A picturesque weekend

Last weekend, my UNC/LDM peers Blair, Emily and Nicole had a picturesque weekend at Fiesole, a small town overlooking Florence, and Cinque Terre, a series of five towns with a 7-mile hike between them with beautiful views. This is a picture of the view from Fiesole. We took a bus there for the purpose of watching the sunset, and along the way we saw the sun dropping and were nervous we'd miss it. We got off the bus and tried to run up this hill, thinking we were missing everything. None of us ran more than 20 seconds up this steep hill before quitting, a sign that our far walks to and from class aren't maintaining our stamina. Fortunately, our anxiety was uncalled for and we proceeded to watch the most beautiful sunset imaginable for about two hours. I took close to 40 pictures that don't do it justice, but the one above was one of the first. It was raining beneath the clouds to the right in the picture, appearing like a pink mist from a colony of blue and orange clouds.



This is post-sunset, a view of Florence. Lightning flashed in the rain mist that was then bluish purple.











At Cinque Terre, the four of us hiked to three of the five total towns. As in Fiesole, every time we saw a beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime view of the quaint cities by the sea, we popped behind the viewfinder. There's a well-worn trail that we hiked on, though every now and then we would have to hug the hillside so that the many other hikers could squeeze by us.

On the way to the third town it started pouring. It was wonderful to have a burn in the thighs, and I love getting caught in the rain. It makes everyone a little more vulnerable and on the same page, since no one's cute clothes or done hair will make it through.

It took me back to Alaska a little, though I was in the rain for only about an hour and not four days straight, my backpack was about the quarter the weight, and I reached civilization within a few hours after embarking on my adventure where I had the richest hot chocolate of my life. It might have been a melted chocolate bar with a creamer.

The more distance I have from Alaska, the more I miss it. Americans complain a lot here. Maybe it's this setting, a foreign place but with accommodations that draws this from people. There's too much pasta, no one speaks English, the streets are narrow, there are so many mosquitoes, etc. I remember, while kayaking in Prince William Sound, Levi saying something was hell, and I asked him what and he said everything. Everything was just another ring of hell. It really was the hardest 28 days of my life to this point, sometimes I shared his sentiments, but I'd go back in an instant, and I really can't think negatively about the food and shelter in Italy after that. But sometimes I'm a little intolerant of others complaints, and sometimes I wonder if when I talk about conditions from that trip if it seems patronizing to others. Even living alone in Atlanta, I didn't really have anyone to lament to. Though here I am, futilely complaining about complaints. The beauty of a blog with an almost nonexistent following.

Here's a man jumping into the water in Cinque Terre. I was testing my zoom power on my camera. He looked like he was having a lot of fun.