V is for...

Oh I’m glad you’re still here—its been a while, no? Thought maybe you’d gotten impatient and wandered off. Sometimes I do awesome things like spend 3 solid days on a train. Ok, maybe not sometimes, but ONE time I did a (nearly)awesome thing and spent 3 solid days on a train. And now I can tell you some things. But those things will come later, there are other things that need to be told now. Because, like I said, its been a while. And there are all sorts of things that start with the letter V that we need to talk about. But don’t worry, none of those things are Vagina and/or Voltaire. You’re welcome.

Brittany’s List of V Things:

(I’ve listed them in V-Numeral format for the sake of organization but please don’t think I’m discussing vitamins of any sort…how dull would that be? This is neither the time nor the place for vitamin chat.)

V1:  Vicenzia.

I swept up my little broken heart bits and shoved them in my bag and left Florence for Vicenzia, Italy further north. By the way? North = shitshititscold (if you look hard, there are some other fun words in there too, just for funsies).  And because I have had some astounding luck with meeting/knowing exceptional people on this trip, I got to stay with an old high school acquaintance, Nichell, who is a very impressive SomethingOrOther in the Army, stationed in Vicenzia. So I had a few things going on here: a comfy cozy place to sleep smack dab in between Verona and Venice, a lovely roommate, and most wonderful….a washing machine (because when you pack for summer but cross the season time zone and arrive in fall you end up wearing the same things every day. Offensive.) I also got a hefty dose of America while I was there. I didn’t miss my homeland yet, but it was interesting to see an American suburb (a la Texas) plopped in the middle of Italy. Interesting and strange. Incongruent? Yes, that would be the accurate. My first night there we went out to a bar where I got to listen to a surprisingly good Beatles cover band (Italians),  get touched by lots of people I didn’t want to be touched by (Americans), and drive a Dodge truck through italian streets (terrifying). but in the end it was a good night.

Moving on.

V2: Verona.

Heard of it? Yes, you have. Maybe you don’t know, but you have. Once upon a time there was a very famous play by Shakespeare called Romeo and Juliet. You were forced to read watch the movie in school-- star crossed lovers, tragedy, (too)young love? Yup,  in Verona. A sweetly romantic village cuddled between some mountains and the Adige river, with great shopping, beautiful views of the surrounding areas, and a large (mostly) intact coliseum.

We  spent the afternoon moseying through the cobbled streets, busy with classy shoppers and street vendors, and got to walk through a large open market  of tents filled with crafts, jewelry, fresh produce and roasting chestnuts (which, by the way, is one of the single most delicious aromas in the world—a perfect accent to a crisp October day.)

We also got to see Juliet’s balcony, tucked away behind busy alleys, which looks out over a quaint courtyard where a bronze statue of the girl stands. Along with heaps of people waiting to rub her boob. I know, that sounds strange but let me explain. According to lore, you will have good luck in love if you cup and rub her breast. Because of this, one of her bronzed breasts is worn down and shines brightly from all the fondling. She gets a lot of action but methinks its not quite worth it.  Floozy. Ok, I explained, but it still sounds weird right? Oh well…its an excuse to touch a boob, duh, FOR FREE! Musta been a man who made up that tale.

V3: Venice.

This is it, folks. Venice, another one of Shakespeare’s subjects. Its famous, its beautiful, its got guys in striped shirts, and guys in boats, and guys in striped shirts in boats! Its everything its made out to be: an intricate and beautiful labyrinth of narrow alleys, ornate architecture and bridges, and vibrant blue water running lazily through canals.  Above all else, Venice is Romance. My friend Ron was right—you need to go with a lover. Because each brick and cobble is laced with romance and there isn’t an area that isn’t breathtaking. I got lost in the beauty. Really, though, lost. Because it is an ACTUAL maze…and I’m not very good at being one of those maze mice. But who cares, because you’re lost in this:

And this:

A most enjoyable 3 hours of wandering.

The directions to everything are displayed in small arrows painted high on the walls of buildings…and with all the glittering masks and sparkling glass, I got (understandably) distracted and therefore lost. I think this is commonly called ADD, but why pigeonhole?

All that army and V wore me out (please read that sentence again and make sure you understand it properly, because I nearly didn’t) so I left for part two of my Italy mission, Operation: Vino Delivery. Shit, guess we can’t escape V words. Let’s continue then, shall we?

V4: Vino
I can’t quite remember if I told you, but my friend Ron Gianelli, has a fantastic winery in my hometown (Jamestown, CA—Gianelli Wine, look it up, drink it up, love it up) but also has family roots and friends in Italy. Because he’s wonderful and because I thought it would be fun addition to my trip, I agreed to deliver 4 bottles of wine to two sets of people (one in Roma, and one in Sestri Levante). I dropped two bottles in Roma after playing e-mail tag with Ron’s friend Giovanni and (sadly) missing him. But I have still been lugging two more bottles up and down stairs, through train stations and through hostels. And night after night they sit in my suitcase…staring at me and taunting me, glistening and sweet. Somehow I’ve managed to refrain from indulging in them (though I’ve been tempted, not simply for pleasure, but so that my arms can have a break, ha) and arranged to meet Ron’s family in the coastal resort town of Sestri Levante. Gander your eyes off:

Pretty nice, huh? Its located just down the coast from the famed Portofino and Cinque Terre, a series of towns known for their perfect climate, beaches, and yachts. Paradise. A nice reprieve from the arctic chills of the Northeast. In summertime the streets are full of vendors and the beaches with umbrellas, but in October, although still beautiful, its mostly locals and fishermen that remain and fill small pockets of the marinas.

With brightly colored huts, striped boats and sweeping beaches, it was perfect eye and camera candy. Like, if cameras could get diabetes, mine would.

No. No, that’s not true. Mine wouldn’t. Because its parent (that would be me, you follow?) forgot to charge its battery. Not only did she neglect to charge it. But she neglected to even grab her charger from her hostel.


In Florence.

FML.

Classic Brittany George right there. So my pictures of paradise are limited to a few dark shots…blast it all. I was annoyed, yes, but the rest of my visit was so enjoyable that I soon forgot. I went to dinner with Antonella, Giancarlo, their neighbor, and her daughter, Sylvia who is my age and helped me set everything up. Even though Antonella and Giancarlo spoke zero English and I only a little Italian, I instantly adored them and we had a great time. Afterword I went out for drinks with Sylvia and met some her friends—who were hilarious—but then it was back to my hotel to figure out my plans for the next few days, since I now had to work Florence back into my route to pick up my charger. Yes, it was out of the way and unexpected, but I wasn’t disappointed to have to return. So I arranged to take the express train in the morning, stop for a few hours, then quickly move north up towards Amsterdam. Look how proactive and organized I am! Wee!

Before you start getting high expectations of me,  stop and reconsider who I am. Even in highly organized and fool proof situations, I can find loopholes. I am a superhero in the name of idiocy.

So my train was delayed. But then it showed up! Hop on. Ahh…nice. Ahh….not my train. Not the wrong train, just not the express. So 1 hour turned to 4 with two tedious transfers. Sigh. Arrived in Florence, retrieved my charger, thanking god that I didn’t have to lug around the wine through all of this, and headed out to find an internet café because I had missed all my connecting trains to get out as well. Shoot.

I started losing faith and cursing the gods, but soon realized it was fate. I trudged down a random street trying to figure out not just how I was going to get out, but where I was going, when, miraculously , I run into one of two people I know in Florence! My favorite Aussiebrit, Jono! Wee! He had had a particularly awful day as well, so we headed to a pub with free internet and expensive beer. Guinness and interwebs: effective treatments for a Shitday. I got my plan sorted out: leave on a night train to Munich (save hostel $$$), arrive early the next day, then travel up to Austria, across Switzerland, stay the night in Basel, and head up to Amsterdam on Thursday. I lost a day so I had a lot to see in a limited amount of time. I figure the scenery from the train in itself would be captivating and it would be a change of pace for me since I had been running ever since I touched down in Europe. A comfortable, leisurely rail adventure! I got my ticket for that night, opting for a reclining chair (free) in a cabin of 6 compared to a $20 bed, I can sleep in chairs.

Train left at 10, which gave me two hours to get food and take care of a major problem: clothes. I still only had one sweater and a jacket. I popped down to the city center in Florence and bought high, thick, boot socks, tights to wear under everything, and a couple sweaters to layer. Success! Bring on the frost! Bring on my fun filled train adventure!

Aw, the midnight express! I was in the caboose of the train so I had to huff and puff all the way to the end of the platform and climb up into the car with all my gear. So completely ready to sit down, shove my earplugs in, and pass out, I banged my way down the car until I found my cabin. Home sweet home!

Naturally, my home for 6 was filled with 4 adults traveling from India, their two children both under the age of 2 (and judging by the smell, at least one of which had a  dirty diaper), and three of us boarding in Florence. The weather in the cabin was a balmy 102 degrees with a humidity level of about 80%. Home sweat home.

Lucky, half the crew (including the adorable but odorous children) was getting off two hours later. We made like sardines until midnight when our overflowing house lessened to a mere brimming house. After I was left in the company of:

--one kind but energetic talian/german terrier-man who told us about his kung-fu skills and lulled us to sleep by singing Frank Sinatra (in Italian, though, to be sure).

--another nondescript man in his 60s who managed sleep, a lot.

--and a Pakistani traveler and his neice, who were spreading the word of the Christian god, and the only one who spoke English. Who also saved me from:

--a 25 year old Italian boy (Bobo was his name? Or something similar) who helped me find my seat but thought my smile of thanks meant “please, stranger, nudge me, wink at me, attempt to lay on my lap and wrap your arms around me.” Bilbo thought wrong, so I utilized multiple gestures and non-verbal communication to rectify the situation. He stayed on his side of the cabin from that point on. Good boy.

Strangely, I didn’t sleep that night. Munich and 6 am couldn’t have come soon enough. I fled the plane and ran downstairs to clean up real quick before hopping on my next connection to Austria. My plan was to stop in Zurich, then Luzerne where there is a beautiful lake to explore, then make my way through Switzerland, stopping and wandering when and where I wanted.

My annoyance and exhaustion from the night melted away as soon as the train left the Munich station, however. The Bavarian countryside—sprawling, perfectly bright green hills, dotted with cows and dark clusters of pines—is enough to absolve any unrest.  Snaking through the woods-Grimm made for a beautiful start to day.

Unfortunately, by the time we got into Switzerland, it was raining too hard to do much wandering. I traveled through all the cities and went out a few times but the rain picked up so most of the day was spent exploring from the seat of a train and admiring the clouds lying low in the valleys between mountains. Grey against green. A dramatic switch from the reds and golds of Italy.

About a half hour before I reached Basel, where I was staying for the night, I looked up to find a soft white layer covering the green hills. I was so excited and awed by how pretty that I totally forgot about the fact that I was going to freeze my ass off. I opted to just enjoy the scenery for a bit longer and worry about retaining my ass later.

A good option, too, since I arrived and although it had stopped snowing by the time we got to Basel, it was still damncold. I bundled up my butt as best as I could, and scampered as quickly as I could across town to my hostel. By this time it was already late and getting dark. I made it to my room and the exhaustion, as well as the sore throat and headache, I had been ignoring caught up to me. I had a go at taking a walk but only made it about a half an hour before it was too dark and I too wiped out to go further, so I  apologized to Basel for not exploring and called it a night. And for the first time since I arrived, went to bed before midnight.

And now? Now I'm on a train to Amsterdam.  I have three days to live it up and have so many markets and museums to see and joints to smoke that I almost don't care that I haven't arranged for a place to sleep yet...hmmm 

Wish me luck! Chat soon.

All my love xxoxx
--b