695. Catch-up blogging.

Last weekend I went camping with the guys. We slept in our sleeping bags outside under the brilliance of the stars and the glow of the campfire.


The Italian guys and me. Clockwise from the left: Gian-Luigi, Marco, Alberto, Fabrizio, and me.

The summers of my youth were spent on the California coast camping with my family and cousins. I have been on countless camping trips and, as an adult, a few handfuls of backpacking excursions.

Camping comes naturally to me, but now that I've experienced camping Italian-style, my level of comfort has been raised. Pre-Italian camping: Best Western Inn. Post-Italian camping: the Bellagio Hotel's Spa Tower Suites (hands down, my favorite rooms in my favorite hotel).

Ok, I admit it, I exaggerate...but only slightly. The bones of the two camping styles I've experienced are similar (sleeping bags, campfires, Coleman lanterns, wilderness exploration, campfire banter, stars, etc.) much like the bones of the Best Western and Bellagio are essentially the same (walls, beds, rooms, sinks, check-in desk, etc.). However, add Italian wine, meat, cheeses, the spoken Italian language, and Illy moka caffé to my camping experience, and I don't wanna go back to the Best Western, and you can't make me! (If I must, there will be serious pouting.)



Just a few elements of a fine camping experience: vino on the left, coffee in the center, and friendly, good-humored friends in the background.


Hiking with photography gear, it's my preferred pace: a leisurely stroll with plenty of stops to appreciate and photograph nature's beauty.


Nature's beauty.


Nature's wonder.


Nature's charm. Thistle, grass, a view, and a path.


Nature's underbelly. Whenever I see tall grass I think of R and that it reminded him of our deceased kitty Spuggers' underbelly--so fluffy! When Spuggers lounged belly-up nobody could resist petting him.


My pal Fabrizio and I met the others at this riverside bar to jump-start our camping trip. Beer, meat, and cheeses (I needed some greens, so I ordered a salad) for lunch. Every meal in Italy is followed by a caffé. Since the weather was wonderfully warm, I ordered mine freddo (cold).


A friend of one of the guys has a vacation home just off the hiking trail. Call it a hunch, but I don't think these kids know how lucky they are!


The owner found this stove in the mountains, and hauled it to his cabin on his back while riding a motorcycle. He speculated that it was used by soldiers during wartime.


Post-hike, and what time is it? If you are Italian, then it's time for a caffé. A short drive down from our camping spot was the charming village of Pejo (locally famous for their bottled water) and this bar--in Europe what we Americans would call "cafés" are called "bars"-- with local music.

And now for something completely different:


My nephew thought it hilarious to put on his mother's bra and scarf. I asked him if he wanted some lipstick, and he shouted, "NO!" I apologized for offending him. Bras and scarves are funny, but he draws the line at, and not with, lipstick.

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Let's see... In my last post I promised more info about my plans:

I bought my round trip plane ticket yesterday. I'll be back in my beautiful home state (California) in August and the first part of September. Then, I'm back in the EU.

Funny, I just got a little light headed after I typed that last sentence. I'm excited and terrified! (1) My Italian has improved only slightly since this story... from 2 years ago tomorrow. (2) I have much to do in preparation for the move. (3) My life isn't going to become (or remain!) much more easier or settled in the immediate future.

Maybe I'm wrong on the last point.

Que sera, sera.