Sunday, July 31, 2011

Italia



Well, my trip in Italy is almost over. I’m currently sitting on another train bound for Rome from Ancona, a last minute trip to say the least. Since my last entry on that roasting train to Florence, I’ve seen Florence (obviously), Verona, Bologna, Venice, and Ancona. How about THEM apples. 

But I’ll start from where I left off. The train I was on FINALLY made it to Florence around 3:30am, even though it was supposed to arrive at 1:45. Yay Italian timeliness. For some reason, we sat in the Rome Termini station for just at an hour… roasting. Air conditioned? Right. In any event, I finally made it to what I thought was Florence’s main station only to find out that the train I got on stopped ONE Stop before the primary station. It being 3:30am, nothing was running… busses, trains, whatever… so I had no way to get to the hostel I’d booked. The next train started around 5:50am, so I killed a few hours by sleeping on the ground outside the train station. Whoo Hoo!

Still, I finally made it the ONE stop farther to Florence’s primary station, tired and unsure of where to go, and was greeted by… gasp, a huge church. I’m thinking Italy should be renamed Jesusland; he seems to be a big deal here. Go figure.

I wondered about for a spell before sucking it up and getting on the bus my directions said to catch to my hostel. This was my first Italian bus, and they’re quite different from busses in other cities/countries I’ve been in; in both Florence and later Verona, you don’t pay the driver. It seems to be some kind of honor system; inside the bus is a ticket validation machine and another to buy one-way fares. I guess the busses get “controlled” from time to time to check that you have a ticket, but both times I rode I was home free.

Big surprise, when I reached my hostel around 7am, they had charged me for the night before for not showing up, and my plan was to stay one night longer due to being unable to find a hostel in Bologna. In retrospect, I’m glad; there’s not much to Bologna. Either way, I was going to take a nap in the room for a few hours before exploring the city only to find one person in my assigned room snoring out of roughly 40 people. There’s always that one person…

So, I took a shower and started exploring. I’m one of those people who doesn’t necessarily like to go IN everything, but rather prefer to hit the “high spots” and those random places I discover. Those random places are actually my favorites, ones that I may otherwise have never known existed. It wasn’t long, though, before sleep deprivation caught up to me and I passed out in a small park next to the river (whatever it is called) for an hour or so. 

The weather in Florence wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was ok; it was the first day of imperfect weather I’ve had since leaving Germany. The city itself more than makes up for it; I won’t say it’s more impressive than Rome, but I liked the “feel” of the city a bit more. Unfortunately, as you may recall, I had (and still have) limited battery power left on my good camera due to the charger and battery being stolen in Madrid. No matter, the weather wasn’t perfect for pictures, so I used my little “tough” Olympus to snap anything worth catching.

It’s hard to describe Florence, really; like many Italian cities, it’s old. Duh. The most striking place in the city by FAR is the absolutely awesome domed cathedral in the city’s center. It’s one of those impressive images that won’t leave your memory. I won’t say it trumps the Vatican, but it was certainly memorable. It’s hard to believe the cathedral in Seville is bigger than it… this one is certainly cooler in my opinion. I didn’t get to go in (the line was well around the block), but I did go into the babtistry just next to it in matching style.

The style… well, it’s not what I would say is typical of Catholic churches. It’s certainly no Gaudy cathedral from Barcelona in shock value, but it is simply impressive in… well, everything. The outside is decorated in a mosaic-like tile creating an intricate pattern all the way to the orange-colored Spanish-styled roof. I swear the dome looks bigger than any I’ve ever seen, but this may be due to the fact that it clearly overshadowed all the buildings around it. Perhaps my perspective is off a bit.

Here’s where it gets interesting. Randomly, I’m walking around this cathedral with an iced coffee (which I was thrilled to find… iced coffee is a hard catch in Europe) and a sandwich when I ran into one of my good friends from Trier and her family whom I had hung out with just prior to leaving Trier. Neither of us had any idea we’d run into one another, and keep in mind here: there are THOUSANDS of tourists in Florence. The likelihood of running into one another in the entire of Italy, much less Florence, was little to none. But, not wanting to waste a good excuse to not be alone, I tagged along with her and her family for most of the rest of the day.

We explored a bit more, checking out an impressive indoor farmer’s market, various other squares, and (by myself while they were in a museum) the street, museum, and square named after some of my relatives! Via Strozzi, quite amusingly enough, hosted the city’s richest district. Cartier, Louis Vuitton (I can’t even spell it), nice banks… all adorned Via Strozzi. Go figure… Florence’s richest district and largest contemporary exhibit museum are named after some long lost relative. Nice!

Side note at this point: what is it with Trenitalia and being so damn hot? My back is drenched with sweat… they won’t let you open the windows because the cars are “air conditioning” (not –ed), which they clearly are not. Anyway.

By the time my friend and her family had to leave for Venice by late afternoon, it had started raining anyway. I retreated to my hostel to check out the internet (again, hard to find… that was Wednesday and I have yet to find it again, now Saturday), needing to check out school registration and emails. Gasp, my school registration and financial aid issues still are not worked out with either AASU or SSU. I’m not surprised. Even when I’m living in town, the schools always seem to mishandle my “affairs.” Being that this is a school blog, I’ll be nice and not go any further into detail on that front…

By the time I’d checked on finances, email, and school stuff, the rain had stopped for the most part and I ventured out to check out more far-reaching parts of the city including an old fort and several other churches. The highlight of this particular trip through the city was seeing a Synagogue, randomly, in the midst of the city. It was totally ornate in decoration, complete with a large copper dome (nothing compared to the cathedral’s, though). I couldn’t go in; like almost every church in the touristy city, you had to pay to get in. Honestly, I’ve been in the Vatican… there’s really nothing else I want to see from the inside of a church. Likewise with museums; once you’ve seen the Louvre, what’s the point in seeing anything else?

My attention span and lack of money to nickel-and-dime my way into every church and museum, along with the sheer lack of time, makes me not unhappy in the least to miss going into many of these places; I visit the city for the “feel” more so than each individual item in the city. One could spend a month in EVERY city in Europe and still not see everything, so I feel my skimming the surface of those I visit is perfect for my personal idea of what I want to get out of each city.

Something else interesting about Florence is the INSANE number of Madonnas/Mother Mary and Jesus “shrines” on the corners of buildings. These little representations, be they paintings on the walls or actual inset sculptures, literally inhabited, I’d say, 3 out of every 5 building corners you saw. I mean, really! You see these a lot throughout Italy, but none more so that I’ve seen than in Florence!

So, that’s really Florence. I dined that night on not the best lasagna I’ve had (I make better), alongside what seemed a gallon of wine. If you order what you think is 2 glasses worth of wine, beware: you’re getting more than you think. That’s good in that it’s cheap to get a lot, but not so good if you intend on staying sober thereafter. I literally had to leave half of a carafe in Verona the next day because of this…

Anyway, I checked out of my hostel early the next morning (not the nicest, by the way… its bathrooms, especially, are the ones that would embarrass your mother) and headed to Bologna. This got a bit interesting… being a bit tired (and hungover, to be honest… I also visited a lackluster Irish Pub in Florence the night before just for kicks), I slept through my train to Bologna by two minutes. Not realizing the trains were really that much different, I hopped onto a EuroStar Italia train that left a few minutes later. Come to find out, these are the equivalent of the TGVs in France; they’re the fast trains.

To make matters even more interesting, I didn’t realize at the time I boarded the train that I got into first class. Holy olive oil, it was nice. It honestly took me a minute to realize my mistake, but after that I just held my breath that they wouldn’t “control” the train (aka check tickets)… the one I paid for was something like 10 Euros, and the cost of this one ticket first class on this fast train would have been more like 95 Euros. Oops!

Let me just say, coming from the know-nothing-of-luxury background, this train was NICE. Ambient lighting, wifi, individual seats (none next to you), electric reclining at that… it was tip-top. The interior even had a glossy finish everywhere, giving the impression of what you’d imagine a Bentley to have. People came by with carts offering drinks and whatnot, which I declined due to my embarrassment at being in the wrong place. 
Luckily, I didn’t look too much like a bum, so hopefully they just assumed I fit right in with these other few businessmen on board.

Here’s the other difference in this train and the regional ones I’ve been accustomed to: whereas the regional train would have taken 2 hours to reach Bologna from Florence, this one took 37 minutes. Yep. Luckily for me, the short time didn’t include a ticket check, so I got away with it… luckily. Had I not bought so many train tickets in Italy thus far, I may feel bad about it… but seeing as I have, I don’t. :)

So, Bologna. Pronounced “bo-LONE-i-a,” there’s really not much to it. It’s a much newer city than most of the others I’ve visited; the churches and fortifications in it are from the 16-1800s rather than far earlier. So, by American standards, ancient. By European standards, yesterday. It’s really just a center of commerce more than anything else; stores and hotels were everywhere. I walked around the city, but didn’t stay longer than 2 hours or so. I think I got the feel of it city fine in this spell; I stole a free map off of a table (quite stealthily I may add)—the people who had it had left I think, and from the looks of it I saw everything I needed to see in the short time.

This time, I got on the wrong train AGAIN, by no fault of my own. How was I supposed to know that platform 2 and platform 2 OUEST (west) weren’t actually on the same platform when the trains had the same destination? This time, though, the place I boarded the high speed train again) was second class, so when the lady (who had family in San Francisco, incidentally, after talking to her) came by, I had to pay another 9 Euros to make the difference of the ticket, of which I originally paid 7. No biggie, honestly, considering I got away with it earlier in the morning.

A brief aside on train prices: I’ve heard from more than 5 people that the EurRail pass is not worth it, and I’m glad I didn’t buy one; it’s roughly $150 for a 5 day unlimited pass, which may do you good if you’re going long distances in short times. However, you have to reserve seats AFTER you have the pass, at which point the train service often charges a 5 Euro surcharge, and you have to have all this organized in advance. If you’re like me and like to play your traveling by ear based on how much you like each place, you’re not going to want this option.

That, and you can actually travel more places for far cheaper IF you have the time to do so. For example: the only reason I even stoped in Bologna was because it was roughly 30-40 Euros cheaper to travel from Florence > Bologna > Verona than it was just straight from Florence > Verona. How about that? There are several reasons for this, the most important being when you choose destinations, the ticket machines (which are quite nice and helpful, FYI) automatically search for the most direct and fast routes between places, which are almost always the most expensive. So, if you’re smart (unlike me) and buy a map of Italy to see what destinations are roughly on the way to your ultimate destination, buying tickets for those specific routes, you can save loads of money IF you have the time to make even a 2 hour layover in some cities.

Another example: it was almost 60 Euros cheaper, for whatever reason, to travel to Verona THEN Venice rather than Venice THEN Verona. Don’t ask me why. So, if you get a chance beforehand to check these random options online before you travel, you can save a lot of money. I recommend buying the tickets the day of or before in Italy, too; although most regional train tickets allow you to use that ticket for the route you bought once in a 2 month span, some dictate specific times to travel on. And, being that the prices are the same the day of as a month in advance (unlike in the UK), it gives you greater flexibility should plans change.

So there’s your lesson on Italian trains. If you mess up and get into trouble, just act extremely sorry and partially scared and claim you’re a dumb tourist; you won’t get fined. I’ve done it… I should know.
SO. I arrived from Bologna to Verona by around noon, far ahead of my original schedule of reaching Verona around 5pm. I’m so glad I did; Verona is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. See, traveling by the seat of your pants works!

Here, my plan (as of two days before in Florence) was to stay on someone’s couch through a website similar to couchsurfing.com, although this one you have to pay your host. It was a first for me, but being that I am perhaps too trusting of a person, I figured I’d be fine… and indeed I was. Obviously you’ll want to be careful when choosing places to stay like this, but considering this cost me 20 Euro whereas the next cheapest accommodation was roughly 100 (no hostels were in Verona that I could find worth the price), I’d say it was an epic win idea.

Unfortunately, due to being so early, I had to carry around my book bag which must weigh roughly the same as a dead body, until around 6pm. That honestly sucked. It didn’t occur to me until this point that I truly was (and am) “backpacking through Europe,” as you hear many people say they’ve done. I literally have two pairs of pants and about 4 shirts to my name for about 3 weeks. Not the cleanest thing to do, but hey… do what you have to do. Any more “stuff” and RyinAir would stroke out at the size of my bag and fine me 40 Euros per trip. So yeah.

Anyway, the pain and agony of this heavy book bag aside, Verona is… quaint. No, it’s not impressive in the scale that Rome or Florence are, but its smaller size and less tourists (albeit still LOADS of us) made Verona feel like the most “authentic” city I’ve been in Italy save Gaeta. Even Gaeta has a US Navy base, though, so perhaps Verona is even better! Well… no; Gaeta has a beach whereby Verona only has a river. Should you not be a beach whore like myself, this won’t be an issue and you may choose Verona.

Brief interruption: the train en route to Rome right now is going through some beautiful Appilation-styled mountains, complete with a stream below my window seat. Gorgeous! Not as awesome as the drive from Milan to Genova in Northern Italy, but certainly not a shabby view from this sweaty train!

Back to Verona. The reason I actually visited, aside from it making my train journey cheaper, was because 3 of the 4 universities I’ve studied at in my lifetime have advertised mini-semesters in Verona, supposedly a beautiful little city. Well, they’re right. I visited the university briefly, which is situated just across the river from the primary historic district, and it’s awesome how close it is to all of the history and splendor of old Italy.

Keep in mind, too, that Verona is at worst 2 hours from both Florence and Venice, among many others, putting its university in an excellent location. I wouldn’t trade my semester in Trier for anything, but I suspect that, had I applied to go to Verona instead (which does not have an ISEP English program to my knowledge), I imagine I’d of been quite happy as well.

I arrived hungry (surprise), and after finding the place I was to stay the night to relocate later, I stopped at a wonderful pizzeria for a pizza, piece of mozzarella, and spot of wine. For the price of 12 Euros, I got a wonderful freshly-cooked pizza, HUGE block of mozzarella cheese covered in salt, pepper, and olive oil (which is truly heavenly… Italian olive oil = win), and so much wine you’d think I had ordered a bottle. As I said earlier, I had to leave half of the carafe for fear I wouldn’t be interested in exploring the city after its completion. The cheese, too… heavenly, that’s all you can say. You couldn’t buy a block of cheese that big and delicious in a store for under $10 at home! Then again, in America, we typically wouldn’t just sit down and eat an entire block of cheese. Well, I would, but most wouldn’t.

The river in Verona, much the same as that in Florence (although I admit I don’t know my Italian geography and have no idea if it’s the same river), is slightly green in hue and crossed by several old and beautiful brick/stone bridges. It moves far more quickly, though, and would not be nagivitable by even a canoe in my eyes. In fact, in the warmth, I didn’t see a single boat on the river in either Florence or Verona. This may also due to the high pollution that is sure to exist in the rivers, though.

I explored a great deal, finding a Colosseum similar to the one in Rome (albeit not of the same scale obviously), numerous old churches (gasp), and generally cool and old buildings and small, windy streets and alleyways filled with random little parks, monuments, and shops/restaurants. It’s truly quaint. Imagine the building style of Savannah’s downtown, add a few stories to the buildings, and make the roads and alleys as random as possible… and you have any given old Italian town.

I also took a nap in a park by mid-afternoon; you’d think I’d have energy enough, but walking around with a heavy book bag at my pace of efficiency (hey, I don’t have anyone else with which to explore, so it’s all up to what I want to do… which is typically random walking everywhere), and by the evening made my way back to the address of the random person’s apartment I was to stay in. He wasn’t in yet (around 6pm), so I stopped in a little cafĂ© for a coffee just in time for a HUGE hale storm to break out! Seriously, hale at least the size of quarters fell for a good ten minutes before switching to rain. Random, especially for late July! 

In any event, I must say: if I were to stay in Italy any longer than a week, my heart would likely stop due to caffeine overdose. Seriously, coffee is as common as water here… keeping in mind, of course, that Italian coffee is our espresso. I can’t count how many I’ve had since being here either. 

Another side note: I just got controlled on the train again, and got in trouble (again) for not “validating” my ticket. With the regional tickets, because you can use them once in a two month period, you’re supposed to insert them into these yellow validation machines throughout each station to print a time stamp on the ticket, thereby saying you’ve “used” the ticket and cannot use it again. I actually did know that. I guess it’s just the thrill of seeing if I can get away with it… Oops. Again, play dumb; most of these control agents patrolling the trains don’t speak English anyway. Being dumb isn’t all bad.

After this storm, my host finally arrived home and I was let in. Wow, what a nice apartment! Well kept, great location ten minutes’ walk from the city center, nice financial advisor host dude… great experience. He recommended a place to eat in the city (which I later found but was too crowded to get in), gave me a key (quite trusting), and answered any questions I had. Very nice lad. It’s funny to me how people from different places value the homelands of others differently; he had a dying wish (from what I could understand; English in Italy is nowhere near as “good” as in Germany) to visit America, and liked American beer better than Italian or German. I guess it’s the thrill of something different; if I were him, I’d be more than proud to live in Verona! Then again, I am proud to be a Savannahian, so I guess there’s that.

Finally getting to drop off my book bag, I then explored a bit more, stopping at a restaurant around the corner from the one my host suggested for some eggplant parmesan. Delicious! I didn’t stay out too late, though; I was back to his apartment by 11pm or so, and after sorting through pictures up through Florence for Facebook posting (eventually… if I ever find internet; he didn’t have it even in that spectacular apartment), I fell asleep before he even returned home from wherever he was.

I was out of the apartment, through the bus route, and on a train to Venice by 9:20 the next morning. This ride, CROWDED as hell, caused me to have to stand on the train for the whole first hour. Fun fun.

But then, VENICE!

I’ll be honest: I wasn’t really expecting much out of Venice. I really went there just to say I’ve been. Granted, it’s by far the most touristy place I’ve been in Europe yet. And boy oh boy was it crowded. But, I’d argue it’s for GOOD REASON. Venice is simply cool. There’s no other way to put it.

Again, unfortunately, I was plagued with that heavy book bag. There was a place you could pay to store your luggage in the train station, but by the time I got through the line to do so my time in Venice would be over. So, my stuff and I traversed the city.

I have to say: I made some excellent rounds considering the small amount of time I was in the city. I saw a good many of the key places, including the famous San Marco Square of countless films, traveling at least for some time through all but one of the city’s six main districts. I think there are six… I’d check on the map I bought, but it would require getting up. About that. There’s a dog sitting on the seat across from me, and I’d hate to disturb his already antsy self.

It’s hard to get more picturesque than Venice. Seriously, every place I looked was picture worthy with the many canals (including the impressive “grand canal,” more like a river) and old, well-preserved buildings. The city was FAR cleaner than I expected, too; although the water obviously wasn’t crystal clear, its greenish hue and general lack of debris (note “general) made it not the worst water I’ve seen. The streets and winding, winding, winding alleyways of the city were also mostly clutter free.

Save the tourists like me, of course. Thousands, and I mean THOUSANDS of people crowded the small streets, especially around the San Marco Squre. To accompany them, of course, were hundreds and hundreds of venders trying to sell touristy things, and they were succeeding quite well I must say. Interestingly enough, if Florence was notorious for selling scarves (and it was), Venice must hold the world record for the most blown glass shops EVER. It was everywhere. Beautiful, but everywhere.

Speaking of shops, Venice is expensive. Terribly expensive. In fact, I would venture so far as to say it’s the most expensive place I’ve been in Europe yet, at least in terms of staying (aka eating and sleeping). Because online I couldn’t find a room for any sense of affordability (aka, under 80 Euros, and even those under 100 weren’t directly in the city), I figured I’d play it by ear and try my luck when I got there. This proved not to work too, being that the cheapest I found was as before. That was fine by me, though, as my back was killing me from carrying that heavy book bag, and being low on camera battery anyway there was little else left for me to do by late afternoon anyway.

Venice truly is amazing. I’d have to say it is the “coolest” city I’ve been in just for the sheer fact that it’s quite literally built on the ocean. I don’t know how they did it, and I don’t know how much longer it’ll last, but it’s simply amazing. San Marco Square, for example, had large bits off limits due to construction to keep the square from flooding. Pictures on the construction boards showed how the water would lfood quite frequently from the canals, the drainage systems, and even the “subsoil,” which is hard to believe that any even exists. Hopefully they’ll get it right; it’d be a true shame to lose Venice.

I’m sure I would have had a better time had I not been utterly miserable from having to carry my stuff around with me; my shoulders are a bit bruised. It’s primarily this heavy, heavy laptop I have that’s the issue, and I assure you: it will be sold as SOON as I get home and replaced with a smaller 13” laptop like I had before. Even so, Venice was awesome and totally worth the trip. It was so cool, in fact, tnat I even forgot to buy a postcard for my mother even though they were literally EVERYWHERE you looked. That’s cool.

Word to the wise, though: if you go to visit and are on any kind of a budget (aka, don’t have a limitless credit card), you’re best off to look up lodging in the cities just outside of Venice. I can’t remember any of their names, but just Google Map the city and see what cities are nearest. There, you can actually afford to stay, then take the train very cheaply (as in, less than 2 Euros/person) into the city for the days/nights. But that’s just my suggestion.

As it was for me, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, so conspired to try to find a beach in the roughly 24 hours I had before having to be back at the Rome Termini station to catch the shuttle buss to Ciampiano bound for London. Travel, travel, travel!

So, in keeping with my playing with the train schedules and prices, I made a wonderful discovery, as I now know. The price of the ticket from Venice to Rome, had I stayed in Venice for the night, would have been 76 Euros… over $100. However, if I caught a train from Venice to Bologna, then Bologna to Ancona (a coastal city opposite Rome on Italy’s east coast), then Ancona to Rome the next day (today), the total price for all three tickets was only 35 Euros. When I got to Ancona, I found a hotel right outside the train station for 30 Euros. So, moral of the story: by leaving Venice in the evening, traveling a few hours on trains with one change (20 minutes or so), and getting to visit another city, I STILL saved 10 Euros not even counting having to stay in a hotel in Venice! I love it when spontaneity works out…

That’s exactly what I did. I won’t lie, either. When I got to Ancona just before midnight and found the cheap hotel, I was about as excited as could be; not classy by any means, it was still a “real hotel” complete with my own room and bathroom! Coming from someone who hasn’t had that in over a week… it was blissful. I even got to order a Doner (Turkish sandwich) and a beer to eat in my room around midnight thirty and watch Italian music videos on the tiny TV in the room. Ah!

Sometimes it’s the little things that get you the most happy. When you originally plan trips, you just assume you won’t get tired and want to stop. Au contraire, I’m afraid. Even someone like me who naturally wants to go all of the time still appreciates a good old-fashioned rest from time to time. After all, traveling tired will cause you to not appreciate the places you visit nearly as much as you would feeling rested.

Luckily for me, I was able to leave my things in the hotel’s storage room while I explored Ancona for awhile after being given an included coffee and croissant for breakfast. It was nearly 11am by this point, but these are minor details. 

Unluckily for me, I didn’t make it to the beach as I had hoped to in Ancona. However, upon seeing a post card and being in the same general vicinity, I don’t feel too bad. I did get to see a cruise port and marina, which is the next best thing to a beach anyway… success. 

At this point, I should point out again the changed mindset I have toward walking places. I asked the girl at the desk how long it’d take to walk to the city center from my hotel, and she said 2 kilometers. I didn’t blink, and set off. It’s about 30 minutes’ walk to the city, but I walked around from about 11am-1:30pm with no problem. Ancona’s center isn’t that big, but I did climb up what I would consider a mountain (rather just a steep hill with a view of the city) for a few pictures. 

I also stumbled upon what appeared to be a Saturday flea market. I’ve lost track of time and didn’t even realize it was Saturday! It was a bit odd seeing so many “locals” after having been in so many touristy cities; aside from Gaeta, this is probably the least touristy city I’ve visited in Italy. There’s really not much to it… it’s next to the ocean, which is nice, but aside from a church and some old buildings (which would be cool in America, but nothing compared to the rest of Italy),  nothing really stands out in the city. It was totally worth the trip, though, if for no other reason than to get to see that side of the sea one last time during my trip.

The Italian people themselves vary quite a bit. While the language throughout the country is, in my opinion, among the most passionately spoken languages I’ve ever heard, the people’s cultural particulars differ according to the region. In the south, people are far more friendly and outgoing than those in the north; in many northern areas (which I can say of Genova, Milan, Venice, and even Florence to some degree), people are much more likely to act as those do in New York City and ignore you. If you travel to Rome (to some degree) or Gaeta (and presumably farther south based on what my Italian friends have told me), it’s nothing for random people to talk to you on the streets as if you knew each other.

Time as a culture is certainly different than America too. Spain and Italy are very similar in this respect; just as I noted frequently about the truth in siestas in Spain, the Italians largely disappear during the mid-to-late afternoon hours. It’s a bit errie coming from an American background where people are almost always out and about regardless of the time of day; the streets will be utterly empty, shops closed, and you’ll feel as though you’re the only person in the world for minutes on end. This is true mostly of the smaller cities; those like Rome and Barcelona never sleep. Well, not to the degree that New York never sleeps, but you’ll at least see people in these places at any given time of day.

The culture itself is much more family-oriented than most Americans, I would say. Even those that aren’t direct family make informal families in neighborhoods like those you see in television of New York City and stereotypical Greek and Italian families; I’ve only been here a short period of time, but Italy (and Spain) is full of little random cafes, shops, and bars where you see characters just “hanging out” all day. I don’t know how the economy in Italy keeps going; more often than not (a slight exaggeration, I’ll admit), you see Italians just… chilling. Not doing a damn thing. Talking. I don’t know where the business class of people hides, but they sure hide well!

It’s also interesting to me how intrigued Italians, like the Germans, are with America. This statement is obviously a generalization and does not apply to those in the larger cities, but many people I’ve met are simply tickled pink to meet an American, and want to tell me how much they like American and want to visit. Others will have relatives in America, and through their broken English I can decipher that they are jealous of them. Keep in mind here that this is coming from someone who has no problem talking to random people, aka me. Still, it amazes me that, even with our ridiculous politics (especially of the past), most hold positive thoughts of America!

This notion is unfortunately downplayed in the more touristy locations (especially Venice, in my experience) by Americans acting like the stereotypical American tourist, complete with fanny packs and heavy accents, wanting often to “look down” on Italians for not being American. It truly makes no sense to me; why bother visiting a new and exciting (at least to me) place if you’re going to try to constantly compare why your home is better. Granted, I’m constantly comparing the places I visit with America, but for me it’s more of a study of cultural dichotomies rather than an analysis of why I’m better than everyone else I meet. Again, remember this is a generalization, but I do wish it was one I did not have to make.

That about covers Italy! I’m sure there are a multitude of things I’ve forgotten, but considering I’ve been typing about my experiences at my (I’ll brag) naturally fast typing speed, it goes to show there is too much to say and too much to see. I’m sure that, over the next day or so before I manage to find internet to post this again, I’ll come back and add points that I forgot while typing on this train through the Italian countryside… which is amusing considering I’ve typed the better part of ten pages. If only writing papers were this easy…

Future plans: tonight, after being in Rome for a few minutes and catching the shuttle to the RyanAir airport (provided the train is on time… which it is known NOT to be in Italy and Spain), I’ll make my LAST FLIGHT WITH RYANAIR during this trip to Europe! I think I may celebrate by actually buying a drink on board or something… who knows. Or, to better express my sentiments for the company, maybe I’ll throw up on the plane or something… kidding. The price is right, just always remember that the price is right…

I land in London’s Stansted airport tonight and will likely just sleep in the airport; I’m on an extremely tight budget, and considering I’ll only have about 6 hours between landing and my train to visit Turville, the place the Vicar of Dibley was actually filmed (much unlike my last trip’s epic fail in England to visit where I THOUGHT it was…), there’s no point in spending money. I’ll be spending the night with a friend from Trier in Reading tomorrow night anyway, so I should be good.

After that, it’s London, Amsterdam (with the girl I ran into in Florence), Dublin, Chicago, Atlanta, home! It’s hard to believe that I will officially leave Europe in NINE DAYS, returning home in about eleven! Wow… time has flown, just as I am about to do [again] in a few hours!

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Life can’t get any better than with an Italian family


I should note first that the entire last entry I posted, as well as this one, is being written while on a train bound from Gaeta to Florence, a roughly 5 hour ride. Joy. Still, though, I felt I shouldn’t mix Spain’s experiences with those I just had today, so here’s to a separate entry. J

I got to Formia’s train station roughly on time (we’re in Italy, after all… the train I’m on now was late ten minutes too, but that’s just the norm), and no sooner had I gotten off the train before my apparent cousin spotted me, saying “Sam-wel?” I guess it helped that I told my cousin I had been emailing (whom I also had never met) that I’d be wearing a fedora hat. Facebook helped with the picture, too. It’s good he found me, though, because it occurred to me that I had no way to know who or where I was going here. Saminian planning here.

Anyway, it was a bit awkward at first being that I speak no Italian and he speaks no English. It was a fun game of charades trying to figure out what two family members who have never met each other were trying to say, I’ll certainly say that. First off, though, while waiting on a family friend to arrive (who spoke some English… some), he bought me a coffee while we waited. Italian hospitality truly cannot be rivaled, especially when it comes to family. What you see in the movies is true.

My day could not have been more perfect, authentic, and mesmerizing. The lady that drove me around, a good friend of my cousin whom I had been conversing with, was a trip and a half. She amused me greatly; her personality was typical of a Southern Italian, and she had to have known the entire 20,000 some-odd people in Gaeta. Talking to strangers is no biggie for her (or other Italians here). Everyone is friendly. I absolutely love it; they’re all one big family.

So I was driven around by who turned out to be an official tour guide for the region with the day off to see all the gorgeous, and I emphasize the land my father’s side of the family is from as being gorgeous, land of Gaeta. Wow. It’s even prettier than the pictures I have seen at my grandparents’ house! I won’t lie and say it’s a spectacular city like Barcelona, but the feeling in the town is… well, it’s just real. I don’t think I’ve seen anywhere any more authentic in my life; people are attached to the town, the ocean, the surroundings, and the other people attached to the same things. During my travels to see the “split mountain,” one that supposedly split in half the day Jesus was crucified, as well as the historic city center built in part by the Romans complete with two Medieval castles, my tour guide/friend ran me on several errands of her own as well. I felt like I fit right in!

She also somehow managed to lose her keys, which we later found hanging in her apartment door (on the outside). Yes, that means I must be Italian. We also ran into her mother several times through the day randomly in our travels throughout the city. It just makes me happy; it reminded me of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding… except that this time it’s the Italian version.

For many, this kind of chance meeting would likely be unnerving. But I cannot stress how natural meeting people in Italy came to me; even though my entire removed family (save my cousin I conversed with) spoke no English (I mean, zero), warming up to them was as easy as hugging my own grandparents. They took every possible measure to make me feel as comfortable as possible, cooking lunch and dinner for me at their lovely house, making me drinks, and chatting with me through the family friend (and translator) and through my cousin (who, I may add, is pregnant and bedridden for a bit, thus her not giving me the town tour herself). They even got physically angry when I tried to take my plate to the kitchen after a traditional meal of pasta, fresh sliced and olive oil’ed tomatoes, and deserts out the wazoo. Wow!

It was odd for me; it’s a Tuesday, and a good deal of the immediate family of my cousin stayed most of the day, eating and drinking basically nonstop from the late lunch we had through around 9pm when they brought me back to the train station. I have some younger cousins, too, who seemed fascinated at my being an American family member. I played kickball (on the porch) with a small cousin of 8 who surprised the hell out of me by being able to speak more English than I can Italian! He still couldn’t get by in English, but the fact that he could say Thank You and ask me questions (basically) really surprised me.

I confess, I don’t know all of their names; I’m an absolute idiot when it comes to names to begin with, and the fact that I couldn’t understand the Italian names many of them had didn’t help matters anyway. But, the mother of my cousin, although she spoke not a shred of English, acted just as you would expect an Italian mother to: she insisted on feeding me nonstop, and wouldn’t let me do a single thing. The father was likewise, offering me drinks, asking me many questions about the family (through our translators). The children were not obnoxious, being relatively quiet and playfully reserved.

Let me interject right here: it is so hot on this train that my shirt is literally soaked. This is one of Italy’s high speed trains with compartments much like those you’d see in Harry Potter, and I’m having a heat stroke. Go figure.

Anyway.

I cannot say enough good things about my newly discovered Italian cousins. They are the epitome of what a traditional family is, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so welcomed by anyone in my life save my own immediate family. It was a truly humbling experience to get to meet them all, and honestly… it’s one of those inspiring experiences that can change your attitude toward life. If I was debt free, I really don’t know if I could resist throwing away my American Dream of making money and moving to an American beach and moving to this small town to start anew. Seriously, the life these long lost family members lead is that of simply pleasure. Nothing too elaborate, nothing really more than the basics needed (not even internet)… yet they’re as happy as I think people could ever be: they have each other, and that’s more than enough.

So, sadly as it may be, I had to leave them around 9 tonight. It’s 11 now on this roasting and packed train, but I’ll be in Florence by 1:45 this morning! Well, Italian time, that means like… 3am. It should be interesting, though; in the next few days, I’ll have seen a good deal of Florence, some of Bologna, Verona, and Venice! Life doesn’t get much better than this…

When in Spain… join a protest.

That’s right, I joined my first protest while in Madrid. No idea what I was protesting, but I figured I couldn’t let all the Spanish have all the fun so I joined in! More on that later, though.

Seville first. Wow. I try to compare cities I see with others to give myself/others a Sam-centered idea of what a city is like, and to me Seville is a mix between Barcelona and Paris. The architectural style was a bit Parisian with many high-rising buildings in a bit of a crowded fashion, yet the “feel” of the city was like that of Barcelona. As I’ve said, I think Barcelona is my favorite city I’ve visited thus far, and Seville still falls under that like due to the lack of a beach. While there is a river, it’s just not the same as a beach.

Still, Seville is quite beautiful! I think the crux of its infrastructure is banking (aside from churches as is obvious with every European city) due to the ridiculous number of banks I saw. But, I also saw several Starbucks (which I couldn’t skip due to my missing of it in Trier) a KFC, so that was nice. I’m not going to lie: I was tempted to go in. Man, I miss fried chicken.

Luckily for my sunburnt self, most of the city was shaded, with vias (streets) that had no greenery shaded by large sections of canvas hung between buildings over the streets to create shade. People in the city are beautiful as with the rest of Spain, too, albeit not as pretty as in Cadiz; the Moor influence creating darker skin tones just make Southern Spaniards beautiful.

That aside, who would have thought the cathedral in Seville is the 3rd largest in Europe and largest in Spain? Wow. It’s quite odd, too; my first glimpse of it was apparently from the back side, and from there I was not really impressed. I mean, it’s massive… but what cathedral isn’t? At that point, though, I hadn’t read through the history booklet I got at the tourist information office, so I didn’t realize it was Spain’s largest and Europe’s 3rd.

Later in my journey, though, after seeing numerous churches, beautiful streets, and something called the Plaza de Espana, or Spanish Plaza, along with its gorgeous park roughly 3 times the size of Forsythe Park in Savannah, I came along the front side of the cathedral. Ok, so that’s a bit out of order… I saw the Plaza de Espana first and last on my trip, but details. Anyway, it’s certainly massive. I think it would look bigger if there weren’t other buildings crowded around it; the cathedral in Ely, England, impressed me more, but it was standing all alone in the middle of… well, nothing.

Speaking of parks: in my travels thus, I believe that in terms of parks, Cadiz takes the cake on what I would call “small to medium” parks. Those are the random green spaces beside the roadways and those small parks overlooking the ocean or some of the squares. Seville, though, must take the prize for the best large parks. The park outside the Plaza de Espana is simply gorgeous. It’s almost a jungle of mazing beauty, and it’s absolutely perfectly maintained. I was impressed.

Next, I must note: I had yet another epic win of a meal in Seville. I got a whole serving of Paella, a FULL glass of white wine, a coffee, and bread for a whopping 8.50 Euros. Win. Not the best paella by any means, but the fact that I could get all that for so cheap makes it not matter in the least. It still can’t beat Cadiz’s meal, though.

Impressively, I noticed my Spanish coming back to me the longer I was in Spain. That doesn’t mean for a minute that I could understand the people when they spoke, but I could pick up on key words, read road signs, and express what I needed/conversational Spanish to some degree. Naturally, this occurred just before I was to leave Spain. Story of my life.

Anyway, Seville is truly beautiful. Everything in the city is over the top; parks, buildings, bridges, even sidewalks all seem as though infinite time and money were put into them. Monuments were everywhere, all parks were exquisitely maintained, the city was clean, all buildings ornately decorated… all in all, it’s just a beautiful city. People always say Seville is beautiful, and they are absolutely correct.

Something amusing I’d like to note: when reading the history booklet, I read of a charity hospital. The founders of the hospital wrote an interesting inscription on the building to capture the feeling of the dead as is to be expected of any such establishment: “Here lie the bones of the worst man the world has ever seen.” How’s that for charity? HA! I love Spain.

Something else I noticed while in Seville: safety is not a top concern. In Spain and many other places throughout Europe, the mentality I’ve noticed is thus: if you’re dumb enough to get hurt, it serves you right. Examples of this: lack of lines on the roads (not the case necessarily in Spain), no handrails in places you would expect (hello Greece), lack of barriers around dangerous places such as train platforms, and significantly less “don’t do this or you’ll die” signs than we are forced to suffer through in America. I like the mentality; if you get hurt, it’s your own fault.

Moving on. The bus ride there took about an hour and a half from Rota, not too shabby in my opinion for a 9 Euro bus ride. Coming back, though, took closer to 2 and a half hours. First of all, the bus was 15 minutes late, which is to be expected; time is not exactly Spain’s top priority. Then, we hit a wreck or something on the interstate, causing time to seem to take forever. I almost thought I was in Atlanta!

One final thing to note on my Seville trip: it’s interesting to see how much the countryside in the little bits of Spain I’ve seen differs from the beauty of the cities; the rural areas are laced with unfinished projects, rusting equipment and garbage, and truly arid land merely a few notches above a desert. It’s a bit strange, really, considering how beautiful and lush the cities are as a whole.

After getting back from Seville, I had a good 4 hour long conversation with my cousin about politics in America, something I very rarely do; typically, I could care less. But, being that my cousin is in the Navy, he’s stuck with politics all the time, so I pulled back into my high school years and had a jolly good discussion.

The next day, I honestly was a knot on a log. My cousin took me onto the Navy base to print out all of my boarding tickets and whatnot for the remainder of my travels, and we visited the base supermarket. That was one of the most eerie experiences of my life; having been in Europe since March, I’ve seen a fair deal of Americans. However, I have not been totally surrounded by Americans since I left Savannah, and that’s exactly what happened at this base store. It seriously was weird to be in the middle of Spain (rather, on the coast), and have nobody around me save Americans talking English. Seriously, it was almost unnerving, and puts me into a perspective that I’ll likely go into a bit of shock when I land in America in a few weeks.

Prior to going on base, I never realized how self-sufficient these military installations are. They have their own… everything. Stores, restaurants, bars, movie theaters, beaches, hotels, housing, hospitals, golf courses… and these aren’t even including the military buildings. Wow. And to think this base in Rota is merely rented from the Spanish! Just think what may exist on US owned soil…

Later on in the day, around 8pm and after doing somewhere south of nothing for the rest of the day, I arrived at Jerez de la Fontera airport (about 20 minutes from Rota). It’s a cute little airport, and quite nice for a RyanAir hub. Well, I won’t say hub; RyanAir only flies a few flights there. Either way, it’s smaller than Savannah’s. Come to find out, I got there almost 2 hours early on accident (this 24-hour time is killing me STILL), then ended up being more like 3 hours early after my flight to Madrid was delayed. Gasp! I’ve heard flying through Madrid will almost always delay you, and I must confirm that suspicion.

Cleverly, I repacked my book bag in a way that it would barely pass RyanAir’s strict bag dimensions test (you must place your bag in a holder and if it doesn’t fit, you pay 40 Euros). Tip: when backpacking for 3+weeks, wear the clothes that take up the most room on flights. Wear more than one pair if necessary. Otherwise, your travel will be expensive and your clothing supplies will STILL be short.

So, I finally landed in Madrid around midnight. Fun fact: Madrid is Europe’s 4th busiest airport and the world’s 9th. Who would have thought? It’s quite a nice airport, and has a great connection directly to the Metro into the city. Just as in Barcelona, Madrid’s subway system is impeccably clean and new-looking; the Spanish have a thing for making pretty subways apparently. It runs until 1:30am, too, so you’re in luck if RyanAir delays you by an hour coming into Madrid! Win.

After a few train changes and walking a little further than I should have, I found my hostel. It was quite nice! I was quite tired from traveling, so by 2am I hit the sack in my room with 11 other people. If you stay in hostels, just remember: Everyone sleeps at different times and with different levels of noise and drunkenness. Welcome to hostels! Luckily for me, I sleep like a dead brick. For those of you who are light sleepers, though… beware.

I woke up just early enough to grab a Spanish coffee the next morning (Sunday the 24th of July), and headed off to the free walking tour of the city which I have come to grow fond of in cities that offer them. Once again, great decision; I met a lot of cool people, saw the highlights of the city, and made some good contacts.

Madrid itself, in my honest opinion, isn’t really much. It’s a city you can see in a day if you aren’t interested in seeing the multitude of museums and art galleries… like me. The city is quite pretty, feeling new in the way that downtown Atlanta does, but there isn’t really anything special about it in my opinion. It has some cool history, but not as much as Seville or Barcelona. This was ok to me, though, being that I wasn’t expecting much out of a capital city away from the coast anyway. The monuments are beautiful, the parks well-maintained, and the buildings well-to-do, but nothing in Madrid really stands out as special to me.

What was totally awesome, though, was the protesting I began this entry with. Surprisingly enough (seriously), by mid-afternoon I was literally bored. I spent time walking around the streets, resting on random benches to kill time… really, looking for something to do. Then came the protests. I’m not talking about a few hundred people out to complain, either; these Spaniards had gathered from many parts of Spain in Madrid this particular weekend (especially, as I later found out, due to the fact that the next day [Monday] was a national holiday). Many of them proceeded to camp in many public green spaces, walking around carrying signs, shirts, and war paints of protest. That, and the Guy Faulks (did I spell that right?)—the one from V for Vendetta—masks on the backs of their heads. Amusement.

I didn’t think anything of them early on in the day when we were going about with the free walking tour, but come about 5pm, things got interesting. Don’t worry, absolutely no violence, no obscenity, not even really any drinking. Well, not compared to Germany, anyway. But, funny enough, the police literally closed off the main veins of the city and thousands of protesters marched through the city for a good two hours, finally ending up in Sol Square, the city’s center. The fact that the police closed off the streets for anti-government protestors made me smile. People were literally sitting on top of red lights, bus stops, and anything else tall they could find to photograph and video the protests.

Imagine, if you would, police shutting down Peachtree Street in Atlanta and part of I-75 through downtown for thousands of people to march around and scream, play random drums, and wave signs about? It wouldn’t happen, first of all, but mainly… the city would shut down. Madrid wasn’t far from that. Keep in mind, though, that Madrid is relatively small when compared to Atlanta. Still.

I, for one, couldn’t resist the urge to join in. What was I chanting and singing along with them? I have no idea. What were they all so pissed about? Not a clue. Was I amused? Immensely.

The Spanish, in my opinion, are a bit like the French: let’s just find a reason to protest, thereby party. Apparently it’s commonplace in Spain. You’d never see that in America; no one seems to care enough to bother. If partying were introduced alongside protesting, though, I get the feeling Americans may join the European bandwagon. Wait—that wouldn’t work. Most cities in America would arrest you for drinking in the streets. My bad.

At this point, once the march was over, I won’t lie: remember me mentioning seeing KFC  in Seville? Well, I found another one in Madrid. Yes, I went. Yes, it was worth it.

So, after my highly entertaining afternoon, I headed back to the hostel. Within the hour, the 10 Euro pub crawl started, and I joined several of those I had met on the free walking tour for three bars and a club. Well, maybe not the club… I think I skipped that. But, let’s just say I got my party on with a Russian, some Danes, a few Brazilians, and two Americans. The first hour at the first bar? Epic win. Why? Unlimited beer and sangria for an hour. Seriously, unlimited beer and sangria. That was a good start.

Let’s just say the night ended well. The next day, though, I was t-totally done for; mixing tequila shots with unlimited beer is never a good idea. So, after I managed to wake up 5 minutes before I was due to check out from the hostel, I literally bought a water and went to sleep in a random park for the remainder of the day prior to having to leave Madrid. This wasn’t an issue with me due to my boredom with the city from the day before, so it worked out well!

The worst part of the trip thus far, though: when I got back to the hostel after my nap to get my things (they’ll keep your stuff after you check out for the day for you), I realized that the room I had been in (which previously had all bunk beds) now had all single beds, and my Sony battery charger and spare battery had been charging in an outlet by my former bed. Well, now it’s gone, and I have no way to charge my good camera. Hopefully I can find a store that has a charger, but it really sucks being that the battery I lost in it cost $50. I have no idea who would take that and a US power adapter, but I’m not thrilled.

I arrived at the Madrid airport early, again, and surprise of my life: my flight was delayed an hour. So, a few hours on the Madrid airport floor and a crowded RyanAir flight sitting next to screaming children later, I landed in Rome and found my hostel outside Rome Termini train station. It was odd to be back in Rome, but quite welcome. The hostel owner even had stayed late for me to let me into the home-like hostel! I felt a bit bad, though, being that when he walked me around the block to the hostel (inside a hotel, oddly enough), he switched the light on in the room I stayed in, waking up the two girls already asleep in the room. Oops.

My train to Formia, the town just outside Gaeta that I was to meet my family (whom I had never met), left around 8:30 the next morning, so I got up bright and early to take a shower only to find no hot water. No matter; hopefully Florence has that. So, after an included-in-my-hostel-price Italian coffee and doughnut, off I went to Gaeta!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Goodbye Trier, but Hellooooo Spain!

To be honest, just thinking about having to type my last entry about Trier, even though I’m sitting a matter of minutes from a beautiful Spanish beach, made me have to get a beer to simultaneously commemorate the experience and not be sad. That being said, let’s just say the last week was EPIC.


Remember how I said last week that I still had to plan hostels, pack, and party? Well, I’ll give you one guess as to which of those occurred in the most abundance, and it wasn’t the first two choices. Being Erasmus gives us all excuses to act just like the Germans: party all night, every night. Rather than to go into too many details, I’ll just say each night began at either Martinskloster, Cusanashaus, or a campus housing place, then typically moved into the city to carry on well until daybreak if not later. It was epic, truly epic, and I shall miss all of the people I’ve spent the last 4.5 months with immensely.

I did finally get to go up to the statue on the hill I’ve commented on before… the one I can see from my room. It was spectacular! You can see the whole city, and although it was cold, we stayed for well over an hour at 3am or so. Well worth the 40 minute walk straight uphill to get to it!

I took ridiculous amounts of pictures, so if you have me on Facebook feel free to check them out. Let’s just say I’ll miss it, but at least I know I’ll get to see all of these people in the future. It’s going to happen.

But, moving on. I did turn in my scheins for my classes, although AASU still thinks I didn’t actually take any of the classes that they sent me to Trier to take in the first place, so I’m pretty much screwed with my financial aid when I get back until they rectify that situation. That will take at least a month. I happen to know that from previous mess ups that didn’t even entail studying abroad.

Anyway.

I somehow managed to make it to my 6:30am bus to go to Frankfurt Hahn to fly to Rota with my ridiculous suitcase and myself. Let me add that I packed AND cleaned my entire room in a matter of 3 hours total, and fit everything I needed to take with me into my book bag and suitcase! I did give away probably 100 Euros worth of things, but I knew that was going to happen; it would cost more in shipping than the items (blankets, towels, cheap coffee maker, etc.) were worth, so it was Christmas for some of my German dorm mates.

But, to my [not] surprise, RyanAir informed me that, even though I paid an extra 40 Euros for my ticket so that I could check my heavy luggage into the flight, I would have to pay an addition 200 to ship it. They claimed it was 20 kilos overweight (roughly 45 pounds), and they charge 20 Euros per KILO. Yes, that’s right, I have a flight to catch and now have to add the entire price of the rest of my travels’ plane tickets to ship my suit case to Spain with me. You can imagine the choice words I had to say to that particular attendant.

So, I lugged my luggage away, proceeded to put on *literally* a pair of sweat pants and THREE pairs of jeans on OVER my existing shorts, a hoodie and jacket, and like the Michelin Man, headed for a taxi to get to the nearest post office.

Luckily, everyone was nice to me. The cab cost 20 Euros round trip, which sucked, and shipping the luggage all the way from Hahn to Brooklet, GA, cost 85 Euros. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, but still… in twenty minutes I blew over a hundred Euros cash. That especially sucks right now being that I believe I shipped the Sparkasse (German) bank card home in my luggage on accident, which has my only access to more cash.

Anyway. Made it to Rota by just after noon, and lucky for me, there was my cousin ready and waiting! Welcome back to Spain. His apartment/condo is quite nice, having three bedrooms and two baths! The Navy does it right, I must say. Any number of quite nice beaches are less than 15 minutes walking distance, too. Not bad!

Life in Spain is quite odd indeed; it’s seriously like a ghost town in Rota between about 2 and 5pm. The things you may hear about the Spanish having a “siesta” each day in the midafternoon is quite true, especially here in Rota. Barcelona had it too as I recall, but not nearly as much. Then again, Barcelona is much larger.

To be quite honest, after a tour of the city by my cousin the first afternoon and a first beach nap, I was quite lazy and recovering from the past week of not sleeping until after midday Wednesday (I landed in Rota Tuesday afternoon). That’s not like me; typically, I’m the get-out-and-go type. But hey, at least I had a good reason to be lazy.

One highly amusing thing to note here: I had Thai with my cousin for lunch, and for dinner found a flyer for ANOTHER Thai place that I just couldn’t pass up. So I had Thai for dinner, too. The restaurant experience was quite amusing; I didn’t get there until pushing 10:30pm (the Spanish are night people, much like black cats… except lively), and when I did there were two older ladies (50s) from Amsterdam having a jolly good time with some Chinese Sake (or something). They bade I join them and talk to them for quite some time and take shots out of the glasses the Thai restaurant had given them that… well, let’s just say you’re likely to find them at a novelty shop. The conversation was quite interesting, too; when they found out I was going to Amsterdam in a few weeks, they proceeded to tell me how and where and what kind of “herb” to buy. Don’t buy from those on the streets, they said. It could literally be cow dung. Go to the coffee shops, then you’re golden.

I’m going to miss Europe something fierce.

Wednesday afternoon, I got out of the cool house finally into the Spanish midday heat. Let me tell you, I’m used to Savannah heat… but this must at least rival it. Keep in mind it’s been jeans and long shirt weather in Germany the past two weeks, but still I was not expecting to melt like the wicked witch! I did tour the city more extensively with my camera, though, and have some good pictures to show. I also researched how to get to Cadiz the next day and Seville the following, so after getting followed by a persistent homeless man for twenty minutes or so I headed back inside.

Rota is a cute little town (and I do mean little, even by Trier standards), but I admit it’s a bit dirty, and once you get out of the concentration of little shops and restaurants, it gets a bit sketchy. Keep in mind that it’s a well-established US Navy and Spanish Navy base (they US rents from the Spanish apparently), so the vast majority of people in the town are some kind of Navy. That creates a big American presence too, although I admit I have yet to see but two of them.

Something else one may want to keep in mind about Spain and Europe in general is the attire at beaches. Nude beaches are always talked about in the US as being big in Europe. Although I have yet to find any truly nude beach, just be prepared that topless beaches are… well, any beach. I’ve been to maybe a dozen beaches in several countries thus far, and it’s the same: tops are optional. So don’t be surprised.

Enough commentary for now. My productivity astonished me Wednesday night; I booked all the trains I need while traveling in England, checked myself into all of my remaining 4 RyanAir flights (thank God), and researched all the trains I’ll need in Italy. I couldn’t buy those because the Italian rail website is absolutely terrible, at least in the English version. Had I not taken Spanish, I wouldn’t know what it was talking about sometimes (the languages are somewhat similar). That, and trying to actually buy the tickets, not just find the timetables, is… well, impossible. I asked my Italian friend if it would be much more expensive to just buy them as I went, and she said it should be the same price, much unlike in England.

I also found out in my research (which took hours and hours… travel planning takes forever if you’re on a budget) that you can buy a Rail Card in England when you travel for 28 Pounds ($35-ish) that saves you a third on all tickets you buy in the country for a year. I wish I had this last time I was in England because I realized I’d save at least 50 Pounds (even counting the price of the card itself) in my travels with one. Oh well.

One other interesting thing I found: a website called eDreams.com. Check it out if you want to fly, especially in Europe; it’s somewhat like Bing Travel or Expedia, but I literally found flights that were cheaper from Venice to Rome than the rail was. I decided against it just because I’m sick of flying and it wouldn’t save me THAT much, but considering the flight is an hour and the train is 4, it is certainly a service to check! It also works for US flights, but… well, they’re always expensive.

So, my travel plans, in a nut shell (in order): Madrid, Rome (for a minute), Gaeta, Florence, Bologna, Venice, Verona, Rome (to fly out), London (for a minute), Turville (Vicar of Dibley village!), Reading (friend there), London, Amsterdam, Dublin, Chicago, Atlanta, Piedmont SC (to get my car), Savannah!

Phew! Hey, you only live once, right? And, minus the cost of my flight from Dublin to Chicago/Atlanta (same flight technically), the whole trip only cost roughly 499 Euros including trains! Not bad considering I’ll see the better part of Europe in the process… well, not, but better for me anyway!

After that epic planning, I got up this (Thursday) morning and caught the ferry to Cadiz, one of Spain’s primary ports and supposedly the oldest city in Western Europe! I’m not positive about that, but they claim it anyway. I was early (or late) to the ferry, so I chilled at the beach in Rota for an hour and caught a good burn (surprise), then boarded the 30 minute ferry to the city.

Let me just frame this conception of the city first: I wasn’t expecting much. I’ve never heard of Cadiz, and really only went as something to do for the day considering the ferry only cost 4 Euros each way.

Having said that, WOW. I was honestly blown away; the city, although small, not much different in size than Rhodes Town (not the island itself), is absolutely beautiful, complete with among the most well landscaped, most monuments, and cleanest overall feel of almost any city I’ve seen! I still would say Barcelona is my favorite city I’ve visited, but I’ll have to see at the end of my trip how I think Cadiz rates overall. It’s a bit difficult to rank cities when you’ve seen so many so quickly, but I did get a good feel for Cadiz.

I’d say Cadiz has everything short of a Starbucks; beautiful beaches, cool old castles, a well restored Medieval Town, beautiful churches and a cathedral, and relatively (for Europe) cheap shops and restaurants. I literally walked around the entire island that is the city (technically… it’s barely an island), then walked some more. My feet are actually pounding as we speak, but I stayed put-putting about viewing the beaches and having a nice lunch and later a beer to take in the scenery as a reason to rest. Everything was green, vibrant, well-kept… yet not to the point that it felt like a total tourist trap. Sure, there were tourists there, but this city somehow managed to maintain a “legit” feeling to me. It felt a bit like a mix between Miami, Paris (the architecture, for some reason), and Barcelona. I liked all three cities, so naturally… I’m going to praise Cadiz.

As in every European city, scooters rule the roads in Cadiz due to the maze of random alleyways between 5 story-ish buildings, primarily. I did notice, though, that there is a full-fledged university overlooking the Atlantic Ocean (Cadiz and Rota are both barely on the Atlantic)! This may be something to consider…

The restaurant I found, by the way, had some of the best food I’ve had in a while. At first, I was kicking myself for not stopping at the fast food joint I saw just after I got off the ferry; I hadn’t eaten all day or the night before (I forgot… go figure), and had walked around 2 hours to that point in absolutely ruthless heat. This time of day, by the way, was the 2-5pm window I mentioned from Rota. More was open here, though.

Anyway, I ordered a Tapas item (as are THE RAGE in Spain—most restaurants offer Tapas, if not exclusively so) called “Chilled Tomato Soup,” which makes my mouth water to think about even now. It was a bit like a slightly sweetened Bloody Mary without the Vodka, and it was served with a dish with freshly cut bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, and croutons. OH it was good, and it was served in what you would typically get a Bloody Mary in.

Then came the main meal: pan seared Tuna with a small side salad and “chips” (fries). Delicious! It was especially good when dipped in the soup. Along with these, I got a large beer (jar of cerveza, as it’s called) and a Coke with ice (there’s a surprise—hard to find ice!). I typically don’t get Coke, but I kept seeing people order them from the glass bottles and had to have one.

So, it sounds like I just spent a small fortune, right? Wrong: the whole delectable meal that made me barely able to walk from being absolutely famished cost a whopping 12 Euros! Win! It’d truly be hard to beat at a 5 star restaurant in my opinion even totally ignoring the price.

Anyway, enough of my mouth watering. I did finally make it back to the ferry after beautiful Cadiz, its beautiful people, and its beautiful scenery. So, now I’m back in Rota, and after talking with my cousin for quite some time and eating an entire frozen pizza without bothering cutting it, here I am.

Speaking of beautiful people: I mentioned when I got back from Nice how beautiful the people there are. Well, I still think they’re probably the most gorgeous, but… Spain is quickly approaching them. The Spanish certainly smell good, too; perfume and cologne seem to be staples of EVERYONE. We’ll see how Seville and Madrid fare and I’ll pass my official judgment.

So there you have it. Left Trier, seen two more cities, and am off to Seville in the morning! I didn’t realize how close it was to Rota, but apparently I just have to catch an 8 Euro bus there in the morning, and within 2 hours I’ll be there! I always hear about its beauty and many study abroad programs, so it’ll be interesting to see how the hype compares to the city. I’m trying to keep it in perspective; everything here is so beautiful!

Until next time…