Arrivederci Dino

With our last trip with our wonderful bus driver, Dino, looming ahead, I feel a need to tell you about him.
Stephanie raved about her dear friend and bus driver, Dino two days before we even got to meet him. On the day we were heading to the Dolomites, we were met at our bus by a charming Italian who spoke very little English. He didn't need to speak English. He was adorable. Now, before you start thinking there was anything to worry about, Dino is married with two children. We could tell instantly that Stephanie adored Dino. I don't know how much farther it went than familial adoration but after a few days, it also didn't matter.
We rode across the Italian countryside in a large Mercedes touring bus. Dino had personalized it with key chains and trinkets either left behind by former tourists or given to him by people who had also grown fond of him on these long bus trips. After 15 days of traveling with him, the 21 of us had all adopted this goofy little Italian. He was wonderful. Big dimply smile and a scratchy sicilian voice, we loved him.

You could count on Dino to try and explain himself in American conversations and if he couldn't, he would call for "teacher", his pet name for Stephanie.
Bruce, of the Bruce and Renee' team on our tour, was a big fan of Jack Daniels and Coke. For some reason, Dino started calling Bruce "Jack". When he found out Bruce's name was really Bruce, it confused him. He was told it was a nickname. From then on he would introduce Bruce as "Bruce, nickname Jack" (with a thick Italian accent). I don't know that he ever remembered my name but he was always great to poke me in the ribs, squeeze my arm, and laugh at my translation app translating English phrases into Italian. I learned that the Google translate app was one to delete off of my phone. I also learned that calling an Italian a "dork" is not a nice thing to say. No problem!
Tonight we said goodbye to Dino. We had our dinner together and then Stephanie presented Dino with a card we had all signed and a bottle of wine. She had bought him a wooden Pinocchio (who is big here) to remind him of us. Ironically, one of the tour members, Michelle had also bought him a Pinocchio but smaller. He'll have it to hang in his bus. Bruce had put together money for Dino to do something in with his family since we had taken him away from them. I never got asked to contribute. I hope I wasn't supposed to. Anyway, Dino got teary-eyed and made a broken-English speech about how much fun he'd had and how much he admired Stephanie. I'm sure when I actually say goodbye to him in the morning as he drops us off in Rome, I'll get teary-eyed also. Dino was a huge part of this trip. If we'd had some old fart with no personality as our bus driver, I'm sure the journey would have been completely different. Dino added flair to our trip. Who else would have passed out Lemoncello on the bus wearing a "David" apron completely anatomically correct (that was an unexpected surprise). We could always count on him to make us smile or laugh. He was my favorite Italian.

Siena

So I'm sitting in the middle of the piazza in Siena just enjoying sunshine. There really hasn't been any bad days since I got to Italy...well, except for the pouring rain in Varenna on the second official tour group day but I'd had three days before that to enjoy the Italian sunshine. Then there was the snow in the Dolomites but that was really a direct result of the rain in Varenna and it was gorgeous sunshine in the snow and Italian Alps. Honestly, I have no complaints.
Siena is a college town in the Tuscany region in Italy. The main piazza is the gathering place for the young and old alike. There is no auto traffic here. The residents and guests are encouraged to just sit and take in the sunshine and ambiance. I brought a roll and pear that I'd taken from our breakfast spread this morning. Since my budget is very tight (I can feel it strangling me daily), I try to sneak a little snack for the road if I can. A couple of the hotels have had weak breakfasts lacking in substance but this current hotel was definitely packing everything I needed for a budget lunch. Last night we had one of our included "feasts" but tonight our meal is on our own. With only about 7 euro left in my pocket until tomorrow, I'm a little picky about where I spend my money. Tomorrow I will definitely treat myself to that gelato I've been craving since Verona.
I do so love the Italians. The only flaw I can see so far is their flat-tasting Diet Coke. Otherwise, I have compiled a list of why I love Italy:
They drive on the American side of the road and their cars are left hand driving (like America).
You can live here without ever having to own a car. Walk everywhere, buy a bicycle, take a cab, take the bus, take the train...or have a friend who has a car and loves road trips.
You can go from the north end of Italy and drive to the south end of Italy in one day and see a different type of country every step of the way. From the German country of the Dolomites to the wine country of Tuscany, it's almost like being somewhere else, not Italy. Flat areas with farm land (much like eastern Washington), industrial areas, boat-building areas (like Bremerton), rolling hills (like East Tennessee), entire towns built into the mountains (like nowhere I've ever seen) with expansive ocean views. Castles, towers, arenas, cathedrals, art, sculptures... you'd never find these things in the United States.
The language alone is something to experience. It's almost lyrical. I had no idea how wonderful it would be to actually immerse myself in it. They answer their phones with "Pronto". They say goodbye with not one "Ciao" but several at once. The kiss on each cheek. The words that have more than one meaning: "Allora" can mean "and so" "then" or "well" and is used alot in conversation. I kept hearing it in the television programs I watched and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it meant (it's not in my language book) but my tour guide, Stephanie, used it a lot and explained it didn't just mean "and so". When I pass anyone speaking italian, I just smile. I will miss this most of all.
Italians love to talk, and they talk fast. And it takes them more than just a couple of words to explain something we would find simple to explain. Our bus broke down at a rest stop outside of Pisa and when we asked our bus driver later what was wrong with it, he couldn't just say "starter" or "alternator" (which I'm not even sure they have a word for that). He speaks very little english so he tried to have Stephanie translate for him and he couldn't explain it simply. One of the men in our tour told him to just say "It was broken and we fixed it" to make it simpler but he couldn't do it. To the Italians, nothing is explained simply.
The food. Oh my gosh. I thought I knew what to expect but I definitely didn't. The fish is cooked to perfection. Not a dry meat in the house (at least at the restaurants we ate at). The pizza. *sigh* I've had pizza with anchovies twice since arriving in Italy and I will definitely be eating it again tomorrow, if not tonight. I can just buy a slice, after all. And let us not forget the gelato. But meals are an event in Italy. No one rushes to eat their dinner or breakfast. Unless you are drinking coffee. Italians have coffee bars everywhere. Literally, you order your coffee from the cash register, you take your receipt to the barista, she/he makes your coffee, and you drink it either at the bar or at a tall table (with no chairs) and then you leave. But do not go to a restaurant just to drink. They will make you stand at the bar. You only sit in a restaurant if you are ordering food. Then you can sit for hours chatting over coffee or drinks or dessert. No one shoves a bill in front of you here, making you feel as though they are in a hurry to fill up your seat. You can just sit. Then you actually have to ask your wait person for the bill. And you will wait a little longer to have them bring it. One of my tour mates actually said "It takes you as long to get your bill as it does to get your meal". No hurry here. Sit back and relax. Don't get lunch if you have an appointment in an hour. You will be late. No drive thru. Give yourself a couple of hours.
The other reason meals are an event? There is no spend-all-day-cooking -then-dinner-is-gone-in-15-minutes. First comes anti-pasto. (Before pasta). Meat, cheese, etc. Then you have pasta,then meat and potatoes (if you are in the inner-regions of Italy), or fish. THEN salad. Then dessert. By the time you are done with dinner, you are done. You cannot fit another bit of food in your stomach. You will not starve. We have been lucky enough to have our "feasts" in family owned restaurants that love to spoil us. The food just keeps arriving in front of us. We think we have eaten the last bite and then another course arrives. And the wine. And the after dinner drink. Start walking. You've just gained about 5 pounds.
The fashion: Italians are very fashionable. And they don't care about what people think. Scarves (scarpe) are very big here, even on men, even when it's warm out. Boots in any weather. Hair styles on women? Big and curly. I am so jealous. And the women are thin. Not the stereotypical large italian women with brown eyes and dark hair. Thin. If you see a large woman (in bad clothing) she is probably American. Since they walk so much and eat their dinners so slowly, they do not get fat. They are in no hurry.
The architecture. There is so much history here. The amazing art. So much to learn! So much to take in. I feel as though there is still so much I want to see and hear about. I know I have missed more than I have seen.
I wish I had a never-ending budget to just travel around Italy and immerse myself in the culture and history. I wish I was a famous writer who could get paid to travel throughout Italy and write about what I experience. I know this has been done a million times over but surely, not with my personal take on it all.

I need a map

That horrific moment in your life when you realize you don't really know what you're supposed to do next.
Am I supposed to stay in Utah? Where am I supposed to go? I need to start planning and preparing. I'm sitting on a beach in Italy and I'm scared. Not because of where I am right now, on this beach, but where I am in my life. Right now. Is this really all there is? Am I going to spend the next 30-40 years wondering where I am supposed to go next? Will I forever be dissatisfied with my job, my life.
Moving to Utah was the perfect answer almost six months ago. It just came to me in a moment like this where I was just relaxing, looking for an answer and it came. Totally unexpected and not at all the answer I would have chosen myself but there it was, as clear as day "Move to Utah" and so I did. It helped me get past that fork in the road and for the first time in two years I was at peace.
Now I'm at this crossroads again and I'm asking the same questions, what is next for me?
Natalie doesn't need me anymore. In a few months, Luke won't either because he'll be on his mission. Scott doesn't seem to need me as much as I thought he would, which I guess is a good thing. And Jeffrey has everything he wants with his job, his wife, and a baby on the way. And John, the one who was even more lost than I, even he has his life all figured out. Oh to be 27 again and have that all ahead. It's easier when you're young. So many choices. So many paths to take. At 50, your choices are limited. The job market is limited. Who wants to hire a woman in her fifties who may not be able to work in five or ten years for whatever reason.
I remember 6 months ago just wishing someone would tell me what to do. I am here again.
Please, someone. God. Heavenly Father. Give me the answer again.

Let me introduce to you...

It's always a little nerve-wracking when you attend a party with a bunch of people you have never met. Try being trapped with them on a bus and in a hotel for 17 days. You just never know what you're gonna get. At least at a party, you can leave at the end (or early) and never have to see them again. On a tour, you don't have that choice. You expect to like a couple of them and can avoid the ones you don't. Luckily, I am on a tour with 22 other people that, for the most part, I would happily socialize with them on a regular basis.
On our first night together in Varenna, we all gathered together in our hotel for drinks and snacks (cheese and tiny little sandwiches). I had met a couple of the group accidentally prior to this. The give away? Rick Steves tour members are given matching grey backpacks. I met one couple as they were leaving the hotel and I was coming in and recognized the backpack. The same with the second couple. Then we all gathered together in a different hotel meeting room. I was amazed at how friendly everyone was. I was adopted instantly by two different men (and their wives). Everyone was very humorous and I could tell we were going to be a fun group. Our tour guide, Stephanie, whom I had met ironically at the hostel in Menaggio, had an easy group. We all introduced ourselves and talked about what we were wanting to see in Italy. I got teary-eyed when I talked about how Italy was a dream I had carried with me for four years. Probably didn't help that I was tired.
Earlier in the evening, it had started to rain. We had all met in the lobby of the the hotel we were staying in to walk together to the other hotel. My roommate, Pat, a spunky elderly woman with long blond hair and thick black eyebrows, had put on the hotel slippers and wore them down to the lobby. She had to go back upstairs to put her shoes back on and came downstairs with a bent, beaten, blue umbrella. We all walked together in the rain and wind over to the other hotel.
After our little meeting was over, Stephanie led us all back out into the rain to show us where the boat dock was. Tomorrow we were basically on our own to roam Lake Como (which I had done already the first two days I was here) and she wanted to show us where to catch the different boats. She was also giving us round trip boat tickets so we could go where we needed to go. She made some suggestions: Bellagio (which I had already seen), Menaggio (which I had stayed for two days), and Caddenabria and the Villa Carlotta. She also gave us suggestions of restaurants in town to eat at for the best seafood. I wasn't really interested in eating, mostly for financial reasons, and my roommate really just wanted to try the Lemoncello, a highly alcoholic drink made from the lemons of Italy. She and I ended up following the group to the restaurant Stephannie had recommended. I recognized the restaurant as the one I'd had coffee with my hostel friends earlier in the day, although this time the restaurant was well-lit and the staff far more friendly than they were when we had gone in. The owner, a very stereo-typical large Italian woman, chatted away with us about which fish was best then surprised us at the end with yogurt, and grapes picked from her own garden for our dessert. For my first real Italian dinner (because the hostel didn't count), I was glad I had gone to dinner with my new friends.
After dinner we headed back out into the rain and wandered our way up to the hotel. One of my new friends, Ken and Jen from California (and my personal favorites) were worried about the fact that my coat was nothing more than a denim jacket. They had come to Italy well prepared with insulated and water repellent jackets. Ken kept offering me his coat but I insisted I was fine. I am from Seattle, after all, and know how to handle rain.. In Seattle, the only people carrying umbrellas are the tourists (and women who pay to get their hair coifed on a weekly basis and don't want it ruined). I had checked the weather for this time of year in Italy and had packed the way Rick Steves had recommended: Only pack things you will wear more than three times. Pack light because you will be carrying your suitcase up and down stairs. I only packed clothes that I would be wearing several times and I thought it would be too warm to bring the leather jacket my dearest friend bought for me to bring on my trip. Trust me, I wish I had brought it.
Tomorrow we were still expecting rain on Lake Como and my new friends were worried I would get wet and catch a cold. By the third day of the trip, they had loaned me a rain coat, sunglasses, and a pair of socks. I never asked for any of these things. They were just very concerned and very insistent. I love these people. I would like to mention also, that Ken reminded me very much of my older brother Kyle. Same grey hair, a year age difference, same sense of humor, same bow-legs, same fashion sense. I felt like he was family right away, but I think his wife was getting annoyed at the attention he was paying me so I tried very hard as the days went on to not spend that much time with them.
We were told to find "buddies", someone we would be in charge of keeping an eye on and making sure they were in the group whenever we needed to make stops or start walking tours. I ended up with three. My roommate, Pat, from Vail, Colorado was one of them. The second "buddy" was Ken. The third buddy was also a Ken. He was the husband of the first couple I had met earlier in the day. Ken and his wife, Lanny. Right now I can't remember where they are from but, while this Ken was an admitted chain smoker, vodka and Bloody Mary drinker, Lanny was gentle and childlike. I found out later that they had only been married 8 years when I assumed they had been married 30. Our second night together in Varenna, we discovered that they were secretly celebrating Ken's 67th birthday. During our "feast" together in Venice, Ken came strolling into the restaurant holding a rose he had purchased from a street vendor for his wife. There were no obvious signs that this man was a romantic or that their relationship was anything more than rocky but they showed me more than once that they had a very strong and loving marriage. I really liked this couple.
My third favorite couple, Bruce and Renee. They weren't married but had been together for 6 years. She had been married before and had 2 daughters. He had never been married. She was 46 and he was 54. Bruce was a wine connoisseur who loved to order bottles of wine and share with the whole table, and had a sarcastic wit. Renee was alot of fun to be around. Well, they both were. We had alot in common and it was great being around people my own age. I spent time with them in Bolzano (after seeing the IceMan) and again in Venice. While they frequently came across as completely annoyed with eachother, it was the little gestures that showed me they had a very strong bond. Bruce got sick with a bad head cold on the second day and missed our hike to the Dolomites.
Rick and Maggie were from the south (Texas, I think). They were another couple I had met outside of the hotel before our actual meeting as a group. Maggie was extremely friendly, the kind of woman you just wanted to hug. Her husband, Rick, didn't come across as being as friendly right away. He was kind of a Type A personality (although he didn't think so) and his first concern was whether or not to tip the waitstaff in Italy. A "money guy", he needed to know the details of things that the rest of us weren't really concerned about. He had a gigantic smile you couldn't miss a mile away.
Then there is Beth and Beth. Seriously, both Beths. They were from Texas and even used the expression "bless their heart" (a comedian we had heard once said that that expression is used when talking about stupid people). Both large women, one had never been married and the other was divorced with no children. They were in their 40s and 50s. The younger Beth had a problem going up and down stairs and getting out of the bus. She got sick by the time we were in Venice with a nasty head cold and missed the day we went to St. Marks.
Amy is a man-ish woman who doesn't say a whole lot unless you talk to her. She's kind of a loner and paid the extra fee to have her own room the entire trip. I swear I have met her before but we couldn't figure out the connection. I can only assume she had a doppelgänger somewhere.
The other couples I still don't remember their names. Jordan and his wife: he's a big goof and pretty fun to be around. He and his wife once lived in Sandy, Utah so we had that in common. They've never had children but seem ok with that. They live back east now. Another couple, they'd been married the longest so they got to go on the gondola with the musicians while we were in Venice (the couple married the least amount of years also rode with them). And the last couple, the only thing I can say about them right now is that they bailed on the gondola ride, and the hike up in the Dolomites in the snow. They are elderly and both complain about the heat of the bus and he has a strong New York accent.
My roommate, Pat, which I mentioned earlier isn't a bad roommate to have. She's pretty quirky and my fellow travelers have felt sorry for me a time or two because of her strange and outspoken behavior. She's messier than I am and once in awhile, coughs up a lung or two. She doesn't snore, thankfully, and I haven't had to wear earplugs. There have been times when she insists on tagging along when I wish I had some time alone. When we were in the Dolomites, I was lucky enough to end up with a room within a room alone. I really enjoyed the peace and quiet and hardly ever saw her. She is sweet and well-intentioned but sometimes, I just need a break. She could definitely be worse.
I really lucked-out with this group. They have been helpful and friendly and supportive. When I see them, I call them my family. I know at the end of this trip, well I hope, that at the end of this trip, I will be able to maintain contact with a couple of them. Some are more forgettable (obviously) than others but, the ones I could describe in detail, I believe we will find a way to say in contact.
Next post: the bus driver....

Hotel Cavallino d'Oro-Castelrotto

Up in the mountains near Germany lies a little town left behind by the Austrians. Castelrotto is technically in Italy but everything about it says Germany. The architecture, the language on the signs, even the man standing in the court yard speaking on his cell phone. If you were blindfolded from Varenna to this village, you would think you had left Italy for another country.
The interior design in this hotel screams old-world Germany. I have never been to either old-world Germany or regular up-to-date Germany but I'm pretty certain this is what it would look like. And, honestly, this hotel makes the last one we stayed in (supposedly a 5 star hotel) look slightly better than a Best Western. This hotel has all the warmth and luxury you would expect from a haus in the alps.
We left Varenna this morning to a beautiful sunrise. Compared to the wind and rain storm we had yesterday, today looked like heaven. The rainstorm in the lower altitudes, mixed with cold temperatures, created the perfect recipe for the first snow fall up here in the mountains.
If it weren't for the blisters on the backs of both of my ankles caused by the friction from my wet shoes rubbing on my heels, I would look forward to the hike we are taking tomorrow as a group. Right now, I don't even want to put my shoes back on. Sandals in the snow, anyone?

A day in Bellagio...

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.

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.