Italy

About a month ago I went to Italy for a week and--true to form--documented about half of the trip and then failed to post anything about it. I feel guilty for this.

To make up for my slackness, I am going to post three days worth of personal journal entries about the experience, complete with photos. Enjoy.


Day 1

We left early this morning around 8 am armed with a dysfunctional GPS system and printed out directions from the internet. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that jumping in the car and driving to Italy is an option, but according to Michelin, it is. We left Châtel-de-Neuvre and enjoyed the countryside as it slowly became more mountainous. I counted about 3000 cows, went through four of the cd’s that I burned the day before and started to get restless.

Leaving Chatel-de-Neuvre

We decided to stop for a few hours in Annecy, which has been called “the Venice of France.” As with most things in my life that I build up, the first moments were disappointing. It was raining, we couldn’t find the center of town, I was cold, and the complaint list goes on. But all in about ten minutes, the sun peaked out and we found ourselves in central Annecy, which is absolutely charming. The contrast of water and mountains will always awe me. Add streets of open-air markets, cafés, and shops; I’m sold. We walked around for a bit, stopped for a pick-me-up and then took an hour-long boat ride along the Lac d’Annecy. 

Annecy, France

We reluctantly decided to get back in the car and make some progress towards our final destination. I didn’t think that anything could be more beautiful than Annecy, but as we continued to drive, the mountains got larger and more impressive, each highway tunnel shooting us out upon a more beautiful view. We saw Le Mont Blanc, the highest point in Europe, reaching 4,810 meters. Of course I couldn’t capture its beauty with my beat-up point and shoot camera, but I surely tried.

Not a bad view from the highway!

After driving about two more hours, we stopped at a hotel along the highway shortly after crossing the border into Italy. Again, not a glamorous first impression, but I am grateful for a place to sleep.

I never thought that it was possible for me to be more awkward than I am in France, but lo and behold, I was mistaken. Only a few hours in Italy and I have managed to be as out of place and American as possible. I was so excited at the prospect of spending the first half of my spring break in Florence that I completely forgot that they speak a different language—one that I am completely ignorant of. Note to self—always learn basic vocabulary before entering foreign countries.

Nevertheless, we managed to order two pieces of pizza and a Sprite, book a hotel room (okay we spoke in French for that part), and find an ATM. Surprisingly, I can make sense of Italian when I see it written, but I can’t understand a word of it spoken. The only thing I learned today was that Italian men always sound like they are angry or about to start crying. Need to study. Need to find legitimate pizza first thing tomorrow. Buona notte.

Day 2

Last I left off, we had arrived in Italy but just barely. When morning came, I awoke atop an ultra-firm hotel mattress and it took a few minutes to orient myself. After a quick and complimentary breakfast, we checked out and loaded up our unlocked car and started to drive. The GPS hadn’t located us yet, but we still had faith, and decided to hit the road. An hour later and the GPS was still sleeping. At this point, we had gone completely off course from our printed out directions, and we were forced to make a series of guesses that turned out to be right.

At this point, all I knew of Italy was bridges, tunnels, mountains and suicidal drivers. We had no idea where we were going; we simply decided to follow signs that led south, since Florence is in the south. I honestly have no idea how we found our way.

Hungry again with very few options, we stopped at an “Autogrill” (which sounds incredibly unappetizing) and ate sandwiches. Not bad for side of the road food—but still not the Italian food I was looking for.

Fast forward through an hour more of “Are you sure this is the right road?” “Let’s stop and ask for directions…” and “TURN AROUND!” we arrived at the Il Poggetto Campsite, which turned out to be quite small but welcoming. We were greeted in English and shown to our “bungalow.” Now I’d like to transition into a series of photos that depicts my expectations versus reality.

What I imagined our bungalow would look like:

What it actually looked like:

What I imagined I’d look like in Italy:

What I actually looked like:

As you can see, we truly got what we paid for—the bare necessities, minimum space, and no heat! We made the most of it with pasta and a bottle of Chianti. After dinner I had just enough energy to collapse into bed and sleep.

Day 3

We really only saw a few things today for two reasons. Number one, I failed to wake up on time. Number two, Damien and I both travel exactly the same: slowly and without purpose. I am grateful to be traveling with someone like this because I can roam about exactly as I please without feeling guilty. Domineering travel buddies make me feel so useless and guilty.

Anyways, I feel satisfied by what we saw and accomplished today; here are the highlights:

1. We avoided using the car—too much driving—and found a bus that goes from the campsite to Florence center for only 3 euro! And on top of that, the bus driver blasted oldies and whistled the entire time.

2. First encounter with other Americans. I pretended to be French and I think it actually worked.

3. We ate lunch—bruschette margarita—and quickly toured the Basilica di San Lorenzo and the gardens of the cloister.

San Lorenzo

4. Duomo Santa Maria del Fiore—we spent a lot of time observing the outside, it is remarkable…too enormous to fit in a picture, and so intricate. We moved inside and decided to take a guided tour which would allow us to see the terrace for 15 euro. Our guide was American and as nice as possible, but annoying. The type who said “So they dedicated this part to Dante, which I think is pretty dumb, but whatever.” I was hoping for an old dusty Italian man with a thick accent and endless knowledge of Florence. But—what I did get was an amazing panoramic view of the city.

After fighting to go up and down the dome, we took a break for some gelato at the Caffé Duomo —pistachio for me and red berry for Damien. It tasted even better than it looks. After, we strolled around aimlessly for a few hours. I bought a bottle of balsamic vinegar aged for 8 years and some new mascara.

We almost missed the bus back to the campsite, but luckily—through a series of embarrassing moments—we found and boarded the big blue bus back to the bungalow. A quick dinner and a freezing shower in the toilet later, I’m finally in bed and ready to call it a night. Hoping that tomorrow will be a bit more organized.

There are a million more things to say and a million more pictures to show but I hope that this captures the highlights. If you're interested in seeing more, email me or check out my Facebook.