Travels through Italy: Dolomites

It’s been exactly two weeks since I last posted, but I have an excellent explanation: I was in the mountains. Not just any mountains, mind you, but the Italian Alps. More specifically, the UNESCO World Heritage Site known as the Dolomites.

Our week away from civilisation began at Cortina d’Ampezzo (presumably, because I’m reading this information off Viktor’s itinerary again and can’t actually confirm whether this is exactly where I ended up). Though the forecast showed thunderstorms for several days, we only got caught under the rain on this first day (on the remaining days, we timed our escape to the aptly-named rifugios extremely well).

We were following the Alta Via 1, which runs approximately 125 km from Pragser Wildsee to Belluno. If I’m not mistaken (or, rather, if my Samsung Health app is not mistaken), we did something like 100 km over six days, with ascents ranging from just under 500 m to over 1300 m and descents ranging from just 16 m to over 1600 m.

The biggest challenge came on Day 5, when we headed from Rifugio Passo Duran to Rifugio Bianchet via Rifugio Pian de Fontana (yes, we trekked from rifugio to rifugio in search of bolognese and ricotta cakes, what of it?). Not only did the track itself stretch out to almost 23 km, but we also tackled a 1099 m ascent versus a 1031 m descent.

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After a wonderful few days, the final walk downhill was disheartening. With each step, we could feel the end draw nearer. Soon, we were saying our goodbyes and jetting off to far away places. Still, the experience will stay with me and bring me comfort in the long, countless, mountainless hours to come.

Travels through Stansted Airport

To be perfectly honest, I was expecting this week’s blog post to be dedicated to my travels through the beautiful Italian cities of Bologna and Florence, but it would appear that fate had other plans. The first stumbling block was my friend’s passport being stuck somewhere in continental Europe on its way back to the UK, so she wasn’t joining me.

I suppose I could’ve gone alone – and indeed I tried – but I couldn’t quite picture myself making my way to the hotel late in the evening after the massively delayed flight finally landed. I got as far as being on the plane, but I didn’t take off. Actually, I requested to be offboarded. Who would’ve guessed that leaving a plane once you’re already onboard has its challenges?

When the pilot announced (after a half hour wait) that it’s likely to be another one hour and forty minutes before we fly, I asked the steward if I could go home. And so began my adventure through Stansted Airport.

It took a while for the ground control staff to agree to come collect me, after which multiple people asked to see my passport and whether I had any luggage and whether I’d touched anything I wasn’t meant to. The most exciting part of this story is that I can now officially tell people that I was escorted off a plane. I was then deposited at the gate, told to “find a white phone somewhere in that vicinity, call this number, and ask to be taken to Arrivals”.

Well, that was sufficiently vague. Luckily (for me, not for them), there were a few people who’d missed their flights and were roughly in the same boat. The four of us were transported to…somewhere, after which we were told to go…somewhere, after which we were taken…somewhere, after which nobody really knew what to do with us. We ended up in a room beside the baggage reclaim and were only released once they realised they couldn’t keep us there forever.

By the time my original flight departed, I was safely in the train heading back to London. I was a little lost, because I wasn’t sure what to do with my unexpected free time, so I went drinking with my friend who hadn’t got her passport in time. And then I went to Pride. And then I found an axe throwing studio. So stay tuned, there (may be) more exciting stories to come!

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

As I sit here – in the office – on Friday morning, mentally preparing for the day that lies ahead (so much to do, so much to see – did I mention I’m going to Bologna?), I ponder where it could’ve gone wrong. How could I have skipped yesterday’s post? Sure, I’ve done this before, but I had an excuse! Yesterday? Completely slipped my mind.

That’s not to say I don’t have plenty to share this week. I’ve seen Henry IV, part 1 (fun and gender-bending as always at Shakespeare’s Globe), I’ve been to the Natalia Goncharova exhibition at Tate Modern (needed a bit more contextualisation, but overall very enjoyable), and I finished Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go (easy to read, difficult to process, but still doesn’t hold a candle to Remains of the Day).

I think part of the problem is that July is going to be an overwhelming month. There’s Bologna and Florence this weekend, then Slovenia next weekend, the Italian Alps on the week following that, then Berlin and Hamburg to finish off (not to mention Riga on the first week of August). And in planning this overwhelming month, I’m already overwhelmed.

So, in summary, when Swordfoosh is overwhelmed, you get posts like this. And no pictures, unfortunately.