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!