A Long Time Coming

Hello again blog readers.  I would like to direct your attention to the fact that the number of posts in October is significantly lower than the number in September.  This you may have noticed.  I blame school. It's getting in the way, finally.  But don't worry....I'm still having adventures I can assure you, but you just aren't being told about them.  I apologize.  So without further ado I shall tell the tale of Cinque Terre.

My roommate Megan and I set off early on the 23rd of October.  We had no plans, no reservations, no tickets.  We wanted a spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of adventure and that's exactly what we got.

After a three hour train ride through lovely Italian countryside, we had arrived in Cinque Terre.  It consists of five villages, nestled into the coves and hills of the northern coastline.  The towns are connected by train, ferry, and a smattering of trails.  Us being the enthusiastic albiet inexperienced adventurers, we chose to hike.  Our goal was to hike south to north, hitting all the towns on the way, and to spend the night in the last town.

We left Riomaggiore (town 1) after getting some delicious foccacia.  We walked on Via dell'Amore (the walk of love) and came to Manarola (town 2) after only 5 minutes.  And the path was paved.  Our thoughts were somewhere along the lines of: we took a four hour train up here to hike and this is what we get? Lame.  We walked around in Manarola and decided on some gelato.  After that, I spied a boat ramp!  And if you know me you know that water is irresistible to me, it's a must touch.  So we walked down the ramp and slip...down I went.  Luckily my hand holding the gelato was the one to attempt to break my fall, the other option was my camera.  Thanks sea muck.  I stood up and tried to retain some dignity (did I mention that there were a bunch of professional looking camera people perched on the rocks next to the ramp?  yeah they got some entertainment.)  I wiped muck and gelato off my legs, and as I did, Megan (who's still laughing hysterically) comes to my rescue.  Then she fell.  And then a wave came in and I was left with squishy shoes.

We continued on the trail, but just outside of town we came to a locked gate.  Apparently that trail was closed.  We went back to the town to decide on another way and I got more gelato (hey i dropped mine in the sea remember??)  At that shop, we ran into three German men who informed us that they had just come from Corniglia (town 3) and had used that trail.  This intrigued us.  We returned to the gate and found that you could climb over the bars beside the gate because someone had bent a few back.  We ignored the fact that it was closed due to frequent falling rocks..we wanted an adventure!  The trail was an easy one and we made it to the other gate quickly.  This one was a little trickier...we had to throw our bags over first.  Then scale the guardrail while holding on to the rusted metal bars that protruded out and over the rail into the space over a waterfall and large drop.  Then we had to climb on to those and around on to the other side, hanging over the 30 foot nasty drop.  Well I'm blogging so you know I made it.

We were then met with 382 steps up to Corniglia.  Megan and I chose to have an apertivo (italian appetizers) at a cute wine cafe with a most breathtaking view of the ocean, town, and cliffs.  We headed for Vernazza (town 4) and the trail was finally starting to look a little rough around the edges.  It was dirt and old stone steps and wove us up and down and through gorgeous olive groves.  Along the way we found a handwritten sign that read: Nude Beach, 15 minutes.  I had read about it in Rick Steves' guidebook (he knows all!) and so we took the detour.  This path was just wide enough (barely) for me to walk on, had precarious steps, and was barely visible.  It was rough going.  A couple of times it got so steep that there were ropes to hang on to.  I felt like a mountain goat and loved it.  The other half of me was seeing my life flash before my eyes.  I ignored it.  We had to walk through an old train tunnel to get to the steps down to the beach.  On the other side we met two guys our age who spoke English!  We chatted and found that their names are Jon and Francis and they're from Minnesota.  Small world.  We exchanged info and hope to meet up with them sometime in Rome.  The beach was lovely and pebble covered.  And yes, there was a nude man.  Yikes.  We were fine until another man came down and stripped, then we didn't like the naked men vs. us ratio, so we left.  I wasn't really looking forward to the climb back up the mountain but we made it.

We continued for another hour and finally got to Vernazza.  The piazza of the town was so cute...huddled in a cove, right on the water.   The water was so blue and clear.  I've never seen water that color in my life, not even in Cancun or Capri.  It was in the golden hour and getting late fast so we didn't stop to eat anything, even though our bodies probably could've used some energy.  We knew the hike was going to be an hour and a half so we had to go fast (we didn't have flashlights..told you we were inexperienced.)  And little did we know (but soon found out) we had saved the hardest hike for last.  I've never taken so many stairs in my life...up and down and up too much and they were tall and I'm not....I'll never look at a step the same.  We were about half way through when we realized that it was getting hard to see.  We definitely hiked in the twilight and it was probably dangerous and something bad could have happened, like falling into the dark abyss below, but nothing did.  I was so glad to see the lights of Monterosso (town 5) you have no idea.  It was dark when we got there.

Vernazza

I had been really set on camping, really roughin it, but after that day I just really wanted a bed.  We booked a room at a hotel and got some much needed dinner, water, and wine.  We slept like rocks for about 11 hours and when we woke up in the morning we felt like we'd been smashed by boulders.  Every inch of my body was sore, especially my left arm.  I later deduced that it was from falling on the boat ramp.  Lame.  I had gotten so mucky and dusty from the day before and really didn't want to put my hiking pants back on, but the show must go on.

We went down to the beach and it was amazing.  It had such great views of the hills we had just hiked and the dark clouds forming over them.  We found a boat oar and decided to keep it as a souvenir.  Little pink jellyfish were stuck on the beach in low tide, so I took the oar and flung them back into the water.  Megan and I wanted to take the ferry back to Riomaggiore but the water was too choppy for the ferries to run.  Hiking was definitely not an option.  We took the train back and it was only a 5 minute ride to each town.  Kind of a slap in the face after all that walking.  Once we got there, we shopped around and had coffee.  Then we took the train to the central train station to get on the line to Rome.  We had to wait two hours for the next train...luckily there was a Mc Donald's that was nice and warm.

Monterosso Beach

I really enjoyed the ride home.  It was soo nice to sit somewhere comfy and to talk with Megan recapping our trip and laughing about all the hilarious stuff that happened to us.  I had to laugh because there was a food and drink cart that would come by every so often and it would ring a bell as it did so...total Harry Potter moment...like I was on a train to Hogwarts.  We made it safe and sound to our apartment around 9 that Sunday night.

Now I don't know about you reading this but my head hurts from writing it...maybe my screen is too bright.  So I shall end by saying that tomorrow all of us leave for a field trip to Milan and Venice to visit showrooms and get inspirations for our studio project.  Afterwards, my roommates and I will be traveling to Florence.  We'll be back on Sunday.  Hopefully I have enough underwear....

The Good, the Bad and the Brilliant of London

I spent this weekend, the halfway point of the semester, in London with four other roommates.  We left Friday after class and arrived in the UK around 830.  Please continue reading for the good, the bad and the brilliant (not in that order) of the trip.


The Bad (let's get it over with)


The trip's beginning is a real rough one for the following reasons:  1. We flew into Stansted, not Heathrow (thanks to cheap flights from RyanAir) so it was a 45 minute cab ride to our hostel.  2. The cab ride cost 130 pounds, equivalent to 207 US dollars, so about $41.40 a person.  3.  Our hostel.

Please continue reading for an in depth explanation of number 3.

When we booked our hostel, we made sure to look at pictures online.  It looked super sweet....graphic paintings on the walls, modern, clean, blah blah.  And it was located right where we wanted to be....center of London, Piccadilly Circus.  It was cheap to boot so we booked.  We got there around 1030 pm and went up to our room on third floor.  The stairwells were painted with random scenes in super bright colors.  Our whole floor was orange.  I felt honestly felt like I was walking through a child's psych ward.  We entered our room and were greeted by the sketchiest lodging accommodation I've ever seen in my life.  Three bunks, one dim light, and wall paintings that looked like they'd been done by some hippie wacked out on acid....no joke.  Dingy white walls with hot pink, black, and beige random amoeba shapes with one particularly creepy jester.  And then I found a vile on my bed.  After what we had just seen I suspected it to have held drugs at one point, but upon further inspection by Megan we came to the conclusion that it was for perfume.  Nevertheless, I refused to sleep on that bed.  It worked out well since Maggie didn't want to sleep alone.  We were all super freaked out by that place so we just got the heck out of there and saw some nighttime London.  I mean really my reaction wouldn't have been so dramatic but I was just expecting to see what we had seen on the internet...guess you can't believe everything you see.

The Brilliant

The rest of the time was considerably less shocking and quite a bit more pleasant.  I sincerely enjoyed seeing all the different cultures...and especially listening to the British accents =]  We had a tour of the big places: Buckingham Palace, St. James Palace, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, and my favorite, Westminster Abbey.  We took our tea at a cute cafe, shopped down Oxford Street, ate fish and chips and went to a few pubs.  We also took in the performers and vendors at the Covent Garden Market, strolled through Green Park and Hyde Park, and thoroughly explored Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square.  We really wanted to see a show but unfortunately they were sold out.

The Good


It was really weird being in London - it was like being home yet not.  People spoke English, the driving was organized, there was sufficient signage, and public restrooms had toilet seats.  (Main differences between there/home and Rome.)  But when we first got there I felt like I was in a movie set...like if I would touch a building it would just fall over like a piece of cardboard.  London was quite charming...it's hard to explain...kind of a crafty/magical/quaint vibe.  Ok this is sad but it's very Harry Potter and I enjoyed it.  At one point I almost had to laugh...we were walking back from Hyde Park and I saw this building that stuck out from the rest and I realized it was because it had columns and was romanesque and I almost threw up...ok not literally but I guess it was really nice to see something other than stones, columns, and arches all weekend.  The temperature was also lovely, or brilliant as the English would say, and very much like fall back home. 

Reflections

Here is where I will segway into admitting defeat.  I never thought I would say I missed something about being home while I was here but I'm going to do it.  I officially state that I miss things about home: the changing leaves, my Mom's applesauce or just her cooking for me in general, cuddling up in a blanket and watching NFL, and being able to split a bill.  There.  Thinking about those things makes me look forward to Christmas break, but not for too long because I want to soak up every minute here!  Enough of my moment of weakness, not good for the pride.

Travel Surrealism

That Too-Good-To-Be-True stuff.  I still have a hard time believing that I'm in Italy.  I've come to the conclusion that to really feel like you're experiencing a new place you must live in the moment.

It feels the realest when I'm shoved outside of my comfort zone: getting lost, not knowing how to successfully or efficiently get around town, the language barrier, and especially, having to watch out for the safety of me and my roommates.  Experiencing feelings like fear, frustration, nervousness, exhaustion, confusion - intermixed with elation, awe, inspiration, and accomplishment.

My feeling is that successful adventures encompass all of these facets - teetering on the perfect balance of the Home vs. Hell continuum - those of course being major extremes.  My point?  I don't know...welcome to my stream of consciousness.

I suppose I just hope that I don't come home from Rome and have that feeling of Did-That-Just-Happen?  I guess I'll make a point to be constantly aware and always living in the moment, creating adventures as I go.

Comparison

First off I just want to say that that was an intense four days of backpacking.  6 am Thursday to 930 pm Sunday and I'm home in Rome, blogging on a Monday night with a head full of memories and a back full of pain.  So many different modes of transportation (trams, buses, trains, ferries, taxis and of course feet) and so many different beds (three to be exact) and one great trip have left me in this condition.

Before I left I treated you all to a photo of what I would be experiencing (or so I thought)  so you could think of me in these places.  How kind of me.  Compared to those posted pictures I saw some similarities and many differences.  The main contrast between my preconceived notions and reality?  Naples is one scary city - don't only watch your back but all your sides as well.  The physical city is quite lovely however - very ornamental and tall compared to Rome (nothing can be taller than St. Peter's here).  Herculaneum is super dirty (it's run by the Mafia so nothing is maintained well) but the ruins are what I expected.  The other locations were basically what I hoped and more: gorgeously breathtaking.  It was the perfect trip, full of contrasts that I will discuss in a later post.  But for now, pictures, because those are the best.

Side street of Naples

Sorento Hills

Herculaneum Ruins

Pompeii Ruins

Capri from Above

A Promising Preview

I don't normally like to blog about things that haven't occurred yet - just because I can't add reflections or insert insightful little lines of wisdom.  However, this coming Thursday our class is taking our first of two field trips, the South field trip.  Clever name I know.  So I thought I would give you all a little teaser of what I get to enjoy this week.

Naples

Herculaneum

Sorento

Pompeii (Individual Travel)

Capri (Individual Travel)

You're welcome =]

If I Was James Bond, or Even a Dude from the Ghetto, this Post Wouldn't Be Necessary

To whichever parent passed on the Directionally-Challenged: Can't-Find-Their-Way-Out-of-a-Paper-Bag Gene, I blame this story on you.

All of the Rome students had to visit the housing office today to complete our permit of stay applications.  I traveled there with another person because it's really hard to find - not even the cabbies on our first day here knew what piazza we were talking about.  We get there, wait in line for our turn, sign junk, then leave.  Well I left by myself.  The office complex is a big square with a large courtyard in the middle.  I was looking for a way out and came across a door labeled uscita (exit).  I went out the door and found myself in this jank mini courtyard/exit area.  I see a wall to my right containing a door, behind which I can hear traffic.  I go to the door and you need a key to get out.  I turn around and you need a key to get in the door I just exited.  Immediate thought: scale the wall.  Look up, barbed wire.  One refuge remaining: sketchy staircase to my left.  I usually stay calm in frustrating situations but my heart was definitely starting to pound.  They said to get lost in Rome, but not lost and trapped in Rome.  I take the stairs and low and behold I hear english!!  I go to the door and knock like 20 times (a little excessive but hey, I was panicked.  oh and did I mention that all I had with me was my passport?  yeah...survival skills...)  They respond by saying: "This door doesn't go anywhere...this is our kitchen and there are shelves blocking the entrance with a note that says: Danger, do not open door."  I explain my situation in a nervous high pitched voice and then go down to my mousetrap so they can see me.  They do and say they'll come let me in.  My rescuers and I converse as they lead me to the proper exit and I find out that they share our university building.  How pleasant.  Ironically enough I didn't have one problem finding my way back to studio after this incident.

Yeah I'm gonna party tonight.

Tram Surfin

Some of you have probably heard of the expression sea legs.  Wikipedia (how reliable) defines it as the ability to walk steadily on the deck of a boat or ship.  Just when I think I've developed my "metre legs" (a phrase I've coined to describe the ability to stay upright on trams), I go and wear my messenger bag carrying my super heavy computer.  This paired with the fact that the tram is crammed at 8.30 in the morning just spells danger.  First lurch and I almost put my backside in the face of a poor old Italian lady sitting behind me.  Oh well, she'll prolly die soon from that pack an hour habit that causes her to say "permesso" like her throat is filled with gravel.  I roll my eyes at myself and think great - another day of being an obvious American.  But then I see another Italian almost topple into the next commuter and instantly have hope for my future.  The lesson here?  Bend zee knees and hold on fer deeear life to the closest school bus yellow pole.