Oh sweet, sweet Sicilia. I’m not sure what happened but along the ferry from Italy to Sicily, I lost my favourite hat and gained a new sense of adventure. When I first started my trip, I was gentle! I eased myself into the trip like lowering into a hot bath, the terrain accommodated and I dipped my toe in the waters of cooking for myself, staying in campsites and hotels, checking google maps and komoot *excessively* but now I am totally submerged in the trip (and this weird bathtub metaphor). I am happy to report that something has shifted, it’s been less about the destination and about the minute to minute of what I’m seeing and how i’m feeling, the bird calls outside my tent in the morning, the little orange flowers in the grass under olive trees, the smells coming in on the wind (lately pushing me backwards, like going up a hill all day long on flat…even downhill) and maybe at the very least just a little less afraid of being alone. Sicily for me was a st...
Ciao Bella! πfrom the windy beach below the rocky cone shaped mountains of Formia, Italy . Every single day has felt like a grand adventure filled with characters, fear, elation and a new place to lay my head each night, but T oday is a much needed rest day. What was supposed to be a few days in Rome and a three day bike trip from Rome to Naples, turned into a week in Rome and what will probably end up taking me about five days to the arrive to the stradones of Naples. Mostly due to bike mechanical issues but I am also nursing my cocktail of my friend Taylor‘s parting gift of a seasonal cold mixed with heavy dose of jet leg. The jet leg made being in Rome feel like being in a waking dream. Rome is a crazy city. Everything is so compounded and there’s so much to look at I almost didn’t know what to look at. So much from the Romans just scattered throughout the city. They say that New York is a city that doesn’t sleep but show me a city that doe...
The next part of the journey has been hard to capture, it’s like trying to take notes of the film scenes that are projecting in the background of my head, but what is art if not a long essay of trying to capture life…or something? So, for you, and for me, I try…. What was meant to be a two day ride turned into six day journey filled with Amazinh culture, police escorts, bad encounters with men all set against other- worldly landscapes. On January 29th I wrote in my journal: The sun is actually hot. I am actually sweating. Possibly even burning. I’m at a restaurant outside of Agafay. A young boy goes by on a donkey. All day I’ve passed children working and I wonder… is it good for kids to maybe work a little? Is that an obscene thing to say? My cream pants are completely covered in mud and ripped from this morning leaving Marrakech. Despite that (and the crazy traffic close to the main square) it was hands-down the easiest capital city to leave of my trip yet. Af...
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