Getting Validated

We all need to get validated in life, but this post is about getting a different kind of validation--train ticket validation!
  

When you travel in Italy, you will inevitably take a train, ESPECIALLY if you plan to visit Liguria. Purchasing your ticket can be done in many ways, whether online on Trenitalia's website, at the service window in any train station or at the many convenient Biglietto Veloce ticket machines. Please note, these machines only sell tickets, they do not validate them.
  

Unfortunately, buying your ticket is not the only step required in a stress-free and fine-free train ride.

Brugnato in Fiore

Each year, the small Ligurian town of Brugnato [pronounced 'broon-yato'], transforms its streets into floral fan-fare. Many towns and villages across Italy will have such festivals and if you get the chance to see one, it is truly remarkable.

Swiss Getaway

My parents had some business at the University of Lausanne in Switzerland and I jumped at the chance to meet up with them for the weekend. It also worked quite well that I had an interview in Paris two days before (Paris? Mais Oui!), so I was able to get a cheap flight to Paris and take the train straight to Lausanne (there are no flights from here to Geneva). 

  

Meeting them at the large train station was surprisingly easy, as they were right outside the door with a fellow Swiss colleague of my step-father's that I hadn’t seen since I was thirteen years old! That was a great surprise and he escorted me up the steep (incredibly steep) hill to our hotel to drop off my bag and then he took us on a mini-tour of Lausanne.

Polar Bear Pride

Norwegians have a thing for Polar bears--especially northern Norwegians. I was recently going through some picture albums and came across a few pics I snapped of some of the MANY stuffed polar bears that are scattered all around the small city of Tromsø. (If you've never heard of Tromsø, check out my mini-video: Live From Tromsø, Norway!) Polar bears are not only a part of their history, but also part of their identity and pride.

Tromsø is known for many things, including the land of the midnight sun, having the northern-most university in Europe, called "the Paris of the north" (I completely disagree with that one), the most joked about by locals is being a city where polar bears roam the streets. While this was true a very long time ago, it has of course become old lore. It is still true for some of the northern-most islands of Norway, and I have actually met a few people from islands where polar bear sightings are common (and they're very proud of this). But the only polar bears you'll see in Tromsø are stuffed.

Mount'Erice

Can somebody say romantic? Towering above Trapani, Erice is this remote, medieval mountaintop village that overlooks most of western Sicily. 

With a new Tram to take you from the base of the mountain to the top of this steep, touristic village, it is easier than ever to visit. The tram runs all day, with the last tram around 2am after the pizzerias close.

***Traveler Beware*** Being an in-tact medieval village, all the streets are steep and made with small, slippery stones. Don't make the mistake I did--wear flat shoes, preferably with rubber soles--or you'll spend the whole time barefoot.


A River Runs Through Me

This comes from a collection of writings I did while at University in Wisconsin.
These are "Tales From the Tundra, circa 2000:

During my last semester of college, I needed to fill two missing PE credits. So I registered for a weekend fly-fishing course that took place out in the woods of central Wisconsin, and in the Wisconsin River.

  

I was excited! Fly-fishing had appealed to me for several years. I have always known it to be one of those pastimes that requires a significant amount of devotion in both time and energy to be good.

Growing up, I went fishing with my father fairly often (by a city-girl’s standards), but always with the classic fishing pole.

Okay, so I have to admit, most of my knowledge and romance with fly-fishing came from watching Brad Pitt in “A River Runs Through It”. I still remember those scenes because they were so gorgeous--the scenery, I mean. Anyway, just the idea of being out in the middle of a river so stunningly beautiful, alone with only yourself and your thoughts is very romantic. But those majestic images of a serene river at the base of the gigantic Montana mountains were quite different than the experience I was about to have.

On the first evening, we had classroom time were we learned the mechanics of the rod and tying the different knots. I enjoyed the discussion about fly-fishing: the history of it, the tradition of it and how it can become a way of life for some people. I also learned how much scientific information fly-fishermen have in their head. These guys learn all the different larvae, invertebrates and other bugs and memorize them not only by size, shape and classification, but also by the hatching season. It blew me away. The fact that they know what time of year each insect is out, and which fish prefer which type is very impressive. I’m sure all that information makes catching fish more successful. Personally, I think it's a bit extreme, and so much technical information takes away from the visceral experience.

Yeah, well, actually standing in the middle of a frigid river with swamper overalls up to my chest wasn't really the visceral experience I was expecting.

Unfortunately, it was early March, the water had just thawed and it was raining. Did I mention I don't handle cold very well? It was utterly miserable. I really wish we had nice weather that weekend, as I might actually have enjoyed myself.

I did love being out in nature and learning the proper techniques like keeping my wrist straight and “watching my back cast”. But by Sunday, I was so cold and wet and my silly plastic pancho was not keeping me dry.  I had finally had enough of being a good sport. It is hard to stay positive when after several hours, the only thing I caught was a head cold. But that's just as well, because I'm not interested in tricking fish into biting a sharp, metal hook only to rip it out their mouth and throw them back in. I'm sorry--I don't care how much we were told it's the humane way to fish--I don't agree. Therefore, I was not really wanting to catch anything, anyway.

All suffering aside, I do have to admit, there was one brief moment when I experienced that thing--that moment of complete Zen. There was a point when the wind died down, I was watching the movement of the water and hearing it ripple around the rocks...as I cast my line, it made that little thwip sound and it flew out so smoothly and glided down, as if in slow motion, right to the spot I was aiming for. It was as if in that very moment everyone else disappeared and I felt so present and focused on what I was doing. It was fantastic--that serene moment I had romanticized for so long (minus Brad Pitt, of course). But, shortly after it started, my serene moment was rudely interrupted by the chattering of my teeth and pieces of my wet hair slapping me in the face. So much for my moment of zen.
  

Overall, I did have a great experience. Fly-fishing didn't sweep me off my feet, but I can understand the attraction. I know that I would love it for the peace and tranquility of being enveloped by nature, hearing nothing but the sound of the water rushing past me and the birds singing in the trees...

But for that matter, I could just randomly stand in the middle of a river without the fishing pole.

Do you have any fly-fishing stories?