rage against the dying of the light

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas.

So, here I am again. This place where I seem to be coming back with increasing frequency. That wondrous purgatory. The questioning captivity. The exhilarating effusiveness. I am about to embark on another adventure.

It turns out that the US is an expensive place to travel. And it's also boring. Well, not inherently boring, but boring for me because I know it all too well. I need adventure! Excitement! The risk of death at every turn! (well, not death, don't worry mom) But I do need to be challenged. I need a world that needs decoding, a cultural challenge, some strangeness.

Where is this magical place, you ask? Italia! A place where the people speak with their hands and eat with their eyes. A world of ancient food culture just waiting to be devoured.

We are going to be WWOOFing there, and have already set up with a few farms in Tuscany. I just really can't get enough of this small-scale farming business. With an increasingly confusing world of corrupt politicians and greedy bankers and rising unemployment, something just makes sense about sticking my hands into the soil and making food grow.

So, here we go again. Maybe I'll find a reason to hate it and move on, maybe I'll love it and never leave. The great affair is to discover. and rediscover.