On the Road Again (part 1)

My last few days in Sicily were accompanied by the arrival of autumn. The sun became shy and the rain took its place. The wind shifted and  I had no choice but to succumb to the direction that it blew. I was carried North to where summer was still shinning and to where new friends were waiting my arrival.  


In a small village near Cinque Terre, I met Stefania (maybe you remember her from the dive shop?) and her two friends Marta and Bram. Marta and Bram are a pair of earthly lovers who operate and maintain a Bed and Breakfast/Organic Farm and Garden. The GIARDINO DEGLI ANGELI  has been hosting guests for the better part of a decade, and it receives many regular visitors who go to enjoy a weekend close to nature. The farm, on the other hand, has not been greeted with the same generous accommodations. Twelve hundred square meters of olive trees had been abandoned before Marta and Bram arrived. Countless plots of what would be oil producing plants are overgrown with all kinds of unwanted vegetation.  However, in the four months that our sustainability seeking couple has been working the land, they have transformed a section of the olive jungle into a beautifuly manicured field. Rock walls and gardens give a hint to what the entire property will look like when time has allowed their effort to show. 

The BnB from one of the unfinished gardens 

This town rests above the sea. It is a village that has its own dialect and a square spongy pasta that you can not find in other regions. It is a hidden gem with a simple tradition that is alive and evident as you walk down the paths and through the streets.  

Marta's passion for green life is apparent as she leads a nature walk

This region of Italy is far different from the dusty hills of Sicily 

When I used to think of Italy I did not think of the wilderness, that has changed

 I hope my interest did not bother her, but her scarf was so colorful

 Bram imagines him and his friends inhabiting the homes in this small piazza, I can see it now Belgium beer and chickens everywhere!

Almost, a familiar pair of green eyes

...Over a year ago Jennifer painted for me a beautiful blue dragonfly. Soon after the dragonfly entered my life I flew to Nicaragua to visit my cousin, MJ. It was there I found, in every stream, pond, and river, many metallic blue dragonflies that were the same kind as the one in Jennifer's painting. Sitting on the bank of a rainy season raging river the air moved swiftly over the water and I felt that I was exactly where the universe wanted me to be. 

It turns out, dragonflies are most flexible with their travel plans. With thin delicate wings, dragonflies are in constant danger of damaging their means of transportation. When even the smallest breeze passes by, they must not resist the direction of the wind. If they do not let the moving air take them where it is going their wings will tear from opposition and they will die. 

This metaphor has been inspiration for my travels. My itinerary is with the wind, and it is taking me to places I had no initial intention to go. 

To Be Continued...

The Sea by Day, Castle by Night, A day in the life...

"The sun's warm glow mingles with the salty breeze that carries the smell of the sea, and the life it fosters, to my nose. Boisterous voices exchange passionate conversations in the street and a familiar voice sings, "Nicky" off the sea-foam-green balcony. It is Dani, my sister. I must be in Sicily!"   

It has been six weeks since my arrival in Sicily, and yes I have been indulging. "Real" pizza has been a meal many times. Bathing in the Mediterranean happens in intervals of 24-hours or less. Oh, and creamy gelato has melted on my tongue and slide down my throat regularly. I have taken it from a cone, from a spoon, through a straw and smeared in the middle of sweet bread, a brioche. Although I can taste the roast in the hazelnut gelato and the pistachio flavor is sweet and salty, the dive season is coming to a close and I feel as though this island and I have shared enough, for now.    


It is rare that travel is routine, but at the dive shop I have had a daily schedule. A day in the life.... 

Each morning begins inside the "Dive Flag Tower." It is 3 levels. Stefania sleeps on the top floor and acts as my alarm as she passes the second floor to start the day.

Task 1 of the day: Prepare Tanks

When all is ready we leave land behind...

We do the work, our guests enjoy the ride

Whenever this life seems like I dream all I need to do is look to Antonio's (the Diveleader in training) arm to remind me where I am

Giovanni, my host and Divemaster, briefs the group on the dive site

"me"

After the dive and after a pasta lunch, it is time to find some shade around the shop

  

The sun falls from its peak and late afternoon arrives.  A soft sensation wakes me from a nap. I give my attention to hear the call of the plants on the hillside garden. They are asking for water.  This place is not an official WWOOF, but it surely is a Barnstorming. 

This terrace style garden is home to a grove of young trees

The fruit love the view

Maybe it's the environment, but some of the plants look like they could be found swimming in the Sea

Night creeps over the tower as blue skies fade to purple. A typical night out is a walk for gelato... 

On the way we see...

Fishing boats eager for morning's catch

Stefania as a shadow model in front of the Castle

The Castle that gives the town its name, Castellammare

On this night a music festival! 

 A lone guitarist wails overhead, in an archway 

 He belongs with this five piece group (if you include the pooch) playing, a funk like trance set, on the steps

 A fire show too...

His name is Bunda and he is from The Czech Republic

Almost forgot the point of the walk...At last

Moon light illuminates the old port town, but when the sun fills the streets I will start it all again

That is until Wednesday when I say goodbye to Sicily...

Garden Relief (in photos)

By: Nicholas

Abroad a month and that was just the beginning . Through my words I have done my best to recreate for you the feelings France has brought to me. My attention focused on the moment I am in, I have experienced each scent, sight and sound as purely as one can. I have worked to capture the essence of each place and pass it on through written language. Unfortunately today, I cannot bring to life the past two weeks in this same way.

When the mind's race is at rest, the world shines with a deeper brightness. At times though, thoughts do not easily accept peace. My life situation is changing and fear stirs with the uncertainty. My discomfort is expressed through my inner voice's old patterns. A carousel of illusions, memories and plans have been preventing me from completely connecting. The chateau in Sacy le Petit deserves a description that tickles the senses, but I have been too far removed to receive the place's inspiration. The obstacle that I face will become more clear with time, but for now I will only share some things in and around the garden that have temporarily given me relief from my burdened brain. 

Plums

Jam Making: Bringing the attention to the hands, we first prepare the fruit by taking out the innards. 

Seething the medieval way is sort of like milking the fruit for juice-leaving behind the skins and sometimes worms!

Add heat

The backyard of Chateau de Sacy, a great place to read and nap

A single rose blooms between the thorns, growing and wrapping  around an iron heart

With Jennifer's table tennis skill growing exponentially it is easy to forget that carrier pigeons once roosted in that background tower waiting for their next delivery assignment  

My competitive opponent Lloyd. Probably allowing recreation to create room for inspiration before our next ping-pong match.

I enjoyed listening to Lloyd Durling describe his work. As he told of his ideology and inspirations, I observed the philosophy and thought come to life off the barn wall.

Making games out of cracking walnuts with our newly graduated college-bound Connor

Hello tall sharp tool. Help Nick invent a path through the Forest garden

The whole body's rhythm  provides meditation for the spirit

Escape the Chateau to pick up warm milk and fresh eggs from the farm  

What better for relaxation than helping life to succeed  

What better to help life succeed than providing warm loving words

Not too close to the barn, yet

BBQ dinners are the best time to listen to Hermine's stories of  un-welcomed artists needing a literal kick in the butt to be removed  from the chateau 

Hermine's connection with the grounds stems from childhood play with the gardeners daughter and a young love with the bakers son

She has grown with the land and her dedication to it is apparent everywhere. For instance in this archway of green beans

Although these wonders have been fogged by my own seperation, I do not  judge my distracted mind. I am grateful that I am able to sense, from the place between the thoughts, that struggle is not permanent. Life's love is always within. 

Farewell Farm & Paris' Pleasures (part 1)

by Nicholas

The train to Paris took me through the French country side at high speeds. As small villages and large vineyards blurred by, I revisited some outstanding details of my time in Villeneuve Loubet. It will be hard to forget the uncertainty that I felt as I approached the farm for the first time. Strangely the farm house is located at the end of a maze-like suburban development. It is easy to doubt the existence of any farm at all upon arrival. 

Our shetler too stays salient. The past-its-prime caravan, or the simply old camper, was our resting place; good enough, we fenagled a bug net to keep out the French flies and better our comfort. In high winds the structure gently rocked.  

the caravan among vegetables ready for delivery 

Who could forget my relationship with the legumes, whom have literally grown close to me. I gave to them through my labor, and they gave to me through my mouth. The cycle of energy strengthens both our chances of survival. 

Although at times the vegetable delights do not fuel their own cultivation, I must admit to utilizing their nutrients for play too. The recreation I adore the most from my time in the South of France was afternoons spent at the river's swimming hole. Always accomanied by a troop of friends and a tray of food the wilderness retreat was a sanctuary and joy. 

Surrounded by tall lush trees and taller canyon walls the river funneled down a body-width shoot into a streaming pool. The waterfall projected the daring down its slide dropping them, free from rock, into the strong white waters below. Stone walls raised above three sides of the ride like falls providing at least a dozen points for cliff jumping. Tucked under the thunderous pour of the falls, an oasis of rock and moss peacefully lay protected by the pounding furry. I saw it and had a goal. 

"canyoning" a popular sport of hiking down canyon's rivers

Cliff diving began. Markus showed me the standard jump; then I explored the drop from spots with less room for error. His youthful energy climbing from pool, to atop rock, then releasing himself back to pool was exciting to match. Jennifer too joined in one act of the adrenalin rush!

Markus' "bunny dive"

My standard front flip

 After I joined Rhea and Jennifer, who were now dry, on a sunny rock and sat it on thier conversation. It was as if old friends continued flowing conversation from times past. Then over to six-year-old Mika and four-year-old Anouk who splashed and scream at the schockingly cold water's edge. Markus' daughter Mika, an English girl raised in France, spoke  English with an incredible London tone. In addition she spoke French with a flawless accent. Most incredible from a little lady with a lot of personality who could not yet even read! Time spent with Mika was most humbling for Jennifer and I when she corrected our lame French speech.

An afternoon with Mika in Nice was filled with French lessons!

Watching the girls was Fabian, a friend of the farm and father to Anouk. We discussed the differences of health care between countries, and I learned that the French face issues of inequality as well. The idealist views I had were brought into reality. I enjoyed a French cigarette with his wife Natasha. Once a street performing stilt walker she now paints (see her work! www.portraitpourtrait.com) The family, so generous, hosted gatherings at their home and showed us a warmth greater than the mediteranian climate.

As the sun set below the canyon walls a lone spot of sunshine reached a perch upon an overhung rock. There sat Fabrice (our host) with legs crossed, palms up, and eyes closed absorbing the sacred spot's last rays of illumination. Fabrice had earlier shared with me his few experiences with sweat lodges and Shamanic ceremonies. As he sat in the sun's shine I pondered the unearthly energy he had expereinced and still carried with him.

A chill replaced the warmth and it was now or never to reach the paradise behind the falls. The currents were too strong to swim through to the other side. The waters out of direct flow were also prevented access. I could't go left, I couldn't go right and straight through was not an option; horizontal movements were not the answer. Therefore, I climbed vertically atop the dropping flow. With the river I slid down the rock, into the air and beneath the water. The pressure pushed me down under the surface and away from the back of the falls. Still with the same breath I somersaulted to change direction under water. I swam down and towards the back of the pool where the water again became calm. I opened my eyes to see the white pressure from the falls dissipating above my head. A few strokes and I let my buoyancy take me to the still pool protected by the sounds and curtain of the falls. A few moments to myself before releasing my body back to the current of the river. As I return to the occupied world I hear Fabrices' voice, "Nico, your blood is hard!" This was a compliment to my achievement of overcoming the strength and bite of the 40ish degree Fahrenheit water.