July 21: Italia - The Alps

In the North West of Italy the countryside changes. The climate is cooler. The burning heat of the South, the golden hills of Tuscany, the generous curves and smiles of Napolitana girls, the dusty streets of Lazio are all distant dreams. One thing that has amazed me on this bus trip around Italy has been the variety of landscape that a single country can produce. Despite the tedious hours spent looking out of a window at the back of a bus for the last two weeks, there has been something so hypnotic about watching the countryside mellow and change around me. Driving through the North West there were a few places I wanted to see but looks as if I will have to wait for another day; Turin/Torino was one city I had hoped to visit - it will have to be some other time.

The further north the bus drives, on my way back to UK, the roads sink deeper into mountain valleys. Sharp, jagged points soar upwards to puncture the thin air. The slopes are covered in green velvet and look amazing. Just how I imagined Switzerland or Austria to look. Bright sunshine, fast flowing alpine rivers, small sloping villages dotted here and there, scattered houses either side of the water. Pale blue skies furring up with fluffy white clouds. The flat, valley floor contracting then spreading wide. Rivers wriggle through, and run down the boot of Italy. Surging road tunnels, dimly lit with flashing orange lights, burrow through the most gigantic mountains you will ever see, and somehow pop out the other side without collapsing. Italy keeps on amazing me.

Just over the border, just over the Alps is Mount Blanc. Right on the edge. I spent an afternoon at a place called Chamonix. With some new friends I have made on my travels, we decided to take a cable car up the north face of Mount Blanc. Unbelievable. At the top of the ride, the mountain ranges raged on forever into their own glacier palaces of secret Shangri-La's and the receeding rubble of last year's fall. Being this close to a mountain summit shapes how you feel - utterly priviledged and utterly insignificant at the same time. Mountains can do this to you. At the bottom of one slope, and down a Jacob's Ladder of steep steps appeared an entrance into a frozen grotto, a tunnel carved into a solid wall of ice. Inside the slippery tunnels, that crawled into the belly of Mount Blanc the melting ice was lit up with changing shades of neon lights. Mount Blanc was something I hadn't planned on seeing but was so glad that I did.

Driving on, the experience of my mountain adventure remained. I thought of a friend of mine in Australia - a Mauritian pirate - who harbours a dream to walk the Himalayas. What is it about travel that is so addictive? Is it because travel allows you to learn more about yourself, about your own world and the world you live in? Is it the freedom in seeing places for the first time with new eyes? Or is the addiction in the in-flight meals? Who cares. Let's make hay while the sun's out. Let's have fun with this body while we can and enjoy aiming for all those dreams... the Andes, Mount Atlas, Machu Picchu, the snows of Kilaminjaro, the beaches of Mozambique, the girls of Montego Bay... Just when you think you've got the travel bug out of your system, something new comes along and you begin to stir again. I want more.