/log

I’m writing this sitting on the toilet. Wait! I’m not doing anything you should feel awkward about. I’m just sitting on the toilet seat with my feet in the bidet. Ah, that sounded better before I said it…

Bear with me, please. I’m now here in Italy enjoying all the pleasures that the Tuscan countryside has to offer; the pleasant atmosphere, good wine and great food. In fact just about the only annoying thing to happen on this entire stay (so far, that is) are the ten or so mosquito bites that I’ve suffered. As a good portion of the people reading this may have heard me mention (several times, probably), my favorite remedy for these is to heat up the skin to drain it of the histamines that cause the itch.

In Japan, I’d start each day with a nice hot shower which would then do me quite nicely until the next morning. Here however — and I’m not sure why — a single daily dose doesn’t seem to suffice. Hoping to go for a quick run this afternoon, I figured I should do something about the five bites on my feet. Thus, my feet soaking in a bidet full of scorching water.

I actually went for a run a couple of days ago. The day earlier, I went with my father and a couple of his friends, Hanna and Reiner from Northern Germany, on a short hike up to the village of Greve. The weather was fine: cloudy, but hot and sunny isn’t necessarily better. Neither is pouring rain — which is what we got when we got to Greve. Perfect timing because we had actually planned to have lunch there. A tomato sauce spaghetti and a plate of salamis, ham and cheese, all with plenty of olive, bread and a few glasses wine. The weather helped out that day because I both eat a lot and slowly but this time there was really nowhere to go with the torrent from the sky so I could eat my fill in relative ease.

Inspired by that fun hike, I figured I should really go for a quick run through the hills around my father’s house. The temperature was mild and light showers on and off: Nice cool weather for a run. There was also a mist over part of the area: not so cool if I’d lose my bearings, but I figured that with ten houses on every hill and everyone knowing everyone, I shouldn’t have too much trouble finding my way back. So off I went heading first to Casanuova di Ama, then turning south along that hill and down into the valley. The well-kept road turned grassy and steeper as I went dashing through raspberry bushes and poison ivy, down slippery gravel where the only grip were knife-sharp edges that hungered to sink their teeth into my flesh.

Arriving at the bottom of the valley I continued along a path that soon turned into a puddle. Thinking it would be nicer not to completely soak my feet I decided to just bypass it and scrambled into the densely forested hillside, sans shirt because of the heat, doing my best not to scratch myself too badly. After a few nice rock-climbing inspired moves I jumped back onto the path, took to a sprint before arriving at a similar puddle — well, pond — ten times the size about a dosen paces in. Back into the woods…

From there it went uphill as I tried to figure out if I was actually on the right hill or the one further over. Gleaning the sun through the thin cloud-cover I saw I was heading pretty much the right way. Sure enough, a little while later I ran through the winery at Castellina de Ama; just across from my father’s house, La Casa.

On my little run, I was reminded of walking home from school with my nieces Klara and Sylvía. Not so much the noise and the smog (of which there is none here), but rather the shot-gun shells strewn around. Not that there are many wild boar hunters in Madison, Wisconsin. No, just that we’d usually pick up rubbish to throw away once we got home.

Today has been great weather; warm with plenty of sunshine. Then about an hour ago I was in the kitchen with my father talking about the nice weather when we heard a roar outside. I reckoned it was a lighting but my father leaned towards a fighter jet (that occasionally dash across the countryside). Indeed, the weather looked beautiful — in all but one direction. To the north was a huge dark cloud that was already starting to sprinkle a few drops on on us.

Funny weather.

This one cloud seems to have passed so I figure I’ll see how my feet feel about going for another run.

Last Friday before classes at Dai-ni Izumo Kita (第二出雲北, e. North-Izumo number two), having measured the width of my skis, I went back to Yama-no-mise?? (山の店??, lit. Mountainering Store ??) and bought climbing skins. These are stuck underneith the skis. The side touching the snow is covered with small hairs (skins were originally made from seal-skin, hence the name) which point backwards. This prevents the ski from sliding backwards, even in a fair amount of incline.

Sunday morning I woke up at 5:20, showered, got ready, hurridly ate some breakfast and then headed out to City hall (市役所, shi-yaku-sho, lit. city-service place) where I was to meet the group at 6:30. It’s a fair walk, even without the gear on one’s back and though I was a little behind schedule leaving the apartment, I managed to be there right on time.

I drove with Mr. Fujita (藤田さん), the store owner, and another one of the hikers (whose name I’ve unfortunately forgotten). We chatted a little bit and I though I did a fair job of understanding and speaking. The other one was a science teacher in a local high-school and was really impressed with me coming from Iceland and knew that we had volcanoes. They found it a bit funny that they were both, at 61 and 62, older than my father.

The weather and scenery were great. The ascent went well as we worked our way up the hills, through sparse woodlands and along ridges. It was fantastic. By no means a difficault hike, but a good work-out.

At the top, everyone quickly donned their best protective gear to insulate themselves against the biting wind, took a few pictures and had a quick bite, waiting for the rest of the group to join us. Then finally the descent. Skins were removed and we headed down. The top bit was certainly by far the best: steep, relatively free of trees and pretty decent snow.

Before heading into the thicker forested parts, we stopped for lunch. I didn’t know we’d be making a second stop and felt sort of silly for having raced to finish my sandwitch during the stop at the top. I was impressed by the amount of stuff some of the other hikers had brought. Portable stoves and water to boil ramen and udon; Mr. Fujita even brought a can of beer which he shared with the group.

The last bit of the hike suffered a bit from the good weather as the powder we’d climbed up had mostly turned to cruft. At the end of the journey, most of us headed to Misasa (三朝; three sun-rises) for a dip in the onsen.

Misasa is apparently a very famous onsen town and has really nice bath-houses. We didn’t go to any of the fancy ones, though. No, this had been a hard-core hike and would be finished with a hard-core bath. No showers and a little pool fitting only six people. It was awesome. This old man came in after us and chatted a bit with my fellow hikers. I really wish I’d have understood it as they seemed very interested in the old man’s story.

Exhausted after a long day, I fell asleep in the car on the way home. They woke me up in Akasaki (赤崎; red peninsula) where we stopped for omiyage (おみやげ; a souvenier). The guys bought seafood, but I just got a box of chocolates which I thought I’d share with my Matsue buddies some time.

Just got back from a climb up Mt. Wakasugi (若杉山). I’m tired, but feel great — it was a fantastic day. Great weather and good company.

Pictures and more to come. I just finished unpacking and am just going to clean up a bit.