I got rained on. POURED. Should have brought out some soap and shampoo, it rained that hard. Not all day, luckily. I wandered Bellagio in the sunshine, strolling up and down narrow cobble-stoned streets in between buildings. Didn't wear the hiking shoes. I was wearing my cheap sandals from Target. But for casual strolling, they weren't so bad. I went as far through Bellagio as I could until I ran into water and ended up talking to a wonderful elderly Italian gentleman who told me I should go to Pescallo. He assured me that I could easily walk it. He said we might see eachother again. I said probably so but I didn't see how. It was ok. He was a nice man and I am always thrilled when I find someone who can speak english.
So, I strolled through Bellagio until I recognized the name of the town on a sign and headed in that direction. I didn't know how far away it was but the man assured me I could walk there. Along the way, walking up steep streets and hoping I didn't get hit by speeding Italian cars, I found an amazing old cemetery. It is hard to explain the utter beauty of the headstones and mausoleums that I knew must be old and historical. Hidden up on this hill, surrounded by 6 foot granite walls. At home our cemeteries are wide open grassy spaces enclosed by metal fences. You never expect to find an historical cemetery. I stopped and walked inside for a moment. It wasn't necessarily a spiritual experience but I was in awe at the beauty of the ancient headstones. Many with actual pictures inset on the marble. Some with old pictures just sitting in their frames on the granite ledge. I only stayed for a few minutes because I was really afraid that one of the residents would come in and shoo me away for disturbing the sanctity of the grounds. I took some pictures simply because I felt I would never see anything like this again.
In Pescallo there is not much more than a hotel and a restaurant. The rest are homes and apartments. I had walked all the way there following a road and signs and only realized once I got there that I could have cut over by taking the narrow walkways in between the buildings of Bellagio. When I looked at my gps on my phone, I discovered that there was an easier way to get to Pescallo. Oh well, had I taken the short cut, I would have missed all of the scenery and the really awesome cemetery. I'll take the long way any day.
Throughout my two days of being in Italy, there are moments when I audibly gasp at the beauty I find. There are times when I actually feel like I am on a Hollywood movie set. It is so beautiful here. The color, the architecture, the language.
After I got back to Bellagio, I stopped at a restaurant. I thought I was heading into the Gelato shop but walked in the wrong door. Not to be rude (and look dumb) and turn and walk back out, I walked up to the bar and said "American" because I figured then the guy behind the counter would speak english to me. Nope. He thought I was asking for American coffee. Oh, ok. So, I had coffee. I did look at the menu but I really just wanted something small (and inexpensive). This trip has been pretty inexpensive for me because I don't eat. Not because I'm not hungry but because I'm afraid of looking dumb when I order. I don't speak Italian. At all. Yes, I had ample opportunity to learn Italian before I got here. I had purchased "Italian for Dummies" and even got Rosetta Stone Italian through work. I had no excuse. I had just procrastinated and ended up getting here with very little preparation. I can say "grazie" and "scuzie" but that's about it. I haven't enjoyed any amazing pizza or pasta. I have only eaten full meals at the hostel, where they only offer one menu item but you can understand what it is. I have been afraid of not being able to say what I want. It's sad, but it is my own fault. I had visions of being Julia Roberts in "Eat, Pray, Love" and being able to just sit in a restaurant by myself and eat whatever. Instead I wander the streets alot and never enjoy the one thing I looked forward to in Italy. The authentic Italian food. I am afraid. But I do love it here. It's truly beautiful and I do so love listening to the natives speak to eachother. I will wish I had done more to prepare.
Anyway, so, after having the American coffee (yep, that's what it tasted like), I went into the shop next door and picked up a skinny can of Coke Zero and a piece of chocolate and sat out on the bench and watched the people go by. Then I wandered around some more. The thing about Italy is that you are constantly walking. Really, there is no need for a car because you can take a bus or a train anywhere. When you have a car, you have to worry about where to park it. That's what I have noticed in the two days I've been here. It's just easier to walk.
So, I walked around some more then headed back towards the ferry dock. Now, mind you the sun had been shining all day then the clouds began to move in. I stepped into a gelato shop and ordered a carmel and pesca (peach-which I butchered when asking, thinking I was saying it correctly. The woman behind the counter corrected me rather snobbily-I imagine she was saying "stupid American tourists" in her head. Yep that's me). Either way, it was really delicious and I sat at a table outside enjoying it.
Afterwards I found a park bench to sit in trying to decide what to do next. I had walked all over Bellagio and felt I had seen all I needed to see. As I was sitting on the bench, an elderly gentleman sat next to me. He began to speak to me in Italian. I apologized for being American and he stopped speaking. His phone rang and he got up to answer it and I took the opportunity to walk away.
I walked over to the ticket booth to get a boat ticket back to Menaggio and was informed I needed to go to the car ferry office for my ticket. I said "I don't have a car". I feel my humor is lost to the Italians. He just repeated himself and I walked away to find the car ferry ticket office.
I purchased my ticket using my credit card (because there was a line and I didn't want to have to dig for my change and look even more stupid than I already felt) and the guy behind the counter looked at me, again as if to say, "stupid american tourist". I can't win. When they come to America and use their card, do I think "stupid tourist"? No, I am glad they don't try to count their change to me. Anyway, I got my ferry ticket and walked to over to a nearby railing to wait for the boat. One of the ferries pulled in but since it was going to Varenna and not Menaggio, I knew to wait til the next one (although I did find out later that this ferry also stopped in Menaggio and I could have taken it-oh well). So, as I am standing there, minding my own business watching the cars and tourists unload from the ferry, here comes my elderly Italian friend (not the one that I met earlier but the one from the bench who got the phone call). He walks up and once again begins to speak to me in Italian. I, again, told him I was American and didn't understand Italian (I always think that when I say this they will either nod and walk away or start conversing in broken english. Not this guy.) He began to chatter away and it wasn't until I noticed he was looking me up and down over and over that I realized he was talking about my appearance. I wish I could have understood one word that he'd said but he was speaking so quickly that I couldn't pick up a single word that I recognized. He made some gesture to his face that I'm hoping was saying I was beautiful otherwise I don't want to know. Then he put out his hand to shake mine. He took my hand, shook it like a normal handshake, then did the American finger-grasp handshake, then he kissed my hand and rushed to catch the ferry. I stood there for a moment in shock then just chuckled. I had never experienced anything like this before. I sort of hope I never will again. It was flattering but it was also, on the opposite spectrum, very creepy. Probably a good thing I couldn't understand what he said.
I was standing waiting after that ferry left, it began to sprinkle. It had sprinkled earlier and stopped so really, that's all I expected it to do. Because I was under a tree, I didn't feel any of the raindrops...until it began to rain harder. And harder and harder. I stood as long as I could under the tree then made a bee-line to the covered ticket area and joined the already sardine packed group into a little room.
As I was standing off by myself in this tiny little room, I began to listen to different conversations that were happening around me. I am still amazed when I pick up a conversation I can understand. Even walking through Bellagio (which, by the way, is nothing like the hotel in Oceans 11, 12, or 13.) I would pass a couple carrying on a conversation and would smile because I knew what they were saying. At one point I even said to a woman "It still freaks me out when I realize that I understand". She laughed. Either because she gets what I mean or she thought I was crazy.
Anyway, I'm standing in this tiny glass enclosed waiting room and started picking up a conversation between two British couples who were talking about how much fun a Disney cruise is. I had taken a Disney cruise back in 2010 and was ironically wearing the hoodie I had bought from Castaway Cay. I never said a word to the couple but all of a sudden one of the husbands looked at me, saw my sweatshirt and suddenly I'm part of the conversation.
The rain poured down all the way from the boat leaving Bellagio to when it dropped people off in Varenna. I had visions of walking up to the youth hostel soaking wet. Luckily, when we arrived in Menaggio, the rain had stopped.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Hostels...not to be confused with the horror movie
I have a new found appreciation for hostels. I'm sure there are bad hostels out there but the one I stayed in at Melaggio was really wonderful. Clean, friendly, and thankfully, they spoke english. The front desk girl, Maria, had grown up in America but she was Italian. Then there was Toby. He was British. Wanted to live in Switzerland (my new friend, Emily from Chicago, and I were vying for his job whenever he decided to move on). I wish I had taken a picture of them while I was there but you can find pictures of them on the Facebook page. The rooms were clean, the bathrooms small, but for the price of $46 for two nights, it was worth it. I paid 1 euro for a lock (which, now that I think about it, I think I put a 5 euro deposit down for that key and I've left it behind...dangit) and a euro for a towel. They gave you clean sheets and a pillow case. The beds were comfortable and the room held four bunk beds. My bunkmates were all pretty polite. I ended up coming over to Varenna with Emily from Chicago and two other young women, which I never did get their names (that's horrible) from Australia. We even had a cappuccino together once I dropped my (heavy) belongings off in the Varenna hotel we were staying at for the tour. They wanted to hike (straight up) to a castle but, once I started heading up and realized what I had ahead of me, I knew i'd never make it. They are half my age and definitely have more energy and better muscles than I do. I didn't want to hold them up or make them have to stop and wait for me so I said my goodbyes and let them go. The cobblestones heading up to the castle were slippery also and I had left my hiking boots at home.
Anyway, back to the hostel.
The BBQ was really good, but since I had only eaten, really nothing, since I had iffy scrambled eggs and bacon (cooked to crispy almost-burnt perfection) in the morning, the chicken wings and ribs and polenta was delicious. I paid extra for the grilled vegies but really didn't enjoy them. They were grilled but more soggy than anything else.
I guess the Saturday bbq at the hostel is pretty popular, plus it was Saturday so the place was busy.
The night before we had met a young woman and two men from Germany. The young woman, it turns out, was the sister of one of the young men. The other guy wasn't so young-mid 30'sto 40's. But he gave them a ride to Italy. Can you imagine just saying "Let's go to Italy" one day and then just jumping in your car and going? I guess they have companies that you can just carpool with to another country. What a wonderful idea! With Switzerland only an hour away, I would be just country jumping as often as I could.
So, back to the German group. The young woman was blond and typical German. She was beautiful but seemed a little cold and unfriendly to me. The older man never really said much (they could speak english) but her younger brother was more friendly. When I came down for dinner (because I had passed out for an hour after my trek throughout Bellagio) my Chicagoan friend, Emily, was talking to the German boy whose name, it turned out, was Wolfgang...so German. He actually introduced himself as Wolfie. Now I had taken a picture of him the night before (without his knowledge, ofcourse) and posted it on Facebook because he had a striking resemblance to my oldest son, Jeffrey. After that I had one of those "Oh, he's so sweet" relationships with him because I felt like I was talking to my son. Nice boy. In dental school. His sister, Johanna, was ever watching over him. He began to make jokes about what she was going to allow him to do or not do. At one point, I actually told him that she was going to tuck a napkin in his shirt so he didn't spill. I wish that I had found a way to stay in contact with him so I could see how well he did in dental school. As I left today, I hugged him goodbye and wished him luck with school. Seriously, nice boy.
As more people were arriving at the hostel for the night, we had a New Zealander join our table. At this point it was Joyce, from California, Emily, from Chicago, Wolfie from Germany (I don't remember what part exactly was it as close to Hungary), and myself. Nick from New Zealand added to the funny mix. He was in tourism (although we're not sure what) and actually lived in Germany. His humor was over the top with sarcasm and he felt a need to stir up trouble. First he talked about how lazy women became after they got married and then felt a need to tell their spouse how to behave and what to do. From there we covered religion. He stirred up Joyce's feathers with his comments and she labeled him a chauvinist pig, at one point even oinking at him. He felt a need to find out what religion we all were. I was Christian, of course. Emily didn't want to label herself. Wolfgang was Catholic and, Joyce said she was Buddhist. We determined later that she just wanted to remain neutral and so she picked a neutral religion. Once we passed the religion discussion, she went to bed. She'd had enough. It was pretty funny how she became irritated by Nick's sarcasm when I just let it go by. He did, at one point, let me know that by being a mother of four children, I had done the most amazing thing in the world. Deep down inside, that fight-picking New Zealander was not a bad guy.
At one point we talked about Germany and Nazis. Poor Wolfgang sat there uncomfortably. Nick talked about how he thought the current Germans felt about the situation of old. When he got up and walked away to use the restroom, I asked Wolfgang what he had been taught in school about German history. When else are you going to get a chance to ask that? He explained that they did teach the students in school about German history and that it was a sad subject. He even said that yes, Hitler was influential but that the Germans had a choice in who they would follow and shouldn't have followed Hitler. They could have said no but chose to follow him anyway. Yes, it was a scary time to stand up against the things that were happening and people who did refuse to follow were killed. But they still had the choice and if they followed Hitler, they were just as bad.
Where else do you get the opportunity to learn so much from people of other countries. For me, the hostel was a great place to do that. I wouldn't have changed that for the world.
We all sat together (except Joyce who'd enough) and laughed and talked about ourselves and the world in general. We closed the restaurant/lounge down and when we got upstairs to our room, we had a full house. Every bed was filled. Emily and I went to sleep, exhausted.
The next morning I realized I wish I'd brought a flashlight. It's hard to try and get into the shower first when you an't see your belongings to gather them together. My phone was dead and so I couldn't use it for light. I didn't want to turn on the light and disturb my roommates so I waited. Realizing I had my iPod to use for light, I dug around in my things and ended up just bringing my suitcase into the bathroom with me. It was easier than trying to dig through the suitcase to find clean clothes for the day. BUT, I ended up forgetting the keys to my suitcase in my backpack. On my bed. After my shower I just put on the clothes I had worn in and changed when I got back into the room. By then, the lights were on and my roommates were awake. Once dressed and makeup on (because I can't bear to be seen without makeup) I headed downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast included with your stay at the hostel was bread, coffee, and juice. Italians LOVE to have chocolate on their bread for breakfast. Yes, it's true, I had chocolate on my bread. Having bread with just butter and jelly will never be as good as bread with chocolate spread. So, I skipped the 4 euro eggs and bacon and just ate what was included with my stay. It was more than enough. Nick from New Zealand sat at the table with me while the Germans ate with Joyce. Emily had found new friends and was sitting at another table.
Later, as I was packing up my things to check out of the hostel, Nick came to me with a pen and notebook that I'm guessing comes from his company. He said I needed to write things down about my trip the old-fashioned way: with a pen and paper. A very nice gesture from a guy that caused so much trouble the night before.
It was sad to leave the hostel after my two days. As I said, I would go back there again.
Anyway, back to the hostel.
The BBQ was really good, but since I had only eaten, really nothing, since I had iffy scrambled eggs and bacon (cooked to crispy almost-burnt perfection) in the morning, the chicken wings and ribs and polenta was delicious. I paid extra for the grilled vegies but really didn't enjoy them. They were grilled but more soggy than anything else.
I guess the Saturday bbq at the hostel is pretty popular, plus it was Saturday so the place was busy.
The night before we had met a young woman and two men from Germany. The young woman, it turns out, was the sister of one of the young men. The other guy wasn't so young-mid 30'sto 40's. But he gave them a ride to Italy. Can you imagine just saying "Let's go to Italy" one day and then just jumping in your car and going? I guess they have companies that you can just carpool with to another country. What a wonderful idea! With Switzerland only an hour away, I would be just country jumping as often as I could.
So, back to the German group. The young woman was blond and typical German. She was beautiful but seemed a little cold and unfriendly to me. The older man never really said much (they could speak english) but her younger brother was more friendly. When I came down for dinner (because I had passed out for an hour after my trek throughout Bellagio) my Chicagoan friend, Emily, was talking to the German boy whose name, it turned out, was Wolfgang...so German. He actually introduced himself as Wolfie. Now I had taken a picture of him the night before (without his knowledge, ofcourse) and posted it on Facebook because he had a striking resemblance to my oldest son, Jeffrey. After that I had one of those "Oh, he's so sweet" relationships with him because I felt like I was talking to my son. Nice boy. In dental school. His sister, Johanna, was ever watching over him. He began to make jokes about what she was going to allow him to do or not do. At one point, I actually told him that she was going to tuck a napkin in his shirt so he didn't spill. I wish that I had found a way to stay in contact with him so I could see how well he did in dental school. As I left today, I hugged him goodbye and wished him luck with school. Seriously, nice boy.
As more people were arriving at the hostel for the night, we had a New Zealander join our table. At this point it was Joyce, from California, Emily, from Chicago, Wolfie from Germany (I don't remember what part exactly was it as close to Hungary), and myself. Nick from New Zealand added to the funny mix. He was in tourism (although we're not sure what) and actually lived in Germany. His humor was over the top with sarcasm and he felt a need to stir up trouble. First he talked about how lazy women became after they got married and then felt a need to tell their spouse how to behave and what to do. From there we covered religion. He stirred up Joyce's feathers with his comments and she labeled him a chauvinist pig, at one point even oinking at him. He felt a need to find out what religion we all were. I was Christian, of course. Emily didn't want to label herself. Wolfgang was Catholic and, Joyce said she was Buddhist. We determined later that she just wanted to remain neutral and so she picked a neutral religion. Once we passed the religion discussion, she went to bed. She'd had enough. It was pretty funny how she became irritated by Nick's sarcasm when I just let it go by. He did, at one point, let me know that by being a mother of four children, I had done the most amazing thing in the world. Deep down inside, that fight-picking New Zealander was not a bad guy.
At one point we talked about Germany and Nazis. Poor Wolfgang sat there uncomfortably. Nick talked about how he thought the current Germans felt about the situation of old. When he got up and walked away to use the restroom, I asked Wolfgang what he had been taught in school about German history. When else are you going to get a chance to ask that? He explained that they did teach the students in school about German history and that it was a sad subject. He even said that yes, Hitler was influential but that the Germans had a choice in who they would follow and shouldn't have followed Hitler. They could have said no but chose to follow him anyway. Yes, it was a scary time to stand up against the things that were happening and people who did refuse to follow were killed. But they still had the choice and if they followed Hitler, they were just as bad.
Where else do you get the opportunity to learn so much from people of other countries. For me, the hostel was a great place to do that. I wouldn't have changed that for the world.
We all sat together (except Joyce who'd enough) and laughed and talked about ourselves and the world in general. We closed the restaurant/lounge down and when we got upstairs to our room, we had a full house. Every bed was filled. Emily and I went to sleep, exhausted.
The next morning I realized I wish I'd brought a flashlight. It's hard to try and get into the shower first when you an't see your belongings to gather them together. My phone was dead and so I couldn't use it for light. I didn't want to turn on the light and disturb my roommates so I waited. Realizing I had my iPod to use for light, I dug around in my things and ended up just bringing my suitcase into the bathroom with me. It was easier than trying to dig through the suitcase to find clean clothes for the day. BUT, I ended up forgetting the keys to my suitcase in my backpack. On my bed. After my shower I just put on the clothes I had worn in and changed when I got back into the room. By then, the lights were on and my roommates were awake. Once dressed and makeup on (because I can't bear to be seen without makeup) I headed downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast included with your stay at the hostel was bread, coffee, and juice. Italians LOVE to have chocolate on their bread for breakfast. Yes, it's true, I had chocolate on my bread. Having bread with just butter and jelly will never be as good as bread with chocolate spread. So, I skipped the 4 euro eggs and bacon and just ate what was included with my stay. It was more than enough. Nick from New Zealand sat at the table with me while the Germans ate with Joyce. Emily had found new friends and was sitting at another table.
Later, as I was packing up my things to check out of the hostel, Nick came to me with a pen and notebook that I'm guessing comes from his company. He said I needed to write things down about my trip the old-fashioned way: with a pen and paper. A very nice gesture from a guy that caused so much trouble the night before.
It was sad to leave the hostel after my two days. As I said, I would go back there again.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Being in a hostel is fun...
I'm sitting here in the hostel "bar" (big room with tables and the reception area and a "bar") with my "American coffee" and beer (nice combo, I know). I am FREEZING and wish I had a thicker hoodie with me (but it wasn't supposed to be cold). And I haven't seen a cheap sweatshirt anywhere..you know, one that says "Viva Italiano" that I can wear to advertise that I have indeed been to Italy.
I can tell you though, I do love the hostel. Not only is it cheap but it's also entertaining to hear all of the different languages. At my table right now is Emily from Chicago and some German guy who looks like Jeff (did you see the picture?) And Joyce (she's old) from California. It's really entertaining. And yes, for 10 euro there is the BBQ tonight. Actually, it's 12 euro to add grilled vegetables.
Anyway, it's fun and definitely an adventure. And I really haven't eaten anything here. The dinner last night and then breakfast this morning (4 euro for bacon, not good scrambled eggs, and pancakes I didn't eat). I didn't eat lunch yesterday and today I only had coffee, a Coke Zero (in skinny cans), a bit of chocolate (which was good) for lunch. I ate a granola bar when I came back to the hostel then I passed out for an hour. Now I'm sitting with my coffee and beer and laughing at my seatmates.
I can tell you though, I do love the hostel. Not only is it cheap but it's also entertaining to hear all of the different languages. At my table right now is Emily from Chicago and some German guy who looks like Jeff (did you see the picture?) And Joyce (she's old) from California. It's really entertaining. And yes, for 10 euro there is the BBQ tonight. Actually, it's 12 euro to add grilled vegetables.
Anyway, it's fun and definitely an adventure. And I really haven't eaten anything here. The dinner last night and then breakfast this morning (4 euro for bacon, not good scrambled eggs, and pancakes I didn't eat). I didn't eat lunch yesterday and today I only had coffee, a Coke Zero (in skinny cans), a bit of chocolate (which was good) for lunch. I ate a granola bar when I came back to the hostel then I passed out for an hour. Now I'm sitting with my coffee and beer and laughing at my seatmates.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Day one in Italy...
Actually, I'm in Menaggio. But I started out in Milan. I flew out of JFK riding with full classiness in the "Business Elite"section of the plane. When I got to JFK, I stopped and grabbed a slice of pizza at Sbaro, which just happens to be a mall oriented pizza joint. Before that I exchanged $100 US for 80 euro. Not a great exchange rate but it all spends the same.
Then I sat in the waiting area hoping I'd be able to get a seat. I started out 4/5 then 2/4 on the wait list. With 45 minutes left til take off, they began boarding the plane and I didn't have a seat yet.
Seated around me was an Italian family, happily conversing in their language. This was really my first experience with authentic Italian so I was in heaven. I just sat there smiling at them. I didn't understand (except maybe 1%) what they were saying but it didn't matter. They were speaking Italian.
When the waiting room emptied of most of the passengers, I went up to the desk and asked if there was a chance I had made it on the plane. Well, I guess my name just hadn't popped up on the "cleared" list yet and I definitely had a seat. As I went to the check-in at the gate, the girl let me know that she had held me to the last so she could give me a seat in "BUSINESS ELITE"! Although, she did stop me as I was getting my passport checked. I was really freaking out. Reason being because my passport is Davis (my married name) and my name now is Jones. When I got my passport, it was because I was going on a Disney cruise and I was still married My divorce went through last February and I've never thought "pay another $100 and change your passport!". Anyway, I thought she was stopping me because my passport name didn't match the name on my ticket (because I didn't realize they needed to when my ticket was booked PLUS I had forgotten that my names didn't match). Turned out, I had never signed my passport. I've had the thing for two years, went on one trip that required a passport, and no one ever noticed. Anyway, I cruised on thru after signing my passport and actually did a happy dance down the gangplank onto the plane. I had made it! I was going to Italy. This was something I had dreamed of for four years and I was actually doing it. I was living my dream AND I was doing it practically first class.
So I walked on the plane and was directed to my (as Natalie says: "I got the damn...") pod (ala "Last Holiday"). A POD. Kind of. I wish I could explain or had taken pictures of the actual seat. If you've seen "Inception" and they're on the plane, the seats looked a little like that. About 4 feet of leg room, seats that reclined FLAT and gave you a back massage, quilted blankets, fluffy pillows, and an amenity bag with toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, comb, shoe polish, comfy socks, Chapstick, lotion, eye cover for sleeping, kleenex, and a face cleansing cloth. KEEPER. BONUS. Yeah, Business Elite is amazing. You even order your food from a menu! Three course meal. Fancy noise-canceling head phones which, sadly, only worked on the plane because, otherwise, I'd have taken those babies home. They were really nice.
So, after eating a pretty good dinner (although the beef was a little dry), and watching "People Like Us" (which is pretty good-Love love love Chris Pine), I snuggled down into my "pod", with my comfy socks and my quilted blanket and squishy pillow (but the seat was hard) and slept. I did try to watch "Snow White and the Huntsman" but only made it about halfway. Kristen Stewart just cannot hold my attention. Plus I was concerned that I would not sleep enough and be exhausted the next day. I think though, that I only slept about 3 hours at the most. Next thing I know, I can hear the flight attendant asking another passenger what they wanted for breakfast. I knew we were getting close to Milan and I would have to wake up if I wanted to eat before landing. Sadly, as much as I wanted to be in Italy, I also wanted to sleep. I was tired.
The other issue I had was that I was afraid. I knew that once I walked off the comfort and familiarity of the plane, I would be on my own in an UNfamiliar place. On my own. I had told John that I was afraid of being on my own. I've never been in a foreign country (a Disney cruise doesn't count) and I was afraid of being somewhere where I don't know the language (which at the same time is exciting) and getting lost. I had visions of sitting on a bench in the airport and falling apart because I had no idea what anyone was saying or how I was supposed to get anywhere.
So I hung out on the plane, taking my dear sweet time getting my suitcase out of the overhead bin. And it was dark outside still which, to me, made it worse.
But I had to finally walk the plank. And it was really okay. Where there were Italian words, there were also the english translation. I understood. And the first place I went as I walked off the plane? The bathroom, which luckily has the international symbol for women's bathroom. Looked like a bathroom, acted like a bathroom. Thank goodness.
From the bathroom I knew I had to find the train to Milan Centrale. That made me a little nervous. But I sat down outside the terminal, relaxed, got out my Rick Steves paperwork and book and figured out where the train ticket booth and platform was and I was good! Even took the time to spark a conversation with the ticket guy who was spinning a coin across his knuckles. I asked him if he did this when he was bored....he was a poker player. Nuff said.
So onto the train to Milan Centrale. At first it was pretty empty and I made the mistake of not sitting right by the window but, then it filled up with commuters and my view of the scenery I had dreamed for four years of seeing was a seat away. I listened to Mormon Tabernacle Choir on that leg of my travels and it made for beautiful theme music. Although, when "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" started, I started to cry. That song has special meaning for me. I hear it and get teary-eyed.
So, once I got to the Milan Centrale station, that started the next adventure: find the ticket booth to buy the ticket for the train to Varenna.
The hard part of being a tourist is the hauling of the suitcase every where. Up the moving (steep hill) sidewalk, down the sidewalk, dodging passengers and tourists. Don't bother going in a souvenir shop. Too much bother. Saves me a lot of money though.
So, I re-read my Rick Steves instructions about how to purchase a ticket for the trenno and headed downstairs to find the magic machines. When I found them, there was a little man (not old) that took it upon himself to help me buy my ticket...I was under the impression he was either an employee and it was his job to help travelers work the automated ticket machines OR he was just helpful. Nope. Wrong on both counts. He asked me, in broken english, to buy him a cup of coffee. Yeah, sure, that's what you want my extra change for. I just told him I didn't have cash...I lied. I wasn't going to give that guy 20euro! That was all I had! And his helpful ticket purchasing assistance wasn't worth 20 euro.
After getting my ticket, I hauled myself and my caravan of stuff back up stairs to find the correct train platform. And that's where I got confused.
Look for Lecco not Varenna and not Verona. Whaaaa?
SO, I found a couple that looked American and asked if they could help me. They weren't american. They were Australian BUT they knew what they were doing...except when they started asking Italian passers-by if they spoke English because they thought I had to get my seat on the train reserved. My instructions didn't say I needed to reserve a ticket but they must know more than I. They're AUSTRALIANS. And a lovely couple, by the way. My train that I needed was 2556 but the Australian man said "two double-five six". So much better than the way we say it. So they stopped an Italian woman who spoke english pretty well and she let them know I just needed to get the ticket punched (validated) prior to boarding the train (which is what my Rick Steves instructions said).
The train to Varenna was about 90 minutes away so, once I figured out how the reader board worked and kept an eye on what platform I would be on. Figured out by watching the other travelers how to get my ticket punched in the machine (and how to find a validation machine that is actually working). Managed to get on the right train and then just sat back and watched the world go by.
I sat on the left side of the train as Rick Steves had suggested to get the best view of Lake Como. Most of the trip was buildings and bushes. A lot of going in and out of tunnels under mountainsides. But once we got into view of the lake, I was glad I had chosen to take his suggestion to heart. The view was amazing. My camera did not capture what I saw outside that window. As we sped towards Varenna, I would often gasp at the amazing views that passed by my window. I ended up recording about 15 minutes of the trip just to make sure I saw everything that was there. Trying to take pictures of scenery when you are on a speeding train is useless. A lot of blurred pictures.
Once again reading my Rick Steves paperwork that told me when to prepare to get off of the train, I was ready when we pulled into the station. Varenna.
Since I hadn't used the bathroom since the airport, the first thing I did was look for a restroom. Easy enough. Right on the station platform and easily recognizable. There was only one stall though so I had to wait for the other tourists ahead of me. As I was standing, waiting for my turn into the skinny single stall,I heard the familiar (and most welcome) sound of Americans. Not just regular Americans but SOUTHERN Americans. "Thank goodness. You're American," I said to them. Flight attendants from Delta airlines who had a layover and wanted to see more than just Milan. We spent the next hour or so together wandering Varenna and looking for the ferry dock so I could take my boat over to Menaggio. They were very friendly and polite and I was glad to have something familiar in a strange land.
Once we purchased our tickets, me to Menaggio, they to Bellagio, we said our goodbyes. They're ferry left before mine so I had some time alone to take in the scenery and listen to the tourists (several of them from Germany and Switzerland). Once my ferry arrived, I headed to Menaggio and one step closer to a hot shower.
I did find, that since I only got about three hours of sleep on the airplane form JFK to Milan, that I was getting sleepy on the train. There was no way I was going to fall asleep and miss the view. I can sleep when I get home
When I arrived in Menaggio, it was an easy and short stroll to the hostel I was staying in. And the front desk girl spoke perfect english!! I am having an easy go of Italy.
Then I sat in the waiting area hoping I'd be able to get a seat. I started out 4/5 then 2/4 on the wait list. With 45 minutes left til take off, they began boarding the plane and I didn't have a seat yet.
Seated around me was an Italian family, happily conversing in their language. This was really my first experience with authentic Italian so I was in heaven. I just sat there smiling at them. I didn't understand (except maybe 1%) what they were saying but it didn't matter. They were speaking Italian.
When the waiting room emptied of most of the passengers, I went up to the desk and asked if there was a chance I had made it on the plane. Well, I guess my name just hadn't popped up on the "cleared" list yet and I definitely had a seat. As I went to the check-in at the gate, the girl let me know that she had held me to the last so she could give me a seat in "BUSINESS ELITE"! Although, she did stop me as I was getting my passport checked. I was really freaking out. Reason being because my passport is Davis (my married name) and my name now is Jones. When I got my passport, it was because I was going on a Disney cruise and I was still married My divorce went through last February and I've never thought "pay another $100 and change your passport!". Anyway, I thought she was stopping me because my passport name didn't match the name on my ticket (because I didn't realize they needed to when my ticket was booked PLUS I had forgotten that my names didn't match). Turned out, I had never signed my passport. I've had the thing for two years, went on one trip that required a passport, and no one ever noticed. Anyway, I cruised on thru after signing my passport and actually did a happy dance down the gangplank onto the plane. I had made it! I was going to Italy. This was something I had dreamed of for four years and I was actually doing it. I was living my dream AND I was doing it practically first class.
So I walked on the plane and was directed to my (as Natalie says: "I got the damn...") pod (ala "Last Holiday"). A POD. Kind of. I wish I could explain or had taken pictures of the actual seat. If you've seen "Inception" and they're on the plane, the seats looked a little like that. About 4 feet of leg room, seats that reclined FLAT and gave you a back massage, quilted blankets, fluffy pillows, and an amenity bag with toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, comb, shoe polish, comfy socks, Chapstick, lotion, eye cover for sleeping, kleenex, and a face cleansing cloth. KEEPER. BONUS. Yeah, Business Elite is amazing. You even order your food from a menu! Three course meal. Fancy noise-canceling head phones which, sadly, only worked on the plane because, otherwise, I'd have taken those babies home. They were really nice.
So, after eating a pretty good dinner (although the beef was a little dry), and watching "People Like Us" (which is pretty good-Love love love Chris Pine), I snuggled down into my "pod", with my comfy socks and my quilted blanket and squishy pillow (but the seat was hard) and slept. I did try to watch "Snow White and the Huntsman" but only made it about halfway. Kristen Stewart just cannot hold my attention. Plus I was concerned that I would not sleep enough and be exhausted the next day. I think though, that I only slept about 3 hours at the most. Next thing I know, I can hear the flight attendant asking another passenger what they wanted for breakfast. I knew we were getting close to Milan and I would have to wake up if I wanted to eat before landing. Sadly, as much as I wanted to be in Italy, I also wanted to sleep. I was tired.
The other issue I had was that I was afraid. I knew that once I walked off the comfort and familiarity of the plane, I would be on my own in an UNfamiliar place. On my own. I had told John that I was afraid of being on my own. I've never been in a foreign country (a Disney cruise doesn't count) and I was afraid of being somewhere where I don't know the language (which at the same time is exciting) and getting lost. I had visions of sitting on a bench in the airport and falling apart because I had no idea what anyone was saying or how I was supposed to get anywhere.
So I hung out on the plane, taking my dear sweet time getting my suitcase out of the overhead bin. And it was dark outside still which, to me, made it worse.
But I had to finally walk the plank. And it was really okay. Where there were Italian words, there were also the english translation. I understood. And the first place I went as I walked off the plane? The bathroom, which luckily has the international symbol for women's bathroom. Looked like a bathroom, acted like a bathroom. Thank goodness.
From the bathroom I knew I had to find the train to Milan Centrale. That made me a little nervous. But I sat down outside the terminal, relaxed, got out my Rick Steves paperwork and book and figured out where the train ticket booth and platform was and I was good! Even took the time to spark a conversation with the ticket guy who was spinning a coin across his knuckles. I asked him if he did this when he was bored....he was a poker player. Nuff said.
So onto the train to Milan Centrale. At first it was pretty empty and I made the mistake of not sitting right by the window but, then it filled up with commuters and my view of the scenery I had dreamed for four years of seeing was a seat away. I listened to Mormon Tabernacle Choir on that leg of my travels and it made for beautiful theme music. Although, when "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" started, I started to cry. That song has special meaning for me. I hear it and get teary-eyed.
So, once I got to the Milan Centrale station, that started the next adventure: find the ticket booth to buy the ticket for the train to Varenna.
The hard part of being a tourist is the hauling of the suitcase every where. Up the moving (steep hill) sidewalk, down the sidewalk, dodging passengers and tourists. Don't bother going in a souvenir shop. Too much bother. Saves me a lot of money though.
So, I re-read my Rick Steves instructions about how to purchase a ticket for the trenno and headed downstairs to find the magic machines. When I found them, there was a little man (not old) that took it upon himself to help me buy my ticket...I was under the impression he was either an employee and it was his job to help travelers work the automated ticket machines OR he was just helpful. Nope. Wrong on both counts. He asked me, in broken english, to buy him a cup of coffee. Yeah, sure, that's what you want my extra change for. I just told him I didn't have cash...I lied. I wasn't going to give that guy 20euro! That was all I had! And his helpful ticket purchasing assistance wasn't worth 20 euro.
After getting my ticket, I hauled myself and my caravan of stuff back up stairs to find the correct train platform. And that's where I got confused.
Look for Lecco not Varenna and not Verona. Whaaaa?
SO, I found a couple that looked American and asked if they could help me. They weren't american. They were Australian BUT they knew what they were doing...except when they started asking Italian passers-by if they spoke English because they thought I had to get my seat on the train reserved. My instructions didn't say I needed to reserve a ticket but they must know more than I. They're AUSTRALIANS. And a lovely couple, by the way. My train that I needed was 2556 but the Australian man said "two double-five six". So much better than the way we say it. So they stopped an Italian woman who spoke english pretty well and she let them know I just needed to get the ticket punched (validated) prior to boarding the train (which is what my Rick Steves instructions said).
The train to Varenna was about 90 minutes away so, once I figured out how the reader board worked and kept an eye on what platform I would be on. Figured out by watching the other travelers how to get my ticket punched in the machine (and how to find a validation machine that is actually working). Managed to get on the right train and then just sat back and watched the world go by.
I sat on the left side of the train as Rick Steves had suggested to get the best view of Lake Como. Most of the trip was buildings and bushes. A lot of going in and out of tunnels under mountainsides. But once we got into view of the lake, I was glad I had chosen to take his suggestion to heart. The view was amazing. My camera did not capture what I saw outside that window. As we sped towards Varenna, I would often gasp at the amazing views that passed by my window. I ended up recording about 15 minutes of the trip just to make sure I saw everything that was there. Trying to take pictures of scenery when you are on a speeding train is useless. A lot of blurred pictures.
Once again reading my Rick Steves paperwork that told me when to prepare to get off of the train, I was ready when we pulled into the station. Varenna.
Since I hadn't used the bathroom since the airport, the first thing I did was look for a restroom. Easy enough. Right on the station platform and easily recognizable. There was only one stall though so I had to wait for the other tourists ahead of me. As I was standing, waiting for my turn into the skinny single stall,I heard the familiar (and most welcome) sound of Americans. Not just regular Americans but SOUTHERN Americans. "Thank goodness. You're American," I said to them. Flight attendants from Delta airlines who had a layover and wanted to see more than just Milan. We spent the next hour or so together wandering Varenna and looking for the ferry dock so I could take my boat over to Menaggio. They were very friendly and polite and I was glad to have something familiar in a strange land.
Once we purchased our tickets, me to Menaggio, they to Bellagio, we said our goodbyes. They're ferry left before mine so I had some time alone to take in the scenery and listen to the tourists (several of them from Germany and Switzerland). Once my ferry arrived, I headed to Menaggio and one step closer to a hot shower.
I did find, that since I only got about three hours of sleep on the airplane form JFK to Milan, that I was getting sleepy on the train. There was no way I was going to fall asleep and miss the view. I can sleep when I get home
When I arrived in Menaggio, it was an easy and short stroll to the hostel I was staying in. And the front desk girl spoke perfect english!! I am having an easy go of Italy.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Viva Italiano!
I made it! The flight was perfect. More on that later when I find wifi. I'm on a train from the airport to the central train station. And I'm proud to say I found both the bathroom (which luckily uses the international symbol for women's bathroom) and the train station without asking for directions. I'm on my own little adventure and I can hardly stand my excitement.
There are two men sitting next to me on the train (across the aisle) speaking Italian (of course, I'm in Italy! What else would they be speaking?) and one actually said "scussi"to me. I love it. So far the Italians are friendly and helpful and don't mind that I'm an American in Italy insisting on speaking American. Shame on me.
My first conversation with an Italian? The ticket agent who sold me the train ticket. He was flipping a coin across his fingers. I asked him if that is what he did when he was bored and he let me know he was a poker player.
Did you know that even the Italian flies are annoying? They have no issues with personal space and I keep having to shoo it away. Feels like home. Atleast that is one thing that does not change.
The weather is overcast but I don't care. I am in ITALY!!
There are two men sitting next to me on the train (across the aisle) speaking Italian (of course, I'm in Italy! What else would they be speaking?) and one actually said "scussi"to me. I love it. So far the Italians are friendly and helpful and don't mind that I'm an American in Italy insisting on speaking American. Shame on me.
My first conversation with an Italian? The ticket agent who sold me the train ticket. He was flipping a coin across his fingers. I asked him if that is what he did when he was bored and he let me know he was a poker player.
Did you know that even the Italian flies are annoying? They have no issues with personal space and I keep having to shoo it away. Feels like home. Atleast that is one thing that does not change.
The weather is overcast but I don't care. I am in ITALY!!
Delta delta delta
So, I got the last seat on the flight from SLC to JFK. I was sweating bullets, ready to ask when the next flight was. My dear friend had more faith than I and kept telling me (via text) "You'll get on". I went from 6/7, to 7/8, to 5/6, to 2/3 (on the wait list) then cleared for a seat. The two hours I waited until I was cleared was pretty stressful.
I was near the front of the plane (which, luckily, isn't like being on the front of a cruise ship...trust me, you don't want a room at the front of a cruise ship), and was lucky enough to have a window seat. But, even after being up since 8pm last night (graveyard, remember?), I never went to sleep. I wasn't even drowsy and I'm assuming God must know what he's doing to help me avoid jet lag. The lady next to me was not as awake. Even with her neck pillow, which I thought was to avoid the uncomfortable napping on the plane, she kept nodding off...violently. Eventually she was snuggled up next to me, even with the neck pillow. I have pictures. Her head on my shoulder.
No food served on this flight. Not free food anyway. You could purchase "food" for a high price. There were the complimentary snacks: pretzels, cookies, nuts. And beverage service. Crummy tv shows I would never watch at home (except a rerun of "Once Upon A Time" and "New Girl" which my daughter loves). And really annoying commercials that lasted longer than a normal television ad.
And does anyone remember when flight attendants were friendly? Yeah, me too. Not a requirement anymore, I guess. Rude, unfriendly. Barbie needed to spend more time with Ken, I guess. She was pretty but cranky.
Right now let me insert that I am in heaven, surrounded by an Italian family at JFK waiting for their flight home. They're just jabbering away in their native tongue. I can only understand a few things (very few) but I love it. I think Italy is truly the place I will find happiness. If only I can find a job...
I was near the front of the plane (which, luckily, isn't like being on the front of a cruise ship...trust me, you don't want a room at the front of a cruise ship), and was lucky enough to have a window seat. But, even after being up since 8pm last night (graveyard, remember?), I never went to sleep. I wasn't even drowsy and I'm assuming God must know what he's doing to help me avoid jet lag. The lady next to me was not as awake. Even with her neck pillow, which I thought was to avoid the uncomfortable napping on the plane, she kept nodding off...violently. Eventually she was snuggled up next to me, even with the neck pillow. I have pictures. Her head on my shoulder.
No food served on this flight. Not free food anyway. You could purchase "food" for a high price. There were the complimentary snacks: pretzels, cookies, nuts. And beverage service. Crummy tv shows I would never watch at home (except a rerun of "Once Upon A Time" and "New Girl" which my daughter loves). And really annoying commercials that lasted longer than a normal television ad.
And does anyone remember when flight attendants were friendly? Yeah, me too. Not a requirement anymore, I guess. Rude, unfriendly. Barbie needed to spend more time with Ken, I guess. She was pretty but cranky.
Right now let me insert that I am in heaven, surrounded by an Italian family at JFK waiting for their flight home. They're just jabbering away in their native tongue. I can only understand a few things (very few) but I love it. I think Italy is truly the place I will find happiness. If only I can find a job...
Heading to Italy!
I've dreamed of this trip for four years. It only came to pass because of the divorce and the sacrifice of some very wonderful people. My tour ticket was bought with the last of my equity money from my house. The plane ticket was given (more or less) by my co-worker whose husband works for Delta. She sold me a buddy pass for $650 (the ticket would have cost me over $1400 without it). Half the ticket money was from my old porcelain doll supplies and molds and the other half was "loaned" by a very dear friend of mine (and you know who you are).
The stress getting to this point has been tolerable but not enjoyable. I didn't actually get the confirmation number for my ticket until last night. Needless to say, I've been truly wondering whether or not I actually had a plane ticket. I worked all night (graveyard shift) and now I'm sitting in the airport waiting to find out if I am even getting a seat on the flight (the pain of flying on a buddy pass is that you fly standby, hoping you'll get a seat).
And then I glance up from technology and see the sunrise. Thank you. It's beautiful, as always.
I have 4 hours to New York then 2 hours layover then 12 hours to Milan. But is it really 12 hours? No, they're 8 hours ahead and I get in at 7:30am Milan time. That makes it 11:30pm here, right? Ahhhh, math, how I hate thee. So I guess it's really 6 hours to Milan from JFK. That's not so bad, right? Lets not take into account that I've been awake since 8pm last night...
Now I'm just waiting and watching the standby list. And I gotta pee...
The stress getting to this point has been tolerable but not enjoyable. I didn't actually get the confirmation number for my ticket until last night. Needless to say, I've been truly wondering whether or not I actually had a plane ticket. I worked all night (graveyard shift) and now I'm sitting in the airport waiting to find out if I am even getting a seat on the flight (the pain of flying on a buddy pass is that you fly standby, hoping you'll get a seat).
And then I glance up from technology and see the sunrise. Thank you. It's beautiful, as always.
I have 4 hours to New York then 2 hours layover then 12 hours to Milan. But is it really 12 hours? No, they're 8 hours ahead and I get in at 7:30am Milan time. That makes it 11:30pm here, right? Ahhhh, math, how I hate thee. So I guess it's really 6 hours to Milan from JFK. That's not so bad, right? Lets not take into account that I've been awake since 8pm last night...
Now I'm just waiting and watching the standby list. And I gotta pee...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)