice) before I ferried to the next spit on up. It was quiet and lovely and the PERFECT way to enter Venice.

I will leave tomorrow morning, early. I expect I will be in Slovenia by the weekend, prob Friday. My escape route outta Venice doesn't look like it will be as quiet as it was coming in so for two days I expect some traffic.

One thing I know I will miss when I leave country will be the Italians themselves.  There hasn't been a day that hasn't gone by where a car doesn't stop and wait for me to catch up so they can ask, "where are you going". They walk right up to me, get in my face, and ask that question. It's like they know me. And once they find out the answer they look for my bike. And when they realize I am walking they end up with a flood of other questions from where do I sleep to how long did it take me to get this far, etc etc. And they are gift givers here. I have been given chocolate, pizza, raisin bread, cold beverages, etc. My last blog was free because I walked into a small office and asked the guy if he knew of an internet point. He asked his co worker who did not know of one so he kicked the co worker from his desk and allowed me to use it. I become an instant friend here, that is how it has felt. And their support for me has been enthusiastic and heartfelt at a time I've been needing it. So thank you ITALY! Heck, I was allowed in free to a Munch exhibit yesterday which was AWESOME (first time these works have left Oslo).

I know not what to expect from the Balkans. I have some reservations but it's one day at a time right now. Not sure when or where I will find internet service too.

On a sidenote...some friends have asked about sharing this blog. I do not care if you share it with someone I only ask it not be posted to group lists or Facebook. Thanx.

Well, it is back to Venice. I have been to the Basilica, taken a ride through the Grand Canal and have walked and seen so much more. But tomorrow the walking will be back again with my backpack. My body thinks we are done and that news will become very untrue come morning. It's back to the solitary road.

Ciao!

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Parma-town

I'm in Parma. Parma, Italy. I wasn't sure I was gonna come through here. In fact, I was planning to go south of here, but as I got closer, an Italian told me it was a wondereful town so I gave it more thought. Still, I wasn't sure. Then the ghost of my best friend, David, told me I HAD to go to Parma or he would haunt my dreams with the happiest Care Bears and Smurf dolls and I knew I did NOT want that. So I made my way to Parma.

For those of you not from the Cleveland area, Parma is a SW suburb of the city. Parma, Ohio is where I went to high school. And I grew up in the neighboring community of Seven Hills. Parma used to be the brunt of local jokes because, even though a lot of Italians did live there it was known for it's Polish population and the joke was that they all wore white socks with "flood" pants. And it was kinda true; you could see a lot of white ankles back then.

Parmatown was the mall and it was thee spot to hang out. It is where, as a teen, I got busted for trying to steal an LP record (Angel's, On Earth As It Is In Heaven) with another friend, Kevin. I was henceforth banned for life from the mall but a month later I was back BUYING records.

David had lived in another neighboring community, Parma Heights, and we would hang out at the mall too and make fun of the girls with outdated perm hairstyles or ridiculous "new Wave" cuts or  pre-torn "punk" clothes they'd buy at Merry-Go Round. David was more of a college friend having met him at Cleveland State University which is where we principally hung out. But we still always laughed about and made fun of Parmatown and Parma, in general.

So in a way, I HAD to come here. Inevitable? I don't know. It almost did'nt happen.

The past week was full of real highs and real lows. After I last blogged the weather got super wicked with thunder and lightening, periods of heavy downpours and hail. I had to duck and hide between places to avoid getting wet but in the end I arrived in Ovada soaking and cold. I got a room in a hotel and vowed that if it was raining the next morning I was gonna quit, the rain was simply bringing me down too much. Well, the next morning it was not raining. In fact, there was a splendid rainbow which has often meant good luck for me so I put my belief in the power of the rainbow ( I know what you're thinking, really Stevyn, the power of the rainbow? What's next, dancing unicorns? And all I can say to that is, I HOPE I see dancing unicorns and you're gonna be sad you were'nt with me to see them too!)

So I went forward and marched into what the Italians call, the Little Alps. They are magnificent mountains and I think I liked them much more than the Italian side of the real Alps. Such beautiful behemoths. I did a lot of walking up and down very steep white & yellow roads, curving every which way and often feeling like I wasn't getting anywhere. I do not have my map in front of me but I do remember the small village of Montebruno as I place I went through. A lot of places were only a few homes and much was natural. In fact, I even went through a National Park area. This area was my favorite hiking in Italy and some of the best scenery on the trip. Plus, no more rain in the mountains.

But I was still dragging a bit, mentally, and also stressing about going to Parma and I was not sure why. Then, I had a sort of epiphany. As I left S. Stefano de Aveto nestled high in the peaks of the mountains (some of the Little Alps are 6,000 feet high) I was ready to climb a pass nearly 5,000 feet. It hit me that this point might be the last highest point I would walk on the whole rest of the trip. Certainly in Italy. And since that was on Saturday, the end of my 9th week, I decided the pass would make a great place to declare my halfway point of this journey and that Parma, which I thought might be a halfway point, would just be another stop AFTER having already passed that middle marker. It meant I was half over! Somehow, that mentally propelled me forward again and I instantly felt better.

I camped at the top of the 5,000 foot summit Saturday night and Sunday morning I walked over Tomarlo Pass and began week 10 (which I am going in reverse now, so I am calling it week 9 again and next week will be 8 then 7 etc). It was a gorgeous morning, one of my prettiest and so very quiet. Nobody out on the roads. All morning I descended down down down  until I came out to Bedonia where some June 2nd religious ceremony was taking place in the streets with sacramental garb and droves of people walking this trail of flower petals in designs on the ground.

I have mostly stuck to white & yellow roads but when I have been on red roads I have lucked out with most stretches being pretty nice. For that I am grateful. And the rains have subsided for now. In fact, on June 1st it felt like summer had finally arrived. Things have been heating up. I feel humidity now. I do not need to wear a coat in the morning. Plus, the roads have gotten flat. I left the mountains yesterday and it has been easier walking which my ankles are happy about.

Parma is a marvelous town founded in 183bc. The Romans were here and there are many magnificent structures. Safe to say it makes Parma Ohio look, well, like a suburb of Cleveland and not much else.

So, now it's off to Venice. I hope to be there by Sunday or Monday. It will be a very big city, my biggest this walk yet. But I am ready & look forward to it. For now, the happy wanderer continues his journey.

Ciao.