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Published: October 2nd 2009
Tuesday night in Rome I spent trying to sleep through the demands of the never-ceasing traffic through the open window, and the snoring, restless turning and conversational Spanish of my nine room mates. It was an experiment in travelling cheaply, and all good experience! The frustration of having my new, unused travel towel stolen - my own fault for carrying such a desirable, light-weight, micro-fibre piece of kit in the first place. And leaving it unattended on my bed for at least a minute. It didn't put me in much of a mood to make friends with my bedroom fellows, but I'm thankful that nothing was stolen while I slept - rucksack under the sheet with me of course.
Wednesday morning was taken up with a meandering wander around the coliseum and nearby two thousand year-old structures. The Amphiteatro Magnum is indeed massive, and looked devastating in the late morning heat. I then bought some cheese and headed off for the train to Bari. Sorry - I couldn't resist juxtaposing those highlights of my morning - first-century architecture and cheese. Oh, and you will be pleased to hear that I bought a new towel, at a little street market, which
cost me half what I paid to hire one at the hostel. Ah the mundanaity of global travel!
More stunning scenery from the train window - running on time - across the centre of Italy. Surprisingly dramatic mountains, hill towns and vast crops being harvested. Bari looked vibrant in the new part and continentally quaint in the old as I walked through to the port. Just before the port, tiny but full of vast Mediterranean ferries, I was accosted by some Danish students who recognised me from the hostel in Rome. They had been leaving the hostel as I arrived, so I didn't ask them about my towel. They were catching a train to Greece after spending the night in a Puglian field, entertaning themselves and the cows with an assortment of acoustic instruments. With them was an Australian medical student who was going on my ship to Dubrovnik.
An hour later, and I have met a dozen Australians on board, who seem - individually and collectively - disproportionate within the the small numbers of travellers on this late-season voyage. The ship itself is comfortable enough, with its 1970s decor and warreny lower decks. No showers on my
third-class floor - some people don't even have a bed - so I will have little use for my new towel. Another insight into the mind of the traveller.
The ship 'Marco Polo' pulls out exactly on time, leaving Italy behind with its late-evening low-rise yellow lights. The sea is like beaten copper, and a group of ancient Italian men and women laugh as the breeze cools. A bearded, balding priest joins them, taking along his own plastic chair that he has just swiped out from under my resting foot. The priest begins to sing and seemingly everyone joins in, except the middle-aged English couple who pointedly leave the deck with that inimitable look of distaste. One song involves all the singers reaching out to touch the others around them, and I get a few high fives from warbling grannies.
The Balkans in the morning.
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Mary Hutcherson
non-member comment
Many thanks!
I am one of the First Methodist and Athens Choral Society flock. Stephen posted your blog's address on the board Wednesday, and I just finished reading your accounts of the visit to Athens (we got a pretty favorable review!) and now the trip halfway around the world and really enjoyed sharing your adventures both here and abroad. I look forward to future reports and hope that you stay well (and do not need the medicine from the choir) and continue to enjoy your travels.