Second Stop: Firenze

After a hellish day at the Roma Termini filled with hour-long queues and overpriced sandwiches, I boarded a 1 PM train from Roma to Firenze. It was my first true train ride in Europe and the background couldn't have been more beautiful. The train was slow and deliberate, making stops at a variety of towns between the initial and final destinations. However, this pace provided a perfect opportunity to take in the rustic scenery of Umbria and Tuscany. The train's massive windows allow a full view of medieval towns built upon hilltops and farmers tending to their crop in the same way they did hundreds of years before. The man I was sitting with, a student studying guitar composition in Siena, remarked, "That city saw the Bubonic Plague," which is an strange truth.

The train arrived in Firenze in the late afternoon. The train station was bustling with weekend travelers both coming and going. I boarded a bus to Camping Michangelo, my temporary home for the next two nights. The campground is located atop a hill across the river from the heart of the city. People in RVs and camping tents were spread all about the wooded area; it was obvious that people from all throughout Europe flocked to this spot for its serene beauty. From the terrace near the top of the grouds, there is a full view of Firenze that stretches as far as the eye can see. Landmarks like the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio can be easil spotted. Seeing the sun setting over the city was a magical moment.

Back at the camp I met an Indian who was working in Germany for the year. He told me that he pretty much hitched here for the weekend. This crazy fellow offered up his place in Bavaria if I decided to make it to the area. I may have to taken him up on that one. With a few drinks in me, I struck up a conversation with a girl named Karol at the bar. For the sake of time I am not going to go through her whole backstory, but one thing that is relevant is that she sailed to Sardinia from the Carribean. Yeah, sailed on a boat. Anyway, we got along well so I declared her my tourist buddy for the next day and my temporary best friend.

Karol and I met the next morning and began the downhill walk to the historic center of town. Sticking with some reoccuring themes in my time in Italy, we got lost. Luckily we found ourselves a delicious bakery and stuffed our faces with creme-filled, buttery pasteries. I wish all of the confusing points in my life ended in sweets.

Eventually we followed some crowds and found ourselves in the shadows of the Duomo di Firenze. Wow. For reasons unbeknowst to me, I had never really heard of this structure prior to my trip. I am certainly happier now that I have seen the light. Because it was Sunday, there was tons of people in the cathedral chanting and praying and singing or something. The people call it "Sunday mass". The guard informed us that there was no climbing to the top of the dome that day, but we could make the 412-step climb to the top of the equally stunning Giotto's Belltower adaject to the cathedral. The view from the top were fantastic, especially because the dome itself is right next door.

So everything in Firenze costs money, and usually a lot of it. In Rome you could see many sights on the house, but Firenze wants you to cough up some cash for what they are selling. And you do. Atleast I did. In retrospect, £10 is a small price to pay to see Michangelo's David. Karol and I stared at the figure and tried hard to say profound things. After a while, I felt we were doing pretty well - art historian well, starving artist well, Tara Shannon well. In truth, the sculpture really is a work of art that transcends its iconic image. The high praise is completely deserved.

It began to rain a bit at this time so we grabbed a light lunch around the Galleria dell'Accademia. I always try to find a place filled with Italians, so we piled into the first place there was a lot of people I couldn't understand. The food was a tad more expensive than I would have liked, but the penne with meat sauce I had was worth it.

Outside of the restaurant was a huge open market. You couldn't walk for a minute without smelling leather. Due to the rain earlier, it was almost entirely empty. To my surprise, the vendors didn't heckle or impose upon you; they let their products speak for themselves. This is a stark constract from Rome, where many of the vendors get in your face. I haggled my way to a few good bargins but I can't say what I picked up just yet.

That night Karol and I picked up a third named Shane, a guy we met at the camp. Shane was, by all accounts, a tool. Nevertheless, we remained civil and welcomed him to dinner. We went to a perfect mom and pop Italian restaurant. The small room was packed to the brim with boisterous Italians obviously enjoying their time there. This was the kind of home-town Italian dinner I had been searching for. I had a spaghetti with tomato sauce, then a pork chop with a salad. The whole dinner came by recommendation from our waitress and was perfect.

The night ended back at the campground with some alcohol-fueled fun. I won't go into the hazy details, but it was pretty typical of a hostel night. I met people from all over the world and made big plans and we are going to be friends forever. I do want to stay in touch with Karol, though. Yes, she was a temp best friend, but I was sad when I said goodbye to her. In just a short time, we formed a real bond. I guess that probably means we would be friend in real life, but this isn't real life. Oh yeah, I trusted her. Shane? Not so much.

First Stop: Roma

Though I have been thinking about this post for a few days now, I can't quite figure out how best describe my experience thus far.  My first time in Europe, my first time in Rome, my first time travelling alone in a strange place, my first real Roma tomato - the first's go on and on.  If I am unable to convey my excitement in this small area of text, you aren't reading it correctly, because the past few days have been truly and utterly amazing.

Rome is built upon Ancient Rome which is built Ancienter Rome and so on.  The city itself is one huge archeological site.  Even the most inane establishments (McDonald's) are housed in breathtaking works of architecture.  After walking the almost the entire city, I have made a few observations that you might find interesting.  

Firstly, landmarks are a necessity.  You won't need them if you get lost, you'll need them when you get lost.  That being said, it is hard to find landmarks on purpose.  Please note the "on purpose" part of that sentence.  Because the streets are so narrow and the buildings are all so tall, it is hard to see very far in front of you.  Therefore, it is not so odd that I haphazardly stumbled upon Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon.  THE PANTHEON.  ON ACCIDENT.  These type of things can only happen in Rome.

Because Rome is one big museum, I have been doing some hardcore sightseeing.  The metro system is fairly easy and cheap, but I've found it is easy just to walk everywhere.  The city small enough that you can cover it mostly by foot.  

The second day here I went out solo to explore Vatican City.  Stepping through the rows of columns onto St. Peter's Square was a breathtaking moment.  Yes, I have seen pictures.  No, they do not do it justice.  Like many other areas in the city (Spanish Steps, Campo di Fiori), Rome does public spaces very well.  The real showstopper in St. Peter's square is undoubtedly St. Peter's Basillica.  I have never seen such unabashed splendor in my entire life.  First setting eyes on the cavernous interior was a serious omfg moment.  My breath was literally taken away.  The minutia of the Basillica is far more beautiful than most anything I will ever lay eyes upon; the doorhandles are works of art.  The interior is full of gold and marble and dying Jesuses.  Skillfully crafted dying Jesuses.  

Next I went over to the Vatican Museum to look at all the works of art that the Catholics stole from around the world.  Let me tell you - they stole a plethora.  They have more pieces of invaluable art than they know what to do with.  There is an entire hallway the length of a football field packed tightly with classical busts.  Hightlights from the Vatican Museum were Raphael's Transfiguration and, obviously, the Sistine Chapel.  To be candid, though, the Sistine Chapel was a bit underwhelming after three hours of Medieval art.  Don't get me wrong, it is mighty pretty, but I left a little disappointed.  Oh, how snobbish of me.  Underwhelmed by the Sistine Chapel - I feel so incredibly badass for saying that.

Today, I hit the Colliseum and the Roman Forum.  Both were awe-inspiring, especiall the Colliseum.  I can hardly belive that the engineering marvel stands to this day after reading about it's history.  What a dream it must have been for an Ancient Roman to look upon it for the first time while it was in its hey-day.  The ruins themselves are a sight to behold.

Considering the title of this blog is Trust no man...and very few women, I might as well touch on some of the people I have met thus far.  Oddly enough, the first five minutes at the hostel I met a beautiful, fiery-haired bella who was heading out for food as I came in.  I joined her and we spent the entire day and night walking the city together.  She was a Candian living in Silicy who came to Rome to get away from her job for a while.  I guess I trusted her.

Last night I went out with an Irishman named Bobby for some drinking and fighting and lollygagging.  We ended up hanging with a bunch of folks from the UK who were still in town after the Champion's League Final.  As we sat on the steps at around 2:30 in the morning, you could still hear the Spanish cheering the previous day's victory on the piazza.  The night ended with Bobby puking out the hostel window.  Luckily, I was in better shape.  I helped him get up this morning so he could make his flight home, so I guess you could say that he trusted me.

Plenty more to come.  Tomorrow I leave for Florence.  I am staying in a tent hostel overlooking the city.  Needless to say, I am pumped.  Arrivederci!

The Journey Begins

I should feel nervous considering the impending trip. Actually, I don't feel much apprehension at all. I know I need to get to the airport and board an airplane and that airplane will take me to a destination thousands of miles away. Details are my only concern. Step one, step two, step three.

However, in less than 24 hours, I sense that my feelings will change. The scale of this trip, unlike anything I have ever experienced, has not truly set in yet. Until I find myself in a unrecognizable place inhabited by strangers speaking an unfamiliar tongue, completely immersed in a culture unlike my own, will I accept the journey that comes before me as my own.

Rome, here I come...