Day 9: Bolzano (aka "Little Germany")

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Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Good Bye, Good Riddance
I got up and moving early, in hopes of catching the 7am bus to the train station. At the check out counter, however, I realized I would be just too late. I asked the staff to call me a cab, not wanting to wait another full hour for the next bus. The taxi was worth the €10, since we passed two number 90 busses on the way to the station. And I arrived in plenty of time to find where my train would be and have a small breakfast.

Wait, Now Hurry
My booklet said no reservation were needed to go to Verona, where I would connect to another train to Bolzano Bozen. Fifteen minutes before I was to board, I looked at the giant schedule posted in the corner of the station. Reservations required to Venice, Verona was a stop along the way. Shit. So much for my plan of being ready for this train. I moved quickly downstairs to the travel agency. For a 10%!f(MISSING)ee, it’s worth not waiting the hour in the main ticket line. Reservation in hand, I was back upstairs at the terminal, now flushed and a little out of breath, and boarded the train.

I know I slept some on the journey, because I woke up when a staff member asked to see my ticket. Luckily I had figured out how to properly fill out my Eurail pass, and the inspection completed without an issue.

Lazy Verona
The journey took about 90 minutes, which was just long enough to cool off before getting off at Verona. There, I waited for the train to Bolzano-Bozen. It never came. There were several Italians who were confused, too, which made me glad I was not the only one. The next train to the region would not leave for another hour and a half, so I went to that platform and made myself comfortable and ate a snack of Pringles. Yes, Pringles chips are in Italy.

Another Single Serving Friend
On the platform, I struck up conversation with an Australian girl who was a handful of years older than I am. She was on a whirlwind trip also, hitting several countries in a couple months, mostly staying with a network of friends or acquaintances. She worked in seasonal hospitality in Tasmania, which allowed her to travel for extended periods each year. The long list of her destinations included most European countries, several Middle-East countries, China, and the base camp for Mt. Everest. Rather than let the green jealousy bug creep up, I took this as inspiration. If this girl can travel the world on a budget, I will too.

We talked for the whole two hours to Bolzano-Bozen. Topics travel (naturally) covered politics, and the ridiculousness of pop culture. It was interesting how much she knew about American stuff, like when our Independence Day was, or who political leaders were. I didn’t even know if Australia’s leader was called President or Prime Minister. She briefly mentioned how Americans have an overwhelming sense of national pride, compared to Australians, who take the “no worries” attitude to heart. At Bolzano-Bozen, we shook hands and parted.

I Like This Town Already
My hostel is conveniently located a few blocks away from the train station. I got in around 1:30pm and my room was already prepared. Originally I had asked for a single room, but as none were available, I reserved a bed in a 3-girl dorm. At check-in, the receptionist informed me that I had been upgraded at no additional cost to a single room. Awesome!

Entering my room, I found a stripped bed with the sheets nicely folded on the mattress. Part of the low cost is making your own bed, which was not a problem for me. I even had my own bathroom, which was luxurious, considering that I was prepared to share one. I made my bed and then took off for the town.

Deutch or Italino?
Like Aosta, Bolzano is a mix of cultures, but instead of French, we have Germans here. The street signs are in Italian and German, which look awkward next to each other. The town is Aosta-sized, but with a younger crowd. Strolling around, I discovered a shopping complex, complete with a grocery store. The heat drove me into the cathedral, where there was a tour for extremely aged travelers. I’ll come back.

In Which I am Successful at the Grocery Store
Food stores here are not like Safeway, where everything is under one roof. With all the little cafes, there is no need for a full cafeteria-style deli in the store. I would say the store took up about the same square footage as a Trader Joe’s. There was a very pretty produce section, so I decided to get a couple pieces of fresh fruit. But the method here is different.

First, you must put on a plastic glove before you touch the fruit. You weigh each fruit type on its own, punching in #17 for oranges, for example. The scale then prints a sticker with the price and a bar code for the person at the cash register to scan. This saves an enormous amount of time, because there is no price check, or scanning issues when you’re in line. I thought it was brilliant. I also picked up some cookies and wine. The store did not have a wine opener, however.

There was a Rite-Aid type store next door, selling shampoos, cosmetics, and household cleaning supplies. They didn’t have a bottle opener either. I did get some shower supplies and more deodorant. The travel sized stuff really is crap. There were lots of brands I recognized, including Dove and Garnier Frutise.

The Tourist Office Knows
It does not good to have a bottle of wine and no way to open it, so I went to the tourist office. Surely they must know where I can buy one. I was directed to a department store similar to JC Penney. And there it was, an €11 bottle opener, which translates to $15 or so. What a wonderful souvenir.

Late Siesta
Ok, it was much later than the siesta hour, but I was worn and eager to eat my fruit and drink my wine and rest up for the next day.

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Photos

Hostel
It's just like a dorm, but cheaper