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Liberamente nel Campo di Siena / Ogni vergogna deposta, s’affisse.
(Freely upon the Campo of Siena / All shame being laid aside, he placed himself.)
-Dante, Purgatory, XI 134-135

Having been born in Louisville, home of the celebrated Kentucky Derby, I was pretty keen to hear about another famed horse race in Italy, the Palio di Siena. This race is generally held twice annually, on July 2 and August 16, and takes place in the town’s main square, the Piazza del Campo. A dirt track is laid out on the ground, bleachers are thrown up and the town takes a day off to carouse and carry on a centuries-old tradition.

Clockwise: aubergine growing in the garden; Barbialla Nuova’s lake; a spider makes its home amidst the blackberry brambles; drawing on the car’s dusty rear window for kids by kids

Over the last couple weeks while WWOOFing, I weeded a pumpkin patch, staked tomatoes, cleaned and revitalized a garden bed, created and turned compost piles, sanded and painted wood beams, and helped measure and construct a pergola. All these were activities I’d never done before. They were only the tip of the iceberg in what I learned while in Tuscany.

Two Fridays ago around 5 pm (11 am EST), I noticed a slew of comments on my latest blog post on hiking the Männlichen summit. Not that I haven’t been getting occasional comments all along, but the majority are from people I know personally, and the spike in external commentators was unusual. I scratched my head over what could be inspiring the bump in traffic, then scrutinized my blog stats to find that WordPress.com was sending referrals my way faster than a time-strapped doctor. Sure enough, when I checked the WordPress landing page, there I was, featured in the top-right corner under “Freshly Pressed” blogs.

My dad has quite a lot of handyman experience (he has built swimming pools, renovated houses, fixes cars) but with the recalcitrance and aversion of children to anything their parents do, I never really bothered paying much attention, and so my brother was the one who learned the ins ands outs of fixing a washing machine. Just as I was ruing my inability to solder stuff though, Ken announced that I’d be helping him build a pergola, a porch-like extension to the Vallibonci house without the floor. Brilliant, now we’re cooking with power tools!

The clock inside the Florence Duomo runs counterclockwise and starts its days at sunset (it is 4-6 hours fast). This is because when the clock was designed in the 1400s, sunset was the point at which the city gates were closed and all residents had to be inside the city walls.

It was the worst of times possible to visit Florence.

August 15 is the height of ferragosto, or summer holiday season in Italy. It also marks the Feast of the Assumption, and is a public holiday in most Catholic countries. The word comes from Latin for feriae Augusti (August vacations), and any proper Italian worth their salt jets to a beach (or possibly mountain) resort and spends the month surrounded by sand and surf. The cities are vacated and left for the hordes of tourists who descend upon Rome, Florence and Venice, wondering why the storefronts are dark and empty. To be fair, things are a lot better now than they were a few decades ago, when Italian news channels would televise shots of hapless tourists wandering outside closed museums, and elderly residents struggling to find an open pharmacy or bakery to buy a loaf of bread. These days, local authorities have mandated that a certain number of businesses need to stay open, so that basic needs can be supplied. Still, my 36 hours in Florence were one disappointment after another, as almost all the independent retailers not geared towards tourists displayed the ubiquitous “chiuso per ferie” (closed for holiday) sign. Did I mention that it also rained all day?

The bucket of hot water burbled gently above a gas burner, just behind a weathered wood chopping block. Jutting out from the edge, the ax rose with elegant, curved lines, primeval and practical in function. The preparations were set; today, a living being was going to die.

There had originally been two turkeys at Barbialla Nuova, but the first one had fallen victim to a fox the night before it was slated for slaughter. The second turkey had been given a temporary reprieve because she had just laid a bunch of eggs. Though there was no male turkey in the vicinity and the eggs were unfertilized, Ken kindly snuck a few fertilized chicken eggs into the nest so that the turkey could see a brood of chicks come to fruition. Alas, just as the eggs were about to hatch, the turkey inadvertently crushed the emerging chicks and killed them. And so, the sole remaining turkey on the farm was getting a bit “clucky,” restless and lonely without her friend, and was now due to be given “the chop.”

A falcon catches a lure mid-air.

After a 7 hour battle for seating on a hot, overbooked train, I stepped off the platform in San Miniato and took a good look around. This was Italy’s famed Tuscany, the stuff that Hollywood movies and expat marriage dreams are made of. All was quiet, and I paused uncertainly as I looked at the empty train station waiting room. If I were a WWOOF host, where would I be, I thought to myself. My worries were allayed however, when I spotted a woman waiting around the corner. She approached me with a smile and said, “Hi, are you Crystal? I’m Amy, nice to meet you, I’m glad that you made it!”

In case you’ve been living inside a subway tunnel, the internet has been abuzz this summer with the Double Rainbow guy, who rose to fame after his YouTube video freak-out at seeing a double rainbow went viral. You can cringe, laugh and cry with him as he goes to crazy town, shouting “OH MY GOD,” “WHOAAAA” and “What does it MEAN?!?” on camera.

In this interview with Jimmy Kimmel, Double Rainbow Dude “Bear” Vasquez claims not to have been on any drugs or other mind altering substances in this video (but not others). As it turns out, he runs a farm in Yosemite, and when Kimmel asks “And how do you get women to come up there?” Vasquez replies, “Um, a lot of them come through WWOOF, that’s Worldwide Organization of Organic Farms…actually today there’s seven European girls that are staying at my house right now.”

Clockwise: the Aare River meanders through Bern; the flag of the Bern canton features a bear; chess players pondering in the park; the intricate astronomical dial of Bern’s largest clocktower displays the day of the week, day of the month, sunrise, sunset and zodiac signs

Bern is a city of about 350,000 people, and as the capital of Switzerland, is both the physical and legislative center of the nation. A train transfer is required here to get from Zurich to Interlaken, so we stopped and spent the day wandering Bern’s historic district, which happens to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

View from Männlichen into the Grindelwald valley

In German, the word for hiking is wandern, and can be expanded to mean anything from migrating, journeying and wandering. And indeed, you can do quite a lot of hiking in Switzerland simply by wandering from signpost to signpost on the country’s 50,000 km of marked trails. Even the smallest mountain outposts are easily found via an intricate system of wanderwege routes (marked by yellow signs) found between lakes, valleys and towns, higher altitude bergwege mountain paths (marked by white-red-white blazes), and rugged alpine routen trails (marked by white & blue blazes) that can include steep drop-offs and sections with cables or handholds.