Headed out east from Menton. Crossing the Italian border was fun. Took down the French tricolors and replaced them with the Italian ones.
Changing flags is always a time of reflection. I thought that with the whole EU unification talk making the rounds for two decades now, I'd see a well-blended, unified culture with subtle variations across the Med. I could not have been more wrong. There are huge and distinct differences across the borders. Spain is nothing like France, which is nothing like Italy. The food is different, the architecture is different, and most importantly, the people are incredibly different. I won't attempt to characterize the differences because I don't want to give up on becoming the president of Harvard some day -- it turns out that Americans are deathly afraid of making perfectly valid generalizations, appearing to make cultural judgments, or implying that certain cultures might have certain traits, even if they actually do, for fear of appearing to be biased or prejudiced (and yes, that was a sweeping generalization about Americans). I had a fantastic time in both Spain and France and had been looking forward to what Italy had in store for Guizmo.
There are some interesting geological formations between Ventimiglia and Bordighera that, coupled with some rivers that carry the sediment down into the sea, give the sea a different, lighter color. At first, I thought the color shift marked some shallows, but I cross-checked my trusty Soviet maps against the depthmeter and sailed onto the lightly colored stuff. It's very pretty and the pictures don't do it justice.
For better or worse, I decided to skip Sanremo. It seemed like it was too sprawled out, a little too overdone, and I thought I'd have more fun at a smaller town. So I pulled into Imperia Maurizio at the end of the day.
Changing flags is always a time of reflection. I thought that with the whole EU unification talk making the rounds for two decades now, I'd see a well-blended, unified culture with subtle variations across the Med. I could not have been more wrong. There are huge and distinct differences across the borders. Spain is nothing like France, which is nothing like Italy. The food is different, the architecture is different, and most importantly, the people are incredibly different. I won't attempt to characterize the differences because I don't want to give up on becoming the president of Harvard some day -- it turns out that Americans are deathly afraid of making perfectly valid generalizations, appearing to make cultural judgments, or implying that certain cultures might have certain traits, even if they actually do, for fear of appearing to be biased or prejudiced (and yes, that was a sweeping generalization about Americans). I had a fantastic time in both Spain and France and had been looking forward to what Italy had in store for Guizmo.
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| An Italian passport entitles the holder to a red Vespa wherever they go, and to wear just a haltertop in public. |
For better or worse, I decided to skip Sanremo. It seemed like it was too sprawled out, a little too overdone, and I thought I'd have more fun at a smaller town. So I pulled into Imperia Maurizio at the end of the day.
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| During a nice and relaxed downwind run with the spinnaker. I don the lifejacket when the spinnaker goes up. |
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