So Fukushima Dai-ichi becomes a household name. Another Chernobyl, maybe, though I'm too young to really have a concept of what that means - like the fall of the Berlin Wall, I don't even have a memory of the memory of the event. Current headlines: Japan Raises Security Level of Nuclear Crisis, More Foreigners Are Seeking To Flee Japan, Repairs Begin As Survivors Asked To Relocate For A Year; the death toll is calculated at 6,911.
In the face of so much detail, it's hard to see the actual story.
The list of places I want to visit is long, and, for a long time, Japan has been on it. But nowhere is as appealing to me, for the time being, as the Mediterranean. Maybe it's because I've spent so much time in the North, in pragmatic Scandinavia. Maybe it's because the climate I've grown up with is, strictly speaking, Mediterranean (that's why central Chile felt familiar), with dry summers and mild, cool winters; maybe it's because of the Italian and Greek friends I've made who have been so gracious in sharing their culture (by which I mean "daily practices", not high-brow anything) with a country bumpkin. Maybe it's because I love red wine and sardines. Probably it's because I subscribe to the maxim of everything in moderation, and probably it's because I love to live well, to eat well, and, being gluten-intolerant, nothing sounds better than having options.
Sardinia beckons. Apparently Denmark isn't the only country with a Sunshine Island.