Pont Canavese to Busano to Leinì

7/24 - Pont Canavese to Busano via Cuorgne - 9.33 miles walked
7/25 - Busano to Leinì - forgot to record, around 10 miles

Another 6 days have gone by in a flash, and here I am once more trying to share everything that has happened to me. It is a bit overwhelming, and I find that there is always more that I would like to say, and not enough time to say it.

The last time I dumped all my blog posts onto everyone's collective lap, I was in Cuorgnè, heading South toward Torino. The directions I received pointed me in the direction of Salassa, which was East and a bit South. I was told there was a new "residence-hotel" there that was economical and a good staging point for my walk to Torino.

Still, I had been thinking about heading due South, since it would get me to Torino a bit quicker. However, the next town was Busano, and according to all reports, it was a tiny town without a hotel. When I came to the end of Cuorgnè, there appeared the classic crossroads. I stood for half a minute, simultaneously weighing my options and enjoying the thought that either path had the potential to profoundly change my life.

In the end, it was not too difficult for me to choose the riskier but more direct route: after all, this trip has been about everything but the sure thing, and I prepared myself for the possibility of having to retrace my steps, in the event that Busano proved to be completely devoid of accommodations.

Incidentally, my couple seconds of indecision allowed me to witness an oddity, at least for Italy: a jogger. It is very rare indeed to see someone running around outside here, and to make it even more unique, this was a male, and he was jogging by a cornfield from one small town to another. Like one of Homer's eagles dropping a faun from the sky as a sign of Zeus' approval, I took this as a mystical, though admittedly random, confirmation of my choice, and continued with a chuckle. I even managed to sneak a picture.

Two kilometers down the road, I asked the locals at a gas station, and found out that there was indeed a 2 star hotel on the outskirts of Busano. Vindication! Though this turned out to be my most expensive night of lodging yet, and was overall a pretty unpleasant stay, I had probably saved 2 hours of walking.

After hanging my key on the wall and "letting myself out," per the previous night's instructions, I made my way further South.

This portion of the walk, from Busano to Leinì, took me past miles of miles of flat ground and cornfields. In fact, this whole day was only notable for 3 reasons. First, I found and ate wild blackberries and strawberries. Second, I must have found the only hill in the whole surrounding area, and it happened to be freshly repaved, meaning that the smell of asphalt was overwhelming, and my shoes had to be unstuck from the road with each step. Finally, the whole day's walk was characterized by intolerable pain in both of my pinky toes.

Though I have often promised myself not to complain too much about my minor aches and pains, I must say that both of my pinky toes felt like they were going to come off. At first, I couldn't understand why; in my attempt to treat the blisters that had formed while descending from the Alps, I had done what seemed like an admirable job applying neosporin, and wrapping both toes with medical tape folled by duct tape.

When I finally arrived at Leinì, I was at the point of swooning from the pain, so I decided to cut the tape off and see if my toes had turned into bloody, nail-less pulps. What followed was immediate relief, as I could feel and even see the life pulsing slowly back into my toes.

In my infinite brilliance and worldly wisdom, I had applied the tape (two layers!!) so tightly that I had all but cut off circulation to my toes for nearly two days! Needless to say, I walked the final couple miles to my hotel in sandals, feeling very foolish for having suffered so unnecessarily. Oh well; this lesson, like many that I have learned both on this trip and in my life, came relatively cheaply, all things considered.

For the second night in a row, I slept in a place that was primarily a restaurant and bar; the hotel was clearly an afterthought, and I was the only guest foolish enough to stay at either place.

I can say in all honesty that, these days, the presence of toilet paper in the bathroom elicits in me an audible grunt of approval and satisfaction, so when I turned on the shower and realized that it wasn't going to get anything but cold, I didn't think twice. Shower as quickly possible, and be thankful that you don't have to insert a coin in order for it to come out.