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...
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