This blog is moving!

This is official – since I have “launched” the new site, I am shutting down the borderlinegyspsies blog, and building a new site at Vagablonde Traveling . Please visit me over there!

What’s the plan?

Now is the time when most people are talking about plans for the new year. Resolutions, goals, organizing, planning for the year ahead. I tried to answer the question about where we would be in 2009. One thing is for sure, we will be in Kissimmee, Florida until February 22nd, 2009. Our RV space is rented until then, and it’s still too cold to be heading north. Keith returns from a 3.5 week tour in Adelaide, Australia this week. That is the only other thing I know for sure.

We’d like to spend more time in Savannah, GA timing it to be able to partake in their annual Tour of Homes and Gardens at the end of March. We spent two nights in the Savannah area on our way down to Florida, did a walking tour and ate at Paula Deen’s restaurant, it’s just one of those places that warrants more time. It’s on the list.

Washington D.C. lived up to every notion I ever had of the Capitol city, and then some. The original idea was to visit in the spring and see the cherry trees in bloom. Our first trip was in late May, our second visit was late October – so if the third times a charm, we will get back up that way this April.

Newfoundland is definitely on the list. Keith tells such fantastic stories of working up there, says you wake in the morning with sore stomach muscles from laughing so hard. Sounds like a good time to me! This requires a major ferry crossing in the RV, and is a trip only to be planned for in the mid-summer otherwise it likely still be too cold.

Loosely planned is another summer in the 1000 Islands area of Ontario, as a base. Most likely Keith will be going back and forth to Italy throughout.

Fall 2009 we will try to be in the right place in the right time for the New England fall colors (last year’s plan) and by the winter maybe we can get a trip to Belize in. We’d like to get a trip to Belize in this winter, but, if we don’t make it, it goes back on the list.

All speculation, but it’s a start. What about you, where will you be in 2009?

Merry Christmas 2008

I snapped a photo of our darling Christmas tree in the RV this year, those who have seen it (on Facebook and Twitter) seemed surprised and have enjoyed it. I’ve been working with a lot of our photos from the past nine years, and thought I’d post a blog with pictures of our Christmas Trees past.

Not our first Christmas together, but our first tree. I was (as I usually am) really proud of how it turned out.

The “tree” in this next picture requires a little imagination. Far right in the photo, it’s a spiral piece of acrylic wrapped in candy cane garland. At least it gave me something to hang our ornaments on in this 18 ft trailer. By this time, we had begun collection ornaments, starting with the handblown glass Bobbo Natale from Venice, Italy.

This was our first RV. We have since decided that we do in fact love the full-time lifestyle and have traded up a little bit (both the RV and the camera). Anyway, this was how we decorated for Christmas while camping at the Carpinteria State Beach, a very short walk to the water

No tree this year, we were celebrating in Jindabyne Australia

This is my mom’s tree, which she and I decorated together. Christmas in Bishop with the family, it’s a treat. Mom can really light a tree, I tell ya! Look closely, Keith is trying to get Zoe to smile for the camera.

Fun-facts about Keith’s career:

Among the heroic duties of firefighting and the economically important seismic exploration or logging contracts, he has also fulfilled contracts to fly in harvested Christmas Trees. Bundle at a time, slinging from steep tree farm forests into the backs of waiting trucks.

Each year working this duty he has received a gorgeous Douglas Fir. Finally, after three years of giving friends and family the tree for their holiday, I finally got to keep one for myself. Here it is.

In 2006 we were camped in Vegas. Though we went to my brothers in Big Pine for Christmas Day, I still put a tree up. Went a little overboard bringing in the 5 ft’er, but loved every day of it.

I did say we were in Vegas, didn’t I? Since we weren’t going to be there, I didn’t do much outside decorating. I let nature do it for me.

Keith has been in Australia since Monday (well, Sunday for us, it’s confusing when you travel down under). Even though won’t have Christmas together we did put our tree up. It’s a smaller version than ‘06, Keith could circle the tree and name the places all the ornaments came from in less than 5 minutes, ha ha.

We’re in a warmer climate this year, parked beneath palm trees, enjoying the evening air with the door open

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas from Florida (this year)

The many characters in our stories

Tropical Palms Resort, our home for the next three months, is a 60 acre RV park with 575 full hook-up sites. That’s a lot of asphalt and concrete to support so many rigs. There are buildings for laundry rooms, restrooms and showers, a cafe near the heated pool, picnic shelters and cabins to rent in case you don’t have an RV. We are less than 3 miles from Disney World. Yep, the Magic Kingdom is just a short drive away. The road to get there is a major one, lined with souvenir shopping mecca’s, super buffet’s, mini-golf, all variety of hotel (offering unbeatable rates right now $25/night!), and neon, neon, neon. We can bike ride to a half dozen supermarkets, super Target, super Walmart, Home Depot, post office, banks, movie theaters, we don’t have to drive at all around here.

Amidst all this city life, this seemed quite the contradiction to stumble upon as we scouted the park:

And, it’s no joke. there was a small gator hanging in this pond. Where there is a small gator there must be a bigger one, I figure. I learned quickly that here in Florida, where there is water, there are alligators. Urban vs. rural has absolutely nothing to do with it. Turns out, from Nov-March these creatures do not eat. Lacking the heat & sun to digest food, it would just rot and kill them. My better judgment tells me this does not mean they won’t attack to kill. Hmph, puts a damper on Zoe’s swimming, but we’re trying to learn about living safely with our alligator neighbors.

So, it’s not the presence of gators that surprises me around here. I have to admit I was a caught off guard last week to watch a wild turkey strut down our lane way, in no particular hurry at all. Where he came from or where he went I don’t know. The morning I found a raccoon lounging in the trash dumpster was a bit of a shocker as well. More so, the fact that it didn’t even flinch, just stared at me as if wondering what goodies I might be bringing for breakfast. Raccoons in the city, not where I’m from, but I guess it happens. And, I have finally seen my first alive armadillo snuffing around the grass along the bike path…dangerously close to the road, of course. I herded him back into the brush, and look for him each day when I ride by.

This morning I woke to the who-whoooing of an owl, quickly identified as the Barred Owl, the same species we had serenading us in the Living Forest in B.C. (blogged about in April and May 07) There is little chance for a sighting. Our space, #371 is on the last row before the park acreage returns to it’s wild roots, overgrown Cypress, Pine, Palm and countless shrub for I don’t know how far. I don’t know, because I have only gone 20 or so feet in, and that was while looking for a neighbors lost Siamese cat. Unfortunate story, the one of Herman the 13 yr. old house cat. I don’t think he stands a chance with all the wild animals, including  the osprey and the short-tailed hawk that live here. Every time I see that hawk he’s either got a meal in his talons or he’s too full to fly. Yesterday a neighbor excitedly reported seeing a small herd of deer in this brush near our RV. After all the things we’ve seen so far, this didn’t seem like news.

Because we are so near to Disney, it is difficult for me to see or hear any of these animals, right down to the pesky squirrels that come right up on our steps begging Keith for almonds, without imagining they have cartoonesque  voices, and dramatic stories, and that I am somehow part of their scene for the winter. Seems impossible to be any other way.

Reminiscing 2008

Some numbers from the last year:

12 months, eight countries, 27 states, two provinces and two continents. These are my travel stats, Keith’s vary slightly – add one province and a third continent…he’s off to Australia this week. I regret that I am such a chronological blogger, and that if I don’t write when travels are current…I don’t write. There is a lot of sharing to catch up on.

The first three months of 2008 were spent living in Belize. Having our our Visa’s in order meant we could stay for a year, and were considered Belizean. This last bit doesn’t mean much, but was fun to acknowledge. Such a beautiful little country, I fondly think back on the snorkel trips, Mayan Ruin exploring (taking us into Guatemala), jungle treks, trips to the islands, helicopter flights over the reef and life in general camped at the Cucumber Beach Marina. Most of what is packed into my journal from living last winter in the Caribbean are not details of the trips we took, or wildlife we encountered, it’s about the people we met, time shared with new friends, and things I learned from other people. That’s what I cherish most. We will return to see our friends and build our life in Belize. To see archived blogs, search Jan, Feb, March 08 on the right-side of the blog. For photos use the Webshots link, search Belize Album.

I get very attached to the people and places we visit, but when it’s time to roll I get anxious to move on. When it was time to head back to the U.S., at the end of March, I was ready. The drive up the west coast of Mexico was a rewarding 18-day trip in itself. The lessons we’d learned on the east coast in the fall made us feel like real pro’s, not cocky enough to get into trouble, just confident enough to have a nice time. We beach camped our way home staying along nearly deserted stretches of beach some nights, other nights we camped near Acapulco, Zihuatenijo, Puerto Vallarta (actually, Sayulita, a place that won our hearts), and Mazatlan. The days were long again, just like summer days as a kid. Beach combing, body surfing, meeting new friends and just working on our tans, ahhh a couple of lucky people. An archived blog in May 2008 has some photos of our camping spots.

The first week of April we crossed the border from Nogales, Sonora Mexico into Nogales, Arizona U.S.A. Immediately the fact that we had a schedule to keep sunk in. Our plan was to be in Gananoque, Ontario, Canada  by Mother’s day. Sounds doable. The catch was, we were not traveling directly,  but via some of our regular haunts, Las Vegas NV, Bishop CA and Tumwater WA to attend to the business of life that always awaits our return. At that time, we were paying $4.25/gal for diesel, on a truck hauling a fifth-wheel RV, getting 15 mpg. This 4500 mile cross-country journey we embarked on was likely to be the first (for me) and last time to see some of this country.

Our home for the summer season ‘08 was an “ecological reserve” in the 1000 Islands, Landon Bay Centre. Knowing we would be away for a better part of the summer, the $7 a day camping rate was a better than average deal. One quick week after setting up our base-camp, we were on the road again. This time a “vacation”, spending 10 days in Virginia touring the Nations Capital. As I wrote in the June blog, this trip to D.C. and the area made me want to spend so much more time here – and as it turns out, we would return for 2 more weeks later in the fall. Yeah!

The majority of the summer was spent in Alassio, Italy on the Italian Riviera. Keith worked six out of nine weeks, I played, isn’t that how it goes? If you are keeping count, this makes the sixth country of the year. From here we hopped the train to visit Monaco and Nice, France – eight rounds the tally. This is the sort of summer that really puts life into perspective for me, how lucky a person could I be? Well, lucky enough to spend glorious days biking the cobblestone promenade from one village to another alongside the shallow waters of the Mediterranean, sipping espresso and eating gelato whenever I wanted. Unlucky enough to have a gigantic tree fall on our truck two days before leaving for Europe, only to have the wonderfully repaired truck stolen from the Montreal, Quebec airport not a month later – these things are all just part of life, taken in stride it makes for an interesting ride.

Our Ford dealer in WA was more than accomodating to help us replace our vehicle, without which meant our “home” was stranded in Canada, the winter clock ticking. Ironic to find ourselves making a repeat of a cross-country drive that we would take us through country we never thought we’d see so soon. Taking advantage of the opportunity, we changed the route from the I-90 to the I-94. We had some weather to out run, but enjoyed the last of the fall colors going back into Canada.

It was late October when we hauled out of the 1000 Islands, just ahead of the first snow storm of the season. Having decided long ago that since we are on the east coast we’d may as well stay, explore and enjoy it we spent November and December slowly making our way to Florida.  During the 2008 Presidential Election, we were camped in Maryland exploring more of D.C., where we stayed for more than 2 weeks. Now we’re hooked up in our home in Kissimmee Fl. where we’ll finish out 2008, and begin 2009. What’s in store? Not really sure, Belize and Mexico would be nice, spending more time in D.C., getting up to Newfoundland might be an option – we’ll let ya know.

Cross Country Road Trip, Fall 08

I love driving across the country. It’s not for everybody, the long hours in the car, but I really enjoy it. North Dakota seems to have really cornered the market on “The World’s Largest” sights to see. By sheer proximity to the highway, and size of the statue itself we did see The World’s Largest Holstein Cow in New Salem, ND. We did not bother to take the detour to see The World’s Largest Sandhill Crane in Steele, ND or The World’s Largest Buffalo in Jamestown, ND. Would have liked to have driven the Enchanted Highway in Regent, ND to see all the World’s Largest Metal Sculptures – deer, fish, pheasant, and more but were unable to determine how much of a sidetrip it would be. Fortunately the Canada Goose sculpture was roadside, good enough.

We caught a small portion of the Badlands while in North Dakota, and drove along miles of dried up sunflowers that in the summer must have been a spectacular display. Would those seeds be harvested for human consumption? Bird seed? We speculate, looking at the brown drying stalks as far as we can see. Corn also remains in the fields, drying naturally to be later ground into cattle feed. Fall harvest time is here.

I have relinquished most of the trips navigation to the new GPS system installed in the new truck. We have yet to name our sultry speaking panel in the dashboard, we have another 1100 miles to go on this trip, I’m sure we’ll think of something. Keith is in love, grins each time he hears well in advance that he has to make a turn. He thanks me for having it all set-up, and I verify with my trusty Rand McNally that we are in fact on the best route – things have been simplified big time. Now I can keep my eyes out for more of America’s Roadside Attractions.

Experiencing Travel

I have always liked to travel, to explore and have adventures. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I was doing the day Keith and I met on the boardwalk in Santa Barbara eight years ago. I was out exploring and it has become the adventure of a lifetime.

We all travel differently, and for different reasons, with different expectations. I love to sit quietly in public places for long periods of time and people watch, get the “feel” for an area. Sometimes it takes me a few days to get my bearings and sort out what “attractions” I want to see. Major touristy areas are not really my bag, but I also hate to miss worthwhile sights simply because there are too many other people looking at the same thing.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading on this six week trip. Mostly the books have been travel related, and seemingly (though unknowingly when I collected them) have had very common themes. Travel and spirituality. I have enjoyed three very different authors with stories on yoga, meditation and india.

The other day, finishing Michael Cricton’s Travels a book of sometimes extremely short travel/life stories, I found the best little piece, it made me smile so much to read, that I thought I would share it here with you. Here is the except from his book:

A few years earlier, during a trek in Nepal, my Sherpa guide took me to the top of a hill at a place called Ghorapani, pointed to the view and said,

“The Kali-Gandaki Gorge.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I was sweating and tired. It was cold. My feet hurt. I could hardly pay attention to this view.

“The Kali-Gandaki Gorge,” he repeated, significantly.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

What I was seeing wasn’t even a gorge, it was just a big valley with snowy mountain peaks on both sides. Spectacular, but all the mountain views in Nepal are spectacular, and I was tired at the end of the day.

“The Kali-Gandaki Gorge,” he said a third time. Like I still wasn’t getting the point.

“Great,” I said. “When’s dinner?”

It wasn’t until I returned home that I found out what the Kali-Gandaki Gorge is.

The Kali-Gandaki river cuts between the peaks of Dhaulagiri to the west and Annapurna 1 to the east – respectively the sixth and tenth highest mountains in the world. Both peaks rise more than four miles above the river below, making a canyon so enormous that the eye can hardly see it for what it is. It is four times as deep as the Grand Canyon, and far wider: between two peaks, you could roughly fit twenty Grand Canyons.

The Kali-Gandaki Gorge is the deepest canyon in the world.

That’s what it is.

I’d like to go back and see it sometime.

Thank-you gestures exchanged

My good Italian Dr. and a I spent a few minutes getting to know each other prior to proceeding with my molar extraction. He told me all about his seven year old son who is beyond fascinated with helicopters, especially the big one, like what Keith flies. They had an airshow last year and the little boy just went nuts about that helicopter. “Strange though,” he started “that Americans are here to fight fires?” I added that Keith is Canadian, but, yeah, many countries contract with U.S. companies to hire their firefighting assets. Not many people know that. Last year in Greece they thought we’d all just shown up to help with the catastrophic fires, they didn’t realize the crews are there year after year, standing by on contract. Even with my explanation, he remained perplexed. I said nothing more.

As a gesture of my gratitude to him for his wonderful help during what could have escalated to a crisis, but never did, I invited the Dr. and his son to visit the crew and see the crane at the nearby airport base. Felt good to have something to offer, even if it was Keith that ended up doing the giving. He doesn’t mind, and the Dr. and the boys that went with him for the tour made it into Keith’s blog about Family Man.

I returned the next week for suture removal, and the Dr. delightedly reported the wound had healed so perfectly. I knew it had all gone well, even without anti-biotic and only a mild anti-inflamatory, I was now in good shape. He clapped his hands when he saw me, excited to report how well their tour had gone, thanking me over and over. It was my pleasure, was glad to be able to make it happen. Then he said,

“I have a gift for you, for you and for Keith.”

I laughed, “shouldn’t you be the one getting the gifts?”

Have you ever gotten a gift from your dentist? What a country. When he handed me a CD, I figured it would be pictures of Keith with the Gypsy Lady, the Air-Crane he flies on this tour. Great, he’s been wanting pictures with this ship, it’s too classically named to our lifestyle – fun. They were pictures, but not of Keith and the crane. Professional photos and a note “Something to remember our beautiful Alassio…” Oh, and the x-ray of the damaged molar is also on the disk, after I’d remembered to ask Suzanna for a copy, thought it might come in handy to have in my permanent records. That you don’t get to see, (who’d want to) but here are a couple images of where we have been spending our summer -

I have Erickson Air-Crane stickers and a Thank-You card to send him. Who knew something like this would end up being such a pleasant experience. You just never know.

My advice? Floss

I have never bought into the whole travel insurance thing.  So far, (and do I tempt fate here?) I have not suffered the sorts of emergencies that travel insurance issuers claim to help out with. Never lost any baggage from a flight, or been bumped and forced to overnight. Haven’t had an expensive “non-refundable” trip canceled. No accidents resulting in bodily harm, though I’ve had my share of close calls as a pedestrian in the chaotic traffic of Greece and Italy. My overall health is good. I quit smoking many years ago. I’m ignoring the weight factor, I’m alright. Regrettably, I never took care of my teeth, ever. I mean I brush, of course, but that’s more a hygiene thing than a health habit. Guilt flossing is the only kind I have ever practiced, and it ends about a week after a cleaning. I try to get my appointments scheduled for cleaning whenever I am in Bishop, at least twice a year, that’s where my records from childhood are. I learned years ago that with a little work I could save my teeth from the brutal periodontal disease that I was beginning to suffer from. I flossed for two weeks after that visit.

Not a week prior to departing Canada for our six week trip to the Italian Riviera I acknowledged a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty bit of discomfort under my left molar. Allowed myself to note that there was the slightest irregularity, and then promptly put the information somewhere else, knowing you can’t have major dental work and then fly in a jet, back to back. This was nothing, anyway.

Less than a week after we arrived in this wealthy, pristine, mostly non-English speaking, seaside resort town, I was in trouble. One minute I’m tossing peanuts, “Snack Friends” (I always love the choice of when to use English, and how, in a foreign country) into my mouth, the next “Ow-WoW-OWWWW.” This is not going to be good. Putting my thumb on one side of the molar, and my index finger on the other I gently pushed, and to my surprise the entire tooth swayed effortlessly, if not painlessly, side to side. Adult teeth in motion are a bad, bad thing. Crap. This is going to get bad.

First thing Monday morning, which is 9 a.m. around here, I sought out help to find a dentist, an English speaking dentist. I HAD to be able to discuss the facts that I already knew, I was going to loose my tooth. Wanting to avoid further pain (though I was not in a lot) but mostly thinking about the costs, I had built myself up to accept the loss and did not want to be talked into any sorts of major tactics to save it. Like my mother, I am pragmatic when it comes to these things. And as she so classically said later to me “You don’t need all 32 anyway”.

By noon I was tilted head down in a blue leather dentists chair, distracted by the shimmery reflection of the sea dancing through the sliding glass doors of the examination room. Ocean front dentistry. Classy. My new Italian Dr. took a look, shook his head.

“How old are you?” I answered. Another shake. “It’s too bad for such a young woman, well, or man either, but someone so young to loose a tooth.” These were his first words about my situation, and I was instantly at ease. Ahh, ok, so he knows it too, it’s a goner. I didn’t have to talk him out of some gigantic procedure, I quickly agreed with him, it sure is a shame. I understood the words when he explained to his assistant that I’d had a periodontal rupture, I nodded in agreement. I didn’t really understand, but it sounded about right for what I knew of my poor ignored chompers. He took an x-ray, pausing at the door to quickly check “Are you pregnant, no?” No, I grunted through the mouthful of film jabbing my soft mouth flesh. Too late to say anything about protective cover, click-zap and the telling image had been taken.

By 1:00 p.m. I had been completely over-anesthetized, the Dr. mistaking one mumble full of hands for another and giving me an extra shot just in case. I never have understood dentists asking questions that can’t be intended to be answered. In this case, I learned they probably just guess. The sick, short rooted, cavity filled molar had been ripped and twisted free from causing any further damage. I felt nothing. As the Dr. worked to suture the already healing wound, I started having trouble with my right eye, it began blinking uncontrollably, I couldn’t stop it. Irritating, like twitching but without that pulsating sensation, blink, blink, blink, blink. Uugh! But wait. No, it wasn’t a problem with my right eye blinking, it was that my left eye was completely unable to blink. I wish I had a picture of my dimple smiling face, one half able to produce the dimple, smile wrinkles gathering at the edges of my eyes. The other 100% wide-eyed and frozen solid, bonus – no wrinkles. I physically had to hold my eyelid down to protect against the breeze, when I left the office later. Weird.

Making my follow-up appointment had the assistant a little flustered. “I’m sorry” she waved to me “I don’t even know your name!” I slurred the best I could, clenching on gauze and wishing I could just go now, trying to assure her that it was fine, we didn’t have to go through the paperwork. Her offers to sit with me and translate them were nice, and maybe not entirely sincere, but I assured her it was unneccesary. She must have read my mind earlier as I began to recount the entire event, from emergency walk-in to extraction took about 1.5 hours and they never even took my name. I was thrilled by the expediency of the whole thing. I don’t think a foreigner would receive the same treatment in my own country. As I paid the $150 bill, x-ray & consultation included, I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t receive the same treatment in my own country, Insurance or not!

An afternoon in Monte Carlo, Monaco

The idea of exploring a country in a day exhilarates me. Not an “Amazing Race” kind of frantic running through streets, but departing a train platform and heading to a marina cafe for espresso and croissant as a start. Consuming $9 worth of coffee & pastry, drooling over glimmering yacht’s, we get our bearings in the richest part of the world that I have ever been in. At this pace how will I see much of the country? In this case quite a bit, since we are talking about the 480 acre Principality of Monaco, the world’s smallest French speaking country. A country surrounded entirely by France, just like San Marino near Tuscany, surrounded entirely by Italy. I do love these tiny enveloped countries within countries.

Wandering begins in the marina. Yacht’s with helicopters lead to jokes about Keith approaching to see if they need a helicopter pilot, the catch being that we would have to secure some contract for me as well – social director, perhaps? I have no idea the money I am looking at. None. It’s like trying to grasp the concept of time leading back 12,000 years to the Neanderthal man – I can’t put a context on it, but I am impressed in an overwhelmed sort of way.

Winding our way along Princess Grace Avenue we stop to read interpretive signs that show black and white photos of Grace planting cherry trees in the Japanese Garden near the Grimaldi forum, or cutting a ribbon at the base of the Casino, or waving with adorable little Prince Albert from a train car returning from Paris. All along the avenue young men, teens really, race around in cherry-red Ferrari’s. Later we realize they are renting these show boaty rides, but still…

Up towards the Monte Carlo Casino, and I am trying to remember what the Monte Carlo in Las Vegas looks like -  isn’t that ridiculous? Vegas casino’s usually do such amazing justice to the originals they copy. Once we returned from Venice, Italy and went to the Venetian Casino in Vegas, later we realized we’d gotten a couple photo’s in the albums mixed up. I mean that’s flattery to the Venetian! Anyway, there is no resemblance that I could recollect here. The entrance to the casino was strung with velvet red ropes preventing admittance, it wouldn’t open until 2 pm that day, three hours away. We had to question whether they would allow us in anyway, we were both dressed nicely, and yet there is no denying we are in the “lookey-loo” category, not whale gamblers.

We moved along and I became hyptnotized by a mirrored sphere balanced atop a low fountain, reflecting the casino and the gardens surrounding it. Quite possibly one of my favorite things to have stared at all day

Seeking shelter from the heat we headed to the Mall, always an air conditioned refuge and all around great way to kill some time. Imagine the laugh we had by finding ourselves window shopping original Renoir paintings. One was sold, too bad, but we still had the choice of 3 others. Who wants to carry something like that around all day, huh?

By the end of afternoon we had walked nearly the entire route of the Grand Prix of Monaco, whose website says “To win in Monaco is hard because even a small error in the streets of the principality is fatal.” And that we believe, shaking our heads regularly as we crossed the narrow street, no more than a path really, in less than 5 steps. Once a driver (pilot, I guess they call them) has the lead, I’d say he keeps it.

For the most part we visited bits of each of the regions, viewed the Prince’s Palace from afar, to hot and humid to climb up when we’d had great views of it all day.  Back on the train we begin our 1.5 hour pleasant train ride back to Alassio. We each make the little air check-mark that we so often do, laughing, cross another one of the “list”.