Stepping back a little bit. For those of you who care (and seriously that level of attention is kind of weird), I did Pisa first then Cinque Terre, then Genova and Verona. With the exception of Cinque Terre, I was only in each town for one full day apiece, and didn't end up doing a gigantic ton for various reasons. So to save myself two extra blog posts, you get three in one.
Leaning Tower Town:
I arrived in Pisa on my RyanAir flight at midnight. The directions to my hostel were of course not the best, and the Powers That Be chose this moment, the time that it was the literal middle of the night, when I happened to be in a totally dead residential district that sort of bled into a very seedy area around the train station, to decide that I had used up my Directional Karma for a little while.
That's the bad news. It was no small amount of creepy and unsettling walking around the train station at 12:45 AM either. I stopped under a big light and fished out my pepper spray from my backpack (it's usually accessible in my shoulder bag but I had just come from the airport). But the good news was I had also thought to get directions to the hostel from the train station as well as from the airport, so at least I had a new starting point. From the station, I did find the hostel pretty easily, and Carlos, the owner, was out front looking for me.
I was a little shaken up and strung out from my walk, so snapped at him perhaps a little more snappily than necessary that "the directions on your site could use work." Carlos was so damned contrite. He ended up giving me a pretty big discount on the room (which I certainly did not ask for or expect), and then when I asked him if the hostel had any beer, he disappeared and came back with a bottle of red wine for me, which he would not let me pay for. We did a toast together with his very beautiful girlfriend and then they left me alone with my wine. Holy hell, I'd forgotten how NICE Italians are!! (This hostel, btw, could not be more basic, with no kitchen and no common area, but I so did not care -- with my discount it was one of the better deals of the trip, and wine will go a long way towards getting me to forgive.) I sat outside and read Watership Down and ended the night on a very good note indeed.
The next day, I walked into town (Pisa is pretty small), and began to look for my first meal in Italy. This was an auspicious moment. I walked around for a fair bit before selecting a particular sidewalk cafe, and ordered "Farfalle al Salmone", which is a fancy name for pasta with salmon sauce. I'd had this dish in Rome and had been particularly impressed with it -- flavorful without being too fishy, chunks of real salmon in an olive oil base. Yeah, that is not what I got this time I'm afraid. The sauce was bright coral pink without even the barest hint of actual salmon meat; it had obviously come from a jar. It was salty but mostly just terrifically unspecial. And the beer was expensive. I was disappointed but the sad fact is that every time you look forward to something, you do run the risk of being woefully let down. There will be other meals in Italy.
I walked over and got my fill (and my camera's fill) of the famous Leaning Tower and the surrounding piazza. The whole scene really is quite beautiful, if utterly choked with 364,565,553 tourists all doing the exact same goddam picture pose in which they pretend to be holding up the tower.
And they went ahead and finished it anyway. How very... Italian.
It is a mighty 15 euros to go to the top of the tower, which (obvs) I did not do. I did pay 2 euros to go into the Basilica, because I remembered how beautiful Roman churches were. It wasn't as pretty as a Roman church, but it didn't let me down either.
I walked around some more, got an ice cream. But maybe it was jet lag (from my super tiny flight) or whatever, but I was just suddenly really freaking tired. I'd seen all of Pisa I really wanted to (read: the tower). So I ended up just walking back and chilling outside of my hostel, updating this damn blog thing that I always seem to be woefully behind on, and reading more of my Bunny Book. And that was Pisa.
Genova: Italian Sketchy-Town
Yep, one more day of backpacks, trains, buses, inadequate directions. I got the bus from the station to my Genova (Genoa?) hostel just fine, but I wish these guys would be better about including how long said bus rides are expected to take, and also to be even slightly accurate about that estimate.
I was staying in another youth hostel, this one even more bare-bones college dorm than before. When Eve skyped with me in the common area she said it looked like a high school cafeteria. She wasn't wrong. It was clean at least, and they had a microwave if not a full kitchen, but fuck if this hostel wasn't hellagone from anything. Not a shop, restaurant, or market within walking distance. I guess that might have something to do with the long bus ride. I really wanted to just grab a quick dinner at a market and have an early night, but that got quashed by the lack of kitchen and also lack of market.
So I took the bus into town and got off at the stop the hostel's reception had recommended for finding dinner. And proceeded to walk around for... close to an hour. :( Lots of cafes, but I wanted a proper restaurant and not another freaking pre-made sandwich. Found one place out of my price range... I took an abrupt turn down an alley because sometimes that is the best way to find out-of-the-way restaurant gems, but this time instead of a restaurant gem I found Genova Sketchy Town. It was not cool. Lots of unsavory-looking gentlemen leaning against tawdry shop doorfronts and leering. Groups of guys clustered around trash cans. Deserted, grafittied buildings. I beat it out of there.
And made a beeline straight for the expensive restaurant, because I had straight-out had enough. Plus I remembered that with my travel day, I hadn't really spent much money that day yet at all, so maybe could even afford a meal here without going over budget. The restaurant was instantly great. I ordered a caprese salad, penne bolognese, and a half-litre of red wine. And damn if it was not delicious. Probably one of the most stereotypically standard Italian meals one can think of, but who cares? I took my time, wrote in my journal, then went for broke and ordered lemon sorbet for dessert. I never get dessert. It came in a champagne glass. When I finally asked for the check my waitress brought me a double-shot of limoncello on the house. Worth the splurge. 100%
The next day, the weather was not great but I took myself on another long bus ride into the town center anyway. Walked to the port and saw a pirate ship (fake), and kind of halfheartedly attempted to follow a walking tour outlined on my free hostel map, in varying degrees of drizzle. Paid to get into the Palazzo Spinola, home of one of the more prominent Genovese families. I wasn't sure about this but it proved an excellent use of euros. It was beautiful inside and superbly restored. Would buy again!
I walked around some more, took pictures. Got lunch at an overpriced restaurant. (Sad face.) Found Genova's red light district very much by accident, beat it out of there again. I saw those working girls judging on my shoes.
And then I kind of just picked up a market dinner downtown (where there was still a market), and headed home to the hostel in the mid-afternoon. I didn't see a ton of Genova, but what I had seen had not exactly rocked my socks, and the weather was not the best. Highlight of the day was certainly the Palazzo Spinola, and I'm glad I did that. But I got in to the hostel maybe 4:00, settled in with my kindle, and watched the skies open up over Genova. I was pretty damn happy I'd made the decision to come home early. As it turns out I would have more than enough rain in my future.
Genova was cool I guess but it was by no means my favorite Italian town. I loved my dinner the first night and Spinola the next day, but seriously... if you're choosing between Genova and somewhere else for your Italian holiday, you might want to go with that other choice.
In Wet Verona:
Here's a bit of learned travel wisdom for you: not all Italian towns or even cities have hostels. Siena doesn't, which is why I ended up staying in Florence instead. Bologna has just one, way outside of town and so poorly rated that I refused to stay there and so did not see Bologna. Verona doesn't have any hostels either, but through some dogged internet searching I was able to find a guesthouse/apartment deal for pretty reasonable. (I mean, it was still more than I'd pay for a hostel, but not totally off the chain.) Normally my solo traveler self is denied the luxury of guesthouses and B&Bs since they want me to pay for both beds in a room despite only sleeping in one. But this guesthouse had set up a hostel situation in its two rooms, which meant I would have a roommate. Only one? We're getting fancy now.
I found the apartment with little trouble... after asking for advice on where to buy a bus ticket (on the bus), asking how to use the machine (push the red button [you are never supposed to push the red button!!]), and finally asking my driver to point out my stop. For reals, sometimes the secret to successful solo traveler is just the willingness to ask for whatever help you need until you get it... and then just keep on asking.
Oh yeah, I forgot. It was pouring rain. Thus far on my trip it had not actually rained on me during a travel day. Finally got to pull out the REI backback rain shield, which an old Italian woman just thought was the best thing as we waited for the bus together.
I found the apartment. Owner buzzed me in. Holy crap. This apartment was beautiful. Huge, with a big lovely living room. Lots of light. My room had two twin beds, one absent roommate, and legit even a clothes bar with hangers. When was the last time I had a hanger? I think maybe it was Dijon?? Big kitchen, although I found out guests weren't allowed to use the stove or oven, just the sink or microwave. What do you have against guests boiling their own pasta, Italy?
I went to a nearby market and got the standard bread, cheese, sausage, fruit, yogurt, etc., along with a few eggs I figured I could cook in the microwave. Oh, and some prosecco and orange juice for mimosas. :) Came home and the owner said goodbye for the night and left. The other two guests in the place either went out and/or went to bed early. I had this whole place to myself!!! :D
Made an excellent quiet supper and then settled in the living room's easy chair with my book. It was just awesome to be able to sit in this clear, bright comfy space and know I was not going to be bothered until the next morning.
The next morning, my room mate and the apt.'s other guest checked out before I even woke up. The owner had told me she wouldn't be in until late afternoon. Once again I had this gorgeous place all to myself! I made a huge excellent breakfast -- complete with mimosa with the last of last night's prosecco -- and took a damn long time in slowly working through it. Wrote in my journal. Listened to the iPhone. Did I mention it was still raining outside? I was in no hurry.
It was the hardest thing to drag myself out of that apartment and into my rain jacket. I wanted to stay in, comfy and alone and wrapped in blankets, for the entirety of this dreary chilly day. But this was also my only day in Verona, and I didn't want to totally waste it. Finally got myself out in the early afternoon.
Verona was definitely the prettiest Italian town I had been to thus far (between it, Pisa, and Genova), and I was glad right away that I'd braved the rain to see it. I forgot to mention that the one bad thing about my apartment was that it had no wireless. I'd been told I needed to go to the city library for a password, and then I could access the city's wireless. But of course the public library was closed. Looked like I was going to be wireless-ness for my stay in Verona.
After the library unsuccess, I just kind of walked at random and soon found Juliet's House. You know, from the play.
I'd seen that silly movie a few years ago, Letters to Juliet, and even then I thought it odd that a fictional character from the mind of an Englishman could suddenly have her very own historical house in the town where Shakespeare had set her. So I looked this little tourist trap up on the internet (after I got out of wireless-less Verona), and yeah. Verona picked an old house at random, and in 1936 added a balcony and started telling everyone this was Juliet's house. For 4 euros you can go inside fake Juliet's fake house, which I did not. Also, as an interesting side note, there aren't any actual "letters to Juliet" anywhere in the courtyard that I could see. Just a all those locks that lovestruck European teenagers seem to leave everywhere, a ton of graffiti and chewed gum. Because you know, nothing says ETERNAL LOVE like a big sticky wet glob stuck to a grafittied wall. I guess the movie wouldn't have done as well with the title "Chewed Gum for Juliet".
(Note: Verona also claims to have Juliet's TOMB. I thought this was really interesting, as this character was, after all, fiction, and therefore could never have actually died. I didn't bother to find it.)
After Juliet's unhygienic courtyard, I ended up having very much a Church Day in Verona. Saw a fair few of them, all quite old and all quite beautiful.
I was having a pretty chill time wandering around this pretty town and just sort of seeing what I discovered (obviously, churches.) But of course Verona also has its share of picturesque piazzas and even its own wee lil Colosseo.
It was here that I made my first truly bad decision of the day. My guidebook strongly recommended taking the bit of a walk over to see San Zeno, a church they called "one of the most important in Northern Italy." It was raining but not terribly, and my feet weren't hurting too badly yet, so I decided to to it. ....Yeah.
Soon after I set out to try and find this damn church, it began to pour. I kept walking. And maybe my quickened pace is what sent my tendons off, but soon I was in a world of uncomfortableness again, and I didn't want to stop in the rain even to take advil. This church is hellagone from the rest of Verona, possibly in another continent all together. I almost turned back about three times, but my stubbornness pushed me on, and even as I got wetter and wetter I was ever more determined that this trip would not turn out to be worthless.
After about five years, I found it. Hooray.
I paid the 2 euros to get in, and looked around. Important fact: "Important" does not necessarily have to mean "Beautiful" or even "Interesting." Learn this well. There were remains of 13th century frescoes which were pretty neat, but overall this was not the most mind-blowing church I have ever visited.
Then, most unhappily, it was time to undertake the trek home. The rain was not letting up, and my feet were far from happy. I finally took some advil, looked at my watch, and set out. Timed it: door-to-door, no stopping, 50 minutes.
Collapsed on "my" easy chair with a beer and read/dozed for two hours until it was time for dinner. Being Sunday, natch all the little trattorias nearby were closed, so I had to go back over the bridge, about a ten-minute walk in more rain that definitely had not gotten any less wet. On the way, the wind destroyed my umbrella.
I was able to find a reasonable restaurant with only a little difficulty, and had a pepperoni pizza and glass of red. And then home again for a hot shower and more delicious quiet time.
I really did like Verona, and wished I had an extra day there. One that wasn't quite so... damp. Back again someday, maybe?
Another day in the life. I strapped Sisyphus back on and turned my sights to Venezia. Halloween in the City of Masks!
Leaning Tower Town:
I arrived in Pisa on my RyanAir flight at midnight. The directions to my hostel were of course not the best, and the Powers That Be chose this moment, the time that it was the literal middle of the night, when I happened to be in a totally dead residential district that sort of bled into a very seedy area around the train station, to decide that I had used up my Directional Karma for a little while.
That's the bad news. It was no small amount of creepy and unsettling walking around the train station at 12:45 AM either. I stopped under a big light and fished out my pepper spray from my backpack (it's usually accessible in my shoulder bag but I had just come from the airport). But the good news was I had also thought to get directions to the hostel from the train station as well as from the airport, so at least I had a new starting point. From the station, I did find the hostel pretty easily, and Carlos, the owner, was out front looking for me.
I was a little shaken up and strung out from my walk, so snapped at him perhaps a little more snappily than necessary that "the directions on your site could use work." Carlos was so damned contrite. He ended up giving me a pretty big discount on the room (which I certainly did not ask for or expect), and then when I asked him if the hostel had any beer, he disappeared and came back with a bottle of red wine for me, which he would not let me pay for. We did a toast together with his very beautiful girlfriend and then they left me alone with my wine. Holy hell, I'd forgotten how NICE Italians are!! (This hostel, btw, could not be more basic, with no kitchen and no common area, but I so did not care -- with my discount it was one of the better deals of the trip, and wine will go a long way towards getting me to forgive.) I sat outside and read Watership Down and ended the night on a very good note indeed.
The next day, I walked into town (Pisa is pretty small), and began to look for my first meal in Italy. This was an auspicious moment. I walked around for a fair bit before selecting a particular sidewalk cafe, and ordered "Farfalle al Salmone", which is a fancy name for pasta with salmon sauce. I'd had this dish in Rome and had been particularly impressed with it -- flavorful without being too fishy, chunks of real salmon in an olive oil base. Yeah, that is not what I got this time I'm afraid. The sauce was bright coral pink without even the barest hint of actual salmon meat; it had obviously come from a jar. It was salty but mostly just terrifically unspecial. And the beer was expensive. I was disappointed but the sad fact is that every time you look forward to something, you do run the risk of being woefully let down. There will be other meals in Italy.
I walked over and got my fill (and my camera's fill) of the famous Leaning Tower and the surrounding piazza. The whole scene really is quite beautiful, if utterly choked with 364,565,553 tourists all doing the exact same goddam picture pose in which they pretend to be holding up the tower.
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| Found out it started leaning while they were still building it. |
It is a mighty 15 euros to go to the top of the tower, which (obvs) I did not do. I did pay 2 euros to go into the Basilica, because I remembered how beautiful Roman churches were. It wasn't as pretty as a Roman church, but it didn't let me down either.
I walked around some more, got an ice cream. But maybe it was jet lag (from my super tiny flight) or whatever, but I was just suddenly really freaking tired. I'd seen all of Pisa I really wanted to (read: the tower). So I ended up just walking back and chilling outside of my hostel, updating this damn blog thing that I always seem to be woefully behind on, and reading more of my Bunny Book. And that was Pisa.
Genova: Italian Sketchy-Town
Yep, one more day of backpacks, trains, buses, inadequate directions. I got the bus from the station to my Genova (Genoa?) hostel just fine, but I wish these guys would be better about including how long said bus rides are expected to take, and also to be even slightly accurate about that estimate.
I was staying in another youth hostel, this one even more bare-bones college dorm than before. When Eve skyped with me in the common area she said it looked like a high school cafeteria. She wasn't wrong. It was clean at least, and they had a microwave if not a full kitchen, but fuck if this hostel wasn't hellagone from anything. Not a shop, restaurant, or market within walking distance. I guess that might have something to do with the long bus ride. I really wanted to just grab a quick dinner at a market and have an early night, but that got quashed by the lack of kitchen and also lack of market.
So I took the bus into town and got off at the stop the hostel's reception had recommended for finding dinner. And proceeded to walk around for... close to an hour. :( Lots of cafes, but I wanted a proper restaurant and not another freaking pre-made sandwich. Found one place out of my price range... I took an abrupt turn down an alley because sometimes that is the best way to find out-of-the-way restaurant gems, but this time instead of a restaurant gem I found Genova Sketchy Town. It was not cool. Lots of unsavory-looking gentlemen leaning against tawdry shop doorfronts and leering. Groups of guys clustered around trash cans. Deserted, grafittied buildings. I beat it out of there.
And made a beeline straight for the expensive restaurant, because I had straight-out had enough. Plus I remembered that with my travel day, I hadn't really spent much money that day yet at all, so maybe could even afford a meal here without going over budget. The restaurant was instantly great. I ordered a caprese salad, penne bolognese, and a half-litre of red wine. And damn if it was not delicious. Probably one of the most stereotypically standard Italian meals one can think of, but who cares? I took my time, wrote in my journal, then went for broke and ordered lemon sorbet for dessert. I never get dessert. It came in a champagne glass. When I finally asked for the check my waitress brought me a double-shot of limoncello on the house. Worth the splurge. 100%
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| Limoncello, lemon sorbet, water, wine, and Pangolin. |
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| Forbidden camera shot |
And then I kind of just picked up a market dinner downtown (where there was still a market), and headed home to the hostel in the mid-afternoon. I didn't see a ton of Genova, but what I had seen had not exactly rocked my socks, and the weather was not the best. Highlight of the day was certainly the Palazzo Spinola, and I'm glad I did that. But I got in to the hostel maybe 4:00, settled in with my kindle, and watched the skies open up over Genova. I was pretty damn happy I'd made the decision to come home early. As it turns out I would have more than enough rain in my future.
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| View of rainy Genova at twilight from my hostel room's window |
In Wet Verona:
Here's a bit of learned travel wisdom for you: not all Italian towns or even cities have hostels. Siena doesn't, which is why I ended up staying in Florence instead. Bologna has just one, way outside of town and so poorly rated that I refused to stay there and so did not see Bologna. Verona doesn't have any hostels either, but through some dogged internet searching I was able to find a guesthouse/apartment deal for pretty reasonable. (I mean, it was still more than I'd pay for a hostel, but not totally off the chain.) Normally my solo traveler self is denied the luxury of guesthouses and B&Bs since they want me to pay for both beds in a room despite only sleeping in one. But this guesthouse had set up a hostel situation in its two rooms, which meant I would have a roommate. Only one? We're getting fancy now.
I found the apartment with little trouble... after asking for advice on where to buy a bus ticket (on the bus), asking how to use the machine (push the red button [you are never supposed to push the red button!!]), and finally asking my driver to point out my stop. For reals, sometimes the secret to successful solo traveler is just the willingness to ask for whatever help you need until you get it... and then just keep on asking.
Oh yeah, I forgot. It was pouring rain. Thus far on my trip it had not actually rained on me during a travel day. Finally got to pull out the REI backback rain shield, which an old Italian woman just thought was the best thing as we waited for the bus together.
I found the apartment. Owner buzzed me in. Holy crap. This apartment was beautiful. Huge, with a big lovely living room. Lots of light. My room had two twin beds, one absent roommate, and legit even a clothes bar with hangers. When was the last time I had a hanger? I think maybe it was Dijon?? Big kitchen, although I found out guests weren't allowed to use the stove or oven, just the sink or microwave. What do you have against guests boiling their own pasta, Italy?
I went to a nearby market and got the standard bread, cheese, sausage, fruit, yogurt, etc., along with a few eggs I figured I could cook in the microwave. Oh, and some prosecco and orange juice for mimosas. :) Came home and the owner said goodbye for the night and left. The other two guests in the place either went out and/or went to bed early. I had this whole place to myself!!! :D
Made an excellent quiet supper and then settled in the living room's easy chair with my book. It was just awesome to be able to sit in this clear, bright comfy space and know I was not going to be bothered until the next morning.
The next morning, my room mate and the apt.'s other guest checked out before I even woke up. The owner had told me she wouldn't be in until late afternoon. Once again I had this gorgeous place all to myself! I made a huge excellent breakfast -- complete with mimosa with the last of last night's prosecco -- and took a damn long time in slowly working through it. Wrote in my journal. Listened to the iPhone. Did I mention it was still raining outside? I was in no hurry.
It was the hardest thing to drag myself out of that apartment and into my rain jacket. I wanted to stay in, comfy and alone and wrapped in blankets, for the entirety of this dreary chilly day. But this was also my only day in Verona, and I didn't want to totally waste it. Finally got myself out in the early afternoon.
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| Pretty, wet Verona |
After the library unsuccess, I just kind of walked at random and soon found Juliet's House. You know, from the play.
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| Touching the statue's right boob is good luck, which is what that tourist is doing in the background. |
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| How... romantic. |
After Juliet's unhygienic courtyard, I ended up having very much a Church Day in Verona. Saw a fair few of them, all quite old and all quite beautiful.
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| Beautiful ceiling inside Sant'Anastasia |
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| Verona Cathedral, with a mass going on. It was Sunday. |
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| San Fermo |
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| Drenched Verona Piazza |
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| Roman arena, in the Piazza del Bra |
Soon after I set out to try and find this damn church, it began to pour. I kept walking. And maybe my quickened pace is what sent my tendons off, but soon I was in a world of uncomfortableness again, and I didn't want to stop in the rain even to take advil. This church is hellagone from the rest of Verona, possibly in another continent all together. I almost turned back about three times, but my stubbornness pushed me on, and even as I got wetter and wetter I was ever more determined that this trip would not turn out to be worthless.
After about five years, I found it. Hooray.
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| San Zeno |
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| Frescoes |
Collapsed on "my" easy chair with a beer and read/dozed for two hours until it was time for dinner. Being Sunday, natch all the little trattorias nearby were closed, so I had to go back over the bridge, about a ten-minute walk in more rain that definitely had not gotten any less wet. On the way, the wind destroyed my umbrella.
I was able to find a reasonable restaurant with only a little difficulty, and had a pepperoni pizza and glass of red. And then home again for a hot shower and more delicious quiet time.
I really did like Verona, and wished I had an extra day there. One that wasn't quite so... damp. Back again someday, maybe?
Another day in the life. I strapped Sisyphus back on and turned my sights to Venezia. Halloween in the City of Masks!
So the "Juliet's house" is just 100% tourist trap? I had wondered if there might have been some small bit of history (Maybe there really were a family of Montagues or Capulets, and this was a house then owned) and they dressed it up, or if they made the whole thing up entirely.
ReplyDeleteAlso, the tradition of rubbing Juliet's boob is a bit disturbing on account of her being 13.
I haven't done a world of research, but I found a Verona tourist site that claimed the play was based on a true story and that the names of the two families were taken from history. I dunno. I'm inclined to take this info with a lot of salt since it specifically a site to try and entice tourists to come to Verona. The house IS on Via Capello, which isn't much of a far cry from Capulet I guess, if you are reaching.
DeleteBut the house itself -- yeah. Definitely 100% tourist trap!
I thought the boob thing was weird myself! :)
" ..and wine will go a long way towards getting me to forgive.)"
ReplyDeleteGood one. My mother swears that she and my father bought a lot in one of those resort developments just because the developers gave her a bottle of wine. And that years later, they bought a house because the refrigerator had an ice maker.
Can you pleeeaassee tell me where you stayed in verona, im desperate to find somewhere like that by wednesday ? X
ReplyDeleteHi! I stayed at Residenza Muropadri, and found them through hostels.com. They were very nice and the place was excellent. Good luck!
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