The first such confirmation came in good taste with enjoying one of the best late macchiatos we had since some time, while observing the life around us filling up the square. The beige facades take in beautifully the warm sun light and reflect it into a calm buzz.

Cortona was a place to stay and take a rest after village hoping around in Tuscany for a while already. We took it easy and walked relaxed through the labyrinths of streets, up and down, down and up, greeting the many street cats along the way. We soon start dreaming about how it is to live here. From above the town we enjoyed beautiful views over the valley ending towards Lake Trasimene.

As peaceful as this scenery looks at sunset, as brutal it was some 2.200 years ago, for it was here where Hannibal, having marched his armies and elephants over the Alps, executed the greatest military ambush in recorded history during the Second Punic War against the Romans. To effectively swallow and destroy in an ambush an entire large army is still to this day an unique occurrence.

Before any of this, Cortona was built after the great biblical flood by one of Noah’s son according to legend. More probably though, it was founded by Umbri and later developed by Etruscans. Hellenistic and Roman period followed, then Goths, then it was a city-state which was ultimately bought by the Medici Family, possible reason why it still is the main arts and culture centre of the area.

Nowadays, the local theatre bears the name of Renaissance painter Luca Signorelli, while the museum of the Etruscan Academy and of the city of Cortona, alongside an impressive introduction to Etruscan heritage, holds some of his works, like the ‘Virgin and Child with Sts Michael, Vincent of Saragozza, Margaret of Cortona and Mark’ fresco.

Cortona is also home to the Circle of Life gallery of contemporary sculptor Andrea Roggi and part of his works, bearing the Tree of Life as leitmotif, are to be found dotting many squares of the Tuscan towns.

Nearby Cortona, for some little wandering through the forest, we went to and around Le Celle, where a 13th century Franciscan convent is located. Being autumn at the end of a pretty dry summer, there was no waterfall under the bridge. Still got a nice view though!

Last day in Cortona we got lost and found some more on its alleys. One last view from above gave us the direction for the next destinations – Monte Amiata, with the promise of some thermal activity and some deeper exploration of Tuscany.

So I would not get lost in the intricate arrangement of imposing palaces, cathedrals and churches, wide squares and high-rise houses, all connected by a maze-like network of streets and alleys, all I had to do was follow a yellow umbrella.

The yellow umbrella eventually led me to the main cathedral, with its contrasting architecture – an effect of different artists composing it – brown brick laid beside luxurious dark green and white marble, with golden mosaic works on top. The sight of this structure while seemingly floating in fog reminds of a fantasy world,  the likes of a beloved little video game called Monument Valley (check it out!).

Siena is a wealthy and culturally flourishing city of Tuscany. While this is shown in cuisine and art, it is most visible during the annual horse race (Palio), takin place in the main square, in which different wards of the city compete with each other. The event leads to quite the stir in the community and the winner is not always decided during the race itself, as bribes and betrayals of ones hiring ward are commonly accepted features of the ‘spectacle’. While such details can fascinate, others can put all this event in a dark light: since 1970, more than 50 horses died due to injuries – a direct result of the brutality of the race.

Away from the main square I kept on following the yellow umbrella on the hill opposite, from where the panorama offers quite the sight.

Strolling through the tiny streets and arched hallways – a little church here, a fountain there – there was not much else I was curious about anymore in Siena, but to see…

the face of the yellow umbrella girl.

Turns out it was Fritzi all along and I took her with me on our next adventure…

First stop: San Gimignano, famous for saffron and its Romanesque and Gothic medieval architecture, of which stand out about a dozen tower houses.

So the story is this: early in the thirteenth century, shortly after becoming independent and thriving economically, the rise of competing wealthy families resulted in the construction of whose is taller tower houses, so much so that towards coming out of the Medieval times, there were about 70 such structures, up to 70 meters in height. The “contest” ended legally, when the local council ordered that no house shall be taller than 54 meters, the height the tower of the Palazzo Comunale, seat of the local council. Today only a few of these houses remain, enough for catching the attention of M.C. Escher, who in 1923 made a woodcut of the town.

First on the list – Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, cleaner on it’s postcard/instagram side.

Though Uffizi Gallery was closed, we could still make a tour of the landmarks and enjoy pieces of Renaissance art, take in the architecture and monuments and even get around the courtyard of Palazzo Vecchio after being stunned by the sculptures of Loggia dei Lanzi, on the side of Piazza della Signoria.

After a sunset at Ponte Vecchio we had just enough time before nightfall to explore a tiny bit more of (street)art, take a snap at Jamie Marie Lazzara‘s studio, where she builds and restores violins and other instruments. Having checked Pisa and Florence off our Tuscany list (as much as the pandemic allowed), it was now time for the country-side.

A bridge or two over Arno. A walk where Galileo Galilei walked and experimented. A walk on main streets, another on side-streets, like via della Nunziatina. A stop at Panificio Bolognese for some tasty yum-yum cantuccini. Then Piazza dei Cavalieri. Then leaning with the leaning tower. Then moving on.

Remember Eurovision? The inspiration for such a thing started with the music festival hosted now in the Ariston Theatre in Sanremo. We move on. The only things making up for all this zeitgeist of now wishing for the past are the spectacular meetings between the Maritime Alps and the Mediterranean Sea. Checking out some small fishing villages, like Boccadasse and Nervi. We move on.

Then Portofino. Portofino and yachts. Actually more like yachts and Portofino. We move on.

We got our van. We played. Pauli saw his first snow. We looked back with melancholia on memories and forward with excitement at what might lay ahead. The winter is long in Hamburg, so there was plenty of that.

It then felt like spring could not have arrived sooner, but during all that time there were still things to recover from and work to be done on the van. Plus, corona was just around the corner into becoming the patron of this year, so we stretched our legs at sunsets by the Baltic and on little walks around Stade and small villages in Altes Land, close to Hamburg.

We received the visits of good ol’ friends for several Mondays, we made it loud and clear that refugees are welcomed here any day of the week.

No borders, no nations! Stop deportations!

We marched with Greta on a Friday, we went for a few last parties when we still had weekends out, then worked and worked for a video installation and a project on identity and at the end of it all, against all the pandemic, we still ventured out on the road. A last sunset in Hamburg and we were off without much planning ahead. General direction: South.

A bit of Berlin, a bit of Leipzig, then a short stop in Lautrec, home of blue, pink garlic and a warm friend.

Funny what you can get used to. At the time we were still looking to avoid places where mandatory masks are compulsory in public spaces, and as we were still looking for the last of the summer in August, and as we were already missing a lot of friends in Portugal, we made a run for it in one night. We landed straight at Guincho for sunrise.

We were still somehow in disbelief that Waking Life did not happen this year, but we were still there, for the fourth year. Eerie and melancholic. The place feels way smaller with nobody around. With no party there, we made or own little two-days festival on the shore of the lake at Idanha-a-Nova. The stars got brighter than usual for a night.

After that we headed South to the Algarve for some glory mist days with a couple of friends.

Then North again, back in Lisbon. More protests.

We have space!

Time to see some friends again. And our old neighbourhood in Estoril. Time to reconnect, time to cope with unwanted losses, time to think, be weak, act, find strength. Time to leave. A storm is coming. Time for one last photo in Portugal.

After a month in Portugal it was time to go. Otherwise we might have just as well settle there again. Pandemic numbers were on the rise, so we rushed again through Spain and France in one night. We thought Italy would be a safe bet for a while and it was. A month later we evaded the lockdown in Italy for the one in Greece, where we are kind of stuck at the moment. But no complaining. Not the worst place to spend a lockdown in. And it’s a good enough time to get up to date with travels from this year – there are plenty of photos to come! So here’s for another round around the Sun! From Athens, with love, cheers!

A small collection of colorful half-timbered houses at the foot of the Vosges Mountains, this small village of no more than 1.000 people is but three streets and a handful of alleys. Sweet, right? Well – now, yes! The past however, is nothing but, for apart from your usual peasants uprisings and witch hunts of the medieval customs, this little village was since who-knows-when dominated by the castle of Haut-Koenigsbourg. Dominated and cursed, as serial conflicts on possession of the castle repeatedly rendered the village into ruins. So much so that after the Thirty Years’ War, the castle was abandoned for nearly 300 years, despite its strategic location, overlooking the Rhine valley all the way to the Black Forrest Mountains.

So for almost 300 years, the village was better off with the castle in ruins. However, after the incorporation of Alsace-Lorraine in the German Empire following the Franco-Prussian War, Kaiser Wilhelm II wanted to have the castle rebuilt, as a testimony of the German civilisation and somehow in tune with the romantic nationalist ideas and ‘Make all things Germanic great again’ nostalgia of the time.

Having carefully studied the remaining walls, some archives and other fortified castles from the same period, architect Bodo Ebhardt got to work. And where historical accounts were not enough, a little improvisation was in order and even encouraged. It’s not like things could go very wrong anyway – a taller keep tower here, a bigger dining hall there and the creation was inaugurated after 8 years of work in 1908. Although many French preferred to mock it, this Neuschwanstein lookalike is one of the most famous tourist attractions in the region. Now both the village and the castle look like out of a fairy tale and they lived happily ever after.

It’s a small village in Alsace, your typical Alsace village for that matter, with gingerbread houses out of a fairy-tale lining up cobblestone streets, tucked between historic vineyards, which make it a popular destination on the Wine Route of Alsace. Curious fact – the grape variety here was imported from Hungary back in the 16th century!

And another interesting thing – this little place was voted the favourite French village by the French themselves. Go figure! Go visit!

After months of eyeing a trip to Granada and checking the Alhambra ticket availability every other week, we finally found some dates to suit us. Some stars aligned so nicely! We were excited to see one of the places that long stood on a ‘to be there’ list. And we were into for quite some treats!

People quest for beauty all over the world and all over the world they come up with ways of expressing it, may it be architecture, music or dance. What makes Granada interesting in this quest and its output is its history. Won’t go too much into details, but put in some Roman and Visigothic heritage, add 700 years or so of apparently tolerant muslim rule under various emirates and caliphates, top it off with a Reconquista and expelling of muslims and jews, mix in some Romani influences here and there and what you see and hear is what you get. And mind you, Granada was the seat of the last muslim ruler to surrender control over to Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile. The year was 1492, still early, in January. Come August later that year, Christopher Columbus was setting sail for further ‘conquests’. Back to Granada though!

Tucked into the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountain range, Granada is dominated since the 13th century by the Alhambra palace and fortress, a legacy of the Nasrid dynasty. Before the scheduled visit, we had some time to spare so we spent a late morning strolling around the Generalife gardens.

Intended as a earthly paradise, the Alhambra complex was developed over the course of two centuries, in a feat of Moorish and Christian influences: the Nasrid style. After Granada was surrendered though (Muhammad XII of Granada took a last look at the Alhambra before fleeing to Fes), it suffered some centuries of neglect, vandalism, alterations, squatting and amateur restorations. Despite all that, the palaces complex still maintains the ability to induce gasps and fuel the imagination of how they must have looked ages ago. May it be on walls, ceilings, windows or doors, fountains and column arcades decorations and ornaments adorn it all, with Arabic calligraphy, tile mosaics with complex geometric patterns, arabesques, honeycomb vaults. The last showcase of Islamic Andalusian Art was more of an explosion than a blooming. And it might just be that the way the interiors abound in endless details can become heavy to the eye. Stepping outside though, in one of the connecting courts, there comes some change. Reflective pools help in resting and taking it all in, but also in preparing for the heart of the complex: the Court of the Lions.

We actually found it a bit hard to take it all in. It can really become overwhelming, in the sense that one can easily start to lose the sense of appreciation for all of it. Even more so when you try to come to terms with the fact that, as beautiful as Alhambra is, as violent the history of its founding dynasty is. Go figure, right? At least a dozen of the descendants in the Nasrid dynasty were murdered, often by their respective sons, brothers or cousins. But they did manage to keep Alhambra in the family, that is until they got too distracted and busy plotting against each other, and making and breaking alliances with other emirates to even be bothered by the full swing of the Reconquista hailing down from Castile. Come the Catholic Monarchs and the Spanish Empire, come neglect, come romantics rediscovery of the place, and we are back to present day, when what is left is a marvel for the eyes and a big tourists magnet. Over 3.000.000 people visit the Alhambra complex every year.

After what felt like an architecture, forms and colors overdose, it was time for some rest and planning for the next day. What followed? What else is there to see here? Well, for sure, Sacromonte is calling!

We spent our second day in Granada still spellbound, mainly touring the miradors in the Albaicín (Albayzín) quarter and framing the Alhambra with the Sierra Nevada as a backdrop for either a photo or a beer or an ice-cream here and there. San Nicolas in this aspect is nice, but so is Mirador de Los Carvajales – way more chill actually.

Exploring around, we found ourselves deeper and deeper up the river in Sacromonte. Here we stumbled upon Museo “Cuevas del Sacromonte”. The Museum of the Caves of Sacromonte. As the story goes, the undesired elements of the time, mainly slaves – we are back in 1492! – not all of the royal servants could afford a trip to Fes!, nor could the surrendered king afford now to take all the slaves with him – took to occupy the heights of the hill opposite the Alhambra, which was then outside of the limits of Granada. They were soon joined by other undesired elements of the time, mainly Romani people. Over time, the settlement of cave dwellings occupied the whole hill and valley Valparaíso opposing the Alhambra. The museum offers a glimpse into the simple and hard life people here had. And it is here, in these hills, where some people argue Flamenco originates. The battle in pride is on and some further argue it was the Romani people that made it happen. Others say it is just a Spanish thing. Truth is, it did not happen anywhere else in the world, and what did happen in these caves and the hills around, was a fusion: whatever Andalusians natives, Muslims, Roma, Castilians and Jews, they danced and sang together and they came up with expressing beauty in dance and song like this. And when you see it, you can tell that they still hold it close to their heart. While some of the caves were turned into the museum and others are still inhabited, some others host flocks of tourists for a taste of the local spirit. Come sunset – and what a sunset that was! – we were thirsty for some local wine and Flamenco. Olé!

By the way, the olé cheer directly comes from the word Allah. Before modern times, it was thought that artistry is a way of god expressing him(her!?)self, so in the most intense moments of frenzied creation – in this case – dancing, people would shout out an exclamation of the gods name. Following 700 years of muslim rule and almost as much of christian dominance, today’s Spanish language still holds about 4.000 words coming directly from Arab. One of them is olé, but, in time, the connection to Allah was lost.

For our Granada Flamenco experience (remember Sevilla?), we went for a show at Cueva La Rocio. They take bookings online, and a couple of drinks are included. Sure, the shows are staged mainly for tourists, and you get the feeling of the industry in place, but it’s still good fun and you still get the basics ingredients: loads of cante (singing), supportive toque (guitar playing), demanding baile (dance), loud jaleos (vocalizations and chorus clapping). And, of course, palmas (handclapping) and pitos (finger snapping), to which everyone is invited.

Come another day. One last hike, as we missed a mirador the day before – Mirador de San Cristobal. Like this we had the chance to see more of the intertwining of Arab and European flows in architecture in Albaicín. One last photo of Alhambra, one last photo of this house, one last photo of this street, one last photo of me and of you, on last photo of these people carrying around a Mary and son as a really one last photo and that was that! Olé!