wan⋅der⋅lust /ˈwɒndərˌlʌst/
noun—a a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.
Currently listening to:
“Sans Soleil” by Miike Snow
“Racing Like a Pro” by The National
Current album:
“Declaration of Dependence” by Kings of Convenience
Andrew Poole here, reporting not from the valley floor, but from the valley ceiling this fine day in early mid January 2010. Wait…mid-January 2010, already?!? Wasn’t it just January 2000, pre-travel mayhem, pre-high school, mid-puberty, middle school, post 90’s, post $1.8 billion grossing Titanic?!? My the time does fly…
The valley ceiling. I am now in a little town out of the way of everything, it seems, looking down on Valcamonica, in which Boario Terme and Breno are found. Ossimo is my new home for the month of January, and I find it to be a bit lonely, to tell you the truth. The positives out-weigh the negatives, however, and I am doing just fine. Today is a particularly clear, crisp day and I can look down upon the town I teach in. Just to give you an idea of altitude differentials, Breno is at about 300 meters, and Ossimo is at 1200 meters. The windy road is composed primarily of switchbacks, often with only one lane…not a road to take after eating a meal on the larger side. Whew. Anna Marsegaglia is my new host, and she’s a busy bubbly bustling bundle of bodacious rutabagas. Eh? How about that! She’s always got something going on, so I rarely see her.
These past couple of weeks have been filled with travel and adventure to lands beyond and the spaces in between. On the 23rd of December I left Bergamo in the pouring rain (pitchforks and hammer handles, no less!) around 1:00 AM following a 3 hour stint on the runway…apparently they allowed ONE extra passenger to board the plane by mistake, so they had to go through the entire manifest and try and weed the person out. I fortunately was on the list, but the most frustrating part of the whole thing was that in fact, there was no extra person on board. Everyone was accounted for. It’s all part of the adventure, I suppose! Colin and Libby, two close friends from Oregon met me at the bus station in downtown Barcelona around 3:30 AM with a MUCH needed water bottle full of gin and tonic…a necessary elixir to get things started. Oh yes.
[Our group fluctuated between 5 to 7 people. Tory from Eugene, Colin Lord from New York, Libby from Boise, Colin Kull from Eugene, myself (the five of us for Christmas in Barcelona), Lucas from New York, and Abigail from Minnesota! All but Abigail and Colin Kull are in Europe teaching English. Tory, Colin L, and Lucas all teach in Spain, and Libby in France. Colin K. was in Tuscany for an internship and Abbie has been ‘woofing’ around Spain for the past couple months. Tory, Colin K., Libby, and myself were all friends in Eugene. I knew Abbie from Eugene, but she didn’t know anyone else pre-Spain. Colin L., Tory, and Lucas all went to Skidmore, a private college in NYC. The seven of us were in Granada together.]
Dec. 24th we slept in and enjoyed the comfortable beds provided by the hostel at our roof-top apartment in the Eixample district, near La Rambla, the popular strolling area enjoyed by tourists from all around the world, and famous for it’s street performers and beautiful light displays on the trees during the holiday season. We did some exploring of the city’s Gothic district, an amazing labyrinth of tiny little streets with graffiti galore, piazzas, palm trees, and beautiful architecture. Christmas Eve was my turn to fix dinner; I had brought with me some pancetta, speck, sausage, and cheese…can anyone guess what I made? That’s right. Carbonara. My favorite Italian dish. It was arguably my best carbonara to date, although it could have had something to do with the 2 bottles of Jägermeister we polished off. I will admit that not all of it was drunk pre-dinner, but rather post. Dinner was followed by a particularly fun evening of frolicking about the city, mostly on the coastal side of town; I had an impromptu photo session with a random photographer on the beach (of which he/she was not too excited about), and we even took a little dip into the Mediterranean sea in our skivvies (‘we’ being Colin L. and myself). The evening concluded with uncontrollable laughter at a ‘kebap’ shop, followed with the inevitable scarfage, and a large drunky pile on the couch in our apartment. What fun!
Christmas day was very very relaxed. We didn’t get up until around 1:30, and didn’t leave the house until about 3:00 or so. The streets of Barcelona were bustling with Christmas day tourists, walking the streets and enjoying life as most in Spain do. We visited Montjuïc, the castle perched on top of the hill that overlooks the city on one side, and the port/sea on the other. What a view! The city stretches as far as the eye can see, mirrored by the sea. Quite the spectacle. Just below were the Olympic diving pools, at which one point we decided to explore with no one around—the gate was open, so why not! If you’ve never seen the Olympic diving pools in Barcelona, Google them. We weren’t disappointed. Christmas dinner was a marvel. Jerked pork courtesy of Colin L. with amazing spices and the perfect amount of tender juiciness. Spinach salad with pomegranate, goat cheese, candied walnuts, and caramelized onions. Mashed yams. Potatoes oven roasted in olive oil and rosemary. DELICIOUS. A feast not meant for a king, but for a group of kids far away from home. We deserved it. ☺ And we relished in it. Savored it, if you will. Mmmmmguuuuuuuuhhhddddddd.
Yummmm
Christmas Day
The day after was more exploring, more exploring, and more exploring…followed by more playing, aaaaand the amazing Apples to Apples game so loved by everyone that plays it, lots of rummy, and Presidents and A-holes. Lots of fun. The 27th was the first day of our rental cars. Colin L. and myself rented the cars in our names, so we had the pleasure of going to get the cars and navigating the streets of Barcelona. Wow. For the first time in our lives driving in a European city, I have to say we did a pretty damn good job. Other than a weeeee error by going the wrong way down a one-way, we managed to park relatively close to our apartment. Lucas arrived that evening from his stay in Istanbul, and we had a relatively tame night, aside from our adventure to check out the National Art Gallery, which is USUALLY lit up with beautiful fountains and lights. Unfortunately this time around, everything was shut off. Oh well…next time!
Barcelona-National Art Gallery
The 28th: departure day. Our 9-10 hour drive started around 8AM, and was relatively uneventful getting out of the city. Our route to Granada led us along the Mediterranean coast for a while, eventually veering us inward towards Madrid before heading south again. I had never seen much of Spain before; it was an eye-opening experience, awe-inspiring over all. Beautiful coastal towns, a huge expanse of red soiled land with scattered gigantic windmill farms (of the mach-5 version), a steep descent into the Sierra Nevada’s, weaving along a steep canyon wall with beautiful emerald limestone mountains that eventually opened up into the largest collection of olive groves known to man. Literally millions upon millions of olive trees scattering the countryside as far as the eye can see. (A bit o’ trivia: did you know that Spain, NOT Italy, is the world’s largest producer of olive oil? Look at your bottle of olive oil…I betcha it comes from Spain, unless you go specifically for the Italian variety. I have heard Spain goes for quantity whereas Italy goes more for quality.) I have never seen anything like it. The further south we went, the more the architecture changed, and Moorish influence became more and more apparent. White washed buildings dotted the hillsides, and large effigies of bulls could be seen along the autostrada. We arrived promptly at 5 o’clock in Granada, RIGHT in the middle of rush hour. What a joy THAT was! You know that ‘my head’s going to explode’ type of feeling that happens every once in awhile when you feel either a.) confused, b.) nervous, or c.) in the middle of a city you’re not familiar with on tiny cobblestone streets in cars that should not even fit? I was experiencing all of the above. Colin was an excellent navigator and Libby was my moral support—thanks to you both. An experience I will never forget. In the end we made it, and we made it ALIVE no less. ☺
After finding a parking garage we made our way towards the apartment in central Granada, near the Placa Nueva—a spectacular area of town near the famed “Alhambra”, a Moorish palace overlooking the entire valley. As we approached our street, for the second time in my life I was baffled at how small this world truly is when a friend all the way from Eugene, Oregon spotted me out of the crowd and yelled my name. Julian, a guy I lived in the dorms with and had known randomly throughout college just happened to be in Granada, on that same street at precisely the right moment to run into me. This happened to me once before when I was in Venice years ago—a guy named Pat that I went to high school with literally bumped into me while on a trip to Venice with his singing group. Incredible! It never ceases to amaze me. Life, that is. Anyhow we arrived at our apartment just as the sun was starting to set. I don’t know if we just got the luck of the draw, or we’re just that cool, but we had the best apartment known to a foreigner in that city. A four-story apartment with a five-star view. The first floor was the kitchen and dining room, a place of many a great meal (fajitas, quiche, risotto al chorizo, roast beef, pancakes, amazing scrambles…and so much more) and many, many, MANY a drink over the next 6 nights; the second was a spacious living room with a comfy couch and several plush chairs; the third consisted of two bedrooms and the bathroom with a mosaic bathtub(!!!!), and the fourth was the master bedroom and the best part of the whole house: the balcony. This place literally blew our socks off. For what we paid (about 18-19 Euros a night each), we scored big time.
Alhambra from our Balcony
Spaniards seem to be on the go at ALL times. Every locale was slammed with tapas craving fanatics, and it was very easy to knock back a couple of GT’s or ‘cervezas’ when accompanied by a free tapas or two. Even New Year’s Day when the seven of us could hardly leave the apartment, every single bar was packed.
I won’t go into juicy details about New Year’s Eve, but even though there are some parts that may be a weeeeeee bit fuzzy, I will never forget the company or the festivities I took part in that evening. For the count down to midnight we were in the plaza with hundreds of people to watch the fireworks display. This New Year’s Eve was special in many ways. Not only was there a full, new moon, but there was also a partial lunar eclipse that could be seen from Europe and part of Africa. Even though we couldn’t see the eclipse due to cloudy weather, it was still pretty cool to know that it was happening. Fortunately for us the heavens opened up and provided us with a great view of the moon during the ten-minute fireworks show. What a sight! If you want to know what happened after that, well…if you ask, I’ll tell.
Nothing needs to be said here.
The second of January, before I left to join up with Aunt Leen and Shark for some great skiing, was a day to explore the ‘Alhambra’. This place is amazing. I highly, highly, highly recommend checking it out if you ever get the chance. I was left speechless by the intricacy and beauty this place holds. Not only is it an amazing piece of art, but the sensation you get from walking around inside is…indescribable. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra
I didn’t think that saying goodbye to my friends was going to be as hard as it was. I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for the ruffians I romped across Spain with for Christmas 2009 and New Year’s 2010. I can only hope that someday it will happen again, and undoubtedly under different circumstances it will. I will never forget it, and a big thank you goes out to those who made it so memorable for me. I love you all.
Bear with me folks, this blog post may be long winded, but there is one more very important chapter: “The Dolomite Ski Extravaganza with Aunta Leenie and The Shark”. For those of you who didn’t know, my Aunt Leen and one of her closest friends Deb Sharkey came to visit me from the 2nd-9th of January. After spending about a month and a half of intense searching for lodging, renting, and ski resorts, we managed to throw together what will be one of the most memorable weeks of 2010.
We debated for a good while on where we wanted to go after having previously gone to the Matterhorn in the Alps in 2003 with Cinzia(!!!). The decision was made. We were going to Selva Val Gardena, a small mountain village in Alto Adige in northeastern Italy, nestled between the incredible ‘Sella Massive’ and ‘Sasso Lungo’, two spectacular sedimentary magnesium carbonate mountains. Thanks to Shark for that description…correct me if I’m wrong! Our little villa, “Villa Helene”, was ideal for our party of three: we were literally situated ON the slope called Dantercëpies (don’t ask me how you pronounce that). With one bedroom, a big bathroom, and a great little kitchen and dining room combined, there was more than enough space. Our balcony looked out onto the slopes, and we literally were able to slap on the sticks and take off. Amazing.
Katherina was our host; one of the most energetic, sweet little ladies you could ever imagine. She spoke at least four languages, one of which is only spoken in three valleys including her own. Ladino. An interesting mix between German, Italian, Latin, and what sounded like Russian, not a word could be understood. There would be several times where this lady would be speaking to me in Italian, then start talking to Deb and Leen in Italian. Then she would speak in German with Leen and Deb, and turn to me and speak in German…such a sport! Most likely in her 80’s, she had stories galore of her childhood and of her amazing life living isolated in a valley where tourism had gradually taken it’s hold.
Before our first day of skiing we took a little day trip down to Bolzano, where we returned my rental car, then explored the beautiful streets with German and Austrian influence. Though the Christmas markets were over, there were still vendors selling their wares throughout the town with the occasional ‘wurstel’ stand: oh-so-good. We shopped around for a bit, and eventually made our way back up to Selva Gardena.
Bolzano Marketplatz
Our three-day Dolomiti Skipass included 12 ski resorts surrounding the ‘Sella Massive’ ( http://skimaps.skiforum.it/skimaps/displayimage.php?pos=-335 –a great map showing the ‘green’ and ‘orange’ routes—we did the orange). That equals about 125 kilometers of downhill skiing. I repeat. One hundred twenty five kilometers. Spectacular. On our first outing we decided to do the 26-kilometer “Sella Ronda”, which is a circular tour of four different ski resorts surrounding the ‘Sella Massive’. You have the option of either going in a clockwise or counter-clockwise manner. We chose the latter. Palma-Gondola-Chair-Gondola-Chair-Gondola—you name it, we rode it. North, south, east, west: we could go in any direction, and we did. Up, down, and needless to say, all around. Our highest point on the long way around the mountain was a pass called “Porta Vescovo”, at 2478 meters. At this height we were above the clouds with a spectacular view of the Marmolada, the tallest of the Dolomites. There really is no comparison in the world. You feel like you’re on the very tip of the world looking down…an exhilarating experience. At one stop along the way we hopped into a little ‘rifugio’ for lunch and enjoyed a HUGE calzone/pizza and enjoyed a good laugh when my fork decided to send a piece of dough flying across the room. It wasn’t me, I swear. It was the fork…Continuing on, we circled around the mountain towards our little Villa, skiing on slopes that literally weaved through buildings in town, and eventually came to a point where we had to cross the road on a bridge built specifically for skiers/boarders to get to our next lift. They really knew how to plan things out! Gondolas and chair lifts literally criss-crossed each other all over the place, going above, under, even around. We made it back to the apartment just as it started getting dark, a time we like to call beer-thirty. Maybe a little after, but it was time.
On day two of our ski adventure we found ourselves on the Corvara and Colfosco side of the mountain, just over the top from where we were staying. The snow there was great—meant for smooth cruising—and we found it hardly populated at all. Our lunch stop that day at the Edelweisshütte was a huge score: KAISERSCHMARREN. A light, fluffy egg pastry that is cut into pieces coated with powdered sugar and…yum. It had been about ten years since I had eaten the real kaiserschmarren. Aunt Leen was in hog heaven. A real treat. Shark and I enjoyed our würstels, but Leen’s find was stellar. That evening we checked out Ortisei, the most populated town in the valley, and enjoyed just wandering the wintery mountain town and soaking up the atmosphere.
Our third day was probably the best day we had weather-wise, if I had to compare. We started out from our little villa with flurries in the air, and about -2 Celsius at the base, -13 Celsius at the summit—PORCA MISERIA!!! (pig misery, for those unfamiliar with Italian slang…). This time around we would be going on a wild goose chase for that giver-of-life, that golden orb in the sky the Roman’s called ‘solem’ (I’m pretty sure about that…), or just the plain ol’ sun. Over the top, down the other side, and around the backside a ways towards Corvara, up the Piz Boè lift, down the other side, in and around the ‘Alta Badia’ ski resort and around San Cassiano, where we found some of the most amazing slopes and amazing sunshine. At the top of the Boè gondola we spotted a pretty sweet lift going up even higher where there was no doubt a spectacular view. To get to this lift it was necessary to ride a “skier-people mover”. Huh? Yes, a “skier-people mover”. Picture an airport corridor. You know the moving sidewalks? That’s right, only this time you’re strapped onto (a) stick(s). Pretty fun, and rather smart, really. We were right: a panoramic view of epic proportions unable to be found anywhere else in the world.
The day steadily got sunnier and colder, and the scenery ever more beautiful. Snow drifts that looked like sand dunes—dangerous dunes, I might add, as Shark found out when she took a serious head dive, but luckily escaped with only a fat lip and a cut on the nose (thank god she was wearing a helmet!)—but surreal scenery only one could imagine with the help of a doctored up inter-web photo. We stopped to catch our breath and grab a bite to eat at a great little refuge, and decided to trek on so we could reach the other side before the lifts closed.
Take #14...
Skier People Mover!
Friday came too quickly, and it was time to say goodbye to our lovely little hostess and beautiful apartment, but only for a little while. We shall be back. Our drive back down to Boario Terme was slick and wet, but we made it safe and sound. Shark was an amazing driver weaving along the narrow roads on the western side of Lago di Garda—Italy’s largest lake. We enjoyed seeing the snow capped hills bordering the lake, and it was nice to show Leen and Shark a little of my ‘home away from home’ for the short time they were here.
Snow Day in my town!!!
This blog has taken me about a week and a half to write, and I apologize if I have rambled a bit, but there’s a 98.746 percent chance that if you’ve made it this far, you’ve been able to handle it. I know, I know, it’s time to wrap it up. Shut your yapper, Andy! But before I close and say ‘til next time’, please enjoy these pictures—a mere degustazione, or taste, of what has happened since last time you read.
LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
and until next time! 
