Genova, Genoa, Gênes

Maybe if I keep a punchcard, after 20 UNESCO world heritage sites I'll get a free footlong sub.  They do seem to be falling over each other here in Italy.  New rule, at least one major Hollywood blockbuster has to have been made about the place or circumstances before it qualifies.  Better luck next year Christopher Columbus.  Try calling Bruckheimer.  Besides being the home of the namesake of the worst American holiday, Genoa is a beautiful port city that's reaped the benefit of its position as traders to the world over centuries.  For example, check out that door knocker. He's a merman.  A MerMAN!  I think he could turn the starbucks mermaid into a merlady.

Splendid little plazas were everywhere, hidden up stairs and behind giant doors.  Many of them were free to enter and wander through.  I found this jewel of a sculpture in a small pond behind one of the many doors.

Genoa does appear to be bursting apart old seams, but it just adds to the character.  New developments and architecture collect at the edges, but the century old houses and apartments remain the same as the city climbs into the steep hills.   

Nice was a sentimental last stop in France.  More than the architecture, or the beautiful turquoise water, or the myriad of other reasons that bring the world's rich and famous, I will remember hiking too far in the city with my backpack on.  It's not especially heavy, perhaps 15kg, but I was regretting the two euros a night I saved by choosing the hostel on the outside of town and then taking all day to walk there.  My toes were swollen little sausages the next morning.  I'll definitely watch for switchbacks on the map next time I'm planning a walk. 

I saw so much though.  I could lead walking tours of the city now.  More than half the time I was there it was raining, but I didn't mind.  It was never cold, and I had my rain jacket.  Supposedly the locals hate this sculpture, Square Head.  Inside the cube houses the offices of the Museum of Contemporary Art.  I have several grand vista views, but the city maintained its persistent grey. 

Thankfully, Monaco was all sunshine and jingling jackpots.  Behind me in the picture is the Prince of Monaco's palace.  The ports and hills of the tiny country were beautiful, but most of the time I felt about seven figures away from the right income bracket to enjoy the amenities.  There was a brief moment where I was asked to watch a 98 year old woman while her daughter got something from the house.  We sat and talked about how she carried her baby into the hills when the Germans came during WWII, then the daughter came back out and rolled her eyes.  I had a feeling the story lost its impact for her. 

Au Revoir France

A millennium of sun, wind, and rain has left the neighboring castle remarkably intact.  While I was at St. Pierre I took the short hike several times.  My last trip was a particularly beautiful day, and I had the opportunity to play tour guide to the new volunteers, James and Hannah.

Sadly, my time at Ferme St. Pierre has come to an end.  Much like the perfect dessert to a long and luxurious meal, my experiences at the farm will forever be the sweetest lingering memory of my time in France.  I can't thank my hosts Berté and Carina enough for the opportunity and openness they've shared with me.  I'm starting on my tour of central Europe, and for essentially the first time, traveling through countries where I don't have even a smattering of the language.  I plan on seeking out Spanish and French speakers. 

Storm's a Comin

Now that it's warm almost all the time, the most wonderful thunderstorms have been blowing in.  They'll come in the early afternoon, shake and shudder, blow, dump rain, and then leave just the wonderful smell behind. 

YOURTE!

The world is tough, and can be quite cold.  Therefore, curl up inside your round house wrapped in wool felt.  We've finished all but the last touches on both the yurts, thank goodness.  Tourists are falling over themselves to come and stay inside.  Along with the general assembly I had the opportunity to assemble all the furniture.  The nice thing about the two little beds is the far side curves to fit the shape of the wall. 

Bones aligned, the skeleton came together.  The margin for error was frustratingly narrow, but with determination we pieced the ensemble.  Once we added the other layers, the weight prevented the bedeviling shifting.

We were threatened several times by storm clouds, but in general the weather was kind to us.

These walls of wool felt were nearly an inch thick, but surprisingly fragile.  In laying on the individual pieces we used great caution to grab no less than a double layer after learning our lesson by tearing off several fist sized pieces.

All the previous photos were of the orange yurt, but I find the red more attractive.  With a base fabric, the felt, a waterproof layer, and the final canvas, the entire structure settled reassuringly.  Now that these are done, we'll be moving on to the tipis.