2 weeks in the mountains and my hands are ETs. Or perhaps its the effects of caprine urine and cement...
Having wisely decided to keep the tent tightly packed, A and I are cosily ensconced in our mountain refugio (Bec de Roces) watching fairy snowflakes caress a pine studded pinnacle ridged dolomite landscape. In addition to the previous wise decision was the purchase of a splendid 5 y/o single malt from the dairy in Livinilongo (the village across the valley from our residence - to which we trekked 1 hr (descent followed by predictable ascent) to miss our bus... followed by a large jug of coffee accompanied by a large jug of hot milk... and the formulation of a new plan... and new bus 2 hrs later).... not sure the correct temperature for single malt consumption but i would recommend a hint of snow flake with lavish amounts of hot water radiators... (if only i had my pipe... you think it would be easy to find one in a region where they wear floral braces and knickerbockers - not to mention the unusually high goat:human ratio). Also struggling to find where it is that all the old men go shopping (maybe in the 1950's?) No op shops... might have to resort to mugging... but managed to find a mountain hat - complete with random feather adornment... maybe someone (anyone!) could send me the tail feather of a piwakawaka... that would be nice.
2 weeks in the mountains and beaches and sticky T-shirts and cold mid afternoon showers are the domain of another country. [Aside: before WWI, the Dolomites were Austrian. Our residence (Roncat - 2 houses, 2 barns, 40 goats, ~20 bunnies, 13 cats, 10 chickens, 5 humans, 3 dogs, 2 geese) was the northern border between Austria and Italy. Then when the badness started the front-line was pretty much our bedroom. We are yet to go exploring the tunnels that are apparently near the house. hmmm.] We have both reached the point that beginning the next part of our journey has gained urgency.. No longer the looming end of our italian sojourn but the beginning of the new adventure that we have been preparing for (what feels like) over a year. Plenty of anxious angst concerning the trivialities of $$ but i feel (with naivety's free blessing) the quiet confidence of the NKOTBs. Now we are relishing the opportunity to find focus and understanding of motivations for our journey (be immersed in humanity... to challenge paradigms... understanding of place... perceptions...of justice...of value... and perhaps to shave our shouls... or just to indulge in the ultimate whanker attempt of external validation).
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hello birmingham, how are you?
tell us more. go on. i dare you.
DOLOMITE II_ sometime in augusto
2 weeks in the mountains and my hands are ETs. Or perhaps its the effects of caprine urine and cement...
Having wisely decided to keep the tent tightly packed, A and I are cosily ensconced in our mountain refugio (Bec de Roces) watching fairy snowflakes caress a pine studded pinnacle ridged dolomite landscape. In addition to the previous wise decision was the purchase of a splendid 5 y/o single malt from the dairy in Livinilongo (the village across the valley from our residence - to which we trekked 1 hr (descent followed by predictable ascent) to miss our bus... followed by a large jug of coffee accompanied by a large jug of hot milk... and the formulation of a new plan... and new bus 2 hrs later).... not sure the correct temperature for single malt consumption but i would recommend a hint of snow flake with lavish amounts of hot water radiators... (if only i had my pipe... you think it would be easy to find one in a region where they wear floral braces and knickerbockers - not to mention the unusually high goat:human ratio). Also struggling to find where it is that all the old men go shopping (maybe in the 1950's?) No op shops... might have to resort to mugging... but managed to find a mountain hat - complete with random feather adornment... maybe someone (anyone!) could send me the tail feather of a piwakawaka... that would be nice.
2 weeks in the mountains and beaches and sticky T-shirts and cold mid afternoon showers are the domain of another country.
[Aside: before WWI, the Dolomites were Austrian. Our residence (Roncat - 2 houses, 2 barns, 40 goats, ~20 bunnies, 13 cats, 10 chickens, 5 humans, 3 dogs, 2 geese) was the northern border between Austria and Italy. Then when the badness started the front-line was pretty much our bedroom. We are yet to go exploring the tunnels that are apparently near the house. hmmm.]
We have both reached the point that beginning the next part of our journey has gained urgency.. No longer the looming end of our italian sojourn but the beginning of the new adventure that we have been preparing for (what feels like) over a year. Plenty of anxious angst concerning the trivialities of $$ but i feel (with naivety's free blessing) the quiet confidence of the NKOTBs. Now we are relishing the opportunity to find focus and understanding of motivations for our journey (be immersed in humanity... to challenge paradigms... understanding of place... perceptions...of justice...of value... and perhaps to shave our shouls... or just to indulge in the ultimate whanker attempt of external validation).
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