The Slower Side of Life

In comparison to my last month plus of traveling I can look back on my five days and say I didn't do much at all. With complete contentment. I probably did an hour total of language learning each day but other than that I simply relaxed with no inclination otherwise or any pressing obligations. Sometimes life just has to slow down a little for you to really appreciate how amazing the life you're leading is.

Pergine

San Cristoforo

A typical day would start with a morning session of language learning over a little fruit, a mug of warm milk and a few biscuits. Then in no particular order I'd usually head down to explore Pergine and at some point in the day the heat would force my migration to the lake side town of San Cristoforo. On my first visit here I sat, taking in the harmony of the place for perhaps twenty minutes, looking out over the water, contemplating just how cold the water might be.

Typical daily temperatures

Walking along the highway in search of San Cristoforo

The answer turned out to be not. The temperature was greater than any tropical water I can remember swimming in and that first time I spent an hour floating, watching the breeze gently caress the willows fringing the bank and looking up at the imposing steep hills surrounding Lago di Caldonazzo. When I got out of the water I dried myself off and began to hurry back as it was getting on to dinner time. I knew I was on the right road but it was heading in the opposite direction to my uncle's town, Masetti, so when I saw some stairs heading up the hill I took them. I thought they were like the pedestrian shortcuts you might find in Australia to avoid lengthy road walks but oh how wrong I was.

Central Pergine

In about 200m I was a considerable way up the hill because the country was so steep. And that's when I began to hit properties. I scaled a benched vegetable garden that was more like a commercial farm, typical of Italy, and slipped past the first house without seeing a sole. Then I hit some jungle; weeds held together by vines, the same kind that had provided so much amusement in my childhood property in Ohio. After the jungle I found yet another house and a mansion with four people working in the vineyard. I was too far up the hill to waste my efforts now so I snuck past the house and sprinted up the far side of the vineyard, finally hitting the road.

Masetti, my home for close to a week

I was parched. My mouth was dry and I was now sporting a stitch. But what do you know? The tiny village I had popped out in had a fountain right by the road, an ubiquitous source of water in Italia. I stopped for five minutes to soak my head and hydrate. Pushing on down the road I found three loaded cherry trees and stopped here for an additional ten minutes. I certaintly felt blessed today. By the time I arrived home I was already soaked in sweat once again, a regular occurrence when day time temperatures sit at thirty or over and humid.

The next day, a Wednesday, Zio Toni came into my room at 7:30 and announced he was going to Arco, asking if I wanted to join him. I felt a little reluctant, not knowing where it was or what I might do there but when he told me it was near Lago di Garda I could not refuse. I pulled out my Via Ferrata research and found a short route I could climb and not disrupt his day too much. A couple of hours later we were approaching the Castello it leads to and I saw throngs of people wearing helmets, harnesses and Via Ferrata gear. I had come to the right place but certainly hadn't expected this, being mid week.

Castello di Dreno

Toni dropped me off and I promised to meet him on the hilltop, at Castello di Dreno, in an hour. As I started this began to look like a challenging prospect. As much as I like to see everyone out having a go at more adventures outdoor sports it certainly gets tiresome to be stuck behind people that are painfully slow when you're tied in and can't overtake easily.

Via Ferrata is a form of assisted climbing first created to aid the passage of the Italian military through the alps during the first world war. You wear a harness and two shock absorbing cables with a caribiner on each so you can be clipped in at all times. This route follows a canyon, an old escape passage from the castle on the hill above. It was my first Via Ferrata but largely very easy. There were several overhangs but nothing very strenuous or overly exposed feeling, so much so that I would have been comfortable doing it without protection.

After exploring the castle we headed down to Riva della Garda for pizza in the park and I had an afternoon swim. Unfortunately it wasn't as warm as Lago di Caldonazzo and the surface was whipped by wind, supposedly a constant attribute of afternoons here. The lake is frequented by wind surfers and yacht enthusiasts.

The view towards Lago di Garda

Riva della Garda

Lago di Garda

The next day was my final day in Pergine. I used the free community WiFi for the last time and had one last swim at San Cristoforo before purchasing some food for the journey and some new headphones. It was 8pm as I walked home and the rumble of thunder threatened to deliver torrents of rain. The weather made the landscape seem much more atmospheric, making the walk take far longer than the usual ten minutes as I stopped to take lots of photos.

 

The following morning I woke at 4:30 to catch my 5:40 train. I'm writing this right now from a cafe in Mestre, the modern city of Venice, feeling a little worse for wear. By the time I got off at Verona and transferred onto the train for Venezia I had already been up 3hrs which can be extrapolated as being 11 o'clock on my regular body clock. So with this in mind I pulled out the 750ml bottle of malt beer I got in Pergine, opened its elaborate clasp system and popped the cork. 

Half the train turned in exclamation at the loud sound in the high pitched cabin. I simply raised my beer, taking a sip. It certainly didn't feel like 7:30 in the morning but it definitely was from some of the concerned gazes that were directed my way. I was simply adjusting to the Slovenian lifestyle, a country plagued by seemingly chronic alcoholism. A beer often replaces the traditional morning coffee in this small former Yugoslav nation.

In half an hour I leave for Ljubljana by bus and I'm certainly set thanks to Zio Toni. I certainly won't be going hungry.