Buon giorno, Italy!

Well, what have we here? Sure didn’t think I’d be hitting the big five-oh of blogging in just ten months. Guess that goes to show how much I actually like writing when it’s not affecting the future title of my name. I feel like I should say something funny/clever/profound to mark this historic occasion, but it will probably just come out soppy and nostalgic. So let’s just continue our journey through Europe, shall we, dear reader?

Ok, next stop: Firenze.

Florence was my favourite Italian city. She doesn’t have Rome’s constant hustle and bustle, Milan’s stylish shop windows, or Venice’s mask-adorned alleyways, but I always felt so at home here. It’s a feeling I like to call the ‘Lyon Phenomenon’. If Marseille was replaced with Milan, Montpellier with Venice and Paris with Rome, then the way I felt about Lyon in France was exactly that of Florence in Italy.

One of the first things I did (which began in Milan and turned into a habit for the rest of my trip) was climb to the dome of the largest cathedral I could find, happily burning off a few gelatos going up the almost-vertical staircases. And when I saw the beautiful Florentine rooftops, I forgot all about needing to catch my breath.

The basilica’s dark pink and green marble façade is bordered in white and carved into the most intricate designs. I couldn’t stop taking photos! It faces the impressive golden doors of the Battistero di San Giovanni (aka Florence Baptistery), which I was thrilled to finally see in person after hearing so much about them back home.

I did go see Michelangelo’s David, of course, but the real highlight in the Galleria dell'Accademia for me was The Rape of the Sabine Women, by Giambologna. Although this was only the gesso (chalk/glue replicate), with the real statue in the Loggia della Signoria open gallery across town, I must have walked around it, staring wide-eyed from every angle, for a good twenty minutes. The struggle of each of the figures – the older man, crushed under the strength of the younger Roman as they both fight for the young Sabine woman, desperately resisting his grasp – was exquisite.

I wandered the warm cobblestoned streets for hours on end with no destination in mind, making up for my earlier exercise with sweet Florentine cannoli and fresh basil and mozzarella pizza. Later, I found myself by the river, walking through the craft stand-filled arches to the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge). It is by far my favourite bridge in Europe. If only I could afford the sparkling things on display behind the windows! One day...

Even though I was reluctant to visit Venice alone, I arrived in high spirits after my time in Florence. They continued to soar as I set off through the endless streets of elaborate masks and delicate glasswork. I didn’t even mind watching the happy couples rowing toward eternity on their gondolas. I thought Venice was just lovely...

Until I fell into a canal. And destroyed my camera, phone and iPod. ARGH.

So, long, embarrassing story short, wanting to snap a good photo of one of the pretty Venetian bridges, I decided to walk down a set of gondoliers' steps to get closer to the water. It was only after my foot landed on the algae-covered platform that I realised my mistake. Too late! I was already flying through the air in my own rendition of the iconic cartoon banana peel slip by then... Well, I sure got close to the water alright – the completely submerged kind of close. To make matters worse, a gondolier rows past at that exact moment (of course) and informs me rather seriously: "You're not meant to walk on those steps, you know!" Yeah, thanks mate, I know that NOW. A sign or railing would have been greatly appreciated! But yes, I know, even silly tourists aren't normally that silly.

And in case you were wondering, the water tastes slightly salty. It is also very deep and every bit as disgusting as it looks. Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t die of a few nasty waterborne diseases. Especially after shivering all the way back to the hostel and taking a cold shower. Brrrr-yuck!

So that put a slight damper (no pun intended) on the rest of my holiday in Venice. I swear the sun came out the next day just to mock me. Ah well, it does make for a good story though, if nothing else. I can’t count the number of times I have heard the sly remark: “So, I hear you went swimming in Italy...” or the glee with which my friends retell my story.

Definitely one for the grandkids, I’d say.

Buon giorno, Italy!

 

Rome was...delicious.

I had always thought that the hype about real Italian food was just that: hype. But it really is worth every last penne. Elizabeth Gilbert had the right idea – to “Eat” here for four months would be Heaven. The only difference being, angels don’t get fat.

One of the downsides to travelling alone was that I often avoided sitting down at restaurants for proper meals. And while little eateries and street vendors are great for a bite (or three), a glass of wine and a napkin across the knees gives you a whole different taste of the local cuisine. So, it was lucky that I had some company in this gastronomic paradise. 

My friend and I soon discovered that the secret to a good meal in Rome lies not in the busy, commercialised city centre, but in Trastevere. This little suburb across the river is an intimate network of narrow streets lined with bustling local restaurants. And best of all, almost completely devoid of tourists. I always say that you know you’ve come to the right place to eat if you can’t understand a word that’s being said around you. And so, it was in places like this that I cut through glorious layers of fresh lasagne, twirled my fork through handmade tagliatelle, indulged in slice after slice of greasy-but-oh-so-perfecto pizza, sipped through glasses of house wine, and savoured every last spoonful of raspberry-topped panna cotta... And don’t forget the hourly gelato fix. Your ice-cream experience isn’t complete until you have tried their melon and pistachio flavours.

To top it all off (because I haven’t had to buy new jeans yet), I tasted the best tiramisu I have ever had. It being my favourite dessert, I have tried quite a few, but this one... Wow.  
As the moist scotch finger melts onto your tongue, the coffee and alcohol cut through first, strong and aromatic. Then almost immediately, the creamy layer oozes forward, smoothing the harsher tones and coating your mouth in a layer of rich velvet...
It really was quite an experience.

You may be surprised, dear reader, but I actually managed to fit in quite a bit of sight-seeing in between all this eating! Though I won’t go into much detail about the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Trevi Fountain or the Spanish Steps. I did enjoy them a great deal, like the millions of other tourists that week, but I’m sure Google will be much better at informing you of their historical significance than I!

We spent quite a while in the Vatican City admiring the pope’s impressive language skills in person and taking photos in the Sistine Chapel. Yup, that's right, I took photos despite being forbidden to do so in six different languages before entering. If it had been for religious reasons, I would have put my camera away without a second thought, but for a Japanese company that wanted copyright protection for financing the restoration of the paintings? Ha, keep dreaming. If Michelangelo and the Pope don’t mind, I’m going to take home my own memory of this beautiful place guilt-free.

We also visited the gorgeous riverside night markets. As the normal dinner time for Southern Europeans seems to be around 10pm, it wasn’t unusual to find locals here enjoying a beer or a puff of Shisha at midnight. We passed on the smoking, but after a nice drink, we went exploring from stall to colourful stall. 

My favourite find? Singing bowls. Well, my friend’s find, actually. Without him, I would have walked straight past them. But channelling his inner Tibetan monk (being a Caucasian American, naturally), he grabbed my hand, put one of the beautifully engraved bowls onto my flattened palm, and began to run the wand (a clave-like stick) around the rim in slow steady circles. And a few minutes later, to my delight, the bowl began to vibrate and, well, sing! It was such a stunningly pure sound. 

The vibrations are said to have medicinal effects and the sound is used to alleviate stress. They are apparently also very popular in classrooms for encouraging group work and student concentration. Though I am having a little trouble imagining my old high school class adopting the practice... Somehow, big, gruff, footy-kicking boys and singing bowl-meditation don’t seem to fit too well together. Or maybe, that’s just the problem... 

Buon giorno, Italy!

So apparently, Italy is now over $2.5 trillion in debt – a quarter of Europe’s debt total. If that’s not screaming “HELP”, I don’t know what is. But even though I can't do a huge deal about it (no, I’m not running for prime minister of Italy), I like to think that I did my part with my obscene pizza-, pasta- and gelato-loading.

First stop: Milano.

For a city reputed for being so beautiful and stylish, Milan left me a little underwhelmed. That being said, if I had had enough money to separate the ‘window-’ from ‘shopping’, my opinion may now be drastically different.

The highlight for me, literally, was climbing the Duomo di Milano (Milan Cathedral) and admiring its gothic architecture from the rooftops. Intricate sculptures, pinnacles and spires, and of course, the majestic yet delicate flying buttresses... If you only have a few hours to spend in Milan, spend it up here. Shopping can wait.

I also quite enjoyed the Castello Sforzesco – a medieval castle that houses many museums, including that of musical instruments, to which I devoted a few hours. I was also lucky enough to catch a medieval concert performed on traditional instruments. I may be a Baroque-Classical girl, but I actually adored the Gregorian chants. What can I say? Guess travelling really does open the mind.

Dear old Leonardo does get quite a big tribute in this city too, having spent his early working years here. I popped in to the Santa Maria delle Grazie Church to see his Last Supper and a collection of his inventions in the Art and Science Museum. Is there anything Da Vinci can’t do?

Oh, and the markets. They were intense. What do you get when you mix a few thousand Italian women and a kilometre-long market of cheap clothes, jewellery, bags and shoes? Flying elbows, angry mouths and sudden, overwhelming claustrophobia. And once you step in, it’s at least a two hundred meter commitment till the next exit. Not for the faint-hearted.

So all in all, a great start to my backpacking trip and a sweet first impression of Italy. But now, it’s time to say “ciao” for a while – I’m off to Athens!