Bologna & Milan Pics

Northern Italy 2

Bologna, Italy

As a man gently kisses my neck in the basement of an unmarked building hosting an anti-fascist concert, I try to figure out what series of decisions I made that led to this highly unexpected situation. Let me rewind a little.

I had heard about couch surfing way before leaving for Europe, probably from reading up on travel blogs about cheap travel. My mom also suggested it. I kind of wrote it off for a while, thinking, there has to be some catch. Also, I didn’t want to try it alone and had never met someone who had actually experienced it. That is, until I met Ross in Monaco. Ross raved about his experiences with couch surfing. He loved it and actually got me excited about it. I always recognized the merits of couch surfing, you get to meet somebody who loves interacting with travelers and they can tell you all the great things about their city (not to mention the money you save), I guess I was just hesitant. Well, I finally thought I was ready and dusted off my old Couch Surfing profile and started contacting hosts. I tried to get hosts all through Spain and Italy, but we were only lucky enough to be accepted in Bologna and Milan. Disappointed with Spain, we were very excited to start our experiences.

To be entirely honest, I had no idea what to expect from my first surfing experience, but as a large bearded Italian man approached us in the Piazza de Nettuno, we were about to find out. Four of the seven people who lived in the apartment we stayed at walked us back to their place. We chatted about ourselves, shared short stories about our travels as we wound through streets lined with arcades and red and yellow buildings. We made it to their apartment, which was admittedly much like many other college places. It was dirty. It was political. It was cheap. If frats cared more about anti-facism and spoke Italian, perhaps that is what you would get.

Well, Merko, the aforementioned large bearded Italian guy, guided around Bologna a bit, showing us this beautiful library and parts of campus. He brought us inside his faculty building to introduce us to some of his friends. One of the people he introduced us to was my new, heroin addicted friend. Although I never caught his name, I did find out a few interesting things about him. Introducing himself, “Hi. I used to teach at NYU… That is, until they fired me… Because I did too much heroin.” Oh god. “Yea, but now I am attending lectures put on by Johns Hopkins. I hope that if I show interest they will hire me. So I can make lots of money… and buy lots of heroin… just kidding.” No, no you are not joking. You want to do heroin.

Anyways, we leave our new acquaintances and walk through Bologna. We were told that there could be a protest going on, so we go buy some gelato and head towards the square to watch the scene go down. Not much happens so we head back to the apartment.

The next day we get all of our site seeing of Bologna in. We climb the tower that Bologna is famous for. We walk through a market and relax in the park. We even climbed all the way up to San Luca’s Cathedral, like 4 kilometers uphill, to find out that it closed a half hour before. Oh well.

On our way back to the apartment we pick up some makings for an Italian feast. Bread, tomatoes, mozzarella, pesto and wine. I cannot get enough of this! We ate like kings for like three euros. I could get used to this!

After dinner and killing the bottles of wine, we meet up with Merko. This was the start of the adventurous night. First, he takes us to a poetry reading in this bar/café. Everything was in Italian (expectedly) including the anti fascist posters on the wall and the ramblings about the pope and the terrors of capitalism. Finally a guy starts to play guitar and is actually pretty good. Apparently that is our cue to leave. Damn, I was getting into this.

Our next stop of the night is the previously mentioned basement. We enter through an unmarked door guarded by two guys. We head directly into the basement where they make us fill out paperwork. I think I may have joined the anti fascist army or became part of a cult. Either way, just a bit strange. In the other room there is a concert going on. The band is actually pretty good. They are play very upbeat rock and crooning their Italian, getting the crowd pumped up. Eventually their set ends and a DJ starts taking over. It is some time after this point that my friend the heroin addict shows up. All of us are dancing and enjoying our time. Then, the heroin guy picks me up, lifting me and spinning me in the air. Okay, strange, but nothing to be concerned about. Later, he tells me and the girls that we should come over later.

“Ah, no we can’t, we have to catch a train early in the morning.”

“That is okay, I could drive you.”

“No, they are hosting us, we should stick with them.”

“Come on, just for a little bit.”

“Um, no, thanks, we are tired.”

A little later I thought he was going in to whisper into my ear or shout to get over the music. No. As you know, he softly kissed my neck. Oh, I forgot to mention, he must have been in at least his 30s. Now, I was uncomfortable. We quickly found Merko and told him we were ready to leave. He told us to wait while he settled some things with his friend. Did I mention they had all been drinking since around 6 and his friend was completely trashed? He was belligerent, yelling at people in the street and walking in front of cars.

Well, we went outside to wait for Merko. Afraid our heroin buddy would follow us outside, we walked to a nearby piazza to wait for our host. On our walk back to the apartment my host told me, “Oh, the guy told me he wanted to invite you over to stay the night. But I forgot to tell you, I am sorry. But I don’t think it would have been a good idea. Because if you sleep there, for sure he fuck you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Merko, we gathered as much!”

The rest of the night I laid in bed praying to god that the man would not walk in the apartment and peek his head into our room (The previous night he was over at the house. Not only did he know where the apartment was, he knew which room I was sleeping in!).

Still in one piece the next day, we made it to the train station and boarded our train to Milan. That was certainly enough excitement for one city. I hoped the next couch surfing experience was different.

Milan, Italy

Right away we could tell that Milan was much different from any other part of Italy we had previously visited. Rome was big, but still had very old buildings and monuments. Milan, on the other hand, was modern and cosmopolitan. It had sky scrapers and a comprehensive metro (that was burdened by having to dig around Roman ruins at every turn). Our next host directed us towards the Duomo (arigato, Mr. Roboto) to meet up. We take the metro and upon leaving the station we are greeted with a spectacular, imposing white cathedral contrasting against the blue sky. I had heard from a lot of people the Milan wasn’t that nice. Well, I certainly was impressed so far.

We meet up with Andrea, our host, and he walks us to a great restaurant. We eat padines with his friends and after he tours us around Milan a bit, going inside the Duomo and showing us the galleries and the castle. In the galleries there is this bull tiled in the ground that if you spin around on his balls with your heel three times you will have good luck. We all gave it a go. He even bought us gelato! He was definitely feeding an unhealthy addiction.

Later we split up for dinner. That night we finally ate out at a decent restaurant, and the food was fantastic. I got some butter and sage ravioli. De puta madre.

After dinner we met Andrea and one of his friends at a bar for karaoke. Besides the 5 euro beers (seriously! 5 euro?) we really enjoyed ourselves. We even went up to the stage to sing a great rendition of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now.

The next day we went out to explore more by ourselves. A friend of mine told me we must go on the roof of the Duomo, saying the view was fantastic. We heard that you could see the Alps on a clear day. Well, it was not a clear day and we were turned away for mass (one of the girls was wearing shorts with tights) so we did not see the view from the roof. We did, however, see a good bit of the castle and its museums, including a temporary exhibit about Michelangelo and his architecture. One thing I noticed about Michelangelo, he did not finish anything. He would start construction on one building, get bored, and go start something new. Yes, even one of the greatest minds in history had trouble finishing things. I feel like that is a good sign if nothing else.

Fun fact about Milan, they have the Last Supper stowed away in some random building next to a church. The church does not own the painting apparently, but it does get a lot of visitors because they think it does (including us). Actually, it is quite difficult to see Da Vinci’s famous piece. You have to book months in advance, it costs 8 euros (for only one painting, come on, in Europe, all art is free!) and you go in at an allotted time (I think). Needless to say, we did not see the painting, but we did see the building where the painting is kept. I think that counts as at least trying.

Another fun fact about Milan (and perhaps Italy), many of the young people have had enough with the current government. They are upset with the image it gives the country. This was evident by the large number of people who gathered to protest. Apparently 1 million protested in Rome, and hundreds of thousands protested elsewhere around the country. So many countries protesting!

Well, we saw just about everything we expected from Milan, so that night we stayed in and watched a movie with a few of Andrea’s friends and one of his friends’ really nice apartments. We just relaxed, drank beer and ate pizza. What a great way to end the trip!

We flew home the next day and had a several hour layover in Madrid. Iona met us for lunch. It was fantastic getting to see Iona after six months and the Indian food we ate was equally delicious.

I believe this now catches me up to essentially the present.

Venice Pics

Venice

Venice, Italy

Hillary and I joked that the perfect weather we had been having would be ruined when Caitlyn arrived. Our first day in Venice was so foggy you couldn’t see the buildings on San Marco nor could you see across the canal. Thanks Caitlyn.

In attempt to take advantage of our days in Venice despite the crappy weather, we walked through a few of the museums and buildings. Fog could not stop us.

Well, it kind of did. All of the gondolas were stopped. Even the trains were stalled. We had to take a bus to the island. We finished going through the museums. We ate our gelato and our falafel and went to bed early, hoping the following day would bring us better weather. Maybe we would even be able to see Venice the next day!

Luckily, it paid off. We woke up refreshed to the sun and blue skies! What a difference the weather can make! We took a gondola taxi across the major canal (for only 50 cents! Pro tip: real gondolas cost 80 euro, take the gondola taxis!) and wondered at the buildings of San Marco Square and the Rialto Bridge. The city could really be beautiful when the weather permitted. We spent a good part of the day looking for Venetian carnival masks so we could wear them for a Mardi Gras party and just enjoying meals by the water. By the way, Carnival must be big in Venice. Some of the masks cost upwards of 300 euros and there were really ornate costumes for rent and for sale that sent you back to another (very classy) era.

We also agreed that we would reenact The Merchant of Venice, but promptly forgot. But you might have thought to yourself, jeez, Shakespeare wrote a lot about Italy. He must have loved travelling there. Well, it turns out it is most likely he never set foot in Italy. Good job, Shakespeare, fooling the masses and romanticizing places you never have even visited. Well played, well played.

Verona & Padova Pics

I forgot to mention, we saw Galileo's house in Padova! Apparently he used to teach at the university.

Northern Italy 1

So I am just over two weeks behind on blogging. I think today I could catch up to the present. Yes, I have really only updating about my travels and not my day to day life, but seriously, day to day life is just that. It really doesn’t change too much from Cornell to Santander. I go to class. The classes are sometimes interesting. The classes are sometimes excruciating. I go home. I eat. I study. I procrastinate. I catch up on the goings on of the world (to some extent). I repeat. Sometimes interesting events punctuate life in Cantabria, but that is usually the travelling.

For example, second semester started this past Monday. I missed that day as I was still travelling, but apparently a lot of other students did too. The next day I found a few new students in our class. Two kids from Poland, Michael and Kasha, and John from the UK. We had them over for chicken parm, cornbread and apple pie and brought them around Santander a little bit. They are really interesting people and I look forward to getting to know them better. Kasha told me she likes how we Americans speak. She said that she feels like she is in the movies when we talk around her. The longer I stay in Europe, the more I realize that Europeans pretty much base most of what they think about Americans on what they see in movies and TV shows. I am commonly asked if the college frat parties are anything like Animal House or if we all have our own houses like they show in the movies. When I think about it, although movies are usually exaggerated, they are sometimes a good example of American culture.

Well, back to adventure updates.

Italy

The first two days that Hill and I (and later Caitlyn) were in Venice we actually stayed off the island in Mestre (or Margherita?) and took day trips to nearby cities. The first day we headed off to Verona, home of Romeo and Juliet.

Verona, Italy

Well, as I just said, Verona is the setting of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Hill and I thought it would be a great place to start our travels in Italy, saving our site seeing of Venice for when Cailtyn joined us. To our amazement, train travel in Italy was surprisingly straight forward and relatively cheap (way better than France as far as I could tell). We hopped on one of the many frequent trains to Verona and made it there in just an hour and a half. Then we hit a snag. We were kept on the train for what seemed like an eternity and what ended up verging on half an hour. They just kept the doors closed, without a single announcement about why we were being detained (not that it would have helped as it would have most surely been only in Italian). We finally were allowed off the train and overheard that somebody had jumped into the tracks and taken their life. We couldn’t confirm this, but that definitely shook us up a little bit.

After our anticipation grew while waiting to exit the train, we realized we had no idea where we were heading, but like in most Italian cities, we eventually happened upon some Roman ruins and found some tourist information. While walking aimlessly we saw (in my mind) the quintessential Italian countryside: the rolling hills, the slender evergreens, the blue skies and Mediterranean architecture. It really was quite astounding and picturesque. Eventually we made it to the historic center and purchased a guide book to help us know what we were seeing and guide us to the things we needed to see.

I was actually surprised by the number of things there were to see. I had only been expecting perhaps a monument to Romeo and Juliet and some quaint streets. Instead we were directed to the “Juliet House” (Hillary liked to point out that she did not exist and therefore there she did not have a house), a Roman arena second in size and importance to only the Coliseum, and some pretty incredible piazzas.

Juliet’s house apparently used to belong to a family that is said to have inspired the Capulets, at least as far as name derivation goes. This is hands down the main attraction of Verona. Tourists flocked to the house to either look up at the balcony and pretend to serenade sweet Juliet or to grope Juliet’s statue down in the courtyard. Yes, the popular thing to do is to grope Juliet’s statue. Her chest is shiny and smooth from all the extra loving and attention she has received over the years. On the walls leading into the courtyard is graffiti from thousands of star crossed lovers who have come to see one of the most famous couples in history.

I was more impressed with the Roman arena. It was still very intact, and apparently is still put to use quite often. They perform musicals, operas, and other events in the structure, and have for over one thousand years. Pretty impressive if you ask me.

Luckily the trains were back up and functioning when we decided to head back to Mestre. We were hoping to go back to the hostel and settle in for some Super Bowl watching. No dice. The TV that was in the common room didn’t work. Even if it did work, it probably would not have had any station showing the game. Disappointed, we decided to head into Venice to see if there was a better chance of catching the game in the city. We saw some Erasmus posters up advertising various parties and hoped they were perhaps hosting a viewing of the big game. Still, no luck. Instead we lost ourselves in the winding streets, happening upon the famous Rialto Bridge and San Marco’s square. Eventually we exited the city on our way back to Mestre without finding a place to watch the game.

Padova, Italy

The next day we headed to Padova, another old city located perhaps half an hour from Venice. Again, it had some Roman ruins of an old arena, but was obviously much more modern than Verona. We had to dodge trams and passed modern buildings as we made it to the historic center. The main attraction in Padova is Saint Anthony’s Basilica, this gigantic and beautiful cathedral with big blue domes imposing over the city.

Neither of us being particularly religious and knowing that Caitlyn would be arriving in Venice soon, we didn’t stay too long in Padova. But we did make one stop before departing the city. Wikitravel recommended Il Rei de Kebab as a great falafel joint. For some reason, we all have become obsessed with falafel since being in Europe resulting in seeking it out in every country we visit and holding falafel Fridays (in conjunction with flannel Fridays). Well Wikitravel, you win this round. That falafel sandwich was arguably the best I have had here in Europe. Kudos Il Rei de Kebab, we salute you and your gigantic pitas filled with delicious fried chickpeas, sauces and vegetable salads.

After our feast we picked up Caitlyn from the train station and went shopping for some dinner. Fresh Italian mozzarella, focaccia bread, cherry tomatoes and a tub of chocolate hazelnut gelato. True bliss.

Rome pics

Rome, at last

I am falling further and further behind. I don’t know why, but I have been putting off updating my blog to the extent that it has now been a month since I was in Rome and I still haven’t written about it. Well that is going to change, and hopefully I can catch up to present day soon. Without further ado…

ROME

Arriving late in the evening our first night, we check into our cute B&B (decently cheap by the way). Although it didn’t have the feel of a hostel that I always look forward to, it did have slamming breakfasts with glazed and cream filled croissants, toast, yogurt and juice and it was only 5 minutes from the Forum and the Coliseum.

Actually, let’s back up a little bit.

We touch down in Rome in “another on time flight” (read in an Irish accent, for Ryanair flyers, you know what I mean). We file out of the plane and, like the good little travelers we have started to become, try to locate an information desk to pick up a map. Easy, right?

Well, no, actually.

We follow the signs pointing towards informazione like lost sheep and find ourselves standing in front of a TV with a place to speak into. We hit call and are connected with a woman on the other end. We shout into the mic, the situation somewhat resembling a terrible drive thru experience, and request a map. Amidst the hubbub of the airport we cannot even make out a word of the woman’s instructions. We just nod and walk away. Welcome to Italy.

As we exit the terminal we are mobbed by taxi drivers. No thank you, we bought our bus ticket already, please back off and give us our room. Lost, an airport worker approaches us and offers us help. Mack snaps back that we don’t want his help if he is just trying to get us a taxi. I ask him where the busses are and he directs us. We get on the bus without any more excitement.

Comfortably seated, I start to settle into the bus, ready to depart. Then an Italian guy comes and sits right next to me. Note, the bus was nearly empty. But no, he forces me to place my bag at my feet, leaving me no room, and then proceeds to talk to his mom on the phone. For the entire bus ride. Using his hands. Why do the bus gods hate me so? I flashback to the time I rode the bus to Washington DC from Cornell for spring break of freshman year. This wasn’t nearly as bad as that ride when a Bobby Brown/Whitney Houston-like couple cracked up out of their minds sat a few seats away from me. I can still not block out the vomiting on the floor. Nor the scene they created when they broke up and Bobby Brown proceeded to hit on every girl that passed him, offering to fill every orifice he could find.

Anyways, we make it to Termini Stazione and, again, attempt to find informazione to obtain a map. This time they were just having fun with us. The signs led us in circles and in the end we gave up. We took the metro to our stop, got out, and luckily found the B&B without too much trouble.

Okay, so we head out from our room and immediately take advantage of our close proximity to some of the oldest things I have ever seen. Phrasing it that way kind of devalues the Roman ruins. Well, we walked past the Forum down the empty street towards the Coliseum. It is exactly what I was expecting, fulfilling all of my dreams sparked by my childhood viewing of The Gladiator, well, besides the actual gladiator fights and no Russell Crowe in sight.

Hungry and tired we head back to our place and stop at a restaurant for the greatest lasagna of the trip. At this point I have only been in Italy for maybe 4 hours and already could see myself living here. The euphoric feelings brought on by the Italian food wear off and I snap back to reality. I couldn’t even locate a map and I don’t speak the language. Besides the fact that I would die an early death from obesity brought on by the food, I remember that I could never afford to eat out every night and would therefore need an Italian mother if I were ever to actually eat like this on a regular basis. Plan shot, need rest.

The next day we head off to the smallest country in the world. Confronted by a line and men telling us we needed tickets (not sure we did), we exit the Holy See, but only after sending my sister a postcard from probably the only post office in the country. Sadly, I had no epiphanies or religious rebirths. Luckily, this meant I would still be eligible for birth right which Rebstar and I have to look forward to (I am not actually sure I qualify for birth right, but I am going to delude myself up until the point of fatal disappointment).

The rest of the day we spent wandering the Roman ruins we found scattered throughout the city. We saw the Palatino, the Coliseum, the Forum, Circus Maximus (well, the site that it was once located) and random ionic columns or statues we happened upon while walking. We got a pro tip from this guy we met in Nice, telling us a free tour left from the Spanish Steps in the evening. We confirmed this through research online. Well, after a trek up to the steps, we tried to find where this tour could possibly have been leaving from. If you haven’t been to the Spanish Steps, you try finding something in the evening. The area is comparable to Las Ramblas in Barcelona, but with twice as many people. The plaza (piazza?) was crowded beyond belief and we just got lost in the commotion. No free tour for us. Oh well.

We meandered back in the direction of our B&B, stopping by Fontana Trevi, the Pantheon, and random other sites on our way. Trevi definitely was everything I was hoping for (and more, like all the extra tourists). The fountain is impressive, to say the least. We made our wishes by throwing our coins with our right hand over our left shoulder (I think). We only saw the outside of the Pantheon and were disappointed to see it under construction, but as I have learned, everything is under construction. Always.

Well, as we know, all good things come to an end. No, my trip wasn’t over. The fearsome twosome of Zach and Mack was splitting. Mack headed up to Bologna to meet up with another friend studying there, while I remained in Rome to stick it out for the rest of the trip alone.

The next day I made it into Saint Peter’s Basilica (sans ticket). I ended up not knowing how to get to the Sistine Chapel, but I did go up in the dome and the view of the city was amazing. It was well worth the hike up the narrow stairways with walls that made it impossible to stand up straight. I even met some women from Valencia and we spoke a little Spanish together, I was getting out of practice.

Well, I spent the rest of my days wandering the streets, filling up on gelato and studying for fluids (our professor set a prelim for the day we got back from break!). But after almost 20 days, 7 countries and over a dozen cities, I was exhausted and looking forward to returning to Santander. The trip was definitely eventful and I will always remember the Swedish man running up to me yelling, “He just punched a hooker.” Yes, staying in Europe over the break was definitely worth it. There will be other Christmases that I can spend with my family, but how many opportunities will I have to countdown the New Year at the Eiffel Tower or cross an international border on foot? Not many, not many.