Summer days in Sofia

The latest chapter in my 2017 first-times is in the Balkans. 

Work brought me to Sofia, curiosity retained me a couple of extra days.

Temperatures above 30 (and a little too many working hours to shrug off) make a good starting point for a rather easy-going, unpretentious urban exploration, punctuated with homemade ginger lemonade and ice cream stops.

Like everywhere, high temperatures mean for kids that a hose is the best game ever invented. 

The city is truly cheap, the tour to get a flavour of the city - and tips for the rest of the day - is even free. Blue-starred Euroflags can be spotted everywhere, testimony of the financial help received from Brussels for all sort of public works. 

A visit to the "market of women" brings me back to another age, maybe one I never lived in, rich of perfume of ripe summer fruit at prices I cannot relate to any longer

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Out of the Market, the scent of damascene roses is a constant in touristic places, not only in creams and soaps but also in candies, jams and even in a local liquor - which locals swear never to drink.

The Free Sofia Tour and buying rose scented creams topping the to-do list, visiting Alexander Nevsky' cathedral comes right next. A beautiful Orthodox church where one could spend hours enjoying not only the rich decorations but also the 3 hectic guardians running around to chase unaware visitors and enforce the 10 Lev/5€ price rule for taking photos. Success rate rather low, in the opinion of this humble observer.

And Italy is really everywhere, food, wine and fashion first and foremost. Sometimes with funny results.

Bonus of the trip: Orthodox blessing with geraniums and holy water, live on Bulgarian TV - and advice to remember to smile when cameras are around.

Wandering about Lisbon

There you go: twice in Lisbon in two weeks, after years trying to find the best moment to get there. Does one ever learn that "best moments" do not exist?


After a late night flight, a late night Uber ride, a late night delivery of a briefing, I was exhausted but Lisbon was there for a few days.

Two weeks ago, Lisbon was hot, unbearably hot, forest fires exploding in the north, people too tired to even talk. Two weeks later the city is cloudy, fresh and moody.



Half million people, life style well above European average, sun through the clouds and a pretty waterfront. What some would call a good start.


At the end, this Lisbon time was about friends, about walking, about going up and down and up again. It was about sipping coffee with a bite of chocolate, and drinking white wine looking down towards the Ocean. No, that is not the Ocean, it is the Tagus that you are looking at.


Too short a time, it turned out. Enough to visit four or five miradores and the Belem Jeronimo's monastery and to climb the Arch of Augusta street to enjoy the view on Praca do Comercio. Not enough to visit all I wanted to visit at the slow pace we decided to keep.

And certainly not enough to get sick of eating pasteis. Not even close to that.

Calabria felix

Domani un altro sole ci riscalderà, oggi invece ci brucia il sole bollente della costa jonica della Calabria.

La terra del sud forse più bistrattata, quasi terra di mezzo nel regno delle due Sicilie, divisa tra il blu mozzafiato e le architetture devastanti. Ma anche terra di amici eccezionali, bagni di mezzanotte e insalate di polpo indimenticabili.

Wines of Irpinia

Neglected, ignored, unknown to most: travelling to Irpinia for a wine tour is an act of faith in your friends' promise that you won't regret it.

Meeting young people investing in their homeland is refreshing.

Going back home with 600+ bottles is the reassurance that the risk was worth taking.

White beaches

Admittedly I have been struggling a bit to find the right photo for this post. The right palm tree, the right nuance of blue, the right corner among all those white beaches I kept myself busy with. 

Decision fell on this one. I hope you watching it enjoy it as much as I did taking it, on a remote island called Saona, with no electricity, no running water, no phone coverage, but plenty of beauty - and mosquitos.

Make no mistake though, the no-electricity, no-water, no-phone paradise was a day trip. After an unbearably long, dark, cold, interminable, busy as hell winter, with millions of problems to solve and conflicts to mediate, the only spring escape I could conceive was as far as possible from any discomfort.

Next time I might go explore the Asian jungle in a kayak or the African plains in a  Land rover, but tonight it is Jacuzzi time.

A weekend in Bologna

Aperitivo where? Lunch? Can we taste different things at dinner?

No other city trip has been so much about food as this one. Including taking tortellini home as souvenir.

My third time here makes me a kind of local, showing the secret Finestrella di via Piella and climbing the Towers to enjoy the beauty of the red roofs and albeit not really knowing where to go out at night when you are beyond your university times.

One thing fore sure I did know: rent an apartment overlooking Piazza Maggiore and the view would do the rest.

At the end of the world

A bit of a drive from Malaga and a bit too much to squeeze in a day trip. Where Spain and the Earth end, where the good ol' Mediterranean gives way to the open ocean, there lays Cadiz and its pueblos blancos of the frontier.

Narrow old streets, winter-sun kissed (if quite windy) ocean side promenade, hidden courtyard-like squares to have some tapas sitting in the (nevertheless) warm sun or in the shade of some orange tree. And impressive cathedral and bell tower.

For all these reasons, for all the photos which went inadvertently deleted, and for all the other things for which an afternoon was way too short. Sure enough, the Andalusian karma is confirmed in Cadiz: if you did not plan a longer trip, you ought to come back soon again.

A new beginning

Happy 2017 from the heart of Andalusia, hiking down and up the Ponte Nuevo in Ronda, capturing the beauty of the first sunset of the year against a combination of architecture and nature reminding of a different world.

Maybe a world of the future but with a bit of luck the future may start today.

End of the year and orange trees

Beautiful Sevilla and Granada done, Malaga is somewhat low key but still worth a visit, a hike to the Alcazaba and higher up to the Gibralfaro for some cool shots. 

Admittedly, landing in the British interpretation of Summer Paradise was not high on my bucket list, but life is defined also by circumstances. And circumstances brought the discovery that beyond all those golf courses and big resorts, Marbella has also a very cute traditional town at its heart, whose streets and squares make wandering (or sitting with a cervecita) a sweet end of the year.

Serendipity also brought a toast to the new year (and the fast swallowing of the traditional 12 grapes) with the owners, waiters and customers of a small restaurant in central Malaga, devoted to excellent and reinterpreted tapas and medias.

Even in Costa del Sol, something left behind: can you taste the colourful fruits hanging from those ubiquitous decorative orange trees?

Granada

Another victim of a year of misfortunes? Something just not written in the stars? After the inevitable blaming one's own unpreparedness, an equally inevitable realisation: Alhambra being sold out means a trip to Andalusia is due to happen again.

Resorting to wandering without a specific destination through the romantic streets, squares and churches of Albayzin is not too bad a plan B.
Culminating on top of the tower of the church of San Miguel Bajo and its perfect view of the Alhambra and the Sierra Nevada.

Elegant, lively, hilly and sunny, every neighbourhood a different soul, Granada rocks. And yes, there are free tapas too.

Zafferano

The trip which started with a tasting of saffron meatballs in Cagliari, ended with a splash in Saffron beach, Cala Zafferano in Teulada.

In between, tons of local bottarga and roasted mullet in Cabras, tuna in uncountable ways in Carloforte, fresh fish a la carte in Malfatano beach, fregola and pardule a bit everywhere and the great discovery of La Brace in Oristano.

Also, long and winding roads, windy coasts and permanently dusty windshield. Some good window-shopping too.

Special mention of roasted goat cheese for breakfast at S'Arxola and pecorino on the rocks at sunset.

On the roads of Sulcis

Further south, in Sardegna, there is a blue coast, with wild rocks, green pinewoods and Caribbean-white sand.

To reach it, you need to ignore your GPS and google maps of sort and take your car to Marceddi' to cross a bridge which does not exist, then to wade across one or two iron-red creeks, and finally to be pulled out of the sand where the car got stuck.  Best done with a convertible Fiat 500.

You may want to take a break along the way to go for a quick dive in the waters of Piscinas beach, surrounded by Sahara style golden dunes.

Or you may visit the Carthaginian-Roman temple of Antas, hidden in the middle of the mining area of Sulcis.

Whether a curious coincidence or superior design, this August has the red colour of mining history.

From Belgium and the ceremony to mark the 60th anniversary of the Marcinelle disaster, to the abandoned mines along Sardinian road SS 126, across the Sulcis region, home of the fascist and post-war exploitation of the Sardinian reserves of iron and lead.

The sign next to the Laveria Brassey-Naracauli in Ingurtosu claims Liberty style.

Mari Ermi and the others

When the sun goes down in Mari Ermi, the sky turns yellow, the crowds leave and the seagulls go hunting, that is the moment to admire its white quartz stones shining in all their beauty.

It can be a busy day in West Sardinia, whether swimming in the still, emerald waters or enjoying them turned by a hit of mistral into a kitesurfing paradise.

Even more so if you want both and head to the San Giovanni di Sinis's peninsula: east and west, mare vivo and mare morto, shallow waters and powerful waves.

Local businessman Samba, itinerant Sardinian-speaking Senegalese
specialised in beach-ware and advice, strongly recommends to not miss, while there, the elegant simplicity of the Paleochristian church.

It is not that we picked the west coast so that we could every day indulge into sunset watching in the company of an ice cold Ichnusa, but I am glad we figured this point out early enough.

Primo agosto

E cosi' il primo agosto c'era il sole a Bruxelles.

C'era persino qualcuno in giro, macchine nei tunnel, ausiliari del traffico a Flagey, cercatori di Pokemon e nonni con bimbi nei parchi. C'era la lentezza dei movimenti e delle decisioni, in risposta all'urgenza di fermare il mondo durante le vacanze. C'erano matasse da dipanare grandi quanto piramidi egizie, a settembre però.

Tu non c'eri, eri su un altro pianeta a fare lunghe camminate nei boschi o ragionevoli riflessioni in riva a un mare estraneo.

E c'ero pure io a Bruxelles. A salvare il mondo, una briciola alla volta, piano piano. Forse troppo.

Il due agosto ricominciò a piovere, il traffico tornò nel tunnel Cinquantenaire.

Io me ne andai.

Arctic geese

Arctic geese walk in flocks on the coast. A funny, coordinated dance, littering with gusto the dark coastal rocks, which the Baltic waters cannot wash up any more.

Above the geese, a man is bungee jumping from a 150 metre tall crane while, a few metres away, a little girl, too young to even sit straight, is initiated to pony riding.

East of the geese, the main square of Helsinki is full of orange stalls and tourists, Nordic-style street food and fur hats.

West of the geese, posh bars for dwellers in search of an expensive drink to sip throughout the long Nordic sunset or perhaps the short night.

You look nice, the bar is closing: what about some male company? 

It may still take some training, I guess, for this type of Nordic charm.

14 years later

Dear long lost travel companion of mine, I do not remember if I ever thanked you for taking me around San Francisco many years ago. It was before growing up, before the restrictions for liquids at airports, before the iPhone, even before digital cameras. And before the pillars of my life started to disappear, one at time. 

And so I am back here. In fact, I can imagine you might have been back too at some point. I recall you tended to follow patterns. Yet, I can also imagine you do not really remember the patterns of our life back then: the 5-6 songs always on the radio, so regular we called it our CD; the pancakes with nutella on campus and the Kimbo coffee from Little Italy; the rush to take the Caltrain and the announcement at the station: "it doesn't really matter where you want to go, just take this train".

Of all those memories, the Caltrain is still there, with all the irony of an old fashioned piece of technology crossing nothing less than the Silicon valley. The Golden Gate bridge is still there too, majestic. Yet, no way I could beat the perfect spring afternoon light in which we took our pictures back then, the old fashioned way, with a film. I wonder where these photos are now. Likely buried under the dust of irrelevance.

And, as a kind of challenge to the past, I took again the long walk back downtown along the bay, direction Pier 39. And I took again the cablecar, but also walked up Telegraph Hill, Lombard street and even via Cristoforo Colombo along its Italian shops.

I also came to Mission. Oh, wait, we did not go there at the time, perhaps lack of time or perhaps it was just not your style. Actually, it was certainly not your style. So, Mission we did not see. Neither did we see all the homeless people sleeping in the street, in tents or on the pavement. But that, again, was before the world started changing, back then maybe these people were not even there.

And so, ultimately, in this sunny summer afternoon, I am not going over the past any longer, but sitting on the grass burning my nose, watching elegant moves of Capoeira and somehow even looking forward to going back and trying to change the world again, one piece at time.

South California, baby

The weather is perfect ad the beaches are great. Sure, that we all know. But you also go to San Diego to visit the 1980s: Top Gun, Tom Cruise and his favourite bars, above all, but maybe also less glamorous P.I.'s Rick and AJ from Simon&Simon. You may indulge in listening to Bruce's Balboa Park.

But in fact you land in a plain 2016 timezone, with dedicated pick up points at the airport for Uber and Lyft, ubiquitous free WiFi, fancy cafes and restaurants.


Then you drive over the Coronado bridge and learn that the old promise to make it toll-free after its costs had been covered was indeed kept 4 years ago. With a little delay, but what's 16 years among friends?

That latin soul of yours may be charmed by the old-fashioned wooden beauty of Hotel Del Coronado, while wondering since when "del" stopped being a preposition to become a first name for those anglophone barbarians. You may also be a bit taken by surprise learning that there is an International Bocce Tournament in Del Mar. Grandpa's Bocce? Right.

One or two good Margaritas will probably put things in perspective again. A look south towards troubled Tijuana will bring you fully back to this struggling 2016.

Bluff

At the end of the day, the Clint Eastwoods, Luke McCains and cowboy Sams of my youth rode their horses towards the sunset. For sure it did not take them long to cross the Monument Valley - it did not take us long either, dozens of photo shootings included. 

At end of the day, they must have gone back home and met some Laura Ingalls of sort, busy conquering the West.

That could well have been in Mexican Hat or in Bluff, at the end of the lonely road cutting through those dry red mountains of Utah.

The Ingalls are not there any longer but the Demings and a bunch of their friends are still there, entertaining visitors, enjoying themselves and holding the Fort.

Fort Bluff that is: maxi pancakes for breakfast, hand made cookies for a snack and a walk in traditional costumes, through the history of the West and its first heroes, living in cabins to obey the call from God.

Was it real or was it all just an illusion?

Riding Navajo land

Landing in a world of shining stars and stripes, clear blue skies, burning red rocks and temperatures approaching 100. Page, Arizona, 4 July: go out, watch the parade and keep up those values that make America great. There is no broadband in town until next year anyway.

All around Page, burning under the scorching sun, Navajo land. A sign on the road reminds drivers to think, plan, live and shop Navajo. Navajo guide Leon explains that it is all because their grandmas have been living there forever, since before the first stone of Page was placed in 1957.

And thanks to grandma sticking to her dry piece of land, today his family can provide guided tours into the stunning Antelope Canyon.

Come with me, girl, I will play music for you in the meanders of the canyon and show you how to take great pictures which you can brag about when you are back home.

Oh, and girl, do you have fireworks in your country? I'll get you a flag.

Thanks but I am leaving, gotta get to Utah tonight.

The great unconformity

Canyons, condors and coyotes, all those things soaked in during a childhood of American series and films. That's it, the Far West, the Grand Canyon, the mighty Colorado river about a mile down. No cowboys around, quite a few hikers instead, and families with kids and even dogs hopping on and off the free bus, lookout after lookout.

Girl, you are talking too much and walking too little, do you want a picture? Oh yes, please. Just here, on the trail of time, going back a billion years in Earth's history, and sorry for the local creationists. Mind the step, though, we have lost more than a billion years, right here at the great unconformity, where the age of the rocks jumps from 500 million years to almost 2 billion years.

And yet no picture can ever do justice to the depth and breadth of the sight. No wonder some fellow hikers thought better stopping for a while, sitting down and letting the mind drown in its smallness.