Anna Akhmatova definitely got it right... although I was only in Italy for five days, the entire experience - the sights, the sounds, the smells, the culture, the language, everything - will stay with me forever, and I already find myself dreaming of returning. My travels to The Eternal City and The City of Water won over my heart, and I believe I left a little piece of it somewhere in the beauty of Italia!
While I am able to say now that the experience was a wonderful one, I was absolutely petrified that it was going to be a disaster when I started out. I left last Monday afternoon, taking a train from Canterbury into London in order to catch my flight to Rome. Waiting on the bus to the train station took forever - I later learned that because it was Bank Holiday, buses weren't running as often. Then, on the train, I was meant to have two changes on the ride to Gatwick Airport, and misreading my ticket, missed the first one. I was still able to get to the airport, but over an hour later than expected! So, upon arriving, I rushed up the escalator to check in, ran to security, and passed through to the departure gates right as my flight's gate opened - and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that there was a long line still waiting to board.
After squishing my backpack into the contraption that makes sure it's a suitable size for a carry-on (on the cheap RyanAir flights, you are only allowed one bag, so even your purse has to go inside of your main piece of luggage and the restrictions are pretty tiny!) I was able to get a seat right next to the door of the plane and finally let myself relax - knowing that in just under two hours, I'd be in Rome!
Little did I know... it would be a nightmare getting to my hostel after landing. Passing through security was easy enough - a nice Italian officer took my passport, made sure my face matched the picture, and repeated my name in an Italian accent while stamping my entrance into the country. Then, I had to purchase a coach ticket to get to the city centre, and a metro pass to board the subway, trains, and city buses that would take me to my hostel. The coach ride into the middle of Rome took about a half an hour, and once we arrived at the main termini station, I did not see my stop on any of the maps - I didn't realize that my hostel was not even in Rome, but a city on the outskirts called Prima Porta!
Fortunately, there are police officers (polizia) everywhere in Italy, all of whom are very helpful, and two pointed me in the direction of another bus station and told me I had to take a bus to another train station. So, I did just that. At this point, it was about 9:30 p.m. and in talking to an Australian couple, I learned that once I got to the train station, I'd be out of luck, because the trains and metro would have stopped running by then. Awesome. So, I get to the bus station, in the middle of nowhere it seemed, and there were about a hundred buses, none of which were running. Luckily, there were bus drivers standing around, and after pointing to Prima Porta on my map, they laughed and asked if I was sure I wanted to attempt getting there that night. When I said yes, they told me that a night bus would be there soon that could take me to yet another bus station, where yet another bus could take me to where I needed to be. I don't know how or why I got so lucky, but on this bus, I met an Italian girl named Virginia who spoke excellent English and, although she hadn't heard of Prima Porta, got a hold of a friend who was able to explain how to get there... and another Italian university student, overhearing our conversation, said that he was hopping the next bus that was going in my direction. During the ride, they both gave me lots of advice, circling places I had to see on my map, and suggesting the best foods in all of Rome and where to find them. When the bus arrived at the final bus station, Virginia stood with me until my last bus came, even though it was beginning to rain, and insisted I get a hold of her if I ended up totally lost.
The final bus left and I saw on the map posted inside that Prima Porta was the last stop of the night - I was starting to reconsider how important it really was to save a few bucks on a hostel if it meant going through so much trouble to get there - we were clearly going very far away from Rome, the businesses growing less and less, street lights disappearing, and dark countryside zipping by outside the rain-covered windows - but the guy who had to get on the same bus as me made sure I got off at the right stop, about an hour later. The hostel has a coach that runs from the hostel to the train station every 30 minutes, but it stops running at 11 p.m., and it was now going on 12:30 a.m., not to mention we were at a bus stop and not the station, so the directions I had printed did not even apply. A family had gotten off with me, and while typically I am able to pick up what language one is speaking even if I don't understand a word, I have absolutely no idea where they were from, not even a guess. However, I was able to make out that they were going to the same place as me, and we walked nearly thirty minutes on a highway, in the rain and darkness, with signs in complete Italian, and none with the name of our hostel posted, before finally walking down a long lane with a sign reading "Tiber Camping Village" on it - hallelujah! My heart skipped a beat when I saw that the reception building was dark, but a man was there and flipped the lights on to check me in, sending me to a room right across from reception, a little market, and the hostel's bar and restaurant. I was finally excited to be in Rome. I quietly unlocked my room's door, thinking there would be three other girls inside, but was glad to make out the dark figure of only one. I made my bed, set my alarm, crawled in, and slept like a baby.
When I woke the next morning, my French hostel-mate was already showered and packing her daypack to head out, but chatted with me for a bit. She told me that she was backpacking for three weeks around Italy, and that Rome, her last stop, was her favorite. Even as a world-traveler, she was astonished I had made it to the hostel so late at night, and said she never would have attempted it, but because I had done so I shouldn't worry one bit about finding my way around the city. She suggested a few places I should see on my first day, and ran off to catch the first bus to the train station. I got ready and took a bit of time to familiarize myself with where I was staying - I immediately decided that even with the hassle of getting there, it was worth it. Everything I needed was close by, including free Internet and a pool. Part of me kind of wanted to stay and lounge around the place, especially when the outdoor speakers began playing classic rock, but I was beyond excited to see Rome and took the next bus.
When I got to the train station in Prima Porta, I was quite glad my mom wasn't there to see how, err... rough it looked. There was graffiti absolutely everywhere, including on the trains, ripped flyers half-hanging on the walls of the station, and staircase handles and train tracks rusted to the bone. I was happy to be on my way to a more well-known, hopefully safer looking area. On the train ride, which took about thirty minutes, I met a Dutch woman named Connie. She was in her late sixties or early seventies and was traveling alone like me. She was delighted to learn I was studying abroad and traveling as a young woman and her story was quite similar to mine - it was her second adventure to Italy, her first being forty years ago! She was equally excited to learn that I will be visiting Amsterdam and that I am studying literature - it gave her reason to comment on her love for Jane Austen. Because we were heading in opposite directions, we said our goodbyes at the station, and I climbed out of the underground to the sunlight and a stunning entrance into The Eternal City.
I had received many, many warnings about two things before traveling to Italy: Italian guys and pickpockets. So, I held tight to my purse and walked with as much confidence as I could muster towards the city. Immediately, men passing me on bikes and on foot slowed to say, "Ciao, bella," time and again - which, in all honesty, is kind of nice. However, traveling alone, it makes a girl a little uneasy. I kept walking, with no idea where I was heading, simply following the crowds that grew greater by the second, in hopes of getting to a main attraction soon. On the way, I saw several alleyways packed full of mopeds and outdoor cafes - just like you'd expect!
And there were sounds from nearly every alleyway and street corner from musicians and performers of all kinds. I stopped for a moment to watch this impressive and authentic Italian fellow:
After a short while, I was coming upon the main streets and was glad that I finally felt as if I had made it to the heart of Rome. It was on a crowded street of seemingly high-end businesses that I broke the solo-female-traveler rule. An Italian guy about my age popped out of an office as I was passing by and, catching up to match my stride, used the cheesiest pick-up line I have ever heard in my entire life. "Ciao, bella! I see this girl and I think to myself, I must know her name." At first I laughed and kept walking, but so did he. He introduced himself as Cristoforo (I think) as if we were having a conversation and then asked if I wanted a tour guide since he was on a thirty minute break from work. Still ignoring him, I continued walking towards a gorgeous building full of bright pink flowers at the end of the street. He smiled and asked if I knew what it was - when I didn't answer, he told me it was the Spanish Steps and gave me a bit of free history. Finally, I took a second to actually look at him while he talked, interested in what he had to say. He then handed me his iPhone and said, "So you know I don't take your camera," and offered to take a picture of me with the steps as a background.
I started thinking this guy didn't seem so bad, and when he offered to take me to the Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum, neither of which I had any idea how to get to, but desperately wanted to see, I agreed that so long as we stuck to main streets, I'd follow. I was lagging behind, too nervous to run in front of speeding mopeds and trucks like he was. He laughed on seeing me wait for the pedestrian signs to light up and grabbed me by the hand, weaving us quickly in and out of the traffic and crowds like true locals. He insisted I keep my eyes to the ground when we got close to the Trevi Fountain so that "it would be more of a surprise" when I saw it. And indeed it was - I wasn't expecting it to be so huge and beautiful! There were already hundreds of people there, and police guarding it so that no one would attempt to retrieve the thousands of coins tossed in throughout the day.
On our way to the Colosseum, he made sure to point out ancient ruins and important buildings along the way, giving a little fact here and there about each - I felt quite fortunate to be getting a free tour of sorts! When we got close enough to the Colosseum to see it, he made sure I knew how to get back to where I started, and rushed back to work.
While all of the sights had already taken my breath away, seeing the Colosseum in person was by far the most extraordinary - something so ancient and so famous was sitting right in front of me. After snapping a few photos and walking up to touch it, I took a moment to just sit and enjoy where I was and feel thankful.
I watched as several school groups passed by, and tried to imagine what it might be like to wake up one day at the age of ten and think, "Oh, I'm just going on a field trip to the Colosseum today." How amazing?! When I was ten, I was excited for field trips to the pumpkin patch and local zoo.
From there, I made my way around the Roman Forum, lots of ancient ruins beside streets lined with banners of Pope Benedict XVI, and back towards the Trevi Fountain, where I had yet to throw my own coins into the water to ensure 1.) That I'll return to Rome and 2.) To make a personal wish come true. What did I wish for? That's between me and the fountain :)
I spent a lot of time afterwards slowly wandering through the crowded streets, peering into little shops and stopping to read the fancy restaurants' menu selections. I decided it was essential that I have a piece of pizza before leaving the city, and stopped at a take-away pizzeria, where there were probably twenty giant pizzas, with toppings ranging from plain cheese and tomato to asparagus, tuna, and even nuts! I stuck with plain cheese and watched as they baked it on the spot, then found a little bench in the middle of a street market to savour my huge piece of authentic Italian pizza and admire the artwork and jewelry in the booths surrounding me.
Clouds began to roll in, which came as a relief as it had gotten to the point of being sweltering hot - and I decided to head back to the hostel. When I returned to Prima Porta, I spotted a gelato stand just a few steps from the train station, and knowing I had a few minutes before the hostel's bus arrived, decided to get my first taste - mint and dark chocolate. Delicious!
When I returned to the hostel, I ran into Connie, the older Dutch woman from earlier in the day, who excitedly told me about all she had seen, and left with, "Now, I'm off to get a beer!" Only a few minutes after I got back to my room, I started to hear thunder... I cannot tell you how much I've missed thunder and lightning during storms! Yes, I've experienced plenty of rain in England, but have yet to witness a storm with thunder and lightning. The roars echoed above the quiet hostel grounds and a giant crack ripped across the sky, causing the rain to pour. I opened our room's window and cozied up in my bed with a fresh loaf of bread, a good book, and finally, some newfound inspiration for writing. I decided there was no rainstorm quite as beautiful as one in Italy.
About twenty minutes later, my hostel-mate returned, drenched, but still in good spirits, and both exhausted, we decided to take an hour-long nap before heading to the hostel's bar for Happy Hour, and to e-mail our mothers! When I walked into the bar, I thought I must have still been asleep and dreaming - here, on the wall of a hostel's bar in Rome, Italy, were pictures of my two favorite American musicians of all time - Tom Petty and Bob Dylan!
I decided that Rome was officially my new favorite place, and that I could definitely drink to that. So, I enjoyed a glass of sangria, and two glasses of white wine, for very cheap, and watched the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid football match before heading back to my room and falling into a very deep and very happy sleep.
The next morning, I woke up early, and spent 90% of my time in the freezing cold shower dodging the icy water. I was happy that, when I walked outside, still shivering, it was already quite warm. I was off to Vatican City - the other side of Rome, where the majority of the museums are, and where the Pope would be holding his general audience. I started out at the Vatican Museums, loving every section - especially the Egyptian exhibit, where there were real mummies on display - creepy, but awesome.
Even better though, were the astonishingly intricate and gorgeous ceilings on the way to the Sistine Chapel, along with the detailed and beautiful marble floors. May I take a second to say, however, that while I always enjoy my tours through such places, I absolutely CANNOT STAND groups on audio tours. Okay, they're a nice invention, but when you've got hundreds or thousands of people in one place, all with headphones on, wandering about, trying to figure out their radio sets and not paying attention to what they're doing (elbowing you, stepping on your feet, talking much louder than necessary, taking up much more space than one person should) as they gawk at each important piece, it's a disaster. And so annoying! Alright, venting done.
While walking through the museums, there were also lovely views of the courtyards from every window, filled with bright flowers and old Roman statues.
I finally made it to the Sistine Chapel - perhaps Michelangelo's most famous work - and by far the most impressive and beautiful work of art I have ever seen, and probably ever will see. I stood in awe, staring straight up for what seemed like an hour - wishing that for just one second it would be quiet, as it was meant to be, pretending not to hear the tourists chatter and the guards shushing them over and over. Still, it was a pretty moving experience. Photos weren't allowed, but of course I had to purchase a postcard of the most popular image - God giving life to Adam.
When I finished touring the museums, I sat outside on a wall that overlooked one of the courtyards and tried to decide where I wanted to go next. I got my fill of bread and water, and started out again, in the direction of St. Angelo's Castle, knowing St. Peter's Square was still closed for the Pope's audience. However, I had to pass the square and in doing so, saw the Pope! I thought that not being in the square would mean I wouldn't be able to see or hear him, but I was able to stand for about twenty minutes, wishing I knew what on earth he was saying, and just reveling in the fact that I was in the presence of the Pope while in Rome.
When he was done speaking, the police informed onlookers that the square would remain closed for the next hour, so I decided to make my way to the castle and come back later to see inside the basilica. The castle was easy to find, visible from the square, and I was so happy to see that it was right beside the river - which I could cross in order to get to the Pantheon later.
There were several stands selling Italian books, Venetian masks, knock-off designer purses and sunglasses, and children's toys lining the river. The bridges were a sight in themselves, guarded by statues of saints on both sides.
It took me ages to find my way to the Pantheon - a 2,000-year-old building known as a temple to the gods, with a giant dome ceiling that has never needed reinforcements - needless to say, it astonishes not only tourists, but architect experts alike. Running into a French family in an abandoned alley who were heading in the same direction was just the luck I needed, as they were able to explain the streets I needed to take after we parted. It definitely snuck up on me when I rounded the corner of a small street and saw it. Again, I cannot reiterate enough how unbelievable it is to see all of these ancient buildings, monuments, and temples in Europe - knowing that they've lasted so long, and that they were even able to be built in the first place.
After admiring the height of the Pantheon's dome ceiling and the beauty of its golden details inside, I made sure to pass by the Piazza Navarro, a square full of markets and an open-stadium where, way back when, Romans used to watch sports competitions.
I spent awhile again, just walking random streets, probably passing several important places by, and strolling along the river for awhile. When I finally arrived back at St. Peter's Square, I got in the mile-long line to see inside of St. Peter's Basilica, the church with the largest interior in the world, and where Saint Peter (one of Jesus' apostles) is supposedly buried beneath. The wait was definitely worth it - the statues, the paintings, the ceilings, and the altar were all way more than I had imagined.
After a very long time spent in the basilica, I left St. Peter's Square and started back towards the metro station, but not before stopping for a few postcards and a second with the Pope!
It was about seven-thirty when I got back to the hostel, and again, I was thoroughly exhausted. So. Much. Walking! I sat for a few minutes, chugging water like a fish, and decided to splurge and enjoy some real Italian pasta and wine at the hostel's restaurant. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the menu prices - much less than I had expected - and enjoyed a plate of spinach and ricotta cannelloni, bread, and a glass of red wine while reading my guidebook and making plans for Venice, which I'd be heading to the next day.
The next morning, my hostel-mate and I, still the only two to be in the room, talked as we packed. She was heading home, and I was heading to Venice. We laid out in the sun for awhile, enjoying the laid-back atmosphere of the hostel in comparison to the busyness of Rome, and met up with her musician friend before getting on the next train. I said goodbye to them at the station since I had made it in time to hop the metro and catch the next train to Venice.
I was pretty excited to be taking my first high-speed Eurostar train ride across the Italy, especially since I'd heard the views from Rome to Florence were just as beautiful as Hollywood makes them seem. And they were. In fact, I was in such a trance watching the mountains, the houses dotted in the hills, and the bright yellow flowers speed past that I forgot to take a picture of it! You'll just have to trust me - it was a divine journey to get to Venice. I also met an Italian guy on his way to Bologna who had recently been to Barcelona - where I'm heading tomorrow - and gave me his list of must-sees. I also met a few guys from New York who are studying abroad in Israel, who were doing a two-week-long trip through Italy.
When I arrived in Venice, I was astounded. Yes, I knew it was considered the "City of Water" but I had no idea there was really so much water! There was water in front of me, and to the left, and to the right, and boats of all speeds and sizes lining the edges and buzzing past. After exiting the train station, the directions to my hostel said that I'd need to take a vaporetto (a water bus) to get to the place, which was on an island away from Venice. I lucked out again, because the stop I needed was directly in front of the station, and a foreign lady came up to me asking, "Tourist? Tourist?" When I said yes, she handed me a vaporetto pass that lasted until the end of the day since she was leaving, so I didn't have to pay for my journey there. The vaporettos really do act just as bus stops, with different routes, times, and stops. The boats bump up loudly, and sometimes violently, against the stops and a man ties the boat up to the post of the stop allowing a few seconds for passengers to hop off and on.
 |
| The yellow thing is the actual "bus" stop where you wait. The white boat to the left is the "bus." |
I couldn't believe what I was seeing as the vaporetto took me to my island. The sun was just beginning to set and cast a wonderful glow across the the waters and buildings, and the main island of Venice looked like a postcard. I had been a little skeptical about staying on an island away from the main one, but when the "bus" dropped me off, I knew I'd made a good decision. There were very few tourists crowding the sidewalks, it was quiet save for the clanking of glasses and a bit of chatter from the outdoor restaurants, and I had the most amazing view of Venice.
When I walked inside of the hostel, Pink Floyd was playing, and there were several people hanging out in the lounge, eating pizza, drinking beer, and sharing stories about their day. I checked in, and the owners happily told me how to get to the main island in the morning, handing me a map, as well as how to get to the airport when I needed to leave on Saturday.
I dropped off my things in my room and walked along the stretch of the island I was on - Giudecca - watching the sunset.
It was in love. Couples sharing secrets while the waves hit their feet, students reading and drawing with Venice watching over them, people enjoying dinner, caught fresh by the fishermen, as boats passed by their tables, and the lights starting to flicker on across the water. When the sun had finally set, I went back to my hostel for a slice of pizza and a nice chat with a girl who, like me, is spending a year abroad in England. Later, when I returned to my room, I couldn't get over having this view of Venice to fall asleep and wake up to:
I woke around 6:30 the next morning, and enjoyed a hot shower before heading down to the free breakfast provided by the hostel. I made it the most unhealthy, yet most delicious breakfast possible by choosing everything chocolate - chocolate cereal, a croissant with chocolate spread, pineapple juice, and a cup of hot chocolate. Yes, I did this both mornings, because how often do you get a breakfast like that?! I hopped a vaporetto and was on the main island by 7:30. It was strange, as I wasn't sure I was heading the right way because it was so empty. Cafe owners swept the streets in front of their businesses and the light of the rising sun highlighted the dust, making them appear as shadows behind it. Gondolas were being shined and untied for the day. Schoolchildren were laughing and yelling as they made their way to their classes. For nearly an hour, it didn't feel touristy at all, and I loved it immensely.
As nice as it was, I was 100% lost. Not even the slightest idea where to go. I hadn't come across any signs or people to ask, I didn't recognize any major sights and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. So, I was thankful to come across a tourist office, even though it didn't open until 9:00 a.m. This gave me some time to wander a bit (although not too far) just to see if I could possibly attempt Venice on my own. I decided, after walking in a circle a few times over, that I could not, and returned to the tourist office where people were lining up. Most had already purchased tickets for a two-hour-long walking tour, which I decided would be perfect for me. However, we then noticed a sign on the door that stated the office would be closed Friday, Saturday, and Sunday due to a visit from the Pope. Sigh. When the Pope's in town, places will close down. Luckily, a guide did show up, and allowed people who had not purchased tickets yet to join - the cost was supposed to be 25 euros, but since I didn't have exact change, he handed me a ticket with a wink and said I only owned 20. Soon thereafter, we were off with a local woman who took us past all of the main sights in Venice, explaining the significance of each one.
One of the best things about Venice, I found, are its shops. One after another, full of Venetian masks, beautiful glass and jewelry, perfumes, clothing, sweets, and the occasional gelato shop and pizzeria. I spent a lot of time just gazing in through the windows of the shops.
The outdoor markets were nice as well, and the biggest I've ever seen. I came upon one in Rialto, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and seafood that left a horrible smell in the air - and had seagulls perched on balconies just above, eyeing their lunch. There were also plenty of other things for sale, including a huge selection of pastas and Italian leather purses.
Before I knew it, it was time to head back to St. Mark's Square to meet up with the tour group and get on a boat to Murano. While the boat was definitely no gondola ride, we took the same canals that they did, passing many along the way, and I was able to experience, in a way, the same thing at a faster pace.
The demonstration was interesting. The man who sculpted the glass has been doing so for 50 years, and is very talented. He first made a vase with the blowing technique and then sculpted a horse.
There were beautiful mirrors, chandeliers, jewelry, and other sculptures for sale - yours for only 500-8,000 euro! ($800-11,000.)
We had some extra time on the island, where I was able to find several shops selling knock-off "authentic Murano glass" jewelry, but decided if I was going to get something, I wanted the real thing, and because I'm not a millionaire, left the island content with just having seen it all instead of wearing any!
When we arrived back on the main island, it was unbelievably crowded. It was dinner time, and everywhere was full, most places with lines of people waiting to get in. As much as I loved being there, I thought about how much I'd enjoyed the view of where I was from Giudecca, and knowing there were plenty of restaurants there to get dinner, took a vaporetto back. I took a quick nap and walked along the island again, scoping out each place, some of which did not open until 8 p.m. and finally decided on an affordable but fancy option with outdoor seating. Soon after I got my seat and ordered, an older British man sat beside me and I thoroughly enjoyed having a conversation about my travels with him while we sipped on our wine and watched the sunset.
Like me, he enjoys the views from Giudecca, especially at sunset, and supposedly visits Italy quite often. He told me about his own train trip through France and Germany when he was my age (over forty years ago) and said it was an adventure that he thinks about all of the time, and also told me stories about his backpacking trips to Ireland, one of which he took with his wife for their honeymoon.
Again, I watched the city light up, and chatted with a few other travelers in the hostel before going to bed, where I fell asleep to the sound of church bells, boat motors, and passing conversations in just about every language one could list.
My final day in Italy, I spent the majority of my time - be prepared, this will sound strange - on the Island of San Michele, which is Venice's cemetery island. I first had to drop off my bag at a left luggage place by the bus station, where I asked the owner for directions, to which he raised an eyebrow and said, "San Michele? You do know what that is, don't you?" When I said yes, he continued with, "You're the first person to ever ask me that." But he eventually told me how to get there. When I went to purchase a ticket for the vaporetto I needed to board to get there, the lady in the ticket booth had the exact same reaction after noting that I was a tourist. However, several of the people I'd met in the hostel, along with my own research, highly recommended visiting it. And I'm so glad I did.
It's by far the most beautiful place to be laid to rest... there are different cemeteries throughout the island, for different religions, families, military groups, and more. It was very quiet, little geckos ran across the tombs, the light breeze sent the smell of roses across the island. The monuments were a beautiful and moving, and it was neat to just look at the photos of the people buried there, reading some of their stories and looking at the dates. I was most interested, though, in finding poet Ezra Pound's grave, which is not made special or more obvious than any other - buried in the Protestant cemetery with one of his poems left by an admirer.
After leaving San Michele, I had a couple of hours to walk around before boarding my bus to the airport. I spent it watching the gondolas pass while standing on the bridges, sitting on the edge of the water, eating a last gelato, and hoping with everything in me that I get another opportunity to visit Italy one day.
It's always a little surreal once you get back from a wonderful trip - it's almost as if you were never really there at all. I've been back for three days and still find it a little surreal that I was there having those experiences. Tomorrow, I take off for Barcelona, Spain, where I'm sure I'll return with the same amazing feeling. I'm a little less worried about making it on my own since I ended up having such a great time in Italy, and I cannot wait to share my next adventure with you!
Until next time,
Aly
No comments:
Post a Comment