Back to Italia
Sometimes you wander. Like Dante, you go astray. Like Ulysses you take a wrong turn or two. Then one day you wake up and a month has gone by and the rest of your crew is all back home and you’re by yourself somewhere north of Oslo and wondering how you got there.
When something like that happens, it’s no use making excuses. None of them would sound very convincing anyway (least of all to an editor who’s been trying her best to reach you). The best you can do is get back to Rome (to catch a British Airways flight back home). So this is just to say: I’m getting close — as these images of Cinque Terre and Siena and Florence can attest.
From here I think I know The Way. But the fishing was good in Riomaggiore. And though I missed the horse race season around the square in Siena, there was this festival of the Wolf contrade that slowed things down. And Florence — well who would have guessed that in the cupola of the Duomo alone there are 463 steps and more than a few frightening pictures …
Rowing with Ulysses 