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Temple of Apollo at Pompeii (Personal Photo)

Pompeii

Pompeii went smoothly.

Did I kill the suspense? Let me spice things up with some details. To get there from Naples (Pompeii (ruins) =/= Pompeii (town)), you need to take the crowded local train on a special line. I ended up standing for the entire 45-minute ride to Pompeii, squished like a sardine and struggling to breathe with the humidity.

From some advice I got online, I purchased an audio tour in lieu of hiring a live guide. This gave me the freedom to explore Pompeii and take pictures on my own time (as well as get lost). Not only was it cheaper, but there weren’t swarms of people invading my photos. Like my exploration of the Roman Forum, I spent several hours there exploring beneath a solid expanse of cerulean.

The Duomo (Left) and Baptistery (Right) in Florence (Personal Photo)
PS: Doesn't the Baptistery look like it's falling over? Hehe

Florence

The train to Florence that evening was a fancy, high-speed train—compared to the local Naples-Pompeii train (max 60kph), one maxed out at 300kph.

My hostel was beautiful, and I had no problems finding it (thank goodness!). The problem with mixed dorm hostels, aside from the occasional guy who parades around in his boxer shorts and sleeps across from you, is the snoring. I awoke last night to the sound of the most bizarre snoring I have ever heard. It sounded... constipated, a wheeze and then a very un-snorelike sigh.

View from the Florence Old Bridge (Personal Photo)

Florence was pretty, much less touristy than Rome. I took it easy [well, I tried to] since my days in Pisa, Rome, and Pompeii were rather hectic. I saw the Uffizi and Academia Galleries, which hold Botecelli’s “Birth of Venus” and Michaeangelo’s “David” (respectively). I also visited the Duomo, a huge cathedral that was absolutely stunning. Like in Pompeii, the weather was perfect.

Cinque Terre

The following day, I did a day trip to Cinque Terre, a series of five towns along the coast. I arrived in La Spezia at 9:19 and looked for the Cinque Terre info booth. When I found it (9:27), I was told the next train was 11:02 and that I had just missed the 9:25 train. However, having had prior experience with Italian trains being late, I ignored her and ran to the platform. Lo and behold, it was still there and did not, in fact, end up leaving until 9:35.

The paparazzi found me in Corniglia. While I was enjoying the view, I found myself the object of interest for a photo-op. Like in Rome, I thought these Chinese tourists* wanted a picture of the view, so out of courtesy I went to move, but they insisted that they wanted me in the photo. The wives would put their arms around me as if we were best buds. And then before I could even breathe, there was the next one! And the next one!

Manarola (Cinque Terre) (Personal Photo)

* (I knew they were Chinese because after the photo, they said, “Shia shia,” which means “Thank you” in Mandarin.)

I visited the other towns, hopping them train by train, until I came to Vernazza. From there I did a vigorous 2-hour hike to Monterosso. It was a beautiful but exhausting walk, and I ran out of water halfway through. The path became so narrow at one point that I had to put one foot in front of the other. 

By the time I hit Monterosso, it was getting dark, so I went back to Florence. I had a muscle hangover the next day and could barely move! I am an expert liar when it comes to saying, “Don’t worry, tomorrow will be an easier day.”

Venice

The Bridge of Sighs in Venice (Personal Photo)

I arrived in Venice a bit before lunch and used the day to wander, letting myself get lost as I did a circuit of the city. Unlike Florence, it was incredibly crowded, and the weather was dreary and wet. Although my hostel was outside the city but significantly cheaper than anything on the island itself.

Recall my dialogue about asking for directions. I will have you know that I successfully bought bus tickets while speaking entirely in Italian! Broken Italian (with one word in Spanish - can you find it?), but Italian.

Murano glass in Venice (Personal Photo)

 It went like this:

- Buon giorno.

- Buon giorno.

- Dos biglett... (I train off, having partially forgotten the word)

- Biglietto?

- Si. Per bus.

- Due persone?

- No. Una persona.

- Andata e ritorno? (he gestures with his hands)

- Si. Grazie.

(Cue the appalause.)

I bought a pass for the water bus, the only form of public transit in Venice. There are no roads, only pedestrian walkways and the canals. It's expensive but I wanted views from the water, respite for my feet, and passage to the island of Murano, where the glassblowers work. Every store there is an art gallery, and I saw some glass-blowing demonstrations. Then I hopped to Piazza St Marco to see the famous Bridge of Sighs connecting the Doge's Palace to the New Prison.

St. Marco's Square in Venice (Personal Photo)

Perhaps my story would have ended there, with a brief summary of an uneventful train trip home; however, this journey has been one touched by fate. No sooner did I check my email before leaving then did I learn that someone had attempted to break into my apartment, busting the lower lock so that it no longer turned. I ended up crashing on the couch of one of my classmates.

I was not a happy camper, considering I had two exams the next day (I shake my fist at you, would-be thief!). Thankfully, I had the foresight to bring my notes with me on my trip, in case inspiration to study struck me. It figures that the beginning and ending of my first adventure in Europe would be the same: a locksmith. The full-circle-ness of it is so literary that I feel like a character in a novel.

Perhaps I am...