We had another early morning planned – this time to actually see Florence. And this time we actually woke up at a reasonable hour.

Our hostel had an all-you-can-eat breakfast for 5 euro which was a pretty good deal. I stuck to toast and yogurt, but it was nice to have a decent breakfast that could tide you over for a few hours instead of eating your first meal at 1PM.

Since it was Sunday we thought our options for sight-seeing would be pretty slim. We’d agreed earlier in the day not to do any of the museums because frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to stare at sculptures for hours on end. Since I really only had one full day in Florence, I wanted to experience the city, not the museums.

Off to the markets we went. Leather purses, wallets, belts, keychains, and more. Scarves, hats, clothes, basically anything you can think of. The stalls seemed to go on for ages.

I hadn’t really bought anything souvenir-wise during my trip so far. I think at the time my souvenirs consisted of a magnet and a post card. Florence definitely changed that.

By the end of our 3-4 hour excursion from our hostel, over the Ponte Vecchio, and back I managed to procure myself a new, much-needed wallet (Really, ask anyone. The coins jingling in my pocket get really annoying.), a new scarf (no, not the winter kind. I’ve sworn off winter scarves for at least 2 years as I recover from 4 years in Ithaca.), and some assorted souvenirs for various people at home.

I’m not used to bartering when buying things but it’s actually a lot of fun. I think I got some pretty good deals and I’m happy with my purchases. That’s all that matters, right? The more amusing part were the knock-off sellers. It’s illegal to buy or sell knockoffs in Italy, so these men walk around with cardboard boxes or sheets that can be easily gathered up and they basically move every 2-3 minutes when a police officer goes by and then they set up shop again – lining everything up and trying to make a sale. We obviously didn’t buy anything from them – just from the stall vendors. Bartering for 4 hours straight can be exhausting though!

We got back to the hostel just as the next round of BusAbouters arrived. Like our first night they were scheduled to go to the restaurant for a group dinner. We decided to go out on our own and then meet up with them later.

Backtracking a bit, we were in a 4-bed room which was great because it was 2 bunk beds – 3 of the beds in the room were twin, but one of them was a full. I managed to score that one which made me a very happy camper. The guy in the bed above me had lived in Florence for a few years at one point and recommended this restaurant that he claimed had the best spaghetti he’d ever had. Well those were the magic words. We set off to find that restaurant.

It was called Orvieto del Gatto e Volpe or the Cat and the Fox. It was down this windy road, left at that windy road, right at that statue and left at that other windy road. Or so it seemed. After doubling back a few times (and realzing that I’d earlier taken a picture of the street sign of the street that we’d been looking for) we found it and went in.

They make their own balsamic vinegar. Think of all of that watery balsamic vinegar you’ve consumed over the course of your life and then throw it out. This tasted nothing like it. This was so thick and rich and sweet. Combined with some amazingly green olive oil and some specially seasoned foccacia strips and you’ve pretty much reached cloud nine. And that was just the bread before the meal!

We ordered the house spaghetti and the house wine, like our roommate had suggested. This place has now made its way to the top of my list and has been awarded the coveted title of Best Spaghetti Ever. Not only was the food great, but we were in a proper Italian restaurant. It wasn’t a touristy place at all. It was well off the beaten path and even the door was hard to find. The portions were huuuggeee compared to what we’ve gotten in other places around Italy (pasta is just a “prima” here). We so wanted to get some sort of meat – the lemon chicken was piquing my interest, but about 1/2 way through the spaghetti we realized that we wouldn’t be able to fit another thing in our stomachs by the time we were done so luckily we didn’t order the chicken and ended our meal there.

That’s about it for the eventful part of Florence. The rest of the night consisted of going to a karaoke bar to meet up with the other BusAbouters and then going home and going to sleep. On the bus at 8AM and off to Nice.

Overall I really enjoyed Florence. Though I didn’t really do most of the obvious touristy things like go to the museums and cathedrals, I think I got a taste of what it’s really like to live in Florence – great food, great shopping and great character all around. Florence definitely makes it to my list of favorite cities.

The train took a lot longer than we’d expected so we didn’t actually get into Siena until around 5:30PM. We knew that the last bus out was at 7:10PM, so we would have to do the speed tour. We bought our bus tickets to save the last minute hassle and set into the city center.

On the bus from the train station we ran into a group of students from the UC system who were studying Italian in Siena. They were nice enough to let us follow them into the main Piazza because we would have gotten so lost.

Once in the main Piazza (the name escapes me at the moment) we decided that the best plan of action would be to see the Duomo first and then get some dinner before hopping on our bus back to Florence.

We’d only planned to take a look at the Duomo from the outside, but after finding out that it was only 3 euro to get in and there wasn’t a line at all we decided to go for it.

Absolutely spectacular. It blew the Vatican out of the water. Though the entire place was jaw-dropping, there was this one room, called the Piccololibraria or something to that effect which was, by far, one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in in my entire life. The ceiling was painted with these bold, vibrant colors and gold leafing. Though it was similar to some of the ceilings in the Vatican, this one just had so much more impact. The scenes, the colors, everything. All hidden in this tiny little room. We stood there just staring for a good long while.

Unfortunately, spending so much time in the Duomo meant that we barely had any time to eat. We rushed back to the Piazza and quickly chose a restaurant. This time we ordered the Ribollito, a local vegetable soup that was phenominal. Because our eyes were bigger than our stomachs we also ordered the spaghetti pomodoro. Though it was also super tasty, it made us miss our bus.

With no more buses leaving Siena for the day we were forced to take the bus back to the train station to take the ~2.5 hour train ride home. It was starting to get dark out and 2 things were going through my mind: 1) thank god this isn’t Naples and 2) please please please PLEASE don’t go on strike. I really just want to get back to Florence at a reasonable hour.

The fates were on my side because the train left on time (and when I say on time I mean on Italian time, which is about 30 minutes later than your watch actually indicates). Back to Florence in one piece and a day well-spent.

Though we only got to spend about 3 hours total in Siena it was a lot like Orvieto in my mind. It was quaint and not too touristy. Dozens of families gathered in the square around sunset as a man performed what we think was a puppet show (we couldn’t see from our table at the restaurant) and everything was just peaceful and friendly. It’s another one of those towns that really sums up Italy.

BusAbout arranges some group dinners in each city where you can go and get a proper meal for a pretty decent price. This wasn’t offered in Rome, so when I heard about the Florence dinner I was intrigued, but after hearing the menu I decided to opt out. Alice mentioned that since it was a regular restaurant it might be possible to just order what we want off of the menu. She was right. Good call.

We both had the spaghetti pomodoro which was pretty good. A little too al dente in my opinion, but it was good enough. The portion wasn’t all that big, though, so we found ourselves still quite hungry. Since almost everyone else with us was getting the BusAbout 4-course meal we decided to venture outside to get some dessert or something. We’d passed a waffle and gelato stand on our way to the restaurant so we figured that’d be a good bet.

It was. So wonderful. Though it was far more expensive than we’d anticipated (dumb choice not to ask the price before ordering), it was worth every cent of that 9 euros. We sat on the steps of some church-type-building and indulged. Two belgian waffles sandwiching your gelato flavor of choice with hot nutella sauce poured over the top. Really, how can you resist?? I couldn’t.

So faces and hands entirely covered with nutella and gelato, we finished our waffles and decided to head back too the hostel – mostly because we really needed to wash our hands, but also because we’d planned to take a day trip to Siena the next morning and wanted to have an early night.

…the story continues after a brief day trip to Siena… read on

We took a funicular up to the town where Ben, our BusAbout guide, walked us to the Duomo. We didn’t go inside, but it was a really incredible building from the outside. So ornate! It looked like a giant vanilla and chocolate layered wedding cake.

From there we had the option to go to some sort of cave, but Alice, a girl from Australia that I’d met in Rome, and I decided to wander through the town instead. We found all sorts of cute little streets where people were just stopped in the middle catching up and chatting about this and that. It was the Italian town you always imagine – high on a hill, winding cobblestone streets with few cars (if any at all), green shutters and big wooden doors, window boxes with bright pink flowers and a slow and steady pace. There weren’t many tourists around which was perfect.

Part of the reason for our stop was to get lunch. Though we’d basically been living off of sandwiches, we decided to stop into one of the delis to get a fresh sandwich instead of one of the usual premade numbers. The shop we picked was a tiny little grocer with a tiny little old Italian lady behind the meat counter. If I had to venture a guess I would say that the entire store was about 10′ by 12′ with an aisle just wide enough for one row of 3 people to order their goods. There were a few shelves of pasta, sauce, and various other cooking items, but the real reason we were there was for a fresh sandwich, so that’s what we ordered.

Alice ordered some sort of roll-up with fresh mozzarella, some sort of meat that I think was prosciutto, and olives. If it didn’t have the olives I would have gone for the same. Instead I got freshly sliced prosciutto and fresh mozzarella on ciabatta. We sat down outside of the local teatro where we’d seen the old Italian ladies conversing earlier to chow down and people-watch.

Best sandwich I’ve ever had.

I was worried that it would be too dry without any sort of condiment on it, but boy was I wrong. It was amazing. It was so large that I couldn’t finish the whole thing and it only cost me 3.50 euro. Now that’s money well spent.

Unfortunately we only had a short time to spend in Orvietto, but I’m so glad that we got to stop there because to me it was quintessential Italy. It’s the type of town people live in. It’s the type of place you go to become a local instead of an observer. It’s exactly what I was looking for!

Alllllllllllllrighty. So now we’re on our 3rd full day in Rome. Laura’s last day before her flight to London and then back to Canada. Three things on our to-do list. Well, 3 sights at least. I also wanted a granite (a slushie) and Laura needed to get her Rome shot glass.

We got a late start to the day (thank god) and went straight to the Colosseum. We decided to do a tour because, to be honest, we didn’t have the brain power to do much of the thinking for ourselves. The tour covered the Colluseum itself and Palantine Hill. It would take an hour and 45 minutes, which was good because I think that’s about all of the attention span I could muster.

The Colosseum was amazing. I’d never really seen photos of the inside, but it’s really complex! Palantine Hill was equally impressive, and the view of the Forum from the top was spectacular (and saved us from having to walk around down there).

One down, two to go. It’s kind of unfortunate that this was our mentality for the day, but I’m still beat from these last 3 days. Rome is definitely not the type of place you rush through. I would have liked a few weeks – a day in the city, then 2-3 days at Capri, another day in the city and then 2-3 days in the country, etc. It’s just so hot and overwhelming!

Post-Colosseum I think we headed straight for Trevi. I hadn’t seen a picture of it in yearrrss and didn’t expect it to be nearly as large. It’s massive and really impressive! It’s a shame that it was so crowded, but I’m glad we went to see it. I threw my coin in to return to Rome. I thought about throwing in for “falling in love” or “getting married”, etc. but considering the events of the previous day I really didn’t want the fates to misinterpret. I stayed safe with just one coin.

After that was the Spanish Steps which I was pretty disappointed by. I was totally imagining it like Roman Holiday but instead it was more like the steps of the Met at lunchtime a la Gossip Girl. Ah well.

Back on the Metro to the bus and back to the campsite. We went straight to the restaurant for a giant plate of pasta each. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Just give me my pasta. It was just what I needed. I hadn’t really eaten anything besides the fries, McFlurry, a yogurt and the granite (which was perfect) in the last two days so I devoured the entire plate like it was nobody’s business.

It was nice to be back to the campsite before it was dark out. It gave us time to go online, just have downtime, recharge and finally get the Bacardi Breezers that we’d been craving. Thank god for happy hour.

But not before Laura ran into Lulu (I really can’t remember the dude’s name, but it’s something like Lulu so that’s what he’s going to be from now on) at the registration desk. Thankfully she had no way of communicating with him because his English is about 10 words and her Italian stops at grazie. And even more thankfully I was safe in the Internet point. phew.

The evening was a lot of fun. There were lots of BusAbouters around because the Italian Adventure bus had come back earlier in the day.

I passed Lulu on my way to the bar but made a quick reroute toward the exit when I realized he was there. I went to the bathroom hoping he would be gone when I got back. I passed the BusAbouters that we’d run into the night before when we got home from Pompeii and they knew the story. There were 2 big guys there and I told them that if I came running back they were to pretend to be mine and Laura’s boyfriends. Luckily Lulu was gone.

Laura left for London on Thursday morning and I spent my day recharging, blogging (obviously) and getting some laundry done. It’s good to just hang out every once in a while.

I’m off to Florence in the morning – my last stop in Italy, but one I’m really looking forward to!

So Tuesday morning we got up at the crack of dawn once again. Showered, dressed, and out the door before 7:30. We knew we had to get to Termini station in order to get a train to Naples and then we’d have to take a local train to get to Pompeii (the Circumvesuviana). We were hoping to get there by around noon, 1PM at the latest.

We did well. Bought our tickets – yay for Eurail passes, once again – and made our train with no major problems. Sweet. So far so good. After getting a bit lost (and grossed out) by the Napoli Centrale (the Naples train station) we made it to the Circumvesuviana and off to Pompeii.

Pompeii’s heat beat everything else we’d experienced so far and considering I’ve had things like band-aids melt and can easily drink over 2 liters of water in a few hours and not need a bathroom, that’s saying a lot (and probably more than you needed to know). I was expecting it to be hot – we were, after all, going to be walking around on nearly black dirt at the hottest point of the day, through ruins that were generally quite short and therefore didn’t provide much shade. We’d might as well been standing in the middle of the the tarmac at the airport with some solar reflectors pointed at our faces.

Pompeii is also HUGE. Much bigger than I was expecting, and much more spread out as well. There are little blips of activity all over the area and the most interesting parts are pretty much as far away from each other as you could get. Once again, though, going back to Arkeo this past semester, I had a whole new appreciation for the amount of work it must have taken to get even a fraction of this stuff uncovered, let alone entire arenas and ornate bathhouses. I think they said excavation started around 1700 and we definitely saw some archaeologists here and there still digging. That’s a LOT of digging.

But I digress. So we rented these audioguide things. After looking at the map for a while we realized that it would be pretty tough to tell what’s what without some sort of guide there. It turns out that the audio guide was mostly an annoying voice in the too-hot heat. A 5 euro loss, but better safe than sorry I suppose.

We walked around for hours. I think 4 in total. We didn’t cover everything, but we saw enough. I don’t think it’s possible to cover it all in one day. It seems more like Disney to me. You know, the kind of place where you stay nearby, do a little bit one day, a little bit the next. Otherwise it gets too overwhelming and even a bit repetitive. Toward the end one little house started to look like the next and before we knew it we were mostly staring at the ground trying not to trip and just walking by the structures giving each a quick glance, if that.

Some of the structures were just awe-striking, especially this one bath house that they only recently opened after renovations. It was so ornate and luxurious looking. If only it had running water and were open for a swim. I think that would have been perfect.

I kind of wish I’d read up a bit more on Pompeii before I went, but I was shocked at how much I was able to apply stuff I didn’t realize I learned in a class that I didn’t particularly enjoy but only took to fulfill some graduation requirements. That’s the last time I’ll complain about Cornell’s distribution requirements. It turns out that they can actually be a bit useful. Who’da thought?

After finishing up the parts that we definitely wanted to see, we stopped at this little food stand because Laura was starving and I was in desperate need of something sugary. I ended up paying 3 euro for what was basically a small cup of lemon juice (sugarless lemonade) and Laura paid 7 euro for a sandwich. But, they’re the only game in town. Gotta love economics.

At this point we were planning out the rest of our evening. After a successful day of going off on our own – figuring out the buses and trains and surviving the heat, all we wanted was a good dinner and a strawberry daiquiri. We thought we deserved it. We hopped on the Circumvesuviana back to Napoli Centrale and bought our tickets home.

That’s when we realized. The departures board was over an hour behind. It appeared that nothing had left the station since around 17:15 and it was currently just about to hit 18:00. Our train was scheduled to leave at 18:16, but it wasn’t on the board. After looking around for a bit and realizing that there was something amiss we went off to in search of someone who spoke English to see what was up. We managed to find a guy who worked for the trains. He spoke “a little” English. We asked him what was going on. He said “There is a…how do you say it??” turns to the other train man next to him and says in Italian “how do you say…”. He turns back to us and says, as-a-matter-of-factly and ever so calmly, “There is a strike.”

“A strike?!”
“Yes.” And he moves on to someone else.

Holy hell. NOW what are we supposed to do!? I’d heard about these crazy strikes they like to go on in Europe (Palermo had recently had a garbage strike) and I knew they could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days. I was hoping for the former, but planning for the latter. We went over to the tourist info booth to see what we were supposed to do. Do these things resolve themselves quickly? Should we start looking for a place to sleep tonight? Can someone please speak English?

Of course, the tourist info booth was closed for the day. As was customer care. We were basically left to fend for ourselves. In Naples.

I suppose now would be a good time to try to describe Naples to you. Because let me tell you, it’s probably one of the last places I would want to be stuck for an extended period of time. Ysa had warned me that Naples was a bit like Newark or Camden, NJ. I figured, hey, couldn’t be that bad. I won’t actually stay there overnight, but passing through won’t be a big deal. As our train from Rome got closer and closer to Napoli Centrale, I knew exactly what she meant. I wish I had taken a few photos to try to illustrate (bad photographer, Jenn, bad!) but I was so in shock at just how…I don’t want to say slummy, but it was slummy. If you could imagine the stories of the tenaments in NYC from back in the days of the Irish immigration – essentially an entire city comprised of buildings that we would call the projects. Not just big brown brick buildings (because these were quite colorful), but big brick buildings, built with only a few feet between each. Each window with its own balcony from which clothes of all shapes and sizes were hanging to dry. Throw in some graffiti, dirt, and some of the highest pickpocketing rates in all of Italy and you have a rough approximation of Naples. It was a different kind of bad from Palermo.

So now with that image in your head, enter the train station. Don’t let the “Centrale” part of Napoli Centrale fool you. This place is no Grand Central. It’s basically a large, unappointed space with train tracks coming out of one end. There is no seating whatsoever. The only food around is a McDonald’s attached to a pizzeria, and there are stray dogs lying everywhere (Cute dogs too. So sad. They were all over Pompeii as well. The smart ones went into the bath houses and shaded areas). It’s the type of place where you wear your backpack on your front with your arms clasped over it and start jabbing your elbows if someone gets even a little bit too close.

There we are, in this train station, tickets in hand, but no place to go. In any other city (well almost any other city) this would be the time you say “no big deal, we’ll just go out and explore,” but we were in Naples. We weren’t going any further than within reading distance of the departures board. It was around this time we became very thankful that we had sweat out all of the water we’d consumed over the course of the day. We stared at the departures board for a good, long while, just trying to figure out what to do. There were announcements coming over the PA, in Italian of course. Not much help to us. We just kept looking around for clues of what we should be doing. The fact that not many people had left despite the strike led us to believe that it might not be a very long strike. Fingers crossed.

I hadn’t really eaten all day. I had a yogurt in the morning, a lot of water, and a cup of lemon juice, but that was about it. I needed food before I passed out. Unfortunately I had to break my “X years without McDonald’s” streak and give in to hunger. I bought a thing of curly fries (curly fries, in McDonald’s?! Sweet!) and a McFlurry. Laura opted for the McFlurry. If you could see the rate at which I was eating these fries, you would think I’d never eaten before. It certainly felt like it. The McFlurry was a different story. I just needed to eat that one before it melted.

McFlurries in Europe are about 1/3 of the size of our McFlurries at home. They’re about the size of a 4″ tall Dixie cup. Laura’s was only 1/2 full. We have a running joke about what I get because apparently I can pass for Italian vs. what she gets because she’s blonde. She generally gets men proposing to her (more on that later) and less food served by grumpy people and I generally get the proper, if not larger portions and service with a smile. Laura decided that if we were still in the train station at 8PM, she would get some fries, but I would go order them so she would get the right amount.

While I’m on that topic, I have to point out some funny things about being of non-descript heritage. When I’m at home, most people guess that I’m Italian. I’m not, obviously. When they hear my last name, some can manage to guess that I am at least part hispanic. Most of the time, though, people can’t really figure it out.

This all changed the moment I stepped foot in Madrid. All of a sudden EVERYONE knew I was spanish. Checking into my first hostel the guy goes “Vargas! Hablas Espanol?!”, in Copenhagen the woman checking me in said “I thought you were American, but your last name is Spanish isn’t it?” In the same hotel, this Polish guy asked where I was from, I said the US, and he said “but you have some Spanish in you, right? I can tell.” It’s so strange that people here can actually figure it out, so much so that in Madrid and Barcelona people automatically spoke Spanish to me while they automatically spoke English to Marquise. I’d never felt so spanish in my life!

Then I got to Italy. Same thing with the owner of my B&B in Palermo. He was speaking Italian to his friend while he was checking me in and then goes “you can understand some Italian, right? Because you speak Spanish?” I didn’t tell him I spoke Spanish. I didn’t even hint that I could, but he assumed from my last name.

It turns out that I can, in fact, understand a good amount of Italian. I’m not saying that you could stick me at a dinner table full of Italians and I’d be able to keep up, but the longer I spend in Italy (8 days so far but it feels like more!) the more I’ve been able to understand Italian. And, like in Spain, people here kind of assume that I’m Italian, because when I check out at a store or restaurant or something, they tell me my total in Italian whereas for Laura they either tell her in English or point to the screen to show her the number. I’m still learning my numbers, but I’m getting to the point where I don’t really have to glance at the screen before handing over my Euros.

Anyway, that was just a really long way of me providing some background for the rest of the evening…

So my ability to understand at least a little bit of Italian came in handy while we were waiting around at the train station. After about 2 hours of waiting around, it looked like the strike was over because they turned on the departures board again and were slowly starting to list platforms (binarios) next to the departing trains. There were two departures boards about 10′ apart. One seemed to display times and platforms before the other, so I stood at one and Laura stood at the other and we’d compare notes.

Because I’m not very good at standing still I decided to wander over to this other printed board that I’d seen a bunch of people looking at over the course of our wait. It was a hardcopy list of all of the departures from the station every day. I found our train on the list and next to it was listed Binario 17. I told Laura what I’d found and we decided it would be a good idea to go in the vicinity of Platform 17 just in case we needed to run. For the few minutes leading up to this discovery I’d been hearing some trains announced on the PA that weren’t on the board. At one point I thought I’d heard ours announced, but again, my Italian is pretty much non-existent. Luckily, they repeated the announcement every minute or so and after about 5 times I was able to put together the whole string: our train was delayed, but would be boarding soon, or something like that. FINALLY. We didn’t care if the train stayed in the station for another hour after we boarded. The fact that we were safe inside, had seats, air conditioning, and bathroom was about the best news ever.

Just as we reached platform 17 they announced that our train was boarding. On Platform 17. Go us! We figured it out! Though our seats were in car #10, we got on at car #2, just in case they decided to pull away quickly or something. Just get on the train and we’ll sort the rest out later.

It turns out we’d booked a high-speed train for our trip back. That would explain the price difference. Earlier we probably a bit bitter that we had to pay more for a high speed train, but with our train over two hours delayed we were sooo thankful that it would only take us about 1.5 hours to get back to Roma. Oh Roma. How we missed it.

We sat on the train for a while before it actually moved and hypothesized why they went on strike and why the strike only lasted for about 2 hours. We came to the conclusion that they were angry because they didn’t get a long enough lunch break and therefore didn’t get to finish their paninis. This, of course, was all in an Italian-speak-English accent. It’d been a long day.

Two hours doesn’t really sound like a big deal. Some trains are delayed for 2 hours even on a regular day without a strike, but the fact that all of this was going on in a really grimy place where we couldn’t understand if they were telling us to go home for the evening because no trains would be leaving or if they were telling us to sit tight and grab a coffee because it would all be over in a few minutes made it all the more painful. Not to mention we hadn’t really eaten and we’d been in the sun all day (and didn’t realize how burnt we were until we could see in the mirror of the train’s bathroom). All we wanted was a sandwich or a plate of fries and a strawberry daiquiri. Or maybe a Bacardi Breezer. Or maybe both. Also, the BusAbout was set to leave the next morning with some people we’d wanted to say goodbye to and had made plans to meet at the bar at 10PM. We were obviously going to be late.

Alrighty – so we’re finally on the train. At 8PM on the dot, our train started moving. I actually started to clap and cheer. It was that exciting. The ride was gorgeous. The Italian countryside really is quite beautiful and we got to see it at sunset. I tried to take a few photos, so we’ll see if they came out when I get home.

The conductor said we’d be home at 9:14PM. As I’d mentioned to Laura earlier, I’d never been on an Italian train that was on time. So true. We ended up getting in around 9:30 instead of 7:37 like we were supposed to.

From Termini we needed to take a metro and then a bus to get back to our campsite. The metro was no big deal, but we ended up waiting for the bus for a really long time.

And that’s where the third part of this story begins…

We get to our bus stop around 10:00. It’s obviously dark out at this point and we weren’t sure how frequently the buses ran at night. The good news is that we were on a busy street and there were a lot of people at the bus stop. For a while at least. As buses came and went the stop grew less and less crowded until it was just Laura and I and maybe 3-4 other people including this one guy who asked us (in Italian) if we were waiting for bus 246. We pretended not to speak Italian and just shook our heads like “huh?” Then he said it in English. Damn. He also mentioned that he was going to the same campsite we were (we didn’t tell him where we were going.) Double damn.

He took our acknowledgement of understanding as an invitation to start a conversation. Lovely. He wasn’t a creepy guy or anything, we just weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone and just wanted to get home and go to sleep. He asked if we spoke any Italian and I said I could understand a little expecting him to ask me if I knew when the buses ran or something. Not so much. He then launched into a conversation that covered everything from how much he liked Obama, something derogatory about a middle eastern man also waiting for the bus (and how Obama would do something about it…couldn’t quite figure that out), some other stuff about the soccer match between the US and Italy the night before, some more stuff about the 1994 World Cup (which I remembered was in the US and a few matches were played at Giants Stadium), some more stuff about Britney Spears, Jennifer Lopez, and Leonardo DiCaprio, some more stuff about who knows what else, and then launched into the point of all of this: he’s single and asked us if we were. I thought he was asking if we were married (obviously not to each other), so I said no. He then pointed out that he wasn’t either and that he needed to get married to a “bella donna, donna brava.”

I should mention that Laura doesn’t understand any Italian at all, so I had this dude talking to me in Italian, I would turn and tell Laura what he said in English (or occasionally smile and laugh like I was telling her something funny but really I was saying “I have no idea what this man is saying to me so let’s just smile and laugh and maybe he’ll go away”) and then I would go back to this dude as if she’d answered his question and try to explain it to him in whatever Italian I could muster. I don’t know why I was trying so hard to communicate with this guy – I suppose I really just wanted to kill time and it was actually pretty hysterical.

So then he launches into the “proposal” part of the evening. He notes that he has a cabin all to himself and that he would like to invite us to take a shower with him.

Ummm…how do you say “no effing way” in Italian?

I told Laura and we both laughed at him instead and I said no way. He went on to tell us about how Italians are friendly people and it would be fun, etc. etc. I told him we’d been to Pompeii and were going to home to sleep. No shower. Sleep. In our own cabins. And no, you’re not invited to join us.

I think he got the point and then started moving in closer to Laura. He again asked if she was single. I got the point this time and said no, she has a large boyfriend and started to use sign language saying he was really tall and really strong. Laura got the hint and shook her head in agreement. The guy (who I think introduced himself as Lulu or something like that) said “oh, so he would come here and kill me”. I said absolutely.

This went on for a while, despite my best efforts to get rid of him and FINALLY we were rescued by a bus. I told Laura go to in the front door because I saw him walk toward the back. We lost him. Finally. And we were on our way back to the campsite. Finally.

So now we’re inching toward 11PM. Everything at the campsite was closed, except for the “disco” which had a really long line, so we decided to forego all of the treats we’d had planned for the evening and went to see if we could find Peter and Emma to say goodbye. Luckily they were outside of their cabin with a group of BusAbouters. We told them all our story. They offered us some of their wine and beer, but at this point I only had the energy to consume things intravenously. Unfortunately they didn’t have french fries in an IV bag.

We went back to our cabin just after 11 and literally fell on our beds. What. A. Day.

We had plans to go to the Colloseum, Trevi Fountain, and the Spanish Steps the next day but wanted to sleep in. Alarms set for 9:30 didn’t help at all. I think we finally left for the bus around 12:30PM.

The story continues in Part III… read on…

Let’s see…Sunday: Rolled out of bed early to check out and get on the BusAbout to Rome. It’s a really nice long-distance coach with AC and power outlets. If it had wi-fi I think I would have cried with delight, but no luck there. Pretty much everyone had 2 seats to themselves which was nice to napping (or rather continuing the previous night’s sleep). We stopped every 2 hours at rest areas for food and bathroom and such. Everyone who’d been on the bus before said that it was one of the worst rides they’d had so far. I thought it was great – sleep for 2 hours, wake up, eat, go to the bathroom, get back on the bus, sleep, and do it again until you’re in Rome!

We got into Rome around 6:30 I believe. Laura and I managed to get into the same cabin which was good considering the many early mornings we had planned. And it’s air conditioned. Major win. Even better news (or so we thought at the time) was that there is a supermarket across the road. We literally threw our stuff down on our beds and went straight to the produce aisle. So. Disappointing. Really I don’t know what these people eat because there weren’t many vegetables around and the selection they DID have looked like it’s had a tough life so far. We ended up getting bagged salad (nothing like the ones in the States. This was a sad, sad salad) some pre-cubed ham (glorified SPAM) to throw on top, and the only dressing we could find: lemon juice. Not the greatest tasting salad on the planet, but I just wanted vegetables. I would have eaten a carrot Bugs Bunny style if I had to.

Post-dinner I’m pretty sure I went straight to the internet area because the wi-fi in this place is free (SOOOO exciting, you have no idea) and tried to catch up on some email and things. I’m getting better at going entire days without being able to go online, but it gets to be a pain in the arse when I finally can get on and there are 100 emails waiting for me. I only want the good ones though: updates from friends, travel ideas, general hi-how-are-yas and the like. The rest are still unread, so if you don’t give your email a compelling subject, don’t expect an answer anytime soon .

I think we all hung out by the pool that night and listened to the live music. Early to bed, big plans for the next day.

Monday: 2 things on the list: The Pantheon and The Vatican.
We got up really early (I’m talking like 6:15) so that we could beat the crowds to the Pantheon. After some confusion with the bus system (what else is new) we made it. It was really spectacular. Though I’d say it’s probably one of the more minor sights that we took in, it was still amazing and, nerd that I am, I kept thinking back to Archaeology this past semester and how the Pueblo people used to use the sun in a similar way to how they were using it in the Pantheon to mark the time of day for prayer for each religion. I’m actually really glad I took that class before doing this trip. Especially in Rome it’s given me a whole new appreciation for ruins and other archeological sites (more on that when I get to Pompeii…). In any case, we had to go back in the direction of Termini to pick up our tour of the Vatican.

For the Vatican, I’d booked a walking tour through BusAbout because a) you get to skip the lines and b) most of my knowledge of the history of Christianity and Catholiscism in general comes from what I’ve learned in Art and English classes (and I suppose the occasional history class too), so I thought it’d be a good idea to have someone to tell me what’s what. It was definitely a smart choice because the Vatican Museum is really, really intimidating! I think the statistic is something like “if you spend 1 minute looking at each piece of work in the Vatican Museum you’ll be there for 14 years”? I didn’t have that kind of time.

The tour was realllllllllllly long. I think it started around 11AM near Termini station and we went through the Ponte Sant’ Angelo, went past the Castel Sant’ Angelo, down the Via della Conciliazione and found ourselves in St. Peter’s Square. We wound through the Vatican Museum for what felt like an eternity (though it was really interesting) and (finally) made it to the Sistine Chapel (or…as most people put it, the Sixteeth Chapel. Honestly, how can you actually be standing IN the place, with signs outside pointing to the Capella Sistina and STILL not get that it’s not the 16th?). I’ve obviously seen tons of photos of the Sistine Chapel over the years, but it’s really nothing like seeing it for yourself. It’s actually really intimidating and you don’t know where to look. The Chapel itself is also packed with people talking and taking pictures even though you’re not supposed to, so it didn’t feel as reverent as I was expecting. The ceiling and walls and everything else were magnificent to say the least. The figures themselves were a lot larger than I expected. I’d love to be able to go back there one day when it’s completely empty, lie down in the middle of the floor, and stare up, because even after spending 15 minutes standing in one place and slowly rotating around trying to take it all in I don’t feel like I saw enough.

After the Sistine Chapel I think we were dropped in front of St. Peter’s Basilica to go in if we wanted. Laura and I were so incredibly beat from only having about 4 hours of sleep and being in the beating sun all day that we decided to skip it and instead go to this gelato place that was supposed to be amazing. I do kind of wish I’d been able to go into St. Peters, but at the same time it gives me a reason to come back here.

The tour was really useful, especially in some parts of the Vatican museum, but I have to say, my history, English, and art classes throughout school were actually pretty successful at prepping me for a place like Rome. There were only a few tidbits that the tourguide mentioned that I hadn’t heard before and most of those were about the Passion of the Christ angels along the Bridge of Angels. I guess school wasn’t so bad after all.

I should also note, anecdotally, that the entire time I walked through the Vatican (about 4.5 hours total) I had various scenes and songs from both Sister Acts playing in my head. Those of you who’ve known me for a while know that over the course of my life (or rather since they came out) I’ve seen both Sister Act movies a combined total of over 100 times. Probably closer to 150-200, actually. I love those movies. So here I am, in what’s called one of the holiest places on earth (at least for the Catholics), surrounded by nuns, priests, cardinals, Swiss Guardsmen, and of course, tourists, and the only things running through my mind, apart from omg it’s so hot and omg my feet are killing me, were some songs from Whoopi Goldberg movies. OK, maybe it wasn’t the ONLY thing, but still. At least, though, for the majority of the time, it was the scene that they sang I Will Follow Him for the Pope. More appropriate than the “boogie woogie” fast versions…

ANYWAY – so we get the gelato from the supposedly excellent place (it’s called Old Bridge, it’s basically across from the entrance to the Vatican Museum), and it was, indeed, excellent. The scoops were enormous! I ended up going with Fragola, Limone, and however you say Pineapple. So tasty.

I’m pretty sure that from there we decided to head back to the campsite to nap, go online, eat, etc. Oh right – we had pizza in the restaurant. Pretty good I suppose. To be honest the best pizza I’ve had in Italy so far was at a rest stop somewhere between Ancona and Rome. Or maybe it was between Venice and Ancona. Either way, I haven’t been very impressed. Gelato on the other hand? mmmmmmm….

So that’s my first 1.5 days in Rome. Tuesday was an entirely different type of adventure that was only going to get a few paragraphs mention, but now deserves an entry of its own. Read on, my friends. Read on…

19 hours in Italian time is actually somewhere closer to 21. That’s how long my train took to get from Palermo to Venice. I have to say, though, it wasn’t all that bad.

I left Palermo around 4PM on Thursday and arrived in Venice around 1PM on Friday. I somehow managed to snag an entire cabin to myself with bunk beds for the overnight journey. It was a little weird being completely on my own on a train I’d never ridden before because I wasn’t able to pick up clues from the people around me about when to get off, how to get the door to lock but be openable from the outside (something that annoyed the conductor a bit) and things like that. Ah well, I just made it up as I went along.

The one part that through me for a loop, though, was when they loaded the train onto a ferry to get from Sicily to the mainland. I’d read about this type of transport in a travel guide somewhere but I wasn’t entirely sure if I was supposed to stay in my car, go out and into the boat or what. That part of the trip was pretty long as I hoped that I was in the right place at the right time and wouldn’t be shipped off somewhere else because I didn’t change trains on the ferry or something.

I slept like a log on that train. Once I’d locked all of my stuff down so that you would need a hacksaw in order to get it and by that time they’d hopefully make enough noise to wake me up, I pulled down my top bunk, climbed in and fell asleep. I think I managed to get a solid 8 hours in with only a few wakeups here and there. I woke up somewhere around Florence, just in time to watch the hills of Tuscany in the wee hours of the morning through my window.

Fast forward to Venice itself:
I booked the hostel that the Busabout website recommended. It was a campsite, which kind of worried me a bit. But, like I said earlier, I would sleep out on the train tracks as long as I could have some other people my own age to talk to! So I got off the train and walked out of the station. There I was standing on the Grand Canal. Seriously one of the best locations for a train station ever. It literally dumps you right into the heart of Venice. I was feeling much better already and since I’d had some time before the next shuttle was due to go from the train station to the campsite, I just plopped myself down on the steps of the station and watched everyone buzz about.

I thought Palermo was hot. Wrong. It’s arctic compared to Venice. Let me put it this way: Venice is so hot that the band-aid I put on the blister on my right foot actually melted itself onto my sandal. Melted. As in practically liquified. I’m not sure what the actual temperature was, but the sun was unbelievable. I think I got more tanned sitting on those steps for 40 minutes than I would have on an entire day at the beach.

After deciding that I didn’t feel like waiting another 2 hours for the next shuttle (I happened to arrive during the lunch break) I found my way to the public buses and figured out how to get to the campsite. Mission: accomplished, no big deal. I settled into my summer camp-style cabin, threw on some cooler clothes, grabbed my book, and made my way to the pool. I didn’t actually go swimming or anything, just plopped down in one of the deck chairs and read for a few hours I think.

I’d intended to go into Venice for dinner but missed the last shuttle before the dinner break by about 45 seconds. Instead, I had to go to the market at the campsite and figure out what to do about food. Of course, everything was painfully overpriced.

At this point I started to meet all sorts of people who also happened to be doing the BusAbout tour – the majority from Australia and New Zealand – and we were just chatting and eating, etc. etc. I was liking Venice already.

I met a girl named Laura (from Canada) who’s on Busabout who is also traveling on her own. Sweet. We planned to go into Venice the next day.

We were in Venice by 10:30 in the morning and had one mission: Breakfast. By the time we got ourselves unlost, though, it was practically lunch and we decided to just get sandwiches instead. We found our way to Piazza San Marco and hung around there eating lunch. Venice is a maze. I’m still surprised we made it out of there.

We saw everything we wanted to see by about noon and then were caught figuring out what to do with the rest of the day. My guidebook pointed out Murano (one of the islands just off of the main island of Venice) as a nifty place to visit. It’s home to a lot of artistic glass studios so we thought that would be fun. We bought the 12 hour pass for the vaporetto (the waterbus) and hopped on.

On our way out we’d noticed these 4 seats at the back of the boat that weren’t enclosed like the rest. They were already taken, but they seemed like a really cool spot to sit. You get all of the views and you’re not trapped in the hot underbelly of the boat. We made it our mission to get those seats on the way back.

Murano was cool. The glass shops had some really great stuff but it was all super expensive and super breakable. Though they would have made great souveniers, the odds of them lasting the entire trip would have been slim to none. Sad. We drowned our sorrows by sitting along the side of the canal with some gelato.

We walked around for a bit. It’s a quaint little area, but then we decided to get back on the vaporetto to head back for San Marco to line up to check out San Marco. We slowly made our way back to the outside seats on the vaporetto. It took almost 2/3 of the trip back so, to make it worth our while (and to get our money’s worth out of the 12-hour passes that we bought for 16 euro) we decided to stay on and just loop around. The seats were great and they pretty much provided us with a waterfront tour of the entire Grand Canal and more. I think it was something like 3 hours later (which is about 3 loops?) we’d gotten a bit too much sun, Laura was soaked by a wave, and the boat was getting a bit crowded. We hopped off at San Marco to see about the cathedral.

We lined up and made it in where we assumed they would take our bags and we could go check out the inside. We got to the front of the line and the guy literally pushed us to the exit “no bags!” Jeeeeeez. It turns out that you have to go to this other building to leave your backpacks and they don’t even lock them up. We weren’t too comfortable with that and decided to go in search of some more gelato instead. It’s a good thing we did because by the time we’d walked from the other building back to San Marco, they’d closed the cathedral for the day. That would have been a waste!

Since our bus was scheduled to leave at 8AM the next day, our next mission was to get some food for breakfast. It had to be something that didn’t need to be refrigerated and it had to be something quick and portable. We also wanted to pick up a bottle of bellini just because you’re supposed to (and because it was supposedly very tasty). After wandering the streets for the best deal of gelato (huge scoops for about 1 euro each. Stand around and watch the people get their cones before you. If the scoop isn’t heaping, forget about it.) Oh, right, and we wanted to get pizza. We weren’t exactly hungry, but again, it’s just something you’re supposed to do. Plus, if we ate in a restaurant, it meant that we wouldn’t have to pay to use a public bathroom. Score.

So the pizza was decent. Nothing spectacular, but then again I’m partial to NYC-style pizza. While we were eating we saw this girl walk by with a giant cone of gelato. We determined that she had to have gotten it recently given its appearance and its lack of melting. After figuring out which direction she came from we decided that we’d have to go check it out – it might be just what we’ve been looking for all day. It was. So many flavors, so little time! The scoops were massive. I <3 gelato.

Last stop: breakfast foods and bellini. We found a bakery/liquor store owned by this old man and got what we needed. At this point we had about 45 minutes (I think?) to get back to the bus depot in order to catch the last shuttle before the dinner break (which would mean another 2 hours of meandering around). We hopped on the waterbus again and made it to our stop with 3 minutes to spare. We literally ran to the bus and got there just as he was closing the door. Thankfully, he opened it for us and we were good to go.

Add on another night of hanging out with other BusAbouters, drinking our bellini, and generally just enjoying my time and all in all Venice has been one of my favorite stops and one of my favorite cities of this trip so far. I love that there are no cars on the roads and some alleyways are no wider than the little old ladies walking through them. You spend your entire day crossing over bridges and it seems like you’re never more than 20 steps from the water. If it weren’t so touristy I think it would be a great place to live. Murano seemed like a good compromise – not too touristy but every bit as quaint as Venice itself.

Verdict: Definitely a place I’d like to go back to as some point.

Next stop: Roma! Arrivderci!

I don’t remember one ounce of my flight to Sicily. I slept like a log until just about the time where we dipped below the clouds. Sleep is a wonderful thing.

My first impressions of Sicily were great. It seemed beautiful from above and as we went in for our landing I was impressed by the landscape. Much better than Copenhagen.

I hopped on the train to Palermo. It was just over 45 minutes from the airport. The towns we passed through were cute – kids playing soccer, Vespas abound, just what you’d expect.

Then we pulled into Palermo. Upon reaching the station’s exit I believe the first words that came to mind were “uh oh” (probably closely followed by “holy hell it’s hot.”)

I was not impressed by Palermo at all. I had a 15 minute walk to my hotel along one of the major roads. The directions weren’t very clear “stay on Via Roma until the first traffic light, make a right, then a left, then cross the plaza and look for #46,” or something to that effect. Well the first traffic light wasn’t until about 12 minutes into my walk. I was sweating bullets. I looked at the street I was supposed to turn onto and decided that that couldn’t be the right one. It was far too small and off the beaten path. So I kept going, but when I didn’t see any other traffic lights in the distance I turned around and decided to give that street a try.

A right and then a quick left. There would be a piazza there. I don’t know about you, but my definition of piazza is a large, central, generally open area with lots of shops around it and people gathering. This was not a piazza. This was an alleyway. Bordered by even smaller alleyways. I asked an old man at a fruit stand where I could find my street. He pointed across the “piazza”. So I walked the 10 steps it took for me to cross the piazza – 10 steps through fishy smelling hose water and a bunch of men cleaning up their market stalls. Into the alleyway, where I passed a family that was straight out of a movie – kids screaming, babies crying, adults yelling at each other, laundry hanging from every which window, you get the picture.

So I pass through the family and make my way further down the alley. This alley is SMALL. It’s exactly the width of a small car. I know this because I was forced to practically climb up a wall in order to let a car pass. And there it was: #46. It had a tiny 10″x12″ sign on it declaring it as my hotel for the next two nights. Oh shit.

I ring the doorbell, already wondering where the nearest wi-fi cafe is so that I can try to book another hostel or something. The door was open, but I didn’t know where to go. The lady on the intercom just kept saying hello? hello? Finally I managed to get the floor out of her: 3rd floor. No elevator. And the ground floor is not floor 1. So the 4th floor. No big. I get to climbing.

I felt a little better upon reaching my room. It was decent. It was inside. It was safe.

When the owner returned to check me in he gave me a map of the sights. The whole time I’m thinking “yeah…right…like I’m going back out there.” I also mentioned that my flight was at 7:30 on Friday morning, so I’d be leaving quite early. He said that’s impossible. The first train doesn’t leave until after 4:30 (what is with these Europeans and their 4:30AM trains!?). And, not to mention, it wouldn’t really be safe for me to walk to the train station at that time of night. Yeah, no kidding. I barely felt safe in broad daylight. He suggested 2 options: a) I get a taxi to take me to the airport for 45 euro or he could take me to the train station on his scooter at 4:30 in the morning (which would make me late for check-in). Lovely.

Thank god this place had wi-fi. Seriously, I think I may have killed someone. I was able to pull up the train schedules online and found out that there was a direct, overnight train from Palermo to Venice. It left at 4PM the next day. Good stuff. I threw on my backpack (sans good camera, I didn’t feel comfortable pulling that one out in this area), and trekked back to the train station to buy my train ticket (the first using my Eurail pass) and passed a few of the sights circled on my map along the way (and by a few I mean two). I managed to get myself a couchette car which meant that I might actually get some sleep.

Back to the hotel I went, after stopping for gelato and a giant bottle of fanta for the evening, of course. I pulled out my laptop and got online. Homesickness was really setting in at this point. I think I IMed every single person who was online at the time. I just needed to talk to people and convince myself that it wouldn’t be the best idea to buy a plane ticket from Palermo to Newark and call it quits. Two not-so-great cities in a row and 3 days of being by myself with literally no one to talk to except the people at the check-in counters of my hotels and the airports, I wasn’t in a good place.

Having booked the first train out of there, I was feeling slightly better, especially since once I get to Venice I’ll be hooking up with the Busabout tour that I won through STA. I’d been putting off booking a hostel in Venice because I didn’t particularly like the one that they’d recommended, but at this point I was so damned lonely and desperate for company and people who spoke English, that I would have even paid 100 euro to stay in a place with people my own age. So I booked the recommended hostel. It’s actually a campsite. Only 16 euro a night. Should be interesting, but I don’t care. I just want lots of people around who I could possibly hook up with for a bit of sightseeing or I don’t know, general chit chat. Anything.

So after talking to friends who have been in similar situations and coming to the conclusion that I need to at least give the Busabout part of my trip a shot, I decided to call it an early night so that I can just sleep away the hours before my train left.

I woke up early today. 8:20AM. But that’s OK since I went to sleep sometime around 10PM. Oh, and there was air conditioning in my room. I don’t think I could have been happier. Finally a great night’s sleep (except for when I had to wake up in the middle of the night to put on socks and my jacket because even after turning the AC off I was freeeezing). Things were looking up. I was in a much, much, much better mood.

Breakfast courtesy of the hotel (it was actually a “B&B”) and a nice shower (which was bizarre, by the way, because it didn’t have a shower curtain and the shower head was at the level of a normal bathtub spout. I wasn’t quite sure if I was supposed to sit or stand or what, but let’s just say there were a lot of puddles in the bathroom when I was done. Oops.)

I packed up my things except for my laptop and a book and I just typed and read away to kill the hours. I wanted to be at the train station by 2:30 just in case I had any problems finding the track, etc. I also wanted to get some sort of lunch. Did I mention that this train was not just overnight, but practically an entire day? 19 hours to be exact.

The hotel owner offered me some lunch (pasta, of course) and a ride to the train station on his scooter. I was already running a bit late after the lunch (which was great, but took longer than I’d expected) so I declined to scooter ride and walked it. I bought myself a giant bottle of water and a sandwich just in case I got hungry at some point on the train, and on the train I went.

My time in Palermo was…authentic, I suppose. I stayed in a very authentic place in a very authentic neighborhood, was almost killed on multiple occasions by some very authentic drivers in a town with essentially no traffic lights or stop signs (or rules of the road in general), and I had some authentic spaghetti on my way out. Oh and the gelati, of course. Would I ever return to Palermo? I’m not going to say absolutely not. Maybe in a different hotel with a large group of friends it wouldn’t seem as bad, but never again by myself. Would I return to Sicily in general? Absolutely. The places we while on the train the way seemed so much nicer than Palermo. I think Sicily is the kind of place where you need to avoid major cities. Unless you’re the type who likes many-thousand-year-old dirt and grime in a city somewhat reminiscent of the bad parts of Newark. You’re a stronger person than I. Me? I booked the first train out of there to stay in a campsite 19 hours away. Overreaction? Possibly. Would I have rather been in the sketchy train station in Copenhagen at 3 in the morning? Absolutely.

(also as a side note: my internet access has been far more limited than I was anticipating. Photo uploading might not happen until I get back to the States. We’ll see.)