Trevi Fountain (Rome, Italy)

A Few More Photos

While in Europe I brought along one disposable camera for every step of my trip. Here's a selection of the photos that came out of my roll of film.

Italian Travels

After a crazy, jam-packed journey to Rome, I was rather tired. I had only a day, and in that time I cannot claim to have seen very much. It was ninety-five degrees in the city, preventing me from walking around as perhaps I should have.

In the afternoon I walked to the Trevi Fountain and day-dreamed about the Lizzie McGuire Movie.

*It should also be noted that for the entirety of my time in Rome I listened to three songs. They were:

An Evening in Roma- Dean Martin

Arrivederci Roma- Dean Martin

Wonderful World- Sam Cooke

That evening I decided to take an adventure to one of the pizza places in the city. I looked up some food blogs and was on my way. I took the Metro to a new part of town, where I found myself walking around for a quite a while. I couldn’t seem to find the place I was looking for. Tired and slightly disappointed, I stepped into a hip looking bar/restaurant. I didn’t know the find I had made until the host said the words “happy hour.” There was a ten euro charge for the drink of my choice. But wait! It gave me access to the entire buffet. Yeah das right, turn around and there’s a whole spread on the bar. 

There’s lasagna, pizza, garlic bread, pesto and noodles, vegetables, desserts. It was a dream.

I ordered a mango mojito, which ended up being the strongest drink I’ve had on the program. It was delicious and got me glowing all the more.

By the time I walked back to the Metro, the sun was setting. Knowing that my voyage to Vernazza would start all too soon the next day, I decided to drop by the Collosseum.

It was lovely. I circled around for quite a while, snapping pictures and people watching. The deepening blue of the sky created a beautiful contrast with the orange glow of the lights in the Colosseum.

After my filling meal, and enjoyable walk, I returned to my B&B feeling triumphant. I checked out the next morning and took a train to the west coast of Italy, to Cinque Terre.

I took a train to La Spezia, where I found the local trains that run to the five different towns in Cinque Terre. I stepped off at Vernazza that evening, slightly astounded that all went to plan.

There I waited for my friend, Hallie and her parents, Emily and Peter, to arrive. I ate dinner on the main street of Vernazza. It was a prosciutto, mozzarella, pesto, and tomato sandwich on focaccia. I never had such good prosciutto before in my life

 

For dinner we ate right on the water at a very popular restaurant. We were one of the last ones to be served and one of the last ones to leave the restaurant. After the check was signed and we were preparing to leave, we observed a pair of young guys drinking this lemon liquor we saw in town. Curious what it was, we asked our waiter. He proceeded to bring us all shot glasses, along with the owner of the establishment. He insisted we all try it.

Then the fam arrives

I enjoyed my time in Italy, but it was such a relief to see such close friends arrive. Peter, Emily, and Hallie centered my trip so much. We ate pizza and drank wine that evening. I got to hear more about Hallie’s time in France, and told more than a few stories from my time in Europe.

The next morning we ate breakfast outside our apartment. Before the day got too far ahead of us, we set out for a hike from our town, Vernazza, to the neighboring town of Montirosso.

The walk was a little under two hours and truly breathtaking. The water in Cinque Terre is all different shades of blue, with many rolling hills and vineyards mixed in.

After our hike, we were pretty tired. Those hills were no joke, and we all know that fitness isn’t exactly my game. We settled into a restaurant in Montirosso for lunch. There I ate my first version of Italian spaghetti.

With full bellies and a deep desire to cool down, we found a comfortable spot on the beach. The water was chilly, and brought a good balance to the heat wave that hit Italy that week. Hallie and I sat on the beach for quite a while, playing two truths and a lie about our programs. We found that she is a much more skilled liar than me. :/

Later that afternoon we took the local train back to Vernazza. THE GELATO. OH. You know the feeling, when you order exactly what you needed to eat in that moment? I had one of those times. It was a fruit and fresh yogurt scoop, along with a scoop of Kit Kat. They blended together so well. And the yogurt flavors of Italy really are their own league. It’s all very unprocessed, which brings a sourness to the yogurt that I really enjoy.

After a late afternoon snack, Emily and Peter headed into town for some ‘sploring. Hallie and I walked to the water of Vernazza, which is perfect for deep water swimming. You can also see directly down into the water, even though you can never touch the bottom. We sat out in the sun, floated in the water, and watched young people from town have a good time.

This is also when I became aware of the small cliff diving that people do in Vernazza. It’s nothing too extreme, but definitely clocks in as being more than your average high-dive. To get on the cliff, you have to jump into the water from the elevated concrete slab most people hang out on. You then swim across the water, climb onto the cliff and crawl up its side. From the top you can jump. Of course, it looks much higher from up there.

We watched lots of people do this before I decided to try it out. The feeling was phenomenal. The swim across, coupled with the coolness of the water, the climb, the jump itself…it’s a charge of adrenaline. The first time I didn’t linger at the top before jumping in. That decision was a good one. It’s much easier to look down into the water from that height when you’ve already made the leap once.

So...that’s how the fam got to doing shots together our last night in Vernazza. It tasted very sweet and was a hilarious cap to the dinner. Before heading back, we returned to the water’s edge for some stargazing. The moon was almost full, and reflected in the calm waters perfectly.

We also got to Florence, and perhaps I'll write more about that in the coming days. But for now, I must go to bed. I got back yesterday evening, and I'm still recovering from jet lag.

The Craziest Day of the Trip

It all started with a 17-hour train itinerary to Rome and three different trains. Don’t know what station I started in? Don’t worry, neither did I. Turns out I went to the wrong station in Budapest. My friend, Porter, was departing around the same time from the hotel, so we had a heartfelt goodbye on the Metro before heading to our respective train stations. I watched him head to Keleti, the central train station in Budapest. I showed up to the really run-down, vacant train station on the outskirts of Budapest, called Kelenfold. It looks like a wasteland from an old Western. So…an hour before my train, I AM AT THE WRONG STATION. I’m supposed to be at Keleti. Turns out I never gave my ticket the good once-over it deserved.  I ask for directions, it’ll take me forty minutes to get there by Metro. Now’s probably a good time to inform you, I have over fifty pounds of crap in my suitcase, and it’s not easy going up and down stairs.

I run to the Metro, get to the right station, with more time than I expected. I had around forty minutes.

With the last of my Hungarian currency, I bought a bottle of water from a kiosk. I had spare money, but just fell short of my favorite chocolate bar. I told the man behind the counter, and he just smiled. Forty forint was no big deal. I walked away with some water and chocolate, along with one last interaction with the kind people of Hungary.

So I board the train. This one’s going to Vienna, which is about two hours away. That’s when I’ll get on the second train that heads to Bologna. Before I’ve left the station, who do I bump into? PORTER. He was taking the train all the way to Munich. After laughing a couple minutes, we sat in seats that weren’t ours, took pictures of the beautiful landscape, and talked about the Civil Rights Movement. It was a great, less solitary start to my voyage.

We say a second round of goodbyes a couple hours later, and I get into Vienna. I have over one hour between trains, which is enough to arrange the last leg of my trip to Rome.

*Although I have a pass that allows me to travel all over Europe, some trains require reservations, which is what I was missing for Rome. I had booked the other two parts of my journey in Croatia, but didn’t know I would be going to Rome when I did so.

I had looked up the trains beforehand, and knew my transfer was gonna be awful. I had reserved the ticket to Bologna, meaning I would get off the train at 4:30 am. Then, I’d wait two hours to board a different train that would take me to Rome around 9 in the morning.

Here’s where this gets interesting: I reserved a seat on a train already headed to Rome. I had no idea, but quickly realized once I got to Vienna. Problem was, I didn’t reserve it all the way, meaning that I could get kicked off the train if I was caught with a reservation after Bologna. The people at the ticket office couldn’t reserve me a seat from Bologna to Rome on the same train, it was too close to the train’s departure.  COOL. So I have to get off at 4 am, wait in a station for two hours, to get on a train that was going in the same exact direction as the one I got off of? Looks like it. I made the reservation for the train leaving at six, bracing myself for a bleary-eyed journey to Rome.

Vienna to Bologna was by far the longest leg. I left at 7pm on Saturday night. Since we had assigned seats, I sat in a Harry Potter-esque train car. That is, if you’re sitting in a room full of strangers, worrying about your stuff getting stolen, without any potential of a candy trolley rolling by.

The other person in my train car was this young man. We started making small talk, and he asked where I was from. I told him the US. This was very exciting, Americans are so much better than Europeans. Soon he was telling me how he’s ready to settle down, how he wants to have kids, and would like to marry an American woman. But not a “woman”, he stipulated. More a young girl, like myself. He then stated that the most important thing a man can do for a woman is make lots of money, something he’s very good at.

I laughed a little, emphasized that I was a student and in no way READY FOR MARRIAGE. He started asking me about my travel itinerary, did I have Facebook, what was my phone number?

I gave him a fake email and tried to switch gears. What does he do for living? Well, if I were to come to his house in Vienna or Italy I would, “see the way he lived.”

COOL. Okay. So this man, who I’m definitely not assuming was a drug dealer, proposed to me and then persisted about ways in which we could stay in contact. I was out. I waited for him to go to the bathroom and dipped to a nearby train car, with another man named Martin.

At this point, I’ve done some quality reflection on the fact that if I didn’t make it to Rome, NO ONE WOULD KNOW WHERE I WAS. It would be a mystery ‘till the end of time.

The best way to relax after that strange encounter was to start chatting with Martin. He was reading Game of Thrones, and we reflected on the poor treatment of women in the series. It was very nice, and by the time Martin left around 11, I was much more comfortable.

It was around this time that I decided I just couldn’t transfer trains at four in the morning. If I did, I wouldn’t sleep at all, and Rome would be no fun.  So this meant I needed to make reservations, or hide from the conductor between Bologna and Rome.

This also is while I’m sleeping, or sprawled out, looking tough to disturb among all the people milling about trying to find a car to get into. If you have two seats to yourself in the car, you can stretch them out and sleep (sort of) in contorted positions.

Around 12 or 1, a man who slightly resembled Arthur Weasley, entered the car. He hopped around me, a difficult project considering I was sleeping in between the door and the open window seats. I got a few hours of sleep in, before waking to realize I still needed to make arrangements with the conductor.

At three in the morning I fished through my backpack, looking for my train pass, previous reservations (ie Vienna to Bologna), and my credit card to pay for the last leg. It was at this time, that I couldn’t find my credit card. I start to panic, If I don’t have my credit card, I have NO MONEY to get anywhere, and I’m stranded in Rome. If someone lifted it, that would be curious considering my laptop, passport, and train pass are all still inside. I begin to review the night in my mind, getting exceedingly concerned with my situation.

NBD it was in my backpack the whole time, but it was at the very bottom, leaving me plenty of time to freak-out about my traveling prospects and impending doom.

So then I find the conductor and attendants. I explain my situation. The female attendant who translates to the group is rather irritable and talks with the group for a while about what is to be done with my trip. Finally the conductor sitting closest to me, with a bushy mustache and easy-going smile, says “no problem, no problem.” Everyone nods and agrees that it’s not a big deal. The conductor says in Italian “tranquila, tranquila.”

I return to my room and sleep for a handful more hours before the sun starts coming up. Nothing much else happens before I get into Rome.

But remember that fifty pounds of stuff I’m lugging around with me? Rome has a lot of stairs. And it’s ninety degrees out today, and I was dehydrated before I got off the train. So I manage to get through the Metro, squeezing onto the most packed Subway I have ever been on. Everyone is sweating, bumping into each other, grumbling about my enormous suitcase.

I finally get off to find that my station has about six exits. I wrote some cryptic notes in my journal about how to make it to my hotel, but it becomes clear that won’t cut it.

More stairs, my hands are developing blisters, I’m a little dizzy from the heat.

I start asking people, walking up these random streets looking for my B&B. I know I’m on the right street, but the numbers skip over the address I’m looking for.

That’s when I hear a voice from across the street. “Mollie? Mollie?” Laura, the woman who runs my B&B, waved me over from a terrace in the building across the street. It was impossibly good fortune for such a crazy 24 hours.

I’ve never been happier to see a glass of water and a bed before. I’m resting now, but watch out Colosseum. I’m coming for ya.

Pictures in Croatia

Sorry friends! It’s been a while since the last update, and I’ve already made it to and from Zagreb, Croatia. While my research group was there we learned about reconciliation efforts and ethnic tension in the country. I’ll post some interesting stories in a little while, but for now enjoy some travel pics. 

Zagreb's main theatre

A church right by Croatian Parliament 

A part of the Cathedral was being remodeled while we were there!

Many of my pictures are actually from outside of Zagreb, at Plitvice Lakes. This is one of Croatia’s most treasured national parks.