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| I now tried to prepare myself mentally for a ten day trek across the flat, often monotonous plain of the Po Valley. This first day was not auspicious. The paths were wet and sticky and difficult to negotiate after the previous night's rain — and it was still raining. The distances were long, and I tired quickly. (Wikimedia image.) |
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| Fat brown slugs crawled underfoot and mosquitoes attacked my shoulders and the back of my neck. Just in front of of me a continual succession of frogs jumped from the canal banks and plopped into the water. And all around me groups of herons and egrets silently haunted a watery landscape of endless rice fields and irrigation channels (later I was to see a flock of sacred ibis). I passed dreary, deserted farmsteads, and met not a soul all day. (Wikimedia image.) |
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| I made some small navigational errors, as some of the footpath signs were confusing and some of my guide book's instructions unclear. When I finally reached Vercelli, all I wanted to do was lie down and rest my sore feet. Despite its Romano-Gothic cathedral and basilica, I was not impressed with the city, which seemed to me rather depressing and unfriendly — though perhaps this had something to do with my general mood at the time. I was dying to leave the next morning. The photo shows Vercelli's Piazza Cavour and Torre dell'Angelo. (Wikimedia image.) |
