⬆️ A look at the van (yet to be named)—& Cheese from Parma!
⬆️ Our previous RV—“the Spaceboat.” A 28′ 1989 Winnebago Itasca Sunflyer gifted to me by my papa. The spaceboat and my papa’s memory both live on in the van 😌
Van life: Venezia > Parma > La Spezia
Amanda and I were lucky enough to get our hands on a Fiat Ducato van. It’s 6 meters long with a 4 cylinder, 6 speed manual turbo diesel motor—it’s amazing! It seemed like an absolutely ridiculous idea at first, but after thinking and discussing—and with the addition of Pinotto—we thought ease of travel and savings on hotels / bnbs would be worth it over the course of a few years. We’ve also seen these vans tend to hold their value. This one has low miles and was left in fantastic condition from the previous owners. We’re hoping when our time comes to an end in Italy we’ll be able to get some money back on re-sell…we shall see.
Sooo…we went big on our first trip, striking out literally hours after signing the paperwork. Having lived and worked from an RV in the past (final medium format photograph above) operating out of the van felt natural. The van is a smaller than our last RV, but it has all the same components (just newer thankfully 😅) so operating it felt both do-able and familiar from the get-go.
We used an app called Park4Night to find places to sleep that were free. This was surprisingly easy, but I will say some of the spots were spectacular, but not easy to maneuver into. Driving a larger car in Italy in tight spaces is a stressful endeavor—particularly on holiday weekends in destination areas, such as the Cinque Terre area we ended up in. In order to get from place to place we had to get comfortable with super tight space tolerances—at speed and moving slowly. We started by driving from the Venice area to Parma, where we stayed for the first night in an overnight space near the city center. Parma was spectacular to walk and the food was absolutely incredible. We are hoping to go back soon to spend some more time there. From Parma, we hopped on the Cisa Pass (SS62), where we stayed overnight in the mountains for one night (cold and windy, but incredibly beautiful). We cooked an amazing meal in the van from groceries we bought in Parma—hand made pasta, aged Parmesan, fresh vegetables etc… We drank Prosecco we saved from our last trip to Prosecco hills—it was all so insanely good—and we are so insanely lucky!
We finished the trip staying a night literally on top of a mountain outside of the port city of La Spezia. The view from the mountain was incredible, but getting the van up there on a dirt road was pretty stressful, lol—we barely fit, but we made it happen. That said, the sunset that night and the view from the open back doors the next morning made it all worth it. We learned a ton from trip 001—see more phone snaps on the IG post embed below. We’re hoping to spend as much time in the van as possible this summer—cameras will be in tow. I might add more to this post later, as this trip was a lot to process on top of a trip I’m on now in the US. I’m looking forward to being back in Italy soon and am currently sitting in the Gainesville, Florida airport. Time to get on the first plane of three for the 20 hour journey back to the FVG—ciao.
Last week we had family in town from the U.S. One of the first places we always want to show people is the Prosecco Hills area. Yes, it’s close to the area we live, and yes, the wine tasting is amazing…but there’s something else about this area—call it a vibe if you will—that is otherworldly. I think the feeling was amplified because we visited just as everything was starting to bloom. The grapevines were all bare, but almost all of them we budding. I’ve always loved Spring and Summer—it feels to me like there are somehow more possibilities during these times. This visit was an opportunity to reflect at the very beginning of Spring—to acknowledge a transition actively taking place and look forward to a time of growth, warmth, and longer days. That said, it was also a good time to reflect on the trials, tribulations, and victories from previous Winter. So many challenges and change to process. But enough time traveling with the mind—wasting energy talking about the future or the past. This short tension point between things being essentially dead and then coming to life is very interesting to me—particularly since it more or less happens at the same time every year—things can be planned around around this moment of transition. Everything transforms within the space of just a few weeks and all the sudden you look up and everything is different. This happens in so many other important domains of life. Sometimes the change you recognize after the fact is good, sometimes not so much. I guess the best thing we can do is be mindful of the change. Not unlike making it a point to watch or at least acknowledge the sun going down or rising daily. These monumental markers of change just seem too easy to overlook when we get lost in schedules. When you really think about it it’s heartbreaking how much we miss. I was going through the zillion photos I have on my phone the other day to free up some space and I ran across an image I captured in 2015. At that time, we were going through a period of transition and difficult decision-making. The image is a post-it note stuck on a desk that says:
Happiness = satisfaction in a circumstance Circumstance is born from change Change is the only constant Happiness = change
I’m not sure if he wrote this or not, but it was in Dr. Will Heywood’s office at Arizona State University. I was getting ready to interview for new jobs and my family was in the midst of coming to terms with my mom’s advanced cancer diagnosis. Will was nice enough to let me use his office as a temporary work space. I found these words to be both helpful and comforting at the time, and now reflecting on the massive change we’ve experienced over the past seven years since I’d say the concept framework has held up pretty well! Obviously change is difficult, but I really like this re-framing.
We forgot what it was like to have an actual winter coming to Northern Italy from Central Florida. I definitely miss the warmer temps and longer days during Winter we enjoyed in Florida (I’m flying there as I write this and was shocked to see temps in the mid 80s on the weather forecast 😱), but I will say the cold brings a stronger appreciation of nice conditions and generally a more acute sense of change when it comes to environment. Just like with anything else, contrast is a generally a good thing. I talk about contrast in pairing typefaces and using typeface variants / case / tracking etc.. constantly when I teach typography. When everything is roughly the same nothing stands out. I’m interested in being more mindful when it comes to identifying those tipping points during a transition. Those little blossoms on the grapevines (which I photographed, but accidentally deleted lol—irony) are a perfect example. I wonder if those moments could be framed as fuel for personal change/improvement—maybe priority re-adjustment, gratitude practice, making time for exercise, reconnecting with an old hobby, or even just taking a few minutes to chill on the front porch every day without an electronic device. Developing new habits can be easy or hard depending on what you’re trying to do. I think all the habits I listed would fall under the hard category, lol. But it’s nice to think of / frame any kind of moment of transition be it daily, seasonal, yearly, etc… as markers/reminders to do the thing(s) you’ve been meaning to do—even if it’s only for a few minutes. I suppose that’s enough rambling for now—ciao.
I’ve been slowly working through processing a few roles of 120 I shot with my Yashica Mat 124G—the roles spanned from hikes we took a few months ago in Northern Italy near the small town of Giais (and one from Cortina!) to my recent visit home to West Texas. The negatives ended up scratched and dirty, but I’m still happy with the results—in particular the quality of the color. I feel like the tone of the images match what it looked like in context very closely. Maybe I’m just idealizing, but who knows. There’s obviously a striking contrast between the Mountains of Italy and the Plains of West Texas, but somehow they all seem to fit. I only have time for a quickpost today, but it feels good to get these up Sending good vibes to all—Ciao.
A few weeks ago Amanda and I visited a small town in the Veneto region of Italy called Arquà Petrarca. Aside from the name of the town being incredibly difficult for me to pronounce with my flat Texan accent, it was a neat experience. The town is named after Francesco Petrarca, who died there in the late 1300s. He was know uniquely as both a deeply religious and creative man. He operated in multiple societal domains at the same time—this was not so common during that time. Poetry and writing were his making outlets of choice—and—apparently he loved the ladies a little too much for total religious piety. We learned that many credit him for sparking the Italian Renaissance with his humanist beliefs / works, which is pretty incredible. There was a calming creative energy that could be felt in the town. It’s situated in an area of volcanic activity, and uniquely shaped peaks can be seen all around. Because of this, there are natural thermal baths. We stayed at a BnB that had access to these and I have to admit it was super relaxing—the Prosecco we brought probably helped with that ( none of that was photographed 😀 ).
I didn’t take many photos, but I was pleased with what I did frame. These were mainly small details that stood out to me as we walked the town—mainly curious splashes of color and aged textures—both natural and human-made. Less vacation photos. I’m certainly no Rick Steves, although I’ll probably look like him when I get old. I suspect you can google the town if you wanted to see some stock travel photos or consult Rick. A-hem…the city was absolutely picturesque, but one thing we did notice was the prevalence of smog in the area. We’ve driven through the Veneto region many times and have noticed this almost every time. We read that the lack of wind combined with the prevalence of industry and agriculture in area creates a haze the often lingers low in the cloud ceiling. Bummer. You can see it in the photos if you look at the sky, although the Walker Evans in me framed it out when possible with the camera.
We’ve adopted a new Italian friend (photo above). His name is Pinotto, Pinot for short. Pinotto is essentially Italian Castello from the Abbott and Castello we know in the U.S. He appears to be a mix between a Corgi and some kind of Terrier. This was his first weekend trip with us. Aside from some pretty moderate separation anxiety and weariness of the car he did amazing. He’s still adjusting with us, but seems to be getting more comfortable every day. It feels strange having a dog again after or last dog, Lexi passed away around 8 months ago. I can’t say I was ready for another, but I suppose I’m adjusting every day along with Pinotto. He’s a very sweet little guy—and photogenic.
Going back to Francesco Petrarca to bring this thing in for a wobbly landing…I like this idea of someone who is able to hold many things at one time. Not so much a specialist, but a generalist in all things spiritual—be it creativity, philosophy, or religion. I’ve never identified as a specialist, although I’ve had several folks tell me I should be for a career in academia. Guess that’s maybe why I decided to pause that for now to practice. I’ve always had diverse interests…and an ability to laser focus on one thing until I become proficient. Learning Italian has by far been the most difficult endeavor I’ve taken on to date—and I love the existential challenge. I’m still terrible at speaking, but I’m not giving up, damn it. Small daily gains, people. Traditionally, when I become proficient in something I’m generally ready to move on to the next thing. And yet, somehow—and at some point—the important things I’ve learned tend to rise to the surface like air bubbles from ocean depths synthesize into strange physical outcomes that somehow feel cogent. I never thought I’d be riding a vintage enduro motorcycle through Italy or working as a Graphic Designer at an Air Force Base…or letterpress printing on a Vandercook SP-15 with Dan Rhatigan—in Italy! I suspect the creative energy I felt in Arcquà Petrarca might have had something to do with this concept of being an enthusiastic creative generalist—trusting and focusing on process, but who knows. That’s enough rambling on a Saturday evening. I hope you enjoy the photos—Ciao.
Things have been super busy around here. January was a tough month, but we did manage to squeeze in a few weekend trips—one to Rome for the new year and one to Florence. We got super lucky with the weather on both trips. Both cities were, as one could expect, amazing. We spent most of our time exploring on foot, during which I snapped off these photos with my Lumix. We didn’t get to spend enough time in either place, but some time was certainly better than none. Dang…walking around with a camera and no plan just never gets old. I could seriously just go out a do it every day. There’s always something new to find. It’ll have to be a quick post for today, but I wanted to share and keep momentum going here. Plus these photos have been mocking me every time I see the folder on my desktop. Now they are free I suppose. I’m currently navigating a major schedule adjustment due to a new job (I’ll probably write more about that in another post) and am still trying to find schedule equilibrium, but I am committed! This short paragraph is a small step in the right direction towards balance—and we’ll end there for today. Ci vediamo.
If you know me, you know I have a weird obsession with helmets—all kinds. But I wanted to take a moment to talk about the helmet that sparked my obsession—The Simpson “Bandit.” There isn’t much info about the original model online. The best info I could find was that the original Bandit had a RX1 model designation and was first released in 1979 by Bill Simpson (Simpson Race Products). The earliest iterations you can see above in the Rutherford and De Angelis photos. I grew up watching sprint car racing (see Brad Doty photo above)—and later participated in open wheel dirt racing in midgets (see photos above). From a style perspective, even as a little kid I thought the looks of the bandit were so unique—particularly the nose piece. Anyone wearing one automatically looked like a badass. So, naturally when I started racing I wanted one. Simpson helmets were always elusive and expensive. I’m sure they still are. It took several years, but I finally got my first bandit when I made the switch from go-karts to midgets. The bandits at that time had of course been updated stylistically, but still retained the same basic shape. They also had nomex (fireproof) lining—when you’re strapped into a racecar that’s basically a moving bomb nomex is a definite safety plus (more on that later).
Another thing about Simpson products that were very memorable to me as a kid is the Simpson catalogue I’d get every year. The catalogue had a range of products, from drag racing parachutes (what Simpson initially got famous for inventing) to helmets, firesuits, seatbelts, etc…But the thing that really stuck out to me was a short article Simpson wrote about his products that included a photo of him intentionally setting himself on fire to demonstrate the quality of his products. I thought this was incredible, and now I’d say from a branding perspective it’s about as good as it gets. My second Simpson helmet after the bandit was a speedway shark (see above). I also bought a high quality firesuit and gloves from Simpson, and don’t ya know it, one night me and my car caught on fire. Long story short, the fuel injection system malfunctioned during a race and was spraying fuel from the top of the motor—unbeknownst to me fuel was getting all over me and the car while we were at speed, but it wasn’t bad because we were pretty much full throttle during the whole heat race, so most of the fuel was still being consumed by the motor. When the race ended and I let off the gas flames burning off from my exhaust (a normal occurence) ignited fuel that the fuel pump was literally spraying from the leak—now that I wasn’t on the throttle the system had more back pressure on it. Our cars used methanol for fuel, meaning the fire was invisible except for impurities. As soon as I let off the throttle all I felt was a wave of intense heat and could see hints of fire all around me—I definitely knew what was going on though. An article I had read about a sprint car driver that got trapped in his burning car flashed through my mind before I could even think about anything else. Other than that I don’t remember much about how I got out of the car. I was able to get out myself pretty fast though—I had a cam lock belt system instead of a latch system and I feel that helped. I rolled out of the car onto the track. I didn’t know if I was still on fire or not, because my suit, gloves, and helmet were all super hot. They hit me and the car with a fire extinguisher and got all the switches turned off in the car really quickly. It was a crazy experience. Even crazier we fixed the car and raced the next day of the show. I put new visor on my helmet because parts of it were melted and coated with extinguisher residue. It was an eerie site, but I didn’t get burned at all—I got super lucky—and the track crew was awesome. I started 21st and finished 3rd in the feature at a tough venue in Oklahoma (then I-44 Speedway)—it was one of my best races ever.
Of course, this is just a for-fun, not for profit illustration project, but drawing this stuff brings back great memories. And it’s fun to celebrate designed artifacts that both work and look awesome. In the small world of sprint car racing I’d say this helmet was trend setting. Bill Simpson had a very interesting trajectory, which basically led to him getting ousted (unfairly IMO) from his own company in the early 2000s. Apparently this unfortunately had something to do with the Death of Dale Earnhardt and his seatbelts failing in his fatal crash. He subsequently started another race product company and then a company that made lightweight football helmets for kids. Apparently dude loved helmets more than me. Simpson is still a super popular brand, but it’s always funny when a company boots the person it is named after and continues on without changing the name—I’m sure that was a very strange feeling for Bill Simpson to see his name being used without even being a part of the company 🤷♂️. That’s America, I guess. He recently passed away, which I hated to see. He certainly made a lasting impact in the racing community, not just in terms of safety innovations, but also style. That’s all for now—ciao.
Amanda and I recently took a weekend trip to Venezia—it’s so amazing (and still unbelievable to us) such an incredible city is less than an hour from our home! When we left Polcenigo, it was bright and sunny, but as we approached the ocean we could see there was a pretty extensive fog bank. Well, we were only there for about 24 hours, and the thick fog was with us the entire time. I’ve never experienced Venezia like this—not crowded, cold, and of course, foggy as hell. It made for very special experience. Exploring an already dreamy city in the fog upped the dreamy-factor 10X. We saw a beautiful tree and lots of holiday lights—but who needs that when nature and the city are already putting on a much better show? Our favorite part of the city is around the Arsenale. There, you will find more green space and quiet residential areas. We happened upon a soccer (Calcio) match in the neighborhood park where we were staying. It just felt good to be out there floating on the edge (that was the sensation, at least) with other people in the fog.
Selections from the daily “I’m Voting in 2020” exercise I created running up to the U.S. presidential election of 2020 💆♂️. The premise was simple. Use the same text to create a new typographic poster every day. You can see toward the end I experimented with multi-image carousels with instagram and the final image, which changed the text to end the series. A bit apocalyptic, you say? I’d agree.
course changes, platform changes, etc…
I was going through my files to back up the other day and I stumbled upon this project. It’s crazy—even though I spent a lot of time on this over the course of several months, the images had sort of been erased from my memory. I’ve always naturally been drawn toward process-orientated projects that are more endurance-based than outcome focused. Obviously, the 2020 election was a very stressful time for most people in the United States (and world for that matter). So much stress and fatigue had been building up since the 2016 election, the all-out, year+ shit-show battle leading up to the election (coupled with a global pandemic) was too much to handle. Making sense of it all felt impossible. This continues to be the case, as reverberations from 2016-2020 politics in America are still being—and will be—felt from now on. We have entered a new space of uncertainty in so many domains. That said, some of these spaces were badly in need of change—maybe one of the only silver linings here. So, what did I do? Well, I tried to focus on the only thing I knew I could actually control—voting. I applied to work the election in my community (which I did—super stressful, but I worked with amazing people) and I created a one sentence “I’m Voting in 2020” mantra. I used my design and typography skills to practice this mantra as a method to communicate resilience, focus, and resolve. I had so much nervous energy this is the only way I knew to vent it. I did this over the course of 3-4 months. I ended up creating around 50 images total. The original idea was to share daily on instagram, which I did. I have since taken these, and well, everything else I had up at the time down. Why? I’ve grappled with this on the blog many times…and the blog was what I elected to put my time into instead of instagram. I’m back on instagram, but using it very differently these days. All of the posts are very fast to make and only serve what I’m doing here. Why spend a ton of time on something just for instagram when it is consumed in one second and then relegated to the digital waste heap of sadness that is, instagram. P.S, this is fine, if that is the mentality. Any sort of emotional attachment to content is a recipe for sadness—and I’m a pretty emotional guy, lol. The media flood I was willingly a part of during the election exhausted me to the point of total burnout. I knew there would be a media war and consciously joined the content battle—this project was my way of doing that—I think in many ways it undermined the mantra aspects of what I was trying to do. Honestly, I think it ended up creating more stress than it relieved! It’s only now I can look back and see some value in what I did—both as an exercise in focus and as an exercise in design. Some of those images are pretty damn nice if I do say so myself! It took making the same thing over and over again to get into that truly experimental space, though. It was personal. It was emotional. It was too damn much. I decided I would stop getting political on instagram. Its a fickle platform—it’s a screaming match. I’m done with that. I put my thoughts here. Anything that is even slightly political now has its home here. It’s a place where you can actually learn something real about who I am if you take the time to look. I think maybe at one time instagram or facebook (or other platforms) were that, but not anymore. But, would I do over again if I had the chance—yeah, I would. Just some thoughts on a Tuesday. —ciao
So—I’m a mediocre formula one fan, but it was without a doubt an amazing season. The top two drivers, Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen went into the last race tied in points. I had a chance to watch the final race of the season and was super disappointed with the outcome. Not because one driver or another won (I’m a Ricciardo fan), but because how inconsistent officiating interfered with performances on the track, and ultimately, impacted the outcome of the race.
99% of the race was honestly pretty dull. There was a little excitement at the start, but the only real excitement after that was when Checo Perez (the other Red Bull team car) was able to strategically battle with Hamilton for a few laps, allowing Verstappen to catch them. That said, after Hamilton passed Checo he was able to pull away from Verstappen again. This event ultimately did not have an significant impact on the race outcome.
The part of the race that truly bothered me was after the caution came out for Latifi’s crash. By this time, Hamilton was around 11-12 seconds ahead of Verstappen. During this process, Hamilton lapped a handful of cars—putting them between himself and Verstappen—meaning Verstappen was unable to lap these cars before the caution came out. From my understanding, the race steward, Michael Masi initially announced they were not going to allow the lapped cars to regain their position on the lead lap, meaning lapped cars would stay between Hamilton and Verstappen for the final restart. However, at the last second, the race steward decided to let the only the lapped cars between Hamilton and Verstappen back onto the lead lap, meaning they were able to pass Hamilton to finish on the lead lap of the race. The rest of the drivers (my guy included) were not allowed to get back on the lead lap. This put Verstappen directly behind Hamilton, creating a one lap shoot out to finish the race. While this makes for great television, the decision- making behind this kind of move by the race steward was incredibly problematic.
Why it was objectively unethical: Okay, so here’s why what the race steward did was super effed-up. It goes without saying late cautions always make things more spicy when it comes to racing. Both teams in the championship hunt were making in the moment strategic decisions based off the feedback they were getting from race control. When the caution came out and the steward indicated that lapped cars would be kept between Hamilton and Verstappen that was a major inflection point for both teams. For Mercedes (Hamilton’s team) the belief was that Hamilton could hold off Verstappen for a lap on old tires given they would have a handful of lapped cars separating them. Why risk a problem in the pits when it wouldn’t be necessary? Why risk letting Verstappen get ahead—because if Mercedes would have stopped for tires Red Bull would have obviously stayed out, putting Verstappen ahead of Hamilton. For Red Bull (Verstappen’s team) they had absolutely nothing to lose and more or less got a free pit stop for fresh tires since the course was under caution and they knew Verstappen needed a miracle (and more or less voiced that on the radio) to get around all the lapped cars in time. Of course, both teams were screaming at the steward on the radio in real time—why this is allowed I have no idea. Red Bull had nothing to lose by lobbying the race director to flip flop on his decision knowing Mercedes was out there on worn out tires—politics 101—but again, both teams reacted based off the initial feedback from the director about how the restart would be handled… And who knows how Mercedes was arguing the opposite to influence the initial call by race control? That ultimately doesn’t matter. What I’m objectively critiquing here is the initial call that went out about how lapped cars would be handled for all of the teams. This is the only actionable decision making information the race teams had at this time. Whether Masi made the right call on the lappers initially is irrelevant—that has more to do with his understanding of the rules and is a separate conversation that needs to happen. Masi made a call as a race manager and teams reacted accordingly. Then he changed the call at the last second. That’s wrong.
So, when at the last second the race steward unexpectedly let only selected lap cars through (a-hem…again, not legal based on my understanding) the strategy for one team was totally undermined. This effectively put the two fastest cars head to head in literally the last seconds before the green flag, but one was on fresh soft tires and the other was on worn out hard tires. I’m sorry, but that shit just ain’t right. I humbly ask you here to remove fandom from the equation and look at the situation objectively.
Of course, the Mercedes team has protested and blah blah blah and the rest will be history—and nothing can change the outcome and what we saw go down in real time. I guess one thing that really bothers me about this is how blatantly unethical it was. A race steward cannot flip-flop on a critical decision in real time because teams have already made race-determining decisions based off the original feedback given. You can’t walk that back without screwing someone in a strategic game. Something that really stuck in my craw as a former small-time dirt track racer was when the steward said “that’s motor car racing” to the Mercedes principal after the race. It’s hard for me to believe this race steward has ever been a race driver—I could be wrong, though—couldn’t find that info online. We say “that’s a racing incident” or “that’s racing” in the U.S.—And that exclusively refers to shit that happens on track between drivers. I’ve been involved in many “racing incidents”—most of them end with broken equipment and pissed off people. We saw “racing incidents” between these two drivers on track all year that race control did weigh on on—after the fact. This obviously also impacted the outcome of this championship, but in those instances we all saw what went down on track before race control did anything to impact points outcomes. Race control also had the benefit of replay to reflect on their decision to insure it was correct. What happened at the end of this race was pre-meditated meddling. That is not “motor car racing”— that is unethical race management by the steward (I’m not going to go as far as using the the C word here, but yeah pretty much). This is the worst possible scenario for drivers because it’s demoralizing and ultimately undermines their ability to truly own their victories, which is what they get paid the big bucks to do.
Again, this is just stupid racing and there’s so much else going on in the world that’s more important, but I had to exercise this in writing this because it kept popping into my head over and over again and I want it out. I think it’s probably because it’s a metaphor for so many other injustices in our world when unqualified or unethical people are put into positions of power—or are influenced politically by other power entities. Ethics and fairness seem to go out the window. If you’re going to ask the drivers put their lives on the line to put on a show, respect the race (even if the outcome isn’t as sexy as it could be for the fans or tv ratings), be steady with decisions, and stay the eff out of the way. I’ve been seeing a lot of stuff about this driver or that driver getting robbed (most of them live in Monaco and earn lots of money—I think they’ll be ok), but even though this outcome was stimulating it was the fans that ultimately got robbed. F1 isn’t the WWE. Stuff like this does nothing but undermine the integrity of the sport and insult the drivers in my humble opinion.
Since F1 dropped the ball on this, I’d say let’s put Hamilton and Verstappen in a 5 lap head to head shootout at the Chili Bowl Nationals to decide it once and for all, but that’s just me.
all the powerful and vibrant experiences all the time…
Yes, we at the pizza—and yes, it was that good. And yes, we took photos of the pizza, but you won’t find any of them here. Truth is, every flavor we experienced in Campania was as strong and vibrant as the incredible food. That said, I’d say not all the flavors we experienced were particularly appetizing, but strong and vibrant—absolutely!
Since I posted the photos of Napoli first I’ll start there. Napoli might be the most unique city I’ve ever visited. Everything about it is in your face. Everything is moving fast all the time. And if you stop on the street for any amount of time you’re going to be in someone’s way … and they’re going to let you know about it. Not it a mean way, just in a matter-of-fact GTF out of my way hand gesture, yell, or horn beep. I’ve never seen scooters ridden the way I’ve seen them ridden in Napoli. They make scooter riders in Roma look tame. Pitch dark, 70 KMH down wet, slippery cobble stone streets blowing blind intersections without much more than a beep on the horn for warning. Cars parked on on the sidewalks so there’s nowhere to walk but in the narrow streets—you get the idea. In our exploration of the city we found very few places to step back and take things in. That’s tough because there is just so damn much to look at. The city screams at you from every direction. I underestimated what it would be like until we flew over it on the way in. Once I saw the scale and density of the place I knew we were in for an experience. My Italian is nowhere near where it should be after living in Italy for almost a year, but I was grateful for the language skills I did have—and even more grateful for Amanda’s superior skills—we worked well as a team to communicate and make our way around the city. Napoli is full of vibrant colors, personalities, street art, etc…but there’s also a lot of darkness that can be felt there. Even the stones the roads and many of the building are made of are dark in color—I suspect this is because of the volcanic activity in the area, but I’d need to confirm that. There was a strong Memento Mori vibe and we got the feeling that people were ok with living fast and dangerously. It was both attractive and exhausting at the same time—like a candle burning at both ends.
Not surprisingly, those strong vibes carried over into Pompeii ruins. This was an absolutely incredible experience that far surpassed both mine and Amanda’s expectations. We took a 45-minute Circumvesuviana train from Napoli to the site of the ruins—this was efficient, but super crowded. The scale of the city and how well it was preserved was unbelievable. So much so, that I found it very easy to imagine having lived there…and while it’s not the same at all I think the ongoing global pandemic made what happened there feel somehow more plausible and real. The last image in the photo layout is a view of Pompeii with Vesuvius (Vesuvio) looming in the background. It’s so easy to imagine a thriving city, especially after having just come from Napoli, where the specter of Vesuvio is always there on the horizon. Amanda and I were hypothesizing maybe that’s where the live fast and dangerously vibes we felt were coming from? Or maybe it was just Vesuvio projecting that on to us? Either way, the trip was a shocking contrast to our day to day here in the coutryside north of Venice, although we more or less have our own man-made Vesuvio here with the NATO airbase nearby. Bring out the Memento Mori, people.
I was hoping to post these earlier, but I’m glad I finally got the opportunity to process the photos and reflect a bit on our experiences in Campania. I hope we get to go back soon—there is so much more we want to explore. That’s all for now—Ciao.
