The following is a narration of my weekend with pictures included.

There are two windows in the main room of the flat where I live, each with an area of perhaps three feet by three feet that acts as a balcony of sorts. Because the flat is in what was formerly an attic space, the balcony is carved out of the roof. From the fifth floor, one can hear the sounds of street musicians floating up alongside of faint Italian dialogues. At this second I am listening to a performance by a wonderfully gifted violinist. I heard her yesterday for the first time and thought to myself that it must have been a cd someone was playing loudly, for it was absolutely stunningly executed. When I descended to go vegetable shopping, there was a woman dancing with her head and neck—her partner was a beautiful violin. Next to her was a bicycle which was over burdened with the weight of the violinist's worldly possessions: a rolled up sleeping bag and mat, a backpack, a garbage bag filled with god knows what. In front of her was her open case, inviting monetary praise for her aesthetic contribution to the world. She has come back today, so I turned off my music to delight in hers.

The sun is brilliant today. At 6 am it shone its radiant glory through the bedroom window. There is a pleasant breeze of fresh air and the mountains are clearly visible to the east and west. So combine my seat on the porch, the violin, and the sun in your imagination. Add me. Within that image, I sit and write now.

There are so many stories I could tell. There are images I’d like to create for you. The picturesque vegetable and fruit shop down the street that abounds in colors and scents, with the beautiful woman and her enthusiastic husband, both so sweet to me when I visit them daily for a zucchini and onions, or some fresh basil and tomatoes. But Italians abound with a life energy that I am incapable of capturing in words. Instead I will simply narrate my weekend to you.

Steve and I left on Friday afternoon to drive down to the coast. It was a three hour drive, passing through Genoa and eventually arriving in Deiva Marina, north of Cinque Terre, at a campsite. He tried to warn me that camping in Europe was far different than what I had been familiar with in the States. Apparently I hadn’t listened enough because I spent twenty minutes in shock as I looked at the kitchens and wooden huts that surrounded our patch of dirt which you could rent to “camp” in. We set up camp and spent the evening hanging out and cooking a wonderful dinner on our butane flame. This is Steve, gourmet chef:View image

I was ridiculously pleased as we sat there for over an hour making dinner. I sat just inside the tent cutting vegetables and he sat facing me with the stove as we cooked in the little covered outdoor area:View image

In Italia there is a freeway of sorts called the autostrade that is two lanes in each direction, and it is mostly tunnels through mountains in the area through which we drove. It is a toll road that offers speed at the cost of beauty. There is also the option of a highway type of road that winds through every small village and is overrun with cyclists. We took the charming, winding road to La Spezia to drive through in order to arrive at the village of Lerici. Lerici is where we thought Percy Byssche Shelley and his wife Mary Shelley lived in the Casa Magni, which is why we went there. I get so excited over such places.

It was quite touristy, mostly with Italians coming to the beach for the weekend. Nonetheless, it was quaint and adorable. Steve asked me how I planned on finding this house. I informed him that he was underestimating me. I’d found literary locales with far less information to go on. At least Doc had described the house to me. Immediately after telling Steve he was underestimating me, I turned and walked right up to Tourist Information. See how resourceful I am! It turned out that the house was in San Terenzo. I was a bit disappointed until I learned that it was a ten minute stroll along the promenade. Also to my delight, San Terenzo was more charming and less overtaken with tourists than Lerici. I found the house immediately and posed for my picture under the arches and plaque: : View image
We had drinks at an outdoor café next door, overlooking the beach and then claimed our spot on that warm sand. It was a great day! That night we had round two of single flame gourmet cooking. I think we were surprisingly successful!

The next day we drove to Cinque Terre. These are five fishing villages that have become tourist-central. I went there for my dose of Americans. Walking the footpaths between the villages, the people one encountered on the trail said “Hi” rather than “Ciao” because 90 percent were Americans! It was overwhelming after being in Torino where there aren’t any. I just kept laughing or pretending I didn't understand. The experience was, nonetheless, charming and beautiful. This is me in front of Manarola, as we approached from a trail at the north-west of the city: View image

My favorite part was walking a trail for two hours that connected Vernazza and Conrniglia. It wound along a cliffside through olive orchards and offered fabulous ocean views. And this is Vernazza, my favorite village: View image

The drive in and out of Cinque Terre was beautiful but incredibely scary! The road was so narrow and there were signs warning that the road was literally falling away. I closed my eyes for most of it! Fortunately Steve is a capable driver, though a bit afraid of heights (just a bit we'll say, though really petrified may be a more appropriate word). It was such a fun weekend. Hope you enjoyed the pictures. I'll have weekly updates with pictures for the summer at least since we're camping/travelling almost every weekend. Ciao.