Venice to Sicily

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Leaving Andorra after a secure 5 weeks was slightly daunting. Although only a short time, Andorra had become my home, I had my flat, my boyfriend, my routine, my friends. I was a local.

Arriving in Venice, I had none of these things, and checking into the backpackers and looking at the bunk bed in the room I was to share with 3 others, I longed for my familiar large bed with my own private bathroom.

Andy was meeting me in Venice and would join me for the first four nights, after which I would have the next four nights to myself before meeting Nelly in Rome for the final 7. I was starting in Venice and would train and fly south to finish in Sicily. All the places chosen were obvious tourist reasons with a few unplanned stops along the way.

Venice was a lovely as you would imagine, romantic cobbled pathways connected by highly decorated bridges. Veering off the main streets (as I always do) and finding the local haunts, Venice was every bit the post card picture you have been lead to believe, however I was not overly taken with the city. True, it was lovely; however it was repetitive, with everything on offer geared towards the camera wielding tourist. The locals had become hard after years of people passing by and were not the friendly open Italians I had met previously in Bergamo. The locals could not recommend places to eat or drink, for the simple fact the locals left the city when not working, to get away from inflated prices, poor quality food and the tourist. Venice felt forced.

We had a day trip to the two small islands of Murano and Burano, the tickets for the short boat ride was extortion. I imagine these islands to be much nicer in the summer, it was easy to vision many outdoor tables with laughing faces enjoying the sunrays; however the wind held a sharp bite which we felt through our multiple layers.

Murano was traditionally supported by the glass blowing trade, now small stores lined each side of the lovely canals selling jewellery, art pieces and other glass objects. The first store was beautifully set out, with suited sales clerks speaking a multitude of languages, Russians and Chinese could have their backside wiped here for a price. The displays were lovely and the prices high, we saw a ring priced at €100.00, to find it in another store, less than a few feet apart, for only €10.00. I purchased a (supposedly) handmade glass ring brilliant in blue colour.

Berano was a smaller island which was supported by the local lace trade, which was fast dying. Each small house was painted a different colour and looked festive and welcoming.

We departed Venice (no tears on my part) and made way for Verona. Verona is a stunning small city, and although our gorgeous B&B had been over booked and we had to leave Snow Whites house to stay with the Ugly Sister, this did nothing to dampen our spirits. Verona held all the class its small walls could hold, people were friendly, food excellent, even the sun was shining. Verona boasted a small Coliseum which was still used to this day to hold open operas and other performances.

Andy and I departed the next day, I am sure she was pleased to leave my side and swinging moods as I was still dealing with the recent change.

My destination was Florence, however looking a map I decided Bologna was a nice half way point and changed my route. My daily budget had already been blown so in an effort to recoup funds I decided to try couch surfing, a practice I had heard about, though never tried. A quick search on the internet and I was contacted a few hours earlier by a man called Max (abbreviated for my English ears), I was dubious when I met him, he was skinny, tall, and unkempt in appearance. We walked to his apartment (with the thoughts of rape on my mind) which smelt of stale sweat and was poorly furnished. I was incredibly emotionally tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep, however my host was not keen to leave me in his apartment on my own (rightly so).

I was taken to a small pizza store where we bought a pizza each for €2.50 – my budget now well and truly back on track. We went to meet his friends at a Mexican bar which was hosting a Latin American dancing night. It was great to watch and revived me completely, watching people dancing so passionately with each other allowed me to have a new lease on my situation.

I had my own small dance with a comfortable distance between myself and my host, we headed back to the apartment through the snow, it was freezing and I regretted leaving my ski jacket in the bag which Andy had taken back to London. The night passed uneventfully, thankfully, and the next day I left for Florence.

Florence….. why… WHY, is there an English name for Florence????? Florence in Italian is Firenze, this I did not know, and as the train pulled into the Firenze station I happily sat in my ignorant bliss unaware that I was missing my stop and would have to wait for the next station to head back. The next station was Rome. 2 hours away. Thank goodness for the movies on my laptop. 5 hours after leaving Bologna, I arrived in Florence.

The wait was worth every moment.

Florence took my breath away and I fell in love with the architecture, people, and of course, the food. When first arriving I stopped in at a small café and met Elio, a gorgeous Albanian-Italian. We clicked immediately and chatted; Elio helped me find accommodation and insisted that I return back after checking in. The hostel was lovely, really clean with comfortable beds to sink into. Throughout the 2 days in Florence I would stop past to visit Elio where he would feed me espresso and wine, on the house each time.

Walking through the streets for hours on end, I was swept in my own romantic thoughts and I would catch myself humming and smiling all day. During the evening I stepped into a small bar and met the owner Francesco and his friend Alberto. Both men were lovely and after a few drinks they took me for dinner and more drinks, courtesy of Francesco. At the end of the evening Francesco walked me home, I was worried he was going to try to kiss me and this was amplified when he held my hand. Ahhhhh! The thought of another man kisses me, well, it grosses me out to be honest, although I am sure Matas will pash and shag his way through the breakup, I am not quite ready, and if the hand holding was giving me a small panic attack, imagine a kiss! Thankfully a friendly handshake was sufficient.

Relief!

The flowing day I ventured to see the famous sculpture David, I was incredibly excited, following a line for security, and a line or tickets I was told I needed a reservation, and at the very least my passport, I had neither. I had no other choice but to be satisfied with the many replicas adorning the city. There was so much to see and do, though strangely I did none. Usually I would be aweing inside churches and museums, however this time I walked in the streets and visually drank in the culture.

It is quite nice to travel in the winter, though Bologna and the snow was horrible, but I have noticed the tourist a few in the colder months, which allows the locals to relax and the opportunity to mingle easily.

I returned to the Café and bar the next night, said my good byes to both Elio and Francesco and swapped contact details. Francesco took me for dinner at a lovely restaurant, which I was able to indulge in steak, something I have not head in 4 months, possible longer. It was divine. So was the chocolate soufflé to follow, a dessert we shared. Francesco swore through his teeth that it was Italian custom to share a kiss with whoever it was that you shared a dessert, I was dubious and also uncomfortable with the suggestion, however I felt I should indulge this custom as his hospitality had been so generous, I was careful to keep my mouth closed as I did not want an unexpected visitor in my mouth (gag). After the dessert he confessed, laughing, that he had lied, but had only done so to get a kiss from a beautiful lady, so it was hardly a crime in his eyes.

He walked me home again and I made sure to avoid any more of his cheeky tricks. At the door he told my sincerely that he felt something for me and although he understood I was recent ly single, he wanted me to consider returning to Italy and living with him; ‘I own a bar and a house, I would look after you and love you forever’, I was surprised at his directness, and wondered about the sincerity. He was aware I was sharing a room, so I doubted this was a ploy for an invitation upstairs. He told me his would wait 6 months for me to consider his offer, and after I promised to write he hugged me and walked away. How strange. If only I was attracted…

I left Florence with a heavy heart, it such a short time I had grown attached. Seeing as I had stayed in the backpackers from hell the night before – imagine 40 or so 19 year olds (There was one from California ‘OH…..MY…GOD!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY!!!!!’ - I wanted to hang myself) in 3 dorms after drinking 1€ cask wine (I have NEVER heard such disgusting snoring, it sounded like Gollum choking on his own phlegm), itchy blankets and other downfalls, I decided I should treat myself to a lovely B&B in Pisa. Lovely it was, lovely it was not waiting out the front for 2 hours while the owners returned from shopping.

The leaning tower of Pisa was truly remarkable. It honestly is on quite a lean and I was very surprised as my expectations were exceeded. The city was very clean and seeing as the sun was out I enjoyed reading with the tower as my backdrop. I was able to enjoy my own thoughts in Pisa, which were far and few in-between, and that was fabulous! I walked along the river, people watched and read. Perfect ‘me’ day. Upon opening my bag back at the B&B it was clear that my clothes were in desperate need of a wash. After a week of the same jeans and few t-shirts, I was beginning to smell like a Hobo.

My train journey continued to Rome, where I was meeting my friend Nelly. I was smelling and feeling fresh. Nelly had organised the accommodation, so I was a tad worried. I have always organised my own itinerary and it was rare to let someone else take over, however arriving at the dirt cheap B&B I was pleasantly surprised. It was great to see Nelly; we had a quick catch up and headed into the centre.

I expected Rome to be a lot bigger, we were able to reach each site by foot which was nice as the streets held a lot of charm and hidden alley ways, which would have been missed sitting on a unsightly tourist bus. We marked a few placed on a map and set about seeing each one. The fountain would have been one of my favourite sites, we sat in the sun, and enjoyed out ice-cream - €8 for a small tub; this is one thing about Italy, the prices can jump as high as they can fall. One city is dirt cheap and the other an arm and a leg! Rome was an arm and a leg and half a torso. Rome held many beautiful sites and we enjoyed the stroll.

Vatican City was aweing. We partook in a tour with a guide who smacked her lips around a cigarette every opportunity she had, this sounds disgusting when amplified in your ear by the head set you wear to pick up the microphone attached to her shirt. I almost gagged.

We had happened to arrive on a good day, the Pope was giving a speech to international schools and organisations and as part of the tour we were able to sit in the assembly. Although from our seats the pope was the size of a Lego man, it was a humble experience. I am in no means religious (I was bought up to respect mother nature and Karma) however I was able to feel the electrifying excitement of those around me, as each group was called out the Pope would wave at the screaming fans, who wove coloured cloth and would eventually calm down to sing a short song. I stood silent, my mouth slightly agape as I realised I was seeing in person, most likely the most famous person in the world, and everyone in that room loved him. Pope groupies. Can you imagine!

My admiration quickly diminished as I walked through the museum and St Peters, which was adorned with Greek Mythology art, brutal and violent religious history, and a repulsive abundance of wealth, and STILL a small wooden box at the exit asking for donations for the church. The whole scene reeked of greed and hypocrisy. I left the city appreciating its glorious beauty however resenting what I perceived to be a thieving system.

Following Rome we journeyed to Pompeii for the day, the ancient city was much bigger than expected and we spent hours wandering the ruins. We laughed at the ancient ‘pornography’ in the brothel, snuck into the closed off sports stadium, danced in the Amphitheatre, wandered through the maze like stoned pathways and picnicked in the sun. Pompeii was a perfect day and a visit is highly recommended. The entire history of Pompeii is fascinating; the volcano perfectly entombed the city so that a glimpse into the past is possible, even 2000 years after the tragedy.

We stayed in Naples for the night, a place I was personally looking forward to as I had heard amazing reviews about the food, to be blunt, Naples is a shit hole. Nelly had been more correctly informed and passed on the advice to cover jewellery and not loiter on the streets, I was sceptical as Nelly by nature is over cautious, however is this instance she was not. Ugh. The smell, the people, the city, it was all vile. The was no pride in the street, people threw their rubbish where they saw fit, spat by your feet, and allowed their dog to shit all over the pavement. The people we so unsavoury, the term sleazy was derived from Naples, of this I am certain. Nelly and I were on then end of so much leering and following, one man even rested his arm on my chair to touch my hair, and then tried to pickpocket Nelly. Creep!

The highlight of the night was a highly recommended Pizzeria (which is why we were there), the Pizza options were wither with or without cheese, in sizes big and bloody big. I was impressed, for €6 I had a huge pizza and beer. The Pizza is not what I had eaten before, no greasy base and a heap of poor quality toppings. This pizza had fresher than fresh tomato base and stretching mozzarella, the base was thin, yet doughy and chewing. The entire pizza (and I ate the ENTIRE pizza) was heaven, and the line extending out the front door and spilling onto the road proved we were not the only ones to think so. Unfortunately, Nelly’s chef had neglected to uphold a basic hygiene standard, no sooner had she finished chewing the last delicious bite, she started to comment that she felt unwell ‘perhaps I over ate?’ perhaps not. Poor Nelly spent the best part of the night heaving out her stomach, from both ends while I happily digested my meal in my sleep.

It was now the 17February and I was over half way through my Italian adventure. Nelly and I boarded the slow train, 4 hours in total to save a few Euros and headed back to the Rome airport. We arrived eventually and happily trudged through the airport (Nelly looking like she had lost some weight) towards our gate. In the security line I was unable to find our flight number and departure time ‘Nelly, I can’t see a 19:50 flight to Palermo’ we looked across all the boards and were still unsuccessful, when I asked Nelly to pass the tickets I noticed the error ‘The flight is for Saturday - Yes, I know! - Nelly, today is Friday - Shit’. Right o!

We searched online and found a nice B&B within a 30minute bus ride of the airport, a seaside town called Fregene, we arrived to a large family run hotel which I would presume busy in the summer, though dead in the winter. The family were so welcoming and friendly, they checked us in, asked if we were hungry and said it was fine to stay the next day to 5pm and of course we could have breakfast at noon, no worries, we are family here!

We headed over to a local bar, me drowning the Gin and Nelly comfortable with her Pepsi, soon enough a group of local men arrived and we proceeded to talk and laugh with them, Nelly even had a go on the karaoke machine, something I hope I never have to hear again!

Following a slight headache and a glorious stroll along the beach Nelly and I waited for the airport bus that bus drove strait past us pretending not to see us. I was fuming and screamed every curse word I could think of and a few I created on the spot (what in the world is a fucker head face?), it took an hour and a half for the next bus to arrive, with the both of us frantically trying to hitchhike in the meantime, we arrived at the airport as the flight was boarding.

The B&B in Sicily was amazing, it was decorated with antique style furniture, and it was quite glamorous and romantic. We both had a moment of silence as we shared the same thought, this would be wonderful with the (in my case ex) boyfriend. The thought was fleeting and we gave each other a huge smile and laugh. We were in Sicily! Time to get eating!

The ice-cream in Sicily is one of a kind, I do not have the vocabulary to describe the decadent flavours. We were speechless as we devoured each flavour. We journey through the streets and immersed ourselves in the local markets sampling strawberries, olives, cheese and bread like you have never tasted before. The people of Sicily were similar to those of Florence, Happy, welcoming and inviting.

We spent a day in Calaf’u a seaside town about an hour’s train ride from Palermo, the small town was gorgeous with crystal blue waters and cobble stoned pathways. Sicily did not have the ludicrous prices we had encountered in other parts of Italy, we were able to enjoy fabulous food and wine using pocket change. We hiked up to the ruins of a castle, the walk was hard yakka and after a few weeks of Italian food we both struggled, the view at the top was worth every bead of sweat and we fell in love with the surrounding landscape.

Sicily is truly beautiful and seemingly unspoilt, however I imagine the charm of the land and people would waver with the flood of tourist in the summer.

The entire trip with Nelly had been refreshing, we walked long distances, girl talked, laughed often and slept long hours. As I sit on the flight back to London, where I have no lover, home, job or idea what the next few months hold, I hold minimal fears. I am strong, and ready for the next adventure.

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Comments

[bree]

Thank you :)
That was great! Such a good writer missy. Brought me straight back there! I felt the same about Pompai, had not idea how huge it was. miss you xox you'll be fine back in London.