04 January 2016

In Fair Verona

Arriving in a new city is always an interesting adventure. Some cities are gorgeous from the start. The small places in Germany, Paris, Rome...these are all pretty, or else impressive, when you arrive.

Then there are the cities that drop you at a bus or train station that seems to be in the middle of Sketchville. Or those that make the city look like it's entirely industrial. Venice was one of those places. If you stop at the Mestre station, part of your brain can't combine the facts of "I'm in Venice" and "This is Venice." It's just not very pretty until you get to the actual island.

Verona's train/bus station lives in an odd place between Sketchville and It's So Pretty I'm Gonna Die. We arrived during a slow time, and most things looked kind of bland. At first I worried that Verona was going to be more like Milan than Venice. But once you go a few bus stops to the Arena, Verona is THE CUTEST.

Everything you need to see in Verona (as in, the big name sites like the duomo and Juliet's balcony/house) is in a couple of miles' radius. We had a room in a tiny B&B just two minutes from the arena--essentially a mini colosseum. It was a fantastic location, and even though we we only a few seconds from the big things, we spent a few hours walking around.

One of the things I love about Italy is the architecture. Even though most of the buildings look like they were designed by the exact same person, there's something eternally charming about iron balconies and red-tiled roofs. I have so many pictures of multicolored streets with iron balconies covered in small gardens. And the shutters! I just don't think you can beat the look of an old town center in Italy or France. When I get home I probably won't be able to separate which city each photo goes to. But I don't really care. I'll keep taking pictures of random buildings until my phone fills up.

If Venice is a magical labyrinth, Verona is the opening scene of a Disney princess movie. I suppose that makes sense, since Shakespeare put Romeo and Juliet there. Cute town = romance, right? And "quaint" doesn't quite cover it, but it gets relatively close. So, how about "quaint romantic"? As if that can't describe every city and town in Europe. Ha.

If you ever get the chance, go to Verona. Just don't spend too much time at Juliet's house...we were there on a Sunday afternoon and it was PACKED. to get inside the courtyard, we simply inserted ourselves in the crowd and let it carry us to the right place. If you pay a few euro you can go in the house and stand on the balcony, but why do that when you can stand in the bustling cortyard and watch people creepily caress a statue of Juliet? Apparently it's good luck to rub her right breast...some people do it comedically. Some do it like pedophiles.

In general, if you see a crowd of people walking toward something, follow them. We ended up at the base of a castle (well, we think it was a castle...or monastery? Something?) with a fantastic view of the entire city. The sun was setting in fog and gathering rainclouds. There are few things better than watching a sunset while surrounded by Italian couples making out. Wait...not that last part. That was just slightly awkward.

For dinner we went to what felt like an Italian Chili's; Bri was starving and our first plan ended up being a bit too expensive, so we stopped at the first place we found. I ate an entire pizza by myself. Because Italian pizza. You need no reason besides that.

The super fun part of Verona happened when we left this morning. We had a 9:40 train from Verona Porta Nuova. The bus + walking inside the station would take 13 minutes. We were walking out the door at 9:10 and the owner Carmelina--for some reason behind me--just couldn't figure out how to add three person's worth of tourist tax to our room price. We stood there for ten minutes while she tried to add random numbers. Steph offered her a calculator, which she refused for five minutes. Carmelina spoke only Italian, and she kept saying things and nodding and mentioning numbers and shaking her head, and Stephanie looked up how to say "Our train leaves at 9:40" and only then did Carmelina think to call someone named Roberto whom it took about 3 seconds to add up our total and get us on our way.

At 9:30, we ran, backpacks and all, to the taxis.
At 9:33, we got in the taxi.
At 9:39, Bri and I ran into the station while Steph essentially threw 7 euros at the taxi driver.
And at 9:40:30, Bri and I arrived on Platform 3 just in time to watch the last few cars disappear down the tracks.

Few things start the day off as well as missing a train first thing in the morning.

Thankfully, there was a train leaving at 10:02 for Turino which would also stop in Milan, where we were meant to change trains for Geneva. We had to buy new tickets for the Verona-Milano leg, but our Milano-Geneva tickets were still fine.

I'm actually impressed we've only missed that one train so far (if you don't count that one German train that was late--totally not our fault).

02 January 2016

Magic (aka Venice)

When I was in Italy in 2008, my friends and I spent most of our time with absolutely no idea where we were. We actually had--gasp--paper maps. Paper. Maps. And we used them to get around. It was surprising every time we arrived somewhere we *meant* to visit.

Smartphones changed everything about European travel. My sisters and I have used GPS daily to tell us where we are, where to go, what's nearby....until Venice.

I swear there's something in the air that confuses technology. People spend even amounts of time holding hands and starting dumbfounded at their phone screens. There's no mistaking the "Where the eff am I?" look in every language. The alleyways in Venice are like a sneaky labyrinth. You think you're headed the right direction, then you suddenly are forced to veer right and left, and you end up in a piazza behind where you started. The streets seem to move around you, like a puzzle that gains new levels depending on the steps you take.

But it's beautiful, and romantic, and kind of depressing to be here with sisters and not a significant other. It's been cloudy and since the island is pedestrian only, every sound is hushed. It makes it so easy to imagine you're alone in your own personal city.

Incidentally, we were here for New Year's Eve, and Venice put on the most spectacular fireworks show I've ever seen. Just...wow. Waterfalls of fire and light.

Concerning Busses...I Mean Coaches

Instead of "busses", I should probably say "coaches". Steph keeps correcting me on that. Yet, no matter how comfortable your coach is, it's still a big bus. It's nearly impossible to sleep on those things.

Unless you're 4'9" and weigh 3 pounds, in which case you can just curl up on two seats like a cat (I'm lookin' at you, tiny Italian teenager).

I've come to the conclusion that I'm an Amazon living in a world built for midgets. My knees are intimately acquainted with just about every seat back from Venice to London. Turning sideways doesn't create more room for long legs--it simply provides more surface area for the seat in front of you to bruise.

BUT I do have to say it's pretty fantastic to be able to get from Rome to Venice for only €19. It's a six-hour trip, but just short enough that the cheap price keeps it worth it. And when it gets you to your destination half an hour early, that's even better.

When in Rome...

Rome. Is. Awesome.

-the end.

I know every city in Europe is full of history. You can feel it in every cobblestone. But there's something about Rome that is almost overwhelming.

"That's where Julius Caesar stood. That's where Nero lived. That's where gladiators fought. This building has been here in some form for 2000 years."

On our first night in town, we checked into our apartment (a slightly awkward arrangement in which we had one bedroom and a couple had the other room and there was only one bathroom) and then we went straight out for dinner. We've had a problem with forgetting to eat on the days we travel...oops. after a quick calzone meal, we tried to get back into the apartment. Tried.

So I apparently am key-impaired. The door is one of those typical European ones, where the handle doesn't turn--you use the key to unlock and push the door open. Only it wouldn't unlock or open. For half an hour. We asked the owner for help, and she and her awesome husband came over. Of course it took them about 4 seconds to open the dumb thing. Since then, I always practice opening doors, like a small child...

The next day, we slept a little late and went to the colosseum. I love the colosseum. It's way smaller than it used to be, but it's still huge. It had this strange quality that makes it feel only large until you glance across the arena and see how tiny the people are over there are. Standing there and imagining what it would've been like to experience the colosseum during the games. Well, you know, without that whole people killing eachother thing.

We found ourselves a part of a tour group that had some great info, and afterwards they offered a "free" tour of the forum. The guide we had there was a British guy named Alex. If you ever go to Rome, get his info from me, because he's brilliant and knows everything about ancient Rome. He has worked at the Louvre, now he works at the Vatican. No big deal, right? At the end of the forum tour he offered everyone a morning or night walk through the "Secrets of Rome" the next day. It was expensive, but we like learning and Alex was a great guide, so we went reserved spots for the next evening.

The following morning we headed to the Vatican. I'm not Catholic, but I love the museums there. I'm pretty sure I hurt my neck looking at all of the ceilings. It's amazing. The Sistine Chapel, you guys. The rooms filled with statues. We wondered what would happen if all the museums in the world agreed to give the owner countries back all their art...so much art has been stolen or "borrowed" from its home over the centuries.

It takes hours to walk through the museums. I think we did it in about 3 hours, and that's not including the ginormous line out front.

By the time we got out of the museums, checked out the basilica, got pizza for lunch, and headed back to the metro, it was almost 4. The days go by so quickly here. I know it's because we are always headed somewhere, but I wish I could slow time down. I want to be here forever.

The night tour was spectacular. The monuments in Paris and Rome are lit from the bottom at night, so everything is bathed in golden light. It's like a dream. We went in a few churches, stopped in a few stinky alleyways....gazed slack-jawed more than a few times. Glass coffins, false ceilings, illusions. You know, typical awesome things.

And then it was done. No matter what city we go to (well, except for Milan), I wish we could be there/here longer. I could spend months in Paris and Rome. Years. Germany feels like it was so long ago, but I could spend years there, too.

01 January 2016

"Meh" is for "Milan"

I expected big things from Milan. Fashion, shopping, pizzazz.

Yeahhhh, no. Maybe I caught it on a bad day. Or I caught all the people who live there on a bad day. Or it never actually has good days? If anyone knows, I'm open to ideas.

Milan just wasn't very fun. We visited the Duomo, saw the ginormous line, and decided to save our time and money. The problem is, if you don't go to the top of the Duomo, there really isn't anything to do in the city except wander around like a bum and eat panzerotti at Luini's.

So that's what we did...for several hours. It was a lot of walking. We rode the bus a bit...actually, maybe I should talk about the bus first. Ha. Haha.

So I have this really annoying quality called "honesty". I know, it's weird. Because who pays for public transportation? Well, me. "But its just a bus, who cares?" Um. Me.

Which is to say, instead of jumping off the train and sinply jumping into the bus and heading to our "hostel" ("hostel" being a reeeaaaaally generous term), I made my sisters search 45 minutes for a stupid bus ticket machine. Because Italians don't believe in putting them in easy-to-find places or telling you if you can buy them from the driver (nope). This is all information you're just supposed to know. I'll bet it's genetic.

By the time we finally found the ticket machines--down by the metro--and got to the "hostel", it was almost 11 pm. We were exhausted.

The "hostel" was above a dentist and on their Hostelworld profile they said they took cards. You pay a few bucks for the reservation, then pay the rest when you arrive. Easy...until the credit card machine stops working, and you have no cash. I offered the girl my last €15, but she said we could use the card in the morning.

The room was, well, it was a room. It had beds. For color, it had mold in the shower. Which was in the corner of the room. We took one look at it and decided showers could wait until we got to Rome. Seriously, it was so gross. The heating in the room was broken, the walls were paper thin, and the toilet only flushed when you pressed down on the screw they jerry-rigged in the open top of the water tank.

Given that this space was the second step of our introduction to Milan, I'm not surprised that they next day didn't impress us. The card machine wasn't working, so I had to wander around the block looking for an atm. The whole ordeal was so "fun" that after panzerotti, we went and sat in the train station until it was time to go to Rome.

Now. Panzerotti. You guys. EAT THEM. It's like a donut and a calzone had a baby. The best, most delicious baby ever. The dough is slightly sweet, raised, fluffy, and I could eat it forever. They fill it with pizza-type toppings and if you only get one you are cheating yourself out of true happiness. EAT DOZENS OF THEM.

And that's it. Milan was a delicious meal, a pretty cathedral, and a train station. I'm just gonna pretend none of the rest ever happened.