Idyllic Italia

I realize that this post is incredibly late, but better late than never, right? So Olivia and I finally made it to our Tuscan Terre (land in Italian). We had quite the adventure getting to the Bratislava airport, but the thrill of the moment made the trip all the more interesting and exciting. The night before heading off, Liv, Nicole and I took the train into Vienna to see the Swan Lake ballet with Marianna and Arun for 4 Euros each. It was so worth the money to see the show. I don’t know if I have ever seen someone move as elegantly and flawlessly as the prima ballerina did on that Tuesday night. With all of the ballerinas lined up across the stage, their purely white costumes remained independent of each other, while somehow also connecting together to create a celestial illusion of grace and beauty. Since we paid four euro instead of three, our standing spots were centrally located (instead of up in the balcony) with a fabulous view of the stage. After the show, we crashed at Marianna’s apartment in Vienna (Marianna was studying in Wiener Neustadt but living in Vienna and had graciously agreed to let us stay the night with her). The next morning Olivia had to wake me up (as I had completely slept through my alarm) at 3 AM so that we could catch a 4 AM taxi, a 5:30 AM train, a 7:00 AM bus, and finally an 8:30 AM plane to Pisa. We found cheap plane tickets for 27 E, but the taxi ended up costing almost 10 E each, the train 14 E each, and the bus about 1 E more. Nevertheless, the trip was relatively inexpensive. We got to the airport thinking that we only had 10 minutes before the gate to our flight closed, but we had forgotten that the Italians (I know it’s a stereotype, but still seemed quite true, at least from our experiences!) are usually late. Regardless of the flight delay, we still arrived in Pisa before 10 AM. We stuck around the airport until the tourist info desk opened at 11 AM to pick up our free city map before heading off to explore Pisa. We took the bus first to the leaning tower, where we proceeded to take several goofy pictures of ourselves, posing and pretending to alternatively push over the ancient landmark. Little did I know, but actually only a handful of the marble pillars are original. The two of us spent the remainder of the afternoon walking the streets, sampling the famous Italian gelato, and taking in the marvelous riverside view before catching our 2-hour train to Florence. The plan was to study German during this stretch of supposed down time, but Liv and I ended up chatting and admiring the “bella” (beautiful in Italian and Spanish) Italian landscape instead. Upon arrival in Firenze, we checked into our hostel (New Ostel) located directly north of the train station just a couple of blocks. Our room had three twin beds and a white shuttered window that looked out onto a nearby neighbor’s laundry selections. After taking the suggestion of a local, we moseyed further north to a little square (where the locals go) where we stopped in for some authentic Italian pizza. Liv whipped out her handy-dandy Eastern European phrase book to help us order in Italian. We noticed the tall, thin shape of the sodas in Italy, wondering if it was due to marketing research about the preferences of Italians? I thought that perhaps the tall thin shape was more symbolic of the sophisticated and dainty café and latte cups. A couple with two small children overheard us conversing in English and asked us if we were studying in Florence. It turned out that they were from Alabama, taking a short trip to travel while the husband of the household was teaching on an air force base in Venice. Olivia and I, completely exhausted from a strenuous day of traveling, decided to head back to the hostel and call it a night. We met an awesome screenwriter and movie editor from Mexico who shared a hostel with us. She was on her way to Rome, just having come from a friend’s wedding. It was interesting to sit and chat about the current conditions in Mexico in terms of violence, safety, and the political situation. The next morning, after a good night’s rest, Liv and I set out to explore Florence. We planned on eventually making it to the Ufizzi, but instead ended up at the Duomo, the remarkable cathedral in the center of the city with eight sections to symbolize the seven days of the week, plus the day that God created the heavens and the earth. We decided to make the 352-stair trek all the way to the top for a fabulous view of the city. I saw a man with a K-State jacket and couldn’t help but comment. As it turns out, they were from Denver but were honeymooning in Italy. After the Duomo, we wandered through a few street markets where the scent of new leather drifted into the streets. As the weather was quite warm, I had my jacket tied around my purse. Then, almost out of nowhere, I heard a faint voice whisper…”you dropped something, ma’am”. I wheeled around, legitimately concerned that I had actually dropped something. When I turned around, a young Italian man said: “it was my heart, you dropped my heart.” I couldn’t help but smile and laugh to myself. Not 15 minutes later, I heard the same line again. I had heard so many stories about the flirtatious nature of Italian men, but this was my only encounter with such behavior, except for a few men making kissing noises from the street. Next on the list was the Academia, where we got to see the real sculpture of Michelangelo’s David. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold, even the view from the rear. And sorry to say dad (if you are even reading this) but I had a hard time distinguishing any significant resemblance between you and the statue. Not only was the statue of David impressive, but also several religiously inspired pieces dating back as early as the 1400s were quite remarkable. I guess I did not realize the deep religious significance of certain flowers and fruits such as the lily, yellow flowers in general, blue flowers, and pomegranates. A few of the sculptures caught my eye, but only those that were crafted with a deeper symbolic meaning in mind. For example, one sculpture with the basic circular as to symbolize the world and three intertwined figures of children on top to represent three different emotions. After touring the Academia, Liv and I toured a couple of cathedrals. It was getting a little late, so we decided to head back to the hostel to freshen up before going out for our “Big Italian Night.” While we are both cheap, we figured that it would be worth it to splurge in order to experience some real Italian cuisine at its moderate best. We wandered around for a good hour, checking all of the prices in the windows of the restaurants. After we narrowed it down to three, it was time to make a decision. We finally settled on a small place hidden from plain sight by some obstructing scaffolding. The setting was not so inviting, but we hoped that the menu would make up for our losses. Liv and I ordered simple pasta dishes and a ½ liter of wine. Well, let’s just say that if it would not have been for this wine (as well as the other free liters that our waiter so graciously gave to us free of charge) our evening would not have been so nice. The pasta dishes were quite small, as they were really only meant to be appetizers. Although the food was not up to par, we had a nice discussion about Italy with our waiter who was from Naples. He compared Naples to Florence, insisting that people in Florence were more racist than those in Naples. After a good three hours of good wine and conversation, Liv and I somehow managed to make it back to our hostel. We planned to get an early start in the morning, but do things ever go as planned in Italy? We got up, showered, emailed our German homework, ate breakfast, and were out the door by 11 AM. This left us ample time to go to the Ufizzi and the Boboli Gardens behind the Pitti Palace, a truly breathtaking place. As it was November, beautiful shades of brown, orange, yellow and green leaves-some bigger than the palm of my hand- were cluttering the ground and clinging to the trees. Liv and I had a mini-photo shoot in the sunlight of a patch of beautiful, yellow leaves. It was starting to get dark by the time that we left the park, so we knew it was time to head back to the hostel, grab our bags, and catch a train to Cinque Terre (which means five lands in Italian). It was after dark when we arrived, and luckily the tenant of our hostel was at the train station to meet us and take us to the cute little apartment where we were to spend an unforgettable night in (my opinion) the most beautiful place in Italy. Over centuries, people have built terraces along the coastline of the Italian Riviera. Vineyards and olive trees were everywhere. Since cars do not have access to the villages, there was a certain natural feeling that you just don’t get when staying in the bigger cities. Our tenant apologized for the double bed, explaining that he thought that we were a couple when he read our booking. Because of this, Olivia and I developed an inside joke between the two of us that we were “lesbian lovers embarking on a week-long romantic requite in the Italian Riviera”. And romantic it was, let me tell you. I feel like we got to catch a glimpse into the true Italian culture (instead of falling into yet another tourist trap) as we walked along the “Lover’s Path” between the five villages of Monterosso, Vernazza (where we stayed), Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore. We actually took a train from Vernazza to Manarola and worked our way back up to Vernazza. We had been told that if we started at Riomaggiore we would have to pay, so we decided to start at Manarola instead. This hike was the highlight of the entire trip without a doubt. We started in the morning, so there was virtually no crowd at all. The sky started out slightly gray, threatening rain. However, about an hour into the hike and our jackets were around our waists. The crazy Italians all said that it would be so cold, what were they thinking? The weather was beautiful, and probably much better than the scorching heat that we would have experienced had we visited in the summer! I did find it terrible ironic, however, that Olivia means Olive in Latin, we were surrounded by gazillions (yes, this is a word) of glorious Olive trees, and Olivia doesn’t even like to eat them. I was in fact brave enough to sample one directly from the tree, but this only ended in utter disappointment, I believe that it was not ripe. We arrived back in Vernazza by noon, picked up our bags, and walked around the town for a couple of hours. We had some authentic Italian pizza served on circular wooden slabs and purchased some small gifts before hopping on the train to Monterosso, where we took a brief break to enjoy the beach and more importantly, the ocean! Liv and I took turns watching the bags while the other walked to the ocean and dipped our respective feet in the sand. It just so happened that there were some cool Italians paragliding onto the beach, which was pretty amazing to witness. With sand (still) between our toes, we boarded to train again, this time headed up north to Genoa for a night. This place (a bed and breakfast, not a hostel) was pretty nice, so we decided to take advantage of this and spend a night in. We grabbed some pizza to go and a bottle of cheap wine at a supermarket. Back at the B&B, I thought it would be a great time to test out my wine-opening skills. With Olivia’s permission, I began to twist the corkscrew (property of the B&B) into the cork, crooked of course. By the time Olivia noticed that it was crooked, it was too late. We tried over and over to open the wine, but with no luck. In fact, we tried so many times that we eventually managed to break the corkscrew. The wine was a lost cause. Just how this happened, neither of us were quite sure. I insist that it was because of my incredible good luck that I had had the past semester with any semi-technologic gadget (a wine opener can be considered technological, right?) Needless to say, we decided that it was just not meant to be. Olivia wanted to condemn the wine to the trash, but I, being the optimistic person that I am, decided that if the wine made it back to Wiener Neustadt in one piece, surely someone would be able to enjoy it. (This story is to be continued in the next paragraph or so). The next morning, we enjoyed a nice breakfast in the company of a young man from Turkey, visiting Genoa a day before a job interview. He explained that he wanted to explore the city and asked if he could join Olivia and I in our journey. So we set out with map in hand. Needless to say, the map did not do justice when it came to finding our way through the winding streets and squares of the Italian town. Nonetheless, we were able to find the main sites including the home of Christopher Columbus, the great lighthouse (and also symbol of the city), and the Aquarium as well as enjoying a nice stroll alongside the harbor, as Genoa is a port city after all. Before dawn, Liv and I were on yet another train to Torino, Adina’s home town. It took us awhile to make it from the train station to our hostel, as it was situated slightly outside the city. We laid around the hostel for a few hours relaxing and talking before finally making the decision to go get a bite to eat. It was actually a good thing that it took us a while to get in the mood for dinner, because in order to eat with the locals, you have to wait up anyways (the Italians eat late dinners). We enjoyed a leisurely meal of pizza, wine, and desert while absorbing and observing the details of the Italian dining experience. It was 11 PM, and a family with young kids was just getting around to eating dinner. In the morning, Liv and I took our time getting ready and left around 11 AM. Just before leaving, at the suggestion of Liv, I ran upstairs to grab my jacket. It just so happens that while running up the stairs, I managed to rip the skirt of my dress. A little flustered, I lost focus while pulling my jacket out of the locker and managed to knock over the hopeless bottle of wine from the night before. Luckily the floor was tile and not carpet, so it was easy to clean up! While this was not the ideal start to a day in Italy, I wasn’t about to let this little mishap get me down. (In fact, it was pretty funny that we actually did manage to open the bottle of wine, just in a different way than expected). Liv and I spent the day exploring Genoa and its wonderful, historic squares. We sampled gelato from Grom, an Italian gelato chain, at Adina’s suggestion. While eating our gelato, I noticed a Mizuno outlet across the street and was tempted to purchase a new pair of running shoes. However, after consulting the gelato clerk about the hours of operation, I came to find out that on Mondays not only are museums closed in Italy, but most shops also do not open until the afternoon. Liv and I walked around, poking our head into various historical cafes and churches. We even saw what is supposedly Christ’s holy shroud, but who really knows these days? The next day, we packed up and headed to the train station to make our way to Milan. Since our flight left that afternoon, we did not have any time to explore the city of Milan. It turned out to be a long day of traveling, but we made it back to Wiener Neustadt around nine or ten PM, just in time to celebrate Anja’s birthday in the lobby of the dorms. Italy was fabulous, but boy oh boy was it good to be “home” in Wiener Neustadt! I found myself missing everyone by the end, and it was good to see them all again. I never thought that a dorm could feel so much like home, but it was a great feeling to walk through those doors.
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