sto camminando oggi

// today I'm wandering

Aosta is so far north that there are streets called "rue via" ‑ 'street' in French and 'street' in Italian. The people here are fluent in both but Italian is still the official language. I'm very close to St Bernard's Pass and Monte Bianco, (or Mont Blanc); from my hotel room I can see the glaciers of the Gran Paradiso National Park.

Aosta was once the favoured departure point for Roman expeditions (pillages) to the north, and the town has an excellently preserved Roman wall running an almost complete circumference of the 'centro storico' ‑ historical centre. There are little shops and plenty of 'prodotti tipici' ‑ local products ‑ lots of gelaterias and pizzerias and a beautiful big square in the centre of town. The mountains are visible from almost every street corner and the vibe is a relaxed holiday mood, with hikers and backpackers everywhere. Very few English‑speaking tourists however, most are French.

This morning I jumped on a bus to Cogne and was reminded of Slovenia as I experienced once again the spine chilling fear of trusting one's life to a stranger who drives buses around cliffs like he's the main star of Speed. It's a long way down...

Famous for winter skiing and summer hiking, Cogne is a town balancing between many cultures. Those buildings that are not decidedly German in appearance sport French facades while the streets all have Italian names. A tiny town, there are almost as many hotels as houses and the Valletta, Cissettaz and Patri glaciers dominate the landscape.

I took the funivia/funicular/cabinovia/chairlift thingy (pick a language) up to the start of trail 17, which my Let's Go guide (highly recommended by the way) told me was a good trail for views of the aforementioned Gran Paradiso National Park and her glaciers. I nearly died in the first five minutes but there were two fat Germans on my tail and I couldn't let Australia down, so I struggled onward. I never knew I liked hiking but aparently I do. I found myself grinning as I checked out the grand views and the tiny flowers along the way, spent ages deciphering the Italian signs to learn about some bird/tree/whatever, pushed myself to get up the next hill without pausing. The view became more spectacular with every (exhaustingly steep) twenty metre climb.

Finally, I reached the peak of the trail where I took about a thousand photos of my chin and the top of my head before finally getting my whole face in the frame, and then I headed downhill. A large hare cut across my path, would have made a good meal but unfortunately there is no kitchen in my hotel, pity. I also saw some deer come bounding up the hill ‑ they took one look at me and then turned tail and fled. I wished I were so light-footed.

Meandering down a path that is a skiing trail in winter, I smugly passed puffing tourists toting walking sticks. Back onto the funicular, down to the town where I got lost trying to find the main street (plenty of signs saying "private property" but none saying "the town is this way") and I found my way to the river where I had a picnic lunch.

Now I am sitting in a little bar back in Aosta, fighting a giant wasp for the right to drink my beer and trying to ignore a very loud yappy dog and the very loud smooches of its owner who seems to think that rewarding the dog with kisses will make it shut up... hmm. If my grandmother was here she'd sort it out.