Yesterday. I decided I was going to sleep in an abandoned castle that sits on the top of a mountain a few miles away. I headed out from the "rustic farm", and soon discovered that I was being followed by the farm Mascot, Barrone, a little dog with one tooth that looks rather like a creature from Star Wars. I've been trying to train him using cheese, but despite my best efforts he insisted on coming with me. Fortunately I had some cordage on me and was able to fashion a leash to prevent him from being murdered by the ridiculous drivers that speed through the tiny streets of Sora. I don't think he's ever seen a leash before in his life, but he begrudgingly got the hang of it.
       The people of Sora, or maybe it's all of Italy, are consistently too fashionable for whatever they are doing. This is probably the reason they were giving me a wide berth, as I suppose together Barrone and I looked (and smelled)  like a risky pair of vagabonds. We were just entering Sora on the narrow sidewalk when I noticed a large, saggy, sleeping dog ahead of us. I was  a little concerned, but Barrone is such a fine diplomat that I didn't feel it would be a problem. Just as we passed the dog it lurched up from its coma in a savage alligator ambush and took Barrone fully into its mouth by the back and began to shake him side to side like said alligator. Barrone's legs were flailing uselessly in the air and he was screaming bloody murder, which is exactly what I thought I was witnessing. Not having any other course of action I decided to kick the damn beast in the throat until he let go. It took ten good kicks straight to the jugular at full force before Barrone was able to escape. The big dog stumbled backwards into an alley, not looking so hot. I wasn't as concerned for his well being as I was for Barrone and the crowd of Italians watching the spectacle. I expected Barrone to be completely crippled, but he just shook his little mane and was on his way, tail wagging and tongue lolling.

     The actual trail up to the Castle starts out with a long, haggard set of stairs up a ridge. They meet up with a beautiful church, and continue up and around limestone crags until you have climbed 500' or so to the peak of the mountain and the castle. Once I made it to the ridge the view opened up onto a huge mountain range and another arm of Sora in the intervening valley. The first thing I noticed was the number of helicopters whirling around the sky with buckets dangling beneath them. Thus far, everyday here it has smelled of wildfire smoke, but this was the first time I saw why. The side of the mountain was covered with fire. The terrain was way too steep for engines, so the had all kinds of choppers going after the thing. Ancient looking airplanes would buzz a hundred feet above me every ten minutes as well, drenching this thing with water. The smoke was creeping down the hillside towards a church, which is where they were concentrating their efforts. One of these chopper pilots must have been a devout catholic as he was getting after it more than any pilot I have ever seen. He was refilling in a river that must have been less than fifteen feet wide and surrounded by telephone wires. His rotor blades were so close to the hillside next to him that he must have been trimming the grass.His turn around time was two and a half minutes to fill, fly, and dump. I watched for twenty minutes simply because I was sure I was going to see him go down. They stopped at dusk, but I continued to watch the mountain burn all night long.

      The castle is pretty much as you'd expect a ruined medieval castle to be. It is made of massive blocks of stone that appear to just fit together without cement, or clay, or anything to keep them from falling on your head. The walls are about forty feet high, with slits for archers and huge round conical towers. There wasn't a soul there and it looks like there is absolutely no effort taken to maintain the thing. Inside there are tunnels that go into little creepy underground chambers with slots to allow a tiny amount of air and light in. The whole thing is really incredible. I was going to sleep inside, but found it too spooky, so me and Barrone made our home on top, with the wildfire providing romantic candle light for our dinner of cheese and salami.

       There's graffiti everywhere. In the parks, alleys, on the castle. The difference is that almost all of it has to do with love. "Ti Amo so-and-so" makes up about eighty percent of all the taggings. Those that are not directly love related tend to be very sweet or kind spirited. It seems like all the artists are poets or something. As always more pictures here.