Planes Trains and Busses
Oh my gosh, where to even start? It has only been exactly a week and it already feels like another lifetime ago that I left the US. Let me put any doubt out of your minds. I am safe, it is all in control and this country is so beautiful it blows the mind. I am writing from Milano today since I finally found a computer with an American style keyboard and happen to have the time. This past week has been full of almost constant travel. I arrived in Nice, France with full on jet lag and travel sickness and despite being starving, refused to let it keep me inside. My first day I walked through the city, just sipping coffee and enjoying being back in France. I visited their Duomo, climbed many stairs to a cemetery and could hardly speak to anyone. Why I thought flying into a country where I had not spoken the language in years I will never know. Still, I made a friend almost immediately from Switzerland and her and I had a great dinner in town just chatting away. After only one full day in Nice I jumped on the train to Genova and finally into Italia. Trains, as daunting as they are for us New Mexicans who never take regional trains, are easy to navigate for the most part and have the most amazing views. The train ride over from Nice ran along the Ligurian coast and you have never seen water so clear or turquoise blue.
Not quite as nice as the sea or view was the constant presence of graffiti, which I happen to love. Not all of it is pretty or creative, some is downright terrible. However it is an expression of self almost always in protest of authority. I saw some very interesting pieces but hands down my favorite has become simply the word "Shampoo" graffiti on various walls......why shampoo?? It makes no sense but I got a good laugh out of it. Once I arrived in Genova I had quite a time getting to the hostel, which happened to be up the side of a frickin mountain. I kid you not. Thankfully everywhere I go people are so nice and willing to help and I was given directions and a bus ticket. The view of the sea from up there was incredible and there will be pictures to come. It was in Genova that I had my first Italian meal, and made my first close travel friend. His name is Andrew and we hit it off right away. We wandered the streets at night, just talking and ended up finding an impromptu soccer game, or of course as they call it, football game, where we just yelled and screamed along with everyone else, in poorly spoken Italian. The next day we went into town together just to explore, find me a cell phone plan and eat the most delicious food I have had yet. Genova is known for their pesto, so what else should we get but Gnocci al pesto at this piccolo hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I fell in love of course savoring each tiny piece of pasta. We then proceeded to try some out of this world gelato. He had cookies and chocolate, I had rose and peach and can honestly say Ive never tasted something so true to the source.
That night I met an adorable Estonian man who I went out for late night drinks with and felt perfectly Italian sipping my red wine with locals. Andrew had mentioned he was headed for the hostel I had just come from in Nice to lay on the beach for a day. So, with nothing booked and all this time, the next morning I took the train with him back into Nice for the day. My favorite thing so far has been playing in the sea and laying on the beach in the Cote-d'azur. However it was only twenty minuets before the rain came and rushed us back to the hostel, still too good to be true.
I am stunned to know that there is no Italian blood in my family whatsoever. The Italians do not seem to believe it. Quite a few people at this point have taken me for Italian, started speaking to me in a natural and fast way and it was only when I told them I speak very little Italian that they stopped and said something along the lines of "But surely you have family here. It's in the face, the eyes, the hair, the shortness" I love this. I am okay with being taken for Italian anytime and it is truly a compliment when they tell me how good my Italian is and ask where I studied. I laugh, thank them, and tell them if my Italian was so good we wouldn't be having our conversation in English. Everyone's English is better than my Italian. Still, everyday I am learning more.
Today is the end of a week here and today I went to the Duomo in Milano, the second biggest church in Europe. It was also the biggest and most beautiful church I have ever seen. Since that and shopping are the main Milano things, and I cannot afford the shopping, I am back at the hostel, going to do some much needed laundry, and jump in the pool before laying in the sun for a while and possibly do a hike. More than likely I will head towards Verona tomorrow unless someone lets me stay on their couch. This whole adventure is more expensive than I even anticipated and pretty soon here will lose the urge to eat to save some money. God is good though, and everyday I am being reminded of how in control He is and how He only wants the best for me. I am being sent angels to help me and feel secure that I am here for a reason.
I will write again as soon as I can, when that will be I cannot say.
Ciao my lovely friends, until then.
Not quite as nice as the sea or view was the constant presence of graffiti, which I happen to love. Not all of it is pretty or creative, some is downright terrible. However it is an expression of self almost always in protest of authority. I saw some very interesting pieces but hands down my favorite has become simply the word "Shampoo" graffiti on various walls......why shampoo?? It makes no sense but I got a good laugh out of it. Once I arrived in Genova I had quite a time getting to the hostel, which happened to be up the side of a frickin mountain. I kid you not. Thankfully everywhere I go people are so nice and willing to help and I was given directions and a bus ticket. The view of the sea from up there was incredible and there will be pictures to come. It was in Genova that I had my first Italian meal, and made my first close travel friend. His name is Andrew and we hit it off right away. We wandered the streets at night, just talking and ended up finding an impromptu soccer game, or of course as they call it, football game, where we just yelled and screamed along with everyone else, in poorly spoken Italian. The next day we went into town together just to explore, find me a cell phone plan and eat the most delicious food I have had yet. Genova is known for their pesto, so what else should we get but Gnocci al pesto at this piccolo hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I fell in love of course savoring each tiny piece of pasta. We then proceeded to try some out of this world gelato. He had cookies and chocolate, I had rose and peach and can honestly say Ive never tasted something so true to the source.
That night I met an adorable Estonian man who I went out for late night drinks with and felt perfectly Italian sipping my red wine with locals. Andrew had mentioned he was headed for the hostel I had just come from in Nice to lay on the beach for a day. So, with nothing booked and all this time, the next morning I took the train with him back into Nice for the day. My favorite thing so far has been playing in the sea and laying on the beach in the Cote-d'azur. However it was only twenty minuets before the rain came and rushed us back to the hostel, still too good to be true.
I am stunned to know that there is no Italian blood in my family whatsoever. The Italians do not seem to believe it. Quite a few people at this point have taken me for Italian, started speaking to me in a natural and fast way and it was only when I told them I speak very little Italian that they stopped and said something along the lines of "But surely you have family here. It's in the face, the eyes, the hair, the shortness" I love this. I am okay with being taken for Italian anytime and it is truly a compliment when they tell me how good my Italian is and ask where I studied. I laugh, thank them, and tell them if my Italian was so good we wouldn't be having our conversation in English. Everyone's English is better than my Italian. Still, everyday I am learning more.
Today is the end of a week here and today I went to the Duomo in Milano, the second biggest church in Europe. It was also the biggest and most beautiful church I have ever seen. Since that and shopping are the main Milano things, and I cannot afford the shopping, I am back at the hostel, going to do some much needed laundry, and jump in the pool before laying in the sun for a while and possibly do a hike. More than likely I will head towards Verona tomorrow unless someone lets me stay on their couch. This whole adventure is more expensive than I even anticipated and pretty soon here will lose the urge to eat to save some money. God is good though, and everyday I am being reminded of how in control He is and how He only wants the best for me. I am being sent angels to help me and feel secure that I am here for a reason.
I will write again as soon as I can, when that will be I cannot say.
Ciao my lovely friends, until then.
Sounds like heaven :)
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