Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

Today is Sunday, May 22. Tomorrow early we will take a bus to Bolzano where we will take a train to Verano and another to Venice, where we will take our Covid tests required for reentry to the US. Then Tuesday we fly to Frankfurt, then Seattle and Wednesday drive to Anacortes and ride the ferry home to Orcas. 

Last night the evening was so warm that several guests ate dinner on the patio outside. Chris and I joined them. 

We ended up visiting and the interactions reminded us both of meetings when we walked the Camino. Two women had come for the weekend from Bremen (which happens to be the port Chris departed from at age 4 on the ship by the same name that carried her and her mother and brother to Anerica). A couple had walked 90 kilometers in the last week - with their dog - and were off for Bolzano (partly walking, partly by train) this morning. 

We continue to enjoy interacting with Katia Beklaner and her niece Linda (and occasionally her husband). Here’s a picture of Katia. Hospitality is clearly a vocation for her, she works so hard that I worry about her (as in America, there is an acute shortage of people to hire for work here so she has to do most of the work herself). She does everything - talking on the phone, sweeping the patio, serving us at dinner, organizing a wine tasting, showing us suggested walks on the map spread out on our breakfast table - with such skill, grace and with such a smile and glow that she inspires me. Here she is sitting in the patio. 

We intended to go up to Unterhorn today and hike around a panoramic loop and then another loop up to the top Ritternhorn (2260 meters) - but after the first loop we headed down on the lift once we realized Chris had symptoms of elevation sickness and River whose idea it had been wasn’t enjoying it that much either. We took the bus home and then I River returned via train to the Freud Promenade to continue my Stations of the Couch meditations (practicing free association inspired by the quotes along the promenade while sitting on the benches and walking between them), while Chris came on foot to meet me at the end. 

I have been charmed by some of the fences along the Freud promenade. They are woven together in a way I can’t quite imagine anyone doing (though clearly it has been done!) and they seem to embody a paradox between fences (that separate areas that are otherwise contiguous) and weaving (that brings together separate strands into a whole). What a perfect paradox for Freud’s walk since he is (for me anyway) such a wonderful teacher of ambivalence and holding opposites. Here’s one:

And here is another:

How do they do that? How do they bend and weave such strong and not so supple sticks/twigs/branches (whatever they are) together? 

Another paradox in this morning’s walk: I walked through the cemetery where Chris recalled seeing graves of generations of Pechlaners (the family that own and run this small hotel). I noticed several generations of the Fink family (who run the wine business where we went for the wine tasting). What struck me most - along with the sense of how deeply rooted these families are in this place - was how tended the graves were, how they were covered with blooming flowers and the evidence of the care and attention of the living. This juxtaposition (and weaving together?) of life and death, of the living and the dead, moved me deeply. 

What else to include in this post? Did I remember to tell the story of the day we walked into a small village and could find nowhere to eat? Chris walked up to a guesthouse with outdoor tables and the woman said it was not a restaurant but offered to make us goulash soup. We were so relieved and it was so delicious. I seem to have a photo of the bread, water and beer but not the soup!

On our nearby short walk we do almost daily I came across a new wood carving of a smiley face a few days ago.

Then yesterday I found the face broken. Maybe it’s a good reminder for me to treasure the moments of happiness - and not to expect them to last forever. 

Thank you for coming along on these blog-travels. I cannot tell you how much I love sharing them with you. (I will put the photos of the benches and quotes on Freud’s walk in a separate post. )