A Story of a Frightened Heart, An Angel, and a Dream Accomplished.

Saul walked me to the train station the on the night of Halloween. I was nervous, sweating and slightly shaking. I didn't know why, but I was dreading going to Napoli. I heard so many stories about how dangerous Naples was, especially for someone traveling alone. Saul was really concerned about me arriving in Napoli after dark, and told me, seriously, to waste no time and run from the metro to my hostel. I don't usually get nervous about things. But this time, I was. The feeling was dreading... but being impulsive and stubborn by nature, I ignored it. I boarded the train and Saul waited outside to see me off. But, there was a problem with the train. Someone had broken a window so the train was delayed by 40 minutes. My nervousness was increasing, and I began to consider staying one more night in Rome. But before I could finalize on my decision, the train was ready to leave. So, I walked on the train, found a seat, and looked out the window to Saul until I could not see him anymore.
When I arrived in Napoli, I walked off the train, trying to be one hundred percent aware of everything around me. I had a slip of paper that had directions to my hostel, and it made me nervous because the directions included taking an underground metro, changing to a different line, then heading aboveground to a piazza and wandering some cobblestone alleys in order to get there. When I arrived to the metro, instantly men were hooting and calling after me. I was absolutely frightened, but determined not to show it. I held my head up high and walked boldly and briskly past them, ignoring their calls. When I got on the metro, another man came up to me. He had dreadlocks and a bandanna, dressed in grunge clothes. I made the so called mistake of making eye contact with him, and he immediately started talking. He didn't ask much about me, just said he just got back from a music convention in Rome. He gave me his business card and said that he was a musician. I took the card, and he noticed my directions. He grabbed the paper and read that I was switching metro stops and offered to take me to the second metro stop, since he was doing the same. I reluctantly agreed. He was really nice though, but extremely difficult to understand. My hearing aids were completely dead by then, and so I had given up on wearing them...  meaning I was relying completely on reading lips. We got on the second metro, and he showed me which stop to get off, and kept on going to his destination. I was relieved that he was just a kind stranger and not a trafficker or a mugger!

I ascended the steps from the underground to aboveground. When I arrived to the top, I was standing on a sidewalk with a single lampost glowing a soft orange above me. There was a roundabout in front of me and a bunch of shops surrounding me. I had no idea where I was. I searched for a street name, but there were no signs in sight. I started to feel frightened, until I spotted an old lady who was probably in her seventies, walking down the street. It was almost midnight and the streets were bare. I wondered what an old lady was doing there all alone at this time of the night. Shyly, I walked up to her and pointed to my paper and asked if she knew where the San Rosa piazza was. She grinned broadly and exclaimed an, "AH!" She started to speak to me in rapid Italian, then switched to very broken English while pointing to the paper, "Yes, yes. I live. Come." She grabbed my hand and led me down the street. We crossed the street and came across a crumbling church, with red paint peeling off the walls. There was an alleyway that we turned into, and took another turn, and another, where we finally arrived at an iron gate. Through the gate, you could see a faint sign that had "San Rosa Youth Hostel" painted on it. The old lady said, "Now I go home." I thanked her, "Grazie mille!" She smiled and disappeared around the corner. I stood at the gate in the chilly night and realized without this old lady, I would have never found this hostel. How could I? There were no street names anywhere and the directions were only vague. I couldn't imagine being stuck in Napoli with no place to go, all alone. That old lady, to me, was an angel sent from God... to help me find my way to safety.

When I arrived in my hostel room, I discovered I was sharing the room with 9 other youths. I fell upon my assigned bunk and crashed. The next morning, I awoke early and boarded the train to Pompei. I was so exhausted. My whole body felt like a brick of lead. It was about the 10th day I had been traveling, with very little sleep, hardly any food, and walking around cities for hours. But I was determined to see Pompei. The ancient ruins have always fascinated me when I read them in books and magazines. I wanted to see how the people lived, the well preserved paintings, and to see the grisly remains of those who were killed in the famous Mount Vesivus eruption.

At the ticket desk outside of Pompei, I prepared to pay the 11 euro fee to enter. I didn't have hearing aids in, so I wrote on a piece of paper asking for one ticket, and motioned that I was deaf. The woman at the counter told me I could go in for free. I was really excited cause it meant I could probably get some Napoli pizza, which was supposed to be delicious.

After entering the ruins and looking around for a while, I was completely fascinated with the architecture of the columns and the grid pattern of the streets. Wandering for a few hours, I had stumbled across a stadium, an completely intact monument, and many rooms with amazingly well preserved paintings. The paintings were impressive and fascinating. In my mind, I could recreate the pre-eruption Pompei; her streets bustling with vendors and people dressed in long, white robes and sandals. I could imagine the rooms painted a bold red and black, laced with gold borders, and many walls with frescos decorated upon them. I looked at the remains of those rooms. It was unbelievable that those paintings had survived the disastrous volcanic eruption. The peeling paint was still a vivid red and gold, and the frescos of people living their daily lives were still amazingly detailed.

I stopped by a small restaurant in the center of the city, where I rested my exhausted body and enjoyed a pizza margherita and a bowl full of coffee gelato. After, I walked towards the other side of the city where the bodies were located. The remains were even more grisly in person than in the pictures. The hollowed out shapes of bodies buried under the ashes were filled with cement to make a statue of what the person looked like. It was so interesting. You could see how they died. Some people were laid peacefully and unexpressionless. Others, however, seemed to die torturous and painful deaths. There were statues of men with their mouths open in a silent scream. Their bones stuck out of the cement. Some were laid in the fetal position. There were the remains of a man who was sitting in a corner with his palms pressed together, as if he was praying in his final moments, begging to God that he would not perish.

After I saw the bodies, I continued to wander the city. I came across arches and columns, more painted rooms, and archelogical sites. I was so exhausted and the sun was beginning to go down. There was a path leading to the exit, but as I was heading down that path, I noticed there was a faint path up a hill. It was covered with grass growing over cobblestones. A very faint path, but a path nonetheless. I decided to explore, despite my exhaustion. I climbed the hill and followed the path, passing farms, water fountains, and friendly stray dogs. Finally, I reached the top and realized I could see the entire city of ancient Pompei. Behind the ruins, modern Pompei stood. The view was breathtaking. Behind me was the ocean, with the sunset reflecting off the shimmering waters. Mount Vesivus was towering faintly through the blue-grey haze. I realized that I loved my curiosity and my passion to explore. If I had been blinded by simply focusing on seeing the main points of Pompei and then going home (as many tourists do), I would have never found this path. But, following my natural urge to explore, I was rewarded with a view of Pompei that most of the visitors passing through do not get to see.

I stood there in the sunset, looking over the ghostly shadows of Pompei before turning around to witness the chilling grandeur of the volcano that devastated the once thriving metropolis thousands of years ago. I was aching to my bones, my entire body felt like lead, and my eyes were swollen from sleep deprivation.
Yet, on top of that hill, I had never felt so alive...

Those Who Don't Believe In Magic, Will Never Find It

Walking out of the train station into the city of Rome was kind of a surreal experience for me. It was bustling with people from all over the world. My clothes felt so dirty and grimy that I immediately searched for a laundromat to clean up. When I found one, I walked in and changed into my underarmour and shorts and threw my only pair of jeans, four shirts, and a few pairs of socks in the wash. After washing my clothes and smelling nice and clean, I found my hostel. It was in a huge office building on the second floor. Right by the stairs, there was a door that I had to go through that barely fit the width of me. While approaching the front desk, I was greeted with a "WHO YOU ARE? WHO YOU ARE?" by a troll-like Italian man. I introduced myself and paid for three nights, then was led to my room by his daughter. When I opened the door, I discovered two bunk beds on both sides of the room, with three of those beds occupied by college boys chilling out with their computers, stripped to nothing but their tightie whities. They looked up and their mouths gaped, as well as did mine. Silence befell the room. I realized that I had somehow been booked in the men's dorms and was going to be stuck with those guys for the next three nights.

I had a right to be nervous. The three guys didn't care if they were in their underwear. One of them hopped off the top bunk, gave me a kiss, and introduced himself from Argentina. The guy below was from Argentina as well, and the guy that had the bottom bunk on my side of the room was from Brazil. They all spoke Spanish and very broken English. I placed my stuff on the top bunk and conversed with the naked men before taking a nap. When I woke, the naked guys were still naked. They were picking out clothes to go "party" and asked if I would go with them. I declined and said that I was meeting up with a couple of my friends who live in Rome.

A couple years back, I had a boyfriend who was on a mission in Rome and introduced me to his friends, via Facebook. I had only conversed with them over facebook but never met them in person, until that night. Meeting them was so cool! We met at the Termini and from there, got on the metro and headed to the Colosseo. I knew we were seeing the Colosseum, but when I saw it... I was just in shock. I had just emerged from the underground metro and was expecting to be walking a bit before seeing the famous ancient stadium. Instead, I walked up the steps and nearly fainted. The Colosseum was towering right before my eyes, in all its glory. Being nighttime, the giant glowed with the golden hues of the lights. Just across from the Colosseum, there laid the ruins of Fallen Rome. Broken stones and ancient columns were illuminated by the moonlight, casting ghostly shadows across the ground.

Nicolas and Saul walked around nonchalantly, guiding me to the World War II memorial building and many piazzas, while I stumbled around in amazement at every turn. We stopped for delicious gelatos and enjoyed getting to know each other in person. Sadly, halfway into the night, the last of my hearing aid batteries died. I was left with no sound and no way to communicate, except to read lips. It being dark and the two boys having accents, reading lips did not have much effect at all. However, Nicolas and Saul were both so kind and kept patience with me asking them to repeat everything they said more than several times. After a while, the two boys dropped me off at the hostel and I headed up to my room to find it empty. Relieved that I didn't have to deal with the South American boys, I crashed in bed. Around 2 AM, the boys arrived to the hostel, completely drunk. They woke me up by flipping on the lights, jumping on the beds, and stripping down to their underwear while shouting drunkenly in Spanish. Fortunately, they all passed out after a few minutes.

The next morning, I met up with Nicolas. He took me to the Vatican City. It was pretty grand, with two huge fountains located in the center and surrounded by statues of Saints on top of the columns. We entered the church and saw the statue of Mary holding Jesus after he was taken down from the cross. It was so beautiful and detailed, with her expression that of a mother who had just lost a child. Mary was huge in proportion to Jesus. It gave the feeling that Mary was a mother holding her little child that has just passed away, even when that little child was the Son of God. I am constantly amazed by how detailed and accurate Michelangelo's work is! Unfortunately, I never got to see the Sistine Chapel. It was about 35 euro to enter, and I was totally broke. I believe I will get a chance to see it when I study abroad in Spring 2013, so I am not too disappointed. After the Vatican, Nicolas and I headed to the Pantheon. The well preserved ancient building was so impressive, loaded with emotion and history, it instantly became one of my top favorite places in Italy. I could have stared at it for hours. The architecture of the Pantheon was simple, yet powerful, and completely  knocked me off my feet.  I saw it about four more times during my stay in Rome, and it never ceased to amaze me every time.

That night, I headed to bed early and ignored my South American roommates' begging to join them with their partying. At 3 AM, they all stumbled in the room, irrevocably drunk, again. They undressed, blundered around the room, throwing beer cans, and shaking the bunks just to annoy me. I rolled over to see what the heck they were doing, and saw one of the Argentian guys hugging the other and patting his back, while saying, "I love you, man." I rolled my eyes and turned over and slept, very poorly, through the night. In the morning, they were completely passed out. I looked around the hostel room and it was just completely trashed. Crushed beer cans lay everywhere, empty vodka bottles set on the tables, ripped up paper and garbage were strewn across the room, and the boys were disgustingly drooling all over themselves. I tip toed outside to meet Saul. I had asked Saul if he would take me to the Latter Day Saints church in Rome. I've always wanted to go to church in Italy. There's just something really feel-good about going to church where a language other than English is spoken. While we were on the bus, Saul impressed me by diligently learning the ABC's in American Sign Language. I always love it when someone learns sign language so they can help me understand better!

Church in Italian was awesome. The people were so kind and cheerful. I loved everything about it! After church, me and Saul were absolutely starving. We walked around Rome for over an hour before finding a place to eat since it was Sunday and practically everything was closed. After eating, we headed out and Saul guided me to several piazzas and landmarks. After it became dark, we headed to the Pantheon again, and to Piazza Navona. The piazza was full of talented artists selling their work. Several of the artists were working on paintings and drawings as they were selling, and it was so amazing seeing their work in progress. As an artist seeing so many talented artists in one place, I felt so tiny and untalented. I couldn't help it... there was just so much beautiful art everywhere by so many different people! After resting at Piazza Navona, we headed to Fontana Trevi. I was thinking that this fontana would be just a... fountain. Nothing too special really. But when I turned around the corner, my breath was literally taken away. It was nighttime, and the fontana was illuminated by the lights. The statues of the gods seemed to practically come alive with the reflection of the water moving across them. A thundering waterfall in the center with a series of smaller waterfalls on the sides, crashed into a shimmering pool of clear water. Thousands of glittering coins with hopeful wishes wished upon them laid at the mosaic base of the pool. Rome was amazing me at every single turn. This was another place that I could have just stood and started at for hours, if it wasn't for the crowd. Perhaps, one day, I will go back and wait until the early hours of the morning while it's still dark and just sit by the edge of Fontana Trevi. I'll throw my wishes into the mystical waters. Some say that wishes don't come true. Even so, those who don't believe in magic, will never find it. Standing there under the moon in Rome with the waters of Fontana Trevi reflecting across my skin, I made a wish upon a brass coin and tossed it into the magical abyss with a childlike spirit, secretly believing in magic.

Venzia and Firenze

Stepping through the door of the train station into Venzia was unbelievable. It was overcast and kind of grey, with lots of people bustling around. The first thing I saw was the canal. It was kind of surreal to think I had actually reached Venice, the water city. It was nothing like I had expected at first sight. To me, it was kind of like a normal city with a river running through it. I wanted to explore, but I was absolutely exhausted and just wanted to head to the hostel and rest, then explore for the entire day the next morning. We hopped on a bus and after asking a few people for directions, found our hostel. It was nothing fancy, only slightly better looking than our hostel in Milan. But when we stepped into our room, it was like being in a hospital. One bunk bed was located in the corner of the room, with a white plastic covering, a single sheet, and a stratchy blanket. Then, there was another bed shoved up against the wall on the other corner. Another person had been staying there, but she was out at the moment. The bathroom was pretty tiny. I walked in and saw a toilet in the side corner, but it had a faucet and a tiny drain instead of a flusher. I stared at Erica in astonishment and said, "So, is this our toilet? What the heck happens when you have to poo? Where is it gonna go?" After further investigation of our bathroom we found a real toilet, flusher and all. I was still baffled about the other toilet. Why was it there? What was its purpose? Later, I figured out that it was actually  a wash basin for laundry. Thankfully, I didn't use it as a toilet, and hopefully, no one else did.

That night, Erica and I just chilled out in the lounge, surfing the internet on her ipod touch. We met a couple other girls from South America, who befriended Erica quickly because they all could speak Spanish. I was just twiddling my thumbs watching some Australians play ping pong when an Italian walked in and sat down next to us. He waited a moment and then motioned to the ping pong table and said, "Ping pong?" We ended up playing ping pong with him and his brother and his friend. His aunt was with them. None of them spoke english. Since Italian and Spanish are similar, Erica and the two other girls could make some sort of converstation with them. I was kinda stuck since I knew neither language and ended up communicating via the Italian's iPhone using google translate, which was really not much help since the translation was terrible. It was pretty hilarious though. We all ended up going to dinner at a pizza place and had a blast, even when no one spoke the same language. The Italians were from the south, and had a different dialect than in Venice. The waitress had a hard time understanding their attempted converstations to her, but they were hilarious about it. It was a great night. One of the boys took a liking to me and bought me a rose during dinner and we talked via google translate on the iPhone all night. The next morning, the family flew out of Venice, and we only stay in touch over facebook. It was quite an interesting dinner with a mix of dialects in Italian, Spanish, Portugese, English, and google translate. One of my favorite things that I've learned about traveling is that people can still be friends with eachother without being able to communicate through a similar language. It actually brings some sort of a closeness to the friendship, knowing that there is no obstacle to separate each other as friends.

The next morning, I woke up itching with a red, blotchy rash across my jaw and forehead, as well as my arms and legs. I quickly figured out that they were bedbug bites. It came as no surprise to me, since I found a couple spiders in our shower and some cockroaches scurrying across the bathroom floor. Our room may have looked like a hospital room, but it certaintly wasn't as sterile.

Erica's kidneys had been worsening since we left Geneva. She had been such a trooper the entire four days we had been in Italy, nearly bending over in pain, yet still walking around the entire cities and being amazed at all the things we saw. I can't imagine how painful it would have been! I kept begging her to go to the doctor's or the hospital, despite her not having medical insurance. She kept turning it down, saying she would be fine. We spent half the day in our hostel so Erica could get some much needed rest. Around 10 o clock in the morning, the cleaning crew knocked on our door. When I opened the door, the guy looked really confused and asked why I was still there. I said we still had another night to go in Venice. He said I was supposed to be leaving now. Confused, I went downstairs and was greeted by a rude hostel manager demanding why I haven't left the room by now. I explained to him that I thought I had booked for two nights in Venice and that my friend was really sick and needed to rest. Apparently, I had made a mistake and only booked for one night in Venice, since it was on the record. So I had to pay for another night, and the manager added a penalty of 18 euro for a last minute booking.

After a while, Erica felt better and we set out on our journey to Venice. It was rainy and dark, but it certaintly didn't dampen our spirit. We walked around the city a bit, and that is when the true Venezia began to appear. The alleyways were narrow, crammed with many shops with elaborate glass figures and vases, art, jewelry, and souveniors. We would happen across small canals with gondolas resting on the sides and old buildings atop the water. It was so surreal because I had dreamt of seeing Venice for a long time, but only had seen it through magazines and the like. And now, I was seeing it with my own eyes!

We wandered around until we found St. Mark's Square, which was really awesome. The basilica was just as amazing as the Duomo in Milan. There was another church and then just a few feet away, the grand canal. Erica and I snapped a few photos, took a ride on the water bus (the cheaper version of the gondola,) and grabbed some gelato before heading back to our hostel. By then it had started pouring, and Erica wasn't doing too well. That night, Erica had worsened and called her brother in Mexico to ask for medical insurance. She had been trying to contact family ever since we arrived in Milan, but being so far away, they didn't hear about it until four days later. Now her family and friends were very worried and working on medical insurance. I hoped she would feel better because I felt so terrible seeing her in pain! The next morning, she had just gotten even worse and made the difficult decision to abandon the trip and head back to Geneva, where she could recieve some care. The earliest train leaving to Geneva wasn't for another five hours, so I missed my train to Florence and stayed with her in Venice. We hung out in a cafe for about four hours until Erica was able to contact her mother in Mexico. At 4PM, she headed off to Geneva. I worried about her, but was pleased to hear back from her a couple days later saying that she felt completely better.

That night, I headed to Florence to my hostel, paid for the previous night that I had "missed," (thanks to bad planning, I had booked a night in Florence while I was really staying in Venice) and for the following two nights. I was exhausted and went into my hostel room to chill out. That was the first time I had experienced an co-ed hostel. I was confused when I walked in the room and there was a bearded Canadian fiddling on his iPhone and an artist from Macedonia with a far away look in her eyes. They welcomed me as if I was an old friend and chatted with me for a few hours when I really just wanted to sleep. The beds were so comfortable, with a soft pillow, and two blankets. Much better than the ones I stayed at in Milan and Venice. Unfortunately, it had bed bugs. The bathrooms and showers were co-ed as well, which I found out when I walked in the bathroom to find a guy stripped down to nothing but his underwear, brushing his teeth.

The next day was my first day traveling solo. I decided to let myself sleep in a bit, then I went out and wandered the city. My only plan was to walk around and allow myself to stumble upon places. I headed out from my hostel, searching for a grocery store. I walked around for an hour and a half, finding myself in the suburbs and nowhere near the center of the city or near a grocery store. Frustrated and hungry, I stopped by an ATM to withdraw some money. My dad had sent me my debit card in the mail from America, and somewhere in the process, it got slightly bent. Well, the machine gave me my 50 euro, but completely swallowed my card. I was really upset and walked into the bank and told them what happened. They opened the ATM and saw that my card was slightly bent, and the man in charge told me that they will not give my card back because it is damaged. Embarassingly, I burst into tears. I sobbed that if I didn't get my card back, then I'd be stuck in Italy for the next 11 days with no money and nowhere to go. I was hungry and tired. I just wanted my card back. Not wanting to deal with a girl in tears, they handed me my card back and I escorted myself out. Every single time I used my card after that, I prayed that it would be returned to me.

After the bank, I took the bus to the center. I was extremely exhausted and my legs felt like lead. But still, I pressed on. I stumbled across a couple of impressive duomos and cathederals, an opera house, piazzas, and the Uffizi. I can't really tell you all the places I've been. All I know is I saw some impressive articheture, arches, statues, street performers, and paintings. I entered the Uffizi and saw some impressive Renassiance paintings. My favorite one was The Birth of Venus. It was amazing to think that it was right there in front of me!

 On my second day in Florence, I headed to the Accademia. I had tried to go the day before, but the line was just crazy and extended all the way down the street and around the corner. I had gone to the grocery store across the street, where I found twelve apples for one euro and 36 clementines for 1 euro. It was a pretty sweet deal and I ended up living off of them until I hit Napoli. That morning at the Accademia, there was no line which I was thrilled about. I could appreciate art in peace without being smothered by smelly tourists. I went in and looked at some more paintings of Jesus, but I didn't really stick around for long. I was kind of sick of seeing paintings of Jesus. They weren't my favorite anyway cause they were all the same impression of him looking all sickly and thin, with a bored expression. I turned around the corner, not expecting to see the statue of David. It was such a shock when I did. I had imagined it to be much smaller. It was absolutely huge and meticulously detailed and amazingly proportioned. I loved it! After seeing David, I quickly left to catch my train to Rome. Firenze was great, but the exhaustion was beginning to set in and my true adventures were only about to start. I had no clue what laid before me as I headed south...

...And the stories as I head further into the heart of Italy just get more interesting and turn absolutely wild after I leave Rome and head to Napoli. The article for that will come tomorrow. As for now...farewell!

This Old World is a New World and a Bold World...For Me

Where the heck do I start from here? My life has been... more than an adventure. Now, my definition of adventure may differ from some of yours. Adventure is like climbing a mountain. The goal is to reach the summit; the top of the world. But, it's an ugly process to get there. It's blood, sweat, and tears. Full of hard work that practically exceeds your physical, mental, and emotional capacities. It certaintly isn't for the feeble hearted. You have to have your eyes set on that summit with your determination unbreakable and your heart set on fire. You must be prepared for pain, disappointment, anger, obstacles, and exhaustion. But admist all that, still be able to see all the wonderful things along the way. Once that summit is reached, after hours and days of toil, you may be too exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically to even care. But after energy is restored and you look back on your adventure... you'll realize that YOU DID IT. And it'll be unbelieveable. There will be an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, humility, and a recognition that you exceeded your original abilities. That is how my life has been like these past three weeks.

It has been my dream for the longest time to go to Europe, specifically Italy. I'm not sure why. It started when my parents went on a trip to Italy. I saw the pictures and heard the stories about the country. Over the years, as I've learned more about Italy, the more fascinated I've become with it. The culture and the language have always delighted me. But my determination to travel to this fairy tale-like country solidified as I began to thirst for adventure. I sought to leave the comforts of my home and thrust myself into a completely foreign environment. Why? I'm not sure. I think it's just hard wired into me, somehow. I like to test myself in every aspect I can, to show myself that I am stronger than I think. It gives me a desire to live and it's what makes me feel... alive.

When I got the job in Switzerland, I knew I had to go. It was the closest I could get to Italia. I had spent over two years trying to save my money to travel somewhere, anywhere. But it always got spent on paying for rent, school, my 12 year old petrol guzzling SUV, and stupidity. So getting this job was just amazing. Well a couple weeks ago, I got 16 days off of work to go travel wherever my heart desired.Of course, without hestitation, I chose la bella Italia.. And that was the start of my adventure.

Now, I have to say this trip was mainly an adventure because of stupidity, recklessness, and very, very poor planning. It started where I just didn't really THINK about planning the trip until the night before. It was kind of an "Oh, shizznuts, I'm flipping leaving tomorrow..." moment. I had already bought the train tickets to Milan, but there was no hostel booked or any other train tickets. So, I pulled an all nighter booking hostels and train tickets. Now, here comes the poor planning. My hostel stays and train departure/arrival dates didn't match up. So I ended up paying for another night at a hostel (which is more expensive than booking online.) I didn't know where the hell I was going and the only reason why I actually attempted to plan is because my friend Erica, was coming with me last minute and I'm sure we don't share the same ideals of adventuring and traveling. My original plan was to just go to Milan. Then I'd just stay as long as I want in each city, moving south until I hit Sicily. Or even if I reached there. I wouldn't even care if I ended up eating off of two euro a day and sleeping in the train stations. But out of respect to my wonderful friend Erica, I decided to book us hostels and to make some sort of an attempt at planning at least the first seven days of the trip.

Saturday morning, I was packed and ready to go to Italy. I hadn't slept in 29 hours and I was anxiously waiting for my boss to get home so she could pay me for the week. My boss wasn't answering my phone calls or texts... and it was frustrating me because she said she would pay me first thing in the morning, but after I had showered she was gone without leaving me any money. It was nearly two hours before I had to catch my train and I was about to just screw it all and leave with a lot less money than I planned when my boss walked in the door. Frustrated and in a hurry, I asked if she wouldn't mind paying me before I left. She stared at me and sighed dramatically and told me that, no, she is not paying me. Why? Because the bathroom wasn't clean enough to her standards. I had cleaned it the night before and left it nice and clean. Since it was a Saturday, the current state of the bathroom wasn't supposed to be my responsibility since I had weekends off. Amelie had messed up the bathroom that morning (under her parent's care) by fingerpainting toothpaste on the mirror, and loads of laundry were piled across the floor. It was two hours before departure, and my boss said she wouldn't pay me until I had scrubbed the bathroom clean, again. So I bit my lip and steadied my rising anger and got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the bathroom floor, again, while she stood over me and instructed me on how she wanted it done. Then I had to stick my hands in the toilet, again, and scrub it clean from its encounter with Amelie's morning bowel movents. Then, she paid me. Now, I had just a little over an hour to get to my train station, meet Erica, get my ticket, and go off to Milan.

My frustration with my boss quickly disappeared when I met Erica at the train. We were seriously going to Milan! Erica informed me that she wasn't feeling well because her kidney stones were acting up, but that it should hopefully get better. Our train took about 3 1/2 hours. We arrived in Milan around 5 PM. I was kind of disappointed with it when I was watching out the train window. It was filthy and dark and depressing. There were no impressive cathederals or beautiful scenery like the magazines showed. But I held out hope. After all, the most incredible treasures are often hidden in the most unexpected places.

We went to our hostel, where we were greeted with four other roommates. One roommate, Rocio, became good friends to us. She was from Argentina and backpacking Europe alone. The next morning, Rocio joined Erica and I on our trip to the centre of Milan. We took an underground metro to the Duomo stop. I had no idea what a Duomo was until I climbed up the stairs, exiting the underground passageway. It was breathtaking, towering right in front of me. The Milano Duomo felt like it was thousands of feet high... and I was just nothing but a mere ant at the base of the ancient church.  The details of the articheture was dizzying and unbelievable. But the magic lasted only seconds, and was quickly interuppted by an African immigrant grabbing my wrist and tying a thread around my wrist and demanding two euro for it. Then I saw more African immigrants headed my way, waving those colored threads and reaching for my wrist. I paid the man out of fear, and quickly ran away to the Piazza Duomo, where I didn't even have a chance to step back and look at the church to admire it before a Romanian immigrant grabbed my hand and poured corn kernels into it and held it up high. Then, in a matter of seconds I was attacked by a mob of pigeons and the immigrant taking my camera to take pictures of me with the birds. Then more immigrants came to me and kept pouring feed into my hand and more pigeons kept coming and then dirty palms were shoved under my nose demanding 10 euro for the feed and the pictures. All I can remember about the Duomo is complete chaos amongst beauty. But it was hard to enjoy the impressive articheture with immigrants grabbing your wrists and hounding for your wallet. After the Duomo, we passed through this impressive mall that was filled with high end, expensive stores such as: Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuttion... stores I couldn't give a crap about because there is no way I am ever,  in my entire life, going to pay 200 dollars for a sweatpant just  because it has "Gucci" sewn on it. Hell, I could sew that on for 10 cents, if I ever cared to.
After the mall, we wandered down the street and came across a Leonardo da Vinci monument, then Castello Sforenzco, and an arch that was a memorial thing for Napoleon Bonaparte. We mostly wandered through the city and walked through alleyways until dark. At dark, we shopped for souveniors at the market and saw the Duomo one last time. It was beautiful at night, with light shining through the stained glass windows from inside. Most of the immigrants had gone home, which was a relief.
The next morning, Erica and I headed out to catch our train to Venyia. We got lost, (of course,) and missed our train. We had to buy new tickets, which put us down at a total of 64 euro. Sucky! But, we made it to Venzia alive and well.

And the adventures on Venzia will be published tomorrow. Perhapsly. As for now, I need sleep. So buonanotte, i miei amici...