Buongiorno,
Our Italian adventure continues, and with it massive volumes of pizza, pasta, gelato and wine. I’m hoping by the time we get home the Australian fashion industry has embraced elastic as the primary mechanism for holding up work wear. When we get home, wearing my suits will look like I’m attempting a chubby interpretation of cat woman (yes I wear a black mask with car ears to work).
When we last left you we had just finished up in Florence, and we were heading off to Venice. Well Venice was everything that you would expect; the quintessential Italian city with beautiful architecture dressed in wrought iron, all compressed tightly onto irregular wedges of land. Between the wedges of land flows a complex network of canals, with random crossings provided by quaint marble bridges.
We dropped our bags and went wandering the town (ie getting lost). The first little bridge we came to had a young woman sitting under it wearing a beautiful dress and singing opera. Her voice was amazing; so much so that we decided to see an Opera that night (guess I must still be in the phase of trying to convince Krys I’m a sensitive, cultured kind of guy). The opera was great, but I’m not sure I was dressed appropriately for the occasion. I could feel the locals look at Krys and think ‘that pretty girl could do better than the scruffy man who seems allergic to either a razor or an iron’.
While in Venice we went to San Marco square and the basilica. We had been warned that the dress codes for ‘modest attire’ are strictly enforced at this church. So the decision on what to wear was a tough one given we’d heard this warning before only to see people wearing outfits that would make Christina Aguilera blush wander straight in. Plus it was damn hot – like 35 degs hot. So I went with the long shorts (I must stress they are not 3/4 pants – I would not break my own travel rules) and Krys went with a pretty sundress. After waiting in the sun for quite a while we finally made it to the entrance only to see a sign depicting what was and wasn’t acceptable. The ‘not acceptable’ was basically a perfect visual representation of what Krys was currently wearing. The solution was for the church to sell large strips of red paper cloth for the ‘immodest dresser’ to drape and tie around themselves. By the time they were done with Krys it looked like she had walked into a Pizza Hut and been ambushed by an aggressive cluster of table cloths.
Then of course it was onto the most touristy of Venecian activities; a gondola ride through the canals. It was a beautiful night; sitting in a gondola drifting through the canals drinking wine and passing under low marble bridges. Krys again was in a cute dress showing only a modest amount of cleavage. Obviously ‘modest’ became ‘a lot more than modest’ if you happened to be standing on a bridge as our gondola passed underneath. Needless to say the Venecian locals took particular and lengthy interest in our gondola ride whenever we passed underneath them. It seems the Italians do not really go for subtlety when faced with the chance to look down the top of a pretty lady.
The beauty of Venice even flows all the way down to the quality of their beggars. We were accosted one afternoon by a guy begging for money. He was holding a little cup, hobbling slightly with a walking crutch and had on his best sad face while jiggling the cup in our face. Problem was he was dressed in a brand new funky jeans, what looked like a designer top and was using a top of the line walking crutch for support. I did contemplate giving him money but only if I got his funky jeans in return. And I’m not surprised that his begging technique didn’t involve one of those hand written signs that normally accompany the begging. Can’t imagine a sign saying ‘need cash to buy white loafers for an upcoming trip to Ibiza’ would really pull at potential donor heart strings.
Then it was off to Rome. Again the transport provided some interesting moments for us. It seems in Europe I am popular with small dogs and old ladies. So in following the ‘do one thing a day that would make your mum happy’ rule I had helped an old lady with a bag that was bigger than she was onto the airport bus. This paid off big time through the lady regaling Krys with a firm opinion of how much of a good man I was, and how lucky she was. It was an effort for Krys to stop her eyes rolling all the way to the back of her head. My subsequent child-like behaviour in the check-in line had Krys pulling her stern face and saying ‘yeah, I’m heaps lucky aren’t I’.
Then the flight with the most modern of airline fleets with Air Italia (sarcasm intended). Being Air Italia I’m not sure if their fleet is equipped with aero bridge equipment yet (I think it was only a 1970 invention) so it was a bus across the tarmac. Well on this bus we got hit in the face by a smell that could best be described as like being slapped with a wet bag containing vomit, urine and rotting fish heads. It was from a man who obviously had his last shower to celebrate this plane rolling off the production line. So it was a relief to get off the bus – that relief turned to sheer horror as we made it to our flight seats to find our man sitting next to us.
It truly was horrible. Not just the smell but the intensity – it felt like it was a living thing that had wrapped itself around our heads. Krys was waving her in flight safety card wildly to fan herself some clear air (when really on Air Italia it’s the one place you should probably read the card). But the cause was hopeless – it was like trying to hold back the ocean tide using a hair dryer. So as soon as the chance arose, we climbed over Mr Smelly and ran to some vacant seats at the back of the plane. The nod and little giggle from the airline staff when they saw our move confirmed that this was a smell above anything that could be imagined.
So finally, we arrived in Rome. I’m out of words to describe some of these cities (I have a limited vocabulary outside of profanity), and my blackberry doesn’t have a thesaurus so I’ll just say again that it is incredible. So much history and culture nestled neatly (for Italy) within a modern and functional city. The sights here are amazing; the things you only see normally in books and movies. So off we set to see what we could.
We thought that on the first night we’d ‘avoid the crowds’ and go for a late night stroll to see Piazza Navona and Trevi Fountain which were beautiful. Was pretty far from ‘avoiding the crowds’ though; still 100’s of people milling about at 11pm at night. The city becomes completely swamped by tourists at this time. Could not swing a cat without hitting someone sporting a bum bag, sun burn and a camera with a 10ft lens.
While in Rome we got through the usual sights; the Colosseum, Roman Forum, the Spanish Steps and the Vatican. An incredible amount of history jammed right in the heart of Rome. But trying to see it all in the Roman heat was bordering on brutal. By the end of the time in Rome I was actually seeking out a Segway as a reasonable method of transportation for getting around. Sadly it seems Segway’s have weight limits. But to help keep us going, we packaged our Sistine Chapel visit with a free guided tour by tacking into a family that was reading every detail from their guide book. It even came with such comedy gems as ‘you will now pass through a corridor with a carpark on your left – hey is that the Pope’s Fiat?’. That’s up there with Seinfeld’s “Why do they call it Ovaltine? The tin is round. The cup is round. Why don’t they call it Roundtine?” in terms of pure comedy gold……
One of the main issues with Rome – road crossing. There are pedestrian crossings at regular intervals but they are optional for drivers to obey. So coming to a busy road you are faced with the apparent ‘safety zone’ of the crossing completely awash with traffic that will not slow for a second. The way to cross is to push out into the traffic and basically try to demand the cars to stop. We found a neat solution; we would wait for a local to push out and part the vehicle sea, and we would tail behind them to safety. The interesting thing in the crossing is who the most aggressive drivers are. While the younger men will stop (I think pushing Krys out into the traffic first helps if we are trying to cross alone) it is the middle age ladies who will run you down at 80kms/h rather than be 2mins late for their nightly bingo fix.
Rome is also a place where you need to be on your toes and we found this out on leaving. We were half way through our train ticket selection at the automated booth when a nice local came up and provided assistance. He was a whizz on the machine, finalising our ticket selections and spending a sum total of 30 seconds with us. When his unsolicited assistance was complete he then demanded 5 euro. At his E600 per hour charge out rate, it seems his decision to turn his back on law school and instead hunt for tourists to assist with train station tickets was a correct one.
Our Italian adventure took a bit of a turn today though; let’s just say that there are two travellers and only one back pack – but Krys looks great in my old gym shorts and appears to be relishing rebuilding her clothes and make-up supplies. Lesson is never turn your back in Napoli. Right now there is probably a dodgy African roaming the streets in a pretty sun dress and tan high heels. I hope he falls, breaks his ankle and knocks out the 3 teeth he has left. Anyway more on that next time. It has been one hell of a day – not all bad (parts of it have been pretty funny actually) but right now we need some alcohol and some sleep.
Ciao
Trent, Krystal and one back-pack
smallthoughts 