Fire at Night

I spent three weeks studying French in the city of Montpellier, located on the southwest coast of France. Days were spent in arduous, arduous study. Nights were spent exploring the winding medieval lanes of the old city. On one such hazy evening we were meandering back from "Irish Bar" (It is a rule of travel that every city has an Irish pub, popular among the expats.) when beneath the soaring portico of an abbey was a small cadre of fire-wielders (-dancers, -players, -performers?). Some juggled, others twirled, and still others simply breathed fire in massive spurts. To see such a performance on stage, or in the middle of a crowded tourist square would have been impressive. Stumbling across it underneath a massive gothic abbey at 3am made it truly remarkable. We stood transfixed for thirty minutes admiring the performance that existed but for its own sake. I snapped some discrete photos. A friend, however, took some less candid shots and one thing led to another before we quickly walked away (ok, we kinda fled, I mean they had fire). Below are the fruits of my candor.

The Scene

Dragon

Flamedancer

Stanza D'Attesa

The low point of my travels last summer was missing my flight from Milan to Helsinki; it was wasted time and money, unnecessary stress and frustration. This summer Milan struck again. What should have been a 10-hour journey by train from Milan to Montpelier lasted 22-hours. Without detailing the infuriating bureaucracies that resulted in this mishap, I'll simply say that the benches in the Milano Centrale's waiting room are immaculately uncomfortable. The Stanza D'Attesa (waiting room) is the only place to pass the hours from 1am - 6am in the station. The police roundup up the station's homeless, beggars, tramps, and ignorant tourists and herd them into the room. It's only furniture are massive wooden benches, short in width, and with ungainly armrests bisecting their length. People employed varying strategies to surmount this ergonomic nightmare in a futile bid for sleep. Many took their shoes off. Socks are smelly. Those who did succeed in sleeping tended to snore.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my brave Ipod for lasting through the night.

Italian Food

...is really, really good. Paparadelle, prosciutto, pecorino, parmigiana, pomodora, porcini, etc. That's just one letter of the alphabet. Check out this blog for a much better written account of Italy's epicurean delights.