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We pass graffiti every day without a second thought. A lot is just territorial or gossip, but some is quite artistic. Just because it’s ordinary and every day doesn’t mean it’s not worth photographing! This was taken in Lille, France.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Exercise.” I’m entry number 130.
My entry for this weeks PhotoFriday is this image of a Police exercise in Warsaw, Poland.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Old Fashioned.” I’m entry number 248.
I thought I’d go for the double meaning again for this weeks PhotoFriday challenge, “Awful!” In the most common usage it means extremely bad. The weather in the above shot, taken on a December trip to Iceland, was undoubtedly awful.
However, the original meaning of the word was “full of awe” (we tend to use “awesome” these days1). In this sense, geysirs shooting water high into the sky was an awful sight.
The thumbnail to the left (click to zoom in) was my second choice of picture. The PT Cruiser was a truly awful car.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Flight.” I’m entry number 150.
The Cinque Terre — a series of small, connected coastal villages — has been on my, admittedly rather long, list of places to visit for some time, but when I first flew out to Tuscany I didn’t quite know how achievable it would be. Sure, Google Maps said that it would be a two hour drive from the villa, but I wasn’t completely sure that I was using the right address and I have been late several times when relying on directions cribbed from the Internet.
Having been there nearly a week and roughly established the time required to get to Pisa, more or less the half-way stage to the Cinque Terre, I decided that I might as well try to get there.
By the time I got past Pisa I was questioning my sanity. I’d had to get up early which is something that I never consider to be a good start to a day. I’d have been willing to overlook that had it not been raining. Heavily. It was the kind of rain where the water bounces from the bonnet and the wipers running at full speed still result in a blurred windscreen and visibility barely beyond the front of the car1.
Still, having made it that far I decided to continue.
As I approached La Spezia — the last big town before the five villages — it cleared up and when I got to the first village, Riomaggiore, the clouds had lifted slightly and there was even some blue sky. How lucky could I be?
Not lucky enough! When I pulled off the highway I found that the car park was full. What to do next? Head back to La Spezia and get the train or continue on to Manarola hoping that the car park was less full?
I decided on the latter. Taking the turn off the SP270 I was surprised to see plenty of parking by the side of the road. At the bottom of the hill was a car park which is where I stopped.
The route down to the water-front was further than I was expecting. First I passed a church which was perched over a great view. The path continues, looking worryingly residential for a while. Am I going the right way? (Given the lack of other options I assume so.)
I round a corner and a long stream of cafes and restaurants starts, pausing only temporarily for a slightly raised square. Many of these places have greeters encouraging passers-by in, and most have pictures of the food on the menu — always a bad sign in my book. I’m pretty hungry by this point and am forced to stop in one for a quick sandwich, which the waitress somehow manages to drop in my drink!
By the time I finish my latte the sun is out properly and it’s getting comfortably hot. I decide that I’ve come all this way so I will, at the very least, walk along to the next village. There are no obvious signs but there’s only one path along the coast so I guess it must be that one.
It is. And it’s beautiful. Before long I can see back to Manarola, and from this distance I can’t see the pushy waiters and the postcard stands. The walk is along a decent path and is fairly flat, which means that I can concentrate on the views rather than my breathing.
That is right until the final approach to the next village, which I now discover is called Corniglia. Just past the train station2 there are approximately a million steps heading up a steep hillside.
By the time I get to the top I am desperately in need of an ice-cream. Perhaps it’s just the locals way of keeping the good stuff for the worthy, but the gelato here looks much better than that in Manarola.
I sit and relax, looking out over the sea, admiring the view and thinking how happy I am that I made it here. True, it was a long drive and I only managed to quickly have a look around two of the five villages but it was worth it. I’d happily come back and try to give the area the time in deserves.
Walled cities are a Tuscan specialty. I’d been to a few in the last couple of weeks and, on paper, Arezzo looked to be another gem in the making.
However shortly after arriving things did not look quite so promising. Although an old city, much of what you can see on first entering the city is dull, generic office buildings, including one company amusingly called “multiass.”
Inside the city walls things immediately get… confusing. I walk down a street. To my right is a church, ahead are a mess of signs pointing in every direction, each one presumably a place of interest. With no guide book on the city I had no real idea what any of them were and arbitrarily picked “right.”
To cut a long story short(er), this was almost certainly not the best choice. After a mostly fruitless search for interesting sights, I looped back and accidentally found the Duomo. The inside was as lavishly decorated as you might expect for a Catholic church. In one cubby-hole1 a service was being taken. Maybe I should have gone and got a panini earlier as the wafers and wine seemed mighty tempting at this point.
Immediately behind the church is Il Prato, a large park by the Medici Fortress and with views over the neighbouring area. I’m not sure of its significance, but there was a huge cemetery visible also.
My opinion of the place having rapidly changed from ambivalence to enthusiasm, I decided to stay a little longer. Unfortunately this required relocating the car from it’s temporary home near the multiass. To get back to the car I tracked the most direct route back, which included wandering through Piazza Grand, apparently the most beautiful square in the city.
Locating another parking space could have been easier. Without going into detail about any of the almost certainly illegal manoeuvres made, I will say that the signage in Arezzo is somewhat lacking. With plenty of one way systems and areas off limits to non-residents, it’s not a city to tackle without a map.
Still, having found somewhere to park near Il Prato, I failed to find anywhere decent looking to eat despite the area being well renowned for its cuisine.
Still, I’m pleased that I made it to Arezzo. Despite my initial misgivings, it is most certainly a city worth visiting. But next time I’ll know to turn left.