Leia, the most beautiful donkey in the world.

There are crosses on top of all high things here.

A well with no water.

I'm back from the hills. It was beautiful. The trail was seven hours of switchbacks going up steep, rocky faces and through pastures. I reached the top just before a beautiful sunset and equally gorgeous moon rise. The moon was just a day early of full. I'm reading "Of Mice and Men" in Spanish and at one point I was able to turn off my headlamp and read by moonlight alone. I decided to sleep on the summit just beside the summit marker on a limestone shelf that was a little sheltered from the wind. The night was not very windy, or cold. The weather is so confusing. I was bundled up the day before I left, coat, hat and scarf. Then while I was hiking up the mountain it was unbearably hot. This ended up causing problems as I only brought four liters of water, hoping to encounter some along the way. No such luck. The hike down was a thirsty experience. One liter for the whole way down. Terrible planning. When I woke up on the summit, it was to two hunters, rifles on shoulders, staring at me with their three birding dogs. When I explained what I was doing to them they were supremely confused and told me I was crazy. Apparently Italians don't sleep outside, and they didn't understand why I would want to or why I didn't use a tent. I tried to tell them about the charms of the moon, but they just shook their heads and smiled at the crazy American. Pictures to come.