26-Sept

Twelve days ago, I landed in Fiumicino, Italy alone, with the only plan over the next few months of being with someone I knew being a fraternal visit for a few days (which by the way was quite lovely -- thanks guys!). However, within an hour of landing I had made a new friend with which I spent the better part of nine of those days. A couple hours back, I put her on a train out of Pistoia, headed for a train out of Florence, headed for a flight back out of Rome. Her sources had let her know that Interpol was catching up with her. Kidding, but her sporadic nomadic self -- the same one that attracted her to my epic walk -- led her to jump on an idea she had been bouncing around. Even though we didn't do much actual walking,* we had fun. However, I continue to find common souls around me that understand that the best option, to quote my fabulous Roman host Vita, is to "always choose what's best for you." There is a good chance we will meet again, for this is what happens with travelers. As an example, I point to last night. Our Pistoian host, Lorenzo, picked up a couchsurfer he had met in Berlin: a Japanese woman who had been living in New York for a while, but was visiting in Florence (about 30 minutes away) for a couple days. The four of us, plus some of Lorenzo's friends, explored the grounds of abandoned psychiatric hospital, took in some good and cheap food, and had a good time hanging out until we had to put Shoko back on a train to Florence. He will visit her in Japan for a week later this year. Now I know someone who lives near Tokyo.

Speaking of Lorenzo, it's hard to describe the energetic comedy power he is. For a taste, look at https://www.facebook.com/amicopollo. He made a page for his rubber chicken complete with with driving/flying chicken videos.
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* My epic walk has become somewhat of a joke. As you know, I've already taken a bus to Rome and a train to Florence. Add onto that the fact that my brother picked me up from Florence and eventually -- with some resistance from me -- my sister-in-law dropped me off in Pistoia. Lorenzo jokingly staged a protest that the only reason he accepted my couch request was because this cool circus guy was walking everywhere and I showed up a fake. It went so far that this morning, as an infant was visiting us, Lorenzo pointed to the baby and said, "Look! It's like Greg: He's trying to walk but just can't seem to."

Well, I showed him. Danielle and I walked straight up the mountain this morning in search of elves.** While we didn't get where we had intended, we still made it nearly 3000' up and eight miles in before turning around. Never mind the fact that tomorrow I take the train to Lucca and then walk 18 miles to Viareggio. A second night in Pistoia, due to elf hunting, creates a delay in my scheduled nightly stops and I need to make it to the beach tomorrow night.
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**Yes, elf hunting. Last night we caught wind of the local lore of a group of nearby communities creating the Valley of the Elves. 150 people in small communes, not gypsies per se, as they come into town to sell their homemade wares and produce. Apparently some of their villages retained the Italian names while others have adopted names from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. We were on a journey to spend the night in one of the villages near San Pellegrino, but decided to be content with our 3000' climb and turned around. Not sure why it's the Valley of the Elves if they live so gosh darn high!
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Tonight we went to a Pistoian restaurant that has been relatively unchanged since the 1970s. The owner creates the daily menu with a typewriter and then carbon copies two menus before typing out the next set. A table sits in the corner...empty. Lorenzo explains to me that it is the Table of Widows. Six chairs always reserved in the event that the widows wish to come to dinner (or lunch). The prices are cheaper than others, especially in the winter, so the local youth tend to flock her sometimes. This restaurant is not known for being busy and the owner likes it this way (so much so that there are no signs, the curtains are closed, and grandma sometimes sits outside in her rocker scowling at the passerby). However, in the midst of the busy season, Lorenzo once called to make a reservation for a table of five. This was a new practice for both Lorenzo and the owner, and the owner, not knowing how to handle this, hung up on him.
Also to note is the decor. The people love this place, frozen in time. A poster of two basset hound puppies hangs in the corner: there since opening. At one point, the owner repainted the walls and the dog picture was taken down, possibly permanently. A petition was circulated to have the dogs reinstalled immediately.