Afterthoughts and Inspiration

Oh, and Locarno was great.

Palm trees in Switzerland? Who knew?!
The piazza Grande was fun and lively, while the Castello Visconteo was ruinous and made me feel like I was walking around the set of Ever After. But the main attraction, Lago Maggiore, was the best of all. Blue and deep and dotted with fishing boats and sleek sloops in the shadow of a pink sunset...it was postcard worthy, to say the least.

The Italian look and feel and sound of the area was refreshing in the face of the...weight, I guess you could say, of Swiss-German life.  Locarno was clear and bright. It's houses painted in warm shades of yellow and blue and pink and green, as if pastels alone are a talisman against cold and discomfort. Stucco replaces wood and peaked logs give way to roofs covered in title shingles the farther south you travel. The women are model-esque and the men laugh like they expect someone to snap a photograph of their impossibly white teeth at any moment. Fashion rules the day and I felt decidedly out of place in my jeans and sweatshirt, but such is the life of a traveler. And, of course, the food was amazing. Still heavier than your typical American fare, it did at least provide a much-desired break from the carb and sausage-laden meals of the northern provinces. That, and they put chicken in their pasta. God love 'em.

I like the southern part of the country so far. Gives me hope for my own.




And while I'm on the subject...

I have a crazy, half-baked, long simmering scheme in mind for all you wonderful, newly-adult-ed Whitworthians.


I want to take a roadtrip. 


I know I've said it before, and I know there are six million reasons why it is a bad idea and can't work. (I glare across oceans at all you gainfully employed graduates. Know this.)

But I think it would be fabulous.
I've never seen the 'Old South', and I want to.
I want to visit you amazing people in your natural habitats.
I want to drive down the 101, radio blasting, beloved friends packed in tight, hair wiping in the wind all the way from Canada to Mexico.
Or San Diego to Miami.
Or Seattle to Manhattan.
Or straight across Texas.
Or all over Montana.
And I want to keep that ridiculous idea of "community" alive.

I don't have a car
or concrete dates
or locations
or funds
...yet.

But I will. And when I do, I want you with me, dear reader.

Will you come?