Wandering, Wondering, Stumbling, and Finding.
July 29, 2014 § 1 Comment
The past week found me wandering around the Marche region to vent some of my growing restlessness and entertain my rambling thoughts. The adventures started out on an ominous note, as walking up the first hill out of the city, I found this gem of a dead fish lying in the middle of the fields:
I’m not sure how a raw fish head bigger than my own ended up a few kilometers from the sea, but I just took it as proof that you never know what you are going to stumble upon around these parts, and that sometimes things just don’t make sense and it’s useless to ponder on them. Which was a good mentality to accompany me on my first town, Varano. Guess that I can’t complain about boring people here:
Look at all of these art additions throughout the entire village! There’s even fake cats:
From Varano, I retraced the steps of my favorite route around the region, which starts at the top of a hill, surrounded by vineyards and with Monte Conero in the background:
And then trudged through a few sunflower fields. These flowers (especially their quantity of) never fail to make me grin:
Until I reached the edge of the cliffside and had a view of il Trave on one side:
And Portonovo on the other:
So, I scaled down and ended up stumbling onto a nude man, who was sprawled belly-up and basking in the afternoon sun. Looking around, it seemed to have turned into a nudist beach for the day. Unexpected. I felt very out-of-place with my multiple layers and tennis shoes, so I walked in the opposite direction, toward makeshift shelters and strange arrangements of sticks:
I kept walking until this stretch of flat, pebbly beach:
turned into a very steep cliffside of sharp rocks and mud that kept avalanching down. Finding myself hanging over the edge of a rock, stuck, with waves that kept crashing against me and that gave me a thorough bath, I decided that I got a little bit too stubborn in my “continue next to the sea” mission.
Eventually, waist deep in the water and backpack high over my head, I gave up and traced the way back to the now-deserted beach and climbed back up the mountainside on a marked path. It’s good though, to have a few tough situations and get splashed with salty water every once in a while, methinks. It wakes you up. And makes you feel thankful for sunny days.
The next morning, I accompanied Mr. Italian to his business meeting, which was in an underground chamber in this lovely abbey in the middle of le Marche:
I left him there for his four hours of education and went to go frolic through more fields:
Complete with violet flowers, more sunflowers, and general masses of flora:
And occasional stretches of nothing:
And a tiny hilltop town (or two or three):
And the mandatory isolated cemetery:
And yet, at the end of the day, despite the beauty all around, I was still restless and suffocating a bit from these gently rolling hills and waves. It’s lovely, but I was craving something wilder, colder, more desperate.
And then came an invitation to a trio of operas at the Sferisterio in Macerata, and after I saw three damsels have their heart broken and die, I felt better. And inspired. And am back to appreciating these landscapes (and craving more dramatic deaths).
Guess that we all need some balance in life.