We made our way through the mountains that day. The ground was wet and swampy and we had some difficulties finding our way, because where there was a path once, there was now a tiny creek. But as always the landscape was vast and beautiful and on a plateau we saw a boothy already from far away. We didn’t know at the time that something like that exists here and we were quite staggered by the welcoming atmosphere around and inside of it. There was a guestbook and we saw that there have been many international overnight guests during the last days.
We had a short walk to the beach next to Eilean Mor today. Unfortunately the tide has been high so we weren’t able to cross over to the tiny Islands with partly sandy beaches we saw from above. It was just before fathers day (in Germany) and I thought a lot of my Dad these days. I remembered when he taught me how to let a flat stone jump in a lake when I was a kid and also that I wasn’t able to do it. But he didn’t give up and eventually I succeeded once or twice out of hundreds of throws. Today I just took a stone between to fingers how he showed me and threw it into the sea. It jumped four times. I don’t need to visit your grave, Dad, to be aware that you’re here somehow. In me.
A very special guided tour brought us to some different initiatives in eastern Brandenburg, where we learned, how people from the city and from the villages live and work together on the countrysite and engage actively in village live. I was most impressed by the story of Trebnitz.
We have been there as teenagers at night to have mystic parties and campfires. For a very long time the ruin of the Wildenburg was and still is a magic place in the middle of a typical Odenwald forest. It was built in the 12th century and destroyed by Götz von Berlichingen (well known from Goethes stage play) in the 16th century. Since, it attracts hikers and today even some corny dressedup instagramers find their way up to the castle ruin.
There are some places in the world you don’t look for but you get there anyway. I don’t know why, but there is this feeling of belonging somehow. Montalto Ligure is just one of those tiny wild villages placed on a mountain top in the Mediteranian Alps.
In Glori we saw a big building far away in the mountains and we asked what this is. We thought it would be a monastery or something similar. Someone told us, this would just be another village. But it would be very hard to get there and only two habitants would still live there. Both more than 90 years old.
San Bernado Di Conio
There is a road leading to this mountain village which is recommended only in the months May to November. In this complicated surroundings, in 1944, during WW2, the Nazis chased members of the Italian Resistance. Every September the people of san Bernado die Conio celebrate their heroes.
In San Bernado, a small chapel nearby, under thick layers of paint, drawings from the Middle Ages where found.
We needed to go shopping and see a vet and so we went to the next bigger town which was Arma di Taggia. I wanted to dip my toe into the sea and was sure that Pavlov would have some fun too. A lot of English and Dutch people hang around in the sun next to the sea and some of them even swam. When we took a walk through the old town center we came to the Piazza in front of the big church and a lot of elder Ladies sat there chatting. I asked if this would be the “la Piazza delle Donne” (the women’s space) and got “le Donne ANCIANI!” for an answer (the ELDER women space). Happy that some traditions stay forever.