Ceb1222's "Every Last Detail" Italy Trip Report - Spring 2007
Oct 20th, 2007 | 08:26 AM
#21
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Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
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Thanks, everyone, glad you're enjoying!
Day 4 - March 24, 2007 - Vaporetti, Vessels, and Vin Santo. Venezia!
It's another day to sleep in after our late-ish night last night. I start feeling mysteriously nauseous, which dampers breakfast for me. But the others enjoy, and after showering and packing up, we check out of the hotel and embark on the walk to the train station. Today we are going to Venezia.
The train ride to Venezia is relaxing, as expected. We purchase our tickets from a machine in the train station without a problem, the train is there, we are on it, and onward we roll. The ride is somewhat scenic and goes by fairly quickly. Somewhere on the train ride, my nausea goes away, and with it, the regret over yesterday's purchase. It's not going to ruin Italy for me or anyone else!
Upon arriving to a grey day in Venezia, we purchase 24-hour vaporetto passes in the information kiosk at the train station. Figuring out the Vaporetto station is no easy task, as the validating machine won't validate our tickets. It takes us about ten minutes of attempts before the machine will stamp one ticket. We still have three left to do. We enlist the help of an Italian girl who shows us that you have to insert the ticket only about half way for it to "take", rather than insert it all the way to the back of the slot.
We board the vaporetto and I get distracted. We pass the stop at which we're supposed to debark and get off instead at the San Marco stop, only to march right back down the ramp and wait for a boat going back the way we came. Oops. The very detailed directional map leads us to our hotel, the Ca' Angeli, and we are in our room by about 3:00. Our room, a suite, appears to be on the top floor of the hotel, and while we have no views, we do have two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a sitting area, and a nice, big bathroom with a skylight. Honey wood paneling and royal blue EVERYTHING is the decor.
We dump our stuff, ready our cameras, and meander down and out of the hotel into the cloudiness and cold of Venezia. Our first stop is a corner panini shop, where we stand at the bar and order beers and panini for a quick snack. As we eat, watching Venezia swirling by outside the door, three gondoliers come in for a quick drink as well. Great atmosphere!
And so we set about wandering around the city with no agenda other than soaking in the energy and "feel" of Venice. Window shopping along the way, half-heartedly looking for a Furla store, we make our way to the Rialto bridge, then into the Piazza San Marco. It is a Saturday in Venice and there are mobs of people in the square, feeding pigeons, running away from pigeons, looking on in disgust at pigeons... And doing other things too. Eventually we meander out onto the main waterway next to San Marco and find ourselves a gondola. We are in Venice, we are going to ride in a gondola.
Under bridges, through narrow passages, we receive our first, official or unofficial, guided tour since arriving in Italy. Our gondolier gives us some trivia, points out important features, and insists he only sings in the shower. Until now, I had thought of this has a tourist trap, but it truly is a unique and relaxing way to see the "back streets" of Venezia. The city is just crumbling and rotting, which I find fascinating. I take pictures of random doorways, water gates, windows, to the extent that our gondolier turns around at one point to see what the heck I'm photographing. I don't think his backward glance did anything to provide an answer.
Our cruise lasts about forty five minutes, which is enough, because it's freezing. We head back through the Piazza San Marco and find an awful, tourist-geared cafe in which to warm up. We share a half carafe of wine and Dad has a beer or two. This place has no atmosphere whatsoever, so we plunge ourselves back into the cold. I decide I have not obtained enough Italian leather goods, designer or no, and we hunt in earnest for a Furla store and then the right purse for me. I decide in record time because the store is closing.
Dinner time, and we go in search of a restaurant my sister wants to try. She has been here for a weekend trip and ate at a neighboring restaurant that was very good, and noticed that this particular one was incredibly busy. And it is again. It's tiny and narrow, as are most things in Venezia, and we wedge ourselves into the foyer, in some semblance of a line, to wait for a table out of the cold. The waiter stationed towards the front begins handing out glasses of wine and calamari to keep us occupied.
After about ten minutes, a table clears, and he seats us, family style, against the wall. He brings seafood salad in scallop shells to us, unrequested, but we do know we'll get charged for this, and they're so good, we're okay with that. I have gnocchi with meat sauce, Mom has ravioli with meat sauce, my sister has spaghetti with clams, and Dad has veal. Dinner is okay. We think we're overcharged, and the waiter gives Dad a non-itemized receipt, which is a big no-no, but Dad doesn't realize this until it's too late. So much for us being the smarties we thought we were. This dinner is disappointing - we feel rushed and the food is only decent. Dinner with wine is 115 Euro.
Stomachs full, at least, we walk back towards the hotel, through Piazza San Marco and over the Rialto. We stop for dessert and wine in a pizzeria place, although it's late. Panna cotta for me, tiramisu for Dad, and vin santo for the three of them. We are tired and chilled, so we wander back to the hotel to sleep.
Day 4 - March 24, 2007 - Vaporetti, Vessels, and Vin Santo. Venezia!
It's another day to sleep in after our late-ish night last night. I start feeling mysteriously nauseous, which dampers breakfast for me. But the others enjoy, and after showering and packing up, we check out of the hotel and embark on the walk to the train station. Today we are going to Venezia.
The train ride to Venezia is relaxing, as expected. We purchase our tickets from a machine in the train station without a problem, the train is there, we are on it, and onward we roll. The ride is somewhat scenic and goes by fairly quickly. Somewhere on the train ride, my nausea goes away, and with it, the regret over yesterday's purchase. It's not going to ruin Italy for me or anyone else!
Upon arriving to a grey day in Venezia, we purchase 24-hour vaporetto passes in the information kiosk at the train station. Figuring out the Vaporetto station is no easy task, as the validating machine won't validate our tickets. It takes us about ten minutes of attempts before the machine will stamp one ticket. We still have three left to do. We enlist the help of an Italian girl who shows us that you have to insert the ticket only about half way for it to "take", rather than insert it all the way to the back of the slot.
We board the vaporetto and I get distracted. We pass the stop at which we're supposed to debark and get off instead at the San Marco stop, only to march right back down the ramp and wait for a boat going back the way we came. Oops. The very detailed directional map leads us to our hotel, the Ca' Angeli, and we are in our room by about 3:00. Our room, a suite, appears to be on the top floor of the hotel, and while we have no views, we do have two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a sitting area, and a nice, big bathroom with a skylight. Honey wood paneling and royal blue EVERYTHING is the decor.
We dump our stuff, ready our cameras, and meander down and out of the hotel into the cloudiness and cold of Venezia. Our first stop is a corner panini shop, where we stand at the bar and order beers and panini for a quick snack. As we eat, watching Venezia swirling by outside the door, three gondoliers come in for a quick drink as well. Great atmosphere!
And so we set about wandering around the city with no agenda other than soaking in the energy and "feel" of Venice. Window shopping along the way, half-heartedly looking for a Furla store, we make our way to the Rialto bridge, then into the Piazza San Marco. It is a Saturday in Venice and there are mobs of people in the square, feeding pigeons, running away from pigeons, looking on in disgust at pigeons... And doing other things too. Eventually we meander out onto the main waterway next to San Marco and find ourselves a gondola. We are in Venice, we are going to ride in a gondola.
Under bridges, through narrow passages, we receive our first, official or unofficial, guided tour since arriving in Italy. Our gondolier gives us some trivia, points out important features, and insists he only sings in the shower. Until now, I had thought of this has a tourist trap, but it truly is a unique and relaxing way to see the "back streets" of Venezia. The city is just crumbling and rotting, which I find fascinating. I take pictures of random doorways, water gates, windows, to the extent that our gondolier turns around at one point to see what the heck I'm photographing. I don't think his backward glance did anything to provide an answer.
Our cruise lasts about forty five minutes, which is enough, because it's freezing. We head back through the Piazza San Marco and find an awful, tourist-geared cafe in which to warm up. We share a half carafe of wine and Dad has a beer or two. This place has no atmosphere whatsoever, so we plunge ourselves back into the cold. I decide I have not obtained enough Italian leather goods, designer or no, and we hunt in earnest for a Furla store and then the right purse for me. I decide in record time because the store is closing.
Dinner time, and we go in search of a restaurant my sister wants to try. She has been here for a weekend trip and ate at a neighboring restaurant that was very good, and noticed that this particular one was incredibly busy. And it is again. It's tiny and narrow, as are most things in Venezia, and we wedge ourselves into the foyer, in some semblance of a line, to wait for a table out of the cold. The waiter stationed towards the front begins handing out glasses of wine and calamari to keep us occupied.
After about ten minutes, a table clears, and he seats us, family style, against the wall. He brings seafood salad in scallop shells to us, unrequested, but we do know we'll get charged for this, and they're so good, we're okay with that. I have gnocchi with meat sauce, Mom has ravioli with meat sauce, my sister has spaghetti with clams, and Dad has veal. Dinner is okay. We think we're overcharged, and the waiter gives Dad a non-itemized receipt, which is a big no-no, but Dad doesn't realize this until it's too late. So much for us being the smarties we thought we were. This dinner is disappointing - we feel rushed and the food is only decent. Dinner with wine is 115 Euro.
Stomachs full, at least, we walk back towards the hotel, through Piazza San Marco and over the Rialto. We stop for dessert and wine in a pizzeria place, although it's late. Panna cotta for me, tiramisu for Dad, and vin santo for the three of them. We are tired and chilled, so we wander back to the hotel to sleep.
Oct 20th, 2007 | 10:00 PM
#23
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Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
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Day 5 - March 25, 2007 - From Canals to Castle Walls, Venezia to Firenze to San Gimignano (pronounced "jee a mahn jo" by my Mom)!
My goal today, as it's our only morning in Venezia, is to be up early to take pictures before the throngs swarm canal-side. My alarm rings and it is still pitch black in the room. I crack the shutter and take in the dark gray morning, rain falling on rooftops. Back to bed. Two hours later, we are all up and readying for breakfast. We wander, separately, into the breakfast room, which is so full we have to sit separately, two to a table. Breakfast is good, with fresh squeezed orange juice, fresh fruit, and the typical European breakfast assortment. The breakfast room overlooks the Grand Canal, which, even in the rain, is beautiful. This is city that can be enjoyed in all weather.
We check out of the hotel and pack up the mule (Dad) with the gargantuan backpack holding everyone's belongings. My sister buys, after some deliberation, a carnaval mask while I take pictures in the store. We continue to wander through the city, still glancing in windows and "taking it all in". My sister buys a statue from a glass shop, and I am tempted to look in earnest, because I love glass, but I train my eyes elsewhere. We stop for a while in the Piazza San Marco, Mom looking for a Christmas ornament (another favorite souvenir of hers) and I looking for various small souvenirs for those at home. After finding nothing, we wander through the Piazza, taking pictures and people-watching.
Eventually, it's time to board the vaporetto to the train station. The ride itself, although chilly today, is a great way to absorb the city and see the architecture, which is, really, what Venezia is all about. I take tons of pictures, and tease Mom because she is taking the exact same pictures I am. We must have a similar eye for photography. It is freezing, windy, and raining, and we are on the outside deck on the boat, but I can't stop taking pictures, and apparently, neither can Mom.
After a half hour ride, we land at the train station at noon and stand in line at the ticket window only to find that the only option is to buy first class tickets on the 2:30 train because everything else is sold out. The spring time-change has occurred, and apparently it has fouled up everything. We wander around the train station for an hour and a half because it's cold and rainy outside. There is nowhere to sit.
Finally, we get close to 2:30 and see that our train is pulling into the station. We head to the platform and get ourselves situated on the train. We are all split up due to the ticket shortage. Our car is mostly Americans, and one couple has not purchased their tickets because they were told somewhere along the line that they could just purchase them on the train. I think you can, in a normal situation, but this is sold out and they're trying to sit in first class. Not surprisingly, some drama ensues that leaves the girl in a seat and the guy sitting on his suitcase in the middle of the aisle to prove a point. We're not sure what that point is, exactly...
After another fast train ride, we walk from the station to home base - my sister's apartment - to repack. Eventually, we have everything set and we turn around and walk back towards the bus station, which is right next to the train station. We can't find it. We actually walk right past it and into the train station to try to get information, and basically walk half way around the bus station. This creates a little stress, as does figuring out the stops the bus makes. We are nervous, because it's a Sunday, and sometimes the schedule differs on a Sunday.
We hold faith in the travel gods and board the bus to Poggibonsi. The bus pauses to drop off a special request stop before the actual bus stop, and we almost get out there, thinking that's us. Instead, we stay on the bus and wind up at the right stop, a quiet train/bus station in Poggibonsi. It looks abandoned. We are scared. Did we get off on the right stop? Are we stranded in Poggibonsi? Eventually, a bus pulls up, but he has a different destination listed in his window. After a mix of Italian and English, we think we understand that yes, he is going to San Gimignano. That's us.
We board the bus, still a little nervous, but we prove to be on the right track. After wending our way through the countryside, we start climbing a hill towards San Gimignano. The bus drops us off just outside the town walls, and we follow our map up a steep hill. Dad is lugging the half-ton backpack, and my sister and I are both, intelligently, in heeled boots. We are happy to see the hotel, La Cisterna.
Check in is a breeze, and the hotel is charming. Our rooms are comfortable, if a little stark, but the view that we can’t see is the key. It is fairly late, especially for Sunday evening in a small town, so we're fortunate that La Cisterna has a very good restaurant. We settle ourselves at a table and order a bottle of wine. Dinner is excellent, but rushed. We like to take our time and have leisurely meals, and so far, for Italy, this has not been encouraged at all times.
The food, with menu focusing on wild game and seasonal food: pappardelle in wild boar sauce, rabbit with artichokes for me, tomato and mozzarella salad and filet for Mom, artichoke salad, ravioli in consommé, and pork chop for Dad, and ravioli in saffron sauce and pork chop for my sister. Then dessert: panna cotta for me and Mom, tiramisu for Dad. We have an interesting situation when my sister orders a bottle of vin santo for dessert. The waitress is shocked and questions our desire for a bottle, not just glasses. We are not sure if it really is faux pas or abnormal to order a bottle, or if she just wants to go home. My sister is taking a wine class with a Fiorentine professor and this is the first she's heard this. The food overpowers all, though, and Dad sums it up, when asked how he enjoyed his pork chop: "If I were a dog, I'd eat this bone".
So we sign off on the bill (dinner plus two hotel rooms for one night is 353 Euro) and take our drinks to finish them in the lobby. It is VERY quiet, both in town and in the hotel. We drag ourselves up the stairs to our rooms, my sister and I joining Mom and Dad in their room to watch a movie on my laptop. We all fall asleep before it's even half over, so my sister and I head back to our room.
My goal today, as it's our only morning in Venezia, is to be up early to take pictures before the throngs swarm canal-side. My alarm rings and it is still pitch black in the room. I crack the shutter and take in the dark gray morning, rain falling on rooftops. Back to bed. Two hours later, we are all up and readying for breakfast. We wander, separately, into the breakfast room, which is so full we have to sit separately, two to a table. Breakfast is good, with fresh squeezed orange juice, fresh fruit, and the typical European breakfast assortment. The breakfast room overlooks the Grand Canal, which, even in the rain, is beautiful. This is city that can be enjoyed in all weather.
We check out of the hotel and pack up the mule (Dad) with the gargantuan backpack holding everyone's belongings. My sister buys, after some deliberation, a carnaval mask while I take pictures in the store. We continue to wander through the city, still glancing in windows and "taking it all in". My sister buys a statue from a glass shop, and I am tempted to look in earnest, because I love glass, but I train my eyes elsewhere. We stop for a while in the Piazza San Marco, Mom looking for a Christmas ornament (another favorite souvenir of hers) and I looking for various small souvenirs for those at home. After finding nothing, we wander through the Piazza, taking pictures and people-watching.
Eventually, it's time to board the vaporetto to the train station. The ride itself, although chilly today, is a great way to absorb the city and see the architecture, which is, really, what Venezia is all about. I take tons of pictures, and tease Mom because she is taking the exact same pictures I am. We must have a similar eye for photography. It is freezing, windy, and raining, and we are on the outside deck on the boat, but I can't stop taking pictures, and apparently, neither can Mom.
After a half hour ride, we land at the train station at noon and stand in line at the ticket window only to find that the only option is to buy first class tickets on the 2:30 train because everything else is sold out. The spring time-change has occurred, and apparently it has fouled up everything. We wander around the train station for an hour and a half because it's cold and rainy outside. There is nowhere to sit.
Finally, we get close to 2:30 and see that our train is pulling into the station. We head to the platform and get ourselves situated on the train. We are all split up due to the ticket shortage. Our car is mostly Americans, and one couple has not purchased their tickets because they were told somewhere along the line that they could just purchase them on the train. I think you can, in a normal situation, but this is sold out and they're trying to sit in first class. Not surprisingly, some drama ensues that leaves the girl in a seat and the guy sitting on his suitcase in the middle of the aisle to prove a point. We're not sure what that point is, exactly...
After another fast train ride, we walk from the station to home base - my sister's apartment - to repack. Eventually, we have everything set and we turn around and walk back towards the bus station, which is right next to the train station. We can't find it. We actually walk right past it and into the train station to try to get information, and basically walk half way around the bus station. This creates a little stress, as does figuring out the stops the bus makes. We are nervous, because it's a Sunday, and sometimes the schedule differs on a Sunday.
We hold faith in the travel gods and board the bus to Poggibonsi. The bus pauses to drop off a special request stop before the actual bus stop, and we almost get out there, thinking that's us. Instead, we stay on the bus and wind up at the right stop, a quiet train/bus station in Poggibonsi. It looks abandoned. We are scared. Did we get off on the right stop? Are we stranded in Poggibonsi? Eventually, a bus pulls up, but he has a different destination listed in his window. After a mix of Italian and English, we think we understand that yes, he is going to San Gimignano. That's us.
We board the bus, still a little nervous, but we prove to be on the right track. After wending our way through the countryside, we start climbing a hill towards San Gimignano. The bus drops us off just outside the town walls, and we follow our map up a steep hill. Dad is lugging the half-ton backpack, and my sister and I are both, intelligently, in heeled boots. We are happy to see the hotel, La Cisterna.
Check in is a breeze, and the hotel is charming. Our rooms are comfortable, if a little stark, but the view that we can’t see is the key. It is fairly late, especially for Sunday evening in a small town, so we're fortunate that La Cisterna has a very good restaurant. We settle ourselves at a table and order a bottle of wine. Dinner is excellent, but rushed. We like to take our time and have leisurely meals, and so far, for Italy, this has not been encouraged at all times.
The food, with menu focusing on wild game and seasonal food: pappardelle in wild boar sauce, rabbit with artichokes for me, tomato and mozzarella salad and filet for Mom, artichoke salad, ravioli in consommé, and pork chop for Dad, and ravioli in saffron sauce and pork chop for my sister. Then dessert: panna cotta for me and Mom, tiramisu for Dad. We have an interesting situation when my sister orders a bottle of vin santo for dessert. The waitress is shocked and questions our desire for a bottle, not just glasses. We are not sure if it really is faux pas or abnormal to order a bottle, or if she just wants to go home. My sister is taking a wine class with a Fiorentine professor and this is the first she's heard this. The food overpowers all, though, and Dad sums it up, when asked how he enjoyed his pork chop: "If I were a dog, I'd eat this bone".
So we sign off on the bill (dinner plus two hotel rooms for one night is 353 Euro) and take our drinks to finish them in the lobby. It is VERY quiet, both in town and in the hotel. We drag ourselves up the stairs to our rooms, my sister and I joining Mom and Dad in their room to watch a movie on my laptop. We all fall asleep before it's even half over, so my sister and I head back to our room.
Oct 21st, 2007 | 05:03 PM
#26
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Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
Likes: 0
Thanks, LC!
Rick... I probably won't do Italy at such a fast pace next time. This is the second time I've "attacked" Italy in a whirlwind, and although I feel I've gotten a good overview, any more trips will be devoted to relaxing in and enjoying a particular region.
For my first trip through Italy, fast-paced was okay, and my parents insist that it worked for them, too. So, will I travel to a city a day in ITALY again? Probably not. But will I do a city a day in some other locale? Possibly. I think Italy was a special case for me because there was SO much I wanted to see and then wanted my parents to see. I don't feel that way about anywhere else. Yet.
Rick... I probably won't do Italy at such a fast pace next time. This is the second time I've "attacked" Italy in a whirlwind, and although I feel I've gotten a good overview, any more trips will be devoted to relaxing in and enjoying a particular region.
For my first trip through Italy, fast-paced was okay, and my parents insist that it worked for them, too. So, will I travel to a city a day in ITALY again? Probably not. But will I do a city a day in some other locale? Possibly. I think Italy was a special case for me because there was SO much I wanted to see and then wanted my parents to see. I don't feel that way about anywhere else. Yet.
Oct 23rd, 2007 | 02:01 PM
#27
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Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
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Day 6 - March 26, 2007 - Porn Stars and Train Platforms... But I got drunk instead! San Gimignano to Pisa to Cinqueterre
My family has a running joke regarding "porn star pigeons", and apparently these same pigeons reside in Italy, not just the US. When I moved to my last apartment, my roommate and I both thought that we had very "active" neighbors who preferred morning hours for their "activities". Eventually we realized it was the cooing of the pigeons that resided in the eaves. I have realized this phenomenon in several locales since then, the latest of which - San Gimignano, Italy! And so I awake at 7:00 to the sound of the Italian porn star pigeons outside our window.
I am AWAKE this morning and ready to go, so I jump in the shower. Mom calls my sister's cell phone to tell her what a fabulous view of the sunrise they have in their room. We have a view of an inner air-shaft space and said pigeons, so I run, camera in hand, towel on head, to their room to take pictures and then to the end of the hallway on our floor. The sunrise view IS fantastic - we're high on a hill overlooking what seems like all of Tuscany. Rolling hills rising above morning mist, valleys hidden from view, and the sun, pulling itself up and out from it all. I take plenty of pictures.
We eat breakfast in the same restaurant, less hurried this morning with a buffet. What we couldn't see last night is that the restaurant has that same sweeping view of the valley, and we drink it in with our coffee. It is finally sunny and we are anxious to get out into the beautiful weather.
We venture out into the morning and wander the stone streets with no direction in mind. Eventually, we come to the edge of the high stone wall that surrounds the city and find a walking path along the outside edge of the wall, circling the city and overlooking the valley. We pass an older gentleman who offers a chipper "Giorno", and the sun begins to release some heat. We walk about 180 degrees around the city, climbing back into the streets just below our hotel where we arrived last night.
From here, we do some gift shopping: Mom buys a hat (for PopPop), some wine (for themselves), pasta (for coworkers), jewelry (graduation present for niece), and a ceramic bowl and Pinocchio ornament for herself. Dad and I amuse ourselves people watching, because my shopping urge is shot and he never had one. We walk back to our hotel to check out, take some pictures of the well in front of our hotel - I'm sorry, but the thing makes me think of a gallows rather than a cisterna! - and meander down the hill.
We walk to the bus stop at the "entrance" to the city after buying bus tickets at a shop near the hotel. We take the bus to Poggibonsi, which is considerably livelier this morning, and buy train tickets for Empoli. We have difficulty with the ticket validating machine, which, again, creates some stress. The train is practically pulling into the station as we figure out the delicate balance of the machine on the last ticket.
We chug through the countryside, and it starts to get cloudy. From Empoli, we travel to Pisa. The regional trains are not nearly as nice as the high speed trains, but they're also a lot cheaper. We enjoy the ride anyway. Upon arriving in Pisa, we set off in search of The Tower. The one that leans. Now, I have seen this, and although iconic in a pizza-place menu type fashion, it wasn't on my list of highlights. But Mom and Dad do want to see it for themselves, and I can't argue that. So we walk. And walk. We're hungry, so we stop at a gelateria, each get pizza-type pastries that, although require a warm-up before we get them, are surprisingly good. We get some water and each order a gelato to go, chocolate for everyone except Dad, who gets pistachio.
And we walk. The city is not exceptionally scenic; in fact, the walk from the train station to the Leaning Tower is pretty gritty. We certainly don't feel endangered in any way, it just isn't the prettiest place we've seen on the trip. Eventually, we make it to the Piazza that houses the Tower and do what everyone does: take pictures, especially those "holding up" the Tower. I get a little carried away with this and my sister refuses to have her picture taken. I don't know why. We don't look foolish at all. I also take a picture of all those tourists who either cannot read the signs printed in both English and Italian or who choose to ignore said signs and are crawling all over the grass they're not supposed to stand on, taking pictures. I make sure I frame the "keep off" sign in front of them. I have pictures of Mom, Dad, and me each flexing and holding up the tower, but none of my sister; I do have a picture of her scowling up at the tower in apparent exasperation and confusion, which is almost as good.
We have some general idea of the following train schedule, so we realize we have to race back in order to NOT have to sit around the train station. We have to pick up the bag we're storing, buy the tickets, get to the platform and get on the train. We just make it. As we're boarding, a guy tries to pickpocket Dad, but my sister spots him and yells "HEY!" He disappears. (Travel solution number 2: to scare off pickpockets, just yell something, anything, really loudly).
We take the train to La Spezia, with no reservations or concept of time, really, for arrival in Cinqueterre. We pass through the marble region of Carrera along the coast, which is interesting to see. There is really no other scenery whatsoever, and you glimpse nothing of the sea. From La Spezia, we train to Monterosso al Mare, the northernmost town in Cinqueterre. It's not until we pop through the other side of the tunnel from La Spezia that we actually see the sea. But it is beautiful when we do see it, on the verge of cloud-cast sunset.
Mom and I leave Dad and my sister at the train station to scope out a hotel, but since it's off-season, there is basically nothing. Monterosso is, in my opinion, the least scenic of the five towns, and nothing looked available or appealing. We decide to take the train to Vernazza. Upon arriving back at the station, however, we discover that the other two have decided to pass the time by ordering a bottle of wine. They are sitting outside the small station cafe, wine bottle and two glasses between them, looking pretty pleased with themselves.
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em; the next train doesn't leave for an hour, so we order another bottle. It is cold and rainy but we are pretty warm from the wine. We finish up and saunter to the platform. Everyone is feeling pretty good at this point. We board the train to Vernazza, the next town to the south, and three minutes later, upon arrival, can't get off the train because we don't know how to open the doors. So we decide to continue on to Corniglia. It's not really a decision. We do somehow figure out the doors in Corniglia and end up watching the sunset from the train tracks in Corniglia. We wait for a train in the other direction and board it back to Vernazza. The doors, or maybe we, work as they should the second time.
Vernazza is quiet and dark, and we wander aimlessly down into town, without even the name of a hotel to look for. There are signs for "rooms", but we push on, and farther towards the harbor, we find the Hotel Gianni Franzo, with signs in the bar of a restaurant. The bartender directs us up the flight of stairs just around the corner, follow the signs, and into the door with our room number. Okay. We leave the bar after reserving a table in the busy restaurant (probably because it's one of the ONLY restaurants open right now) for 30 minutes from now, round the corner... and look up.
Vernazza is built into the cliffs along the Mediterranean, and the cliffs are steep. So between tiny buildings are tiny but steep staircases. We walk up one of these, switch-backing several times while following signs for Gianni Franzo. We are all tired, the wine is wearing off, and Dad is carrying the backpack that ate Italy. We don't count the stairs because we're too busy trying to maintain balance, but there are a lot. Eventually, we come to our door, open it, and look up. Again. We are in rooms numbered in the 300's and the first floor shows numbers in the tens. The spiral staircase winds upwards for what seems like miles. I run up ahead to see how far we have to go, anticipating a ten-flight trek, and by some miracle of mis-numbering, we're actually only on the second floor.
Once settled in our rooms, we have a moment to catch our collective breath and look around, and we discover that it is truly adorable. The hotel is possibly an old castle, but everything in Vernazza looks like it could have been part of a castle once. We freshen up and descend into the depths once again for dinner.
This may be our number one meal in Italy. The restaurant is built into a grotto in the cliff and seems to be seated by a mix of tourists, locals, and maybe an expat or two. The food and the service are both excellent; our waiter is an older gentleman who probably speaks a little English but doesn't share any with us if he does. My sister tells him, in Italian, that she's studying in Firenze and he lights up and we know for sure we won't hear any English from him. Food, however, has a language all its own!
We have an antipasto misto for the table of whole anchovies, whole fish fried (I'm a little squeamish, but try them and enjoy it), and seafood salad, all fresh, foglie al pesto (a local specialty, and was it ever) for me, Mom and my sister, veal for me, baked anchovies for Mom, cheese croquettes for my sister, spaghetti alla vongole and then prawns for Dad. Then dessert: tiramisu for me, sponge cake for Mom and Emma, and Grand Marnier for Dad. Of course, wine with dinner and vin santo with dessert. Yum.
We can finally relax after a somewhat harrowing search for a hotel, and this spawns a discussion regarding travel styles and points of concern. I like the “unknown factor” hanging like a question mark over the day because I think half the fun of "traveling" is the adventure of discovering things. My sister did not find the day quite so adventurous and was pretty stressed out for a while. Mom, in her response to the stress factor involved in not having lodging arrangements before 8:00pm, wins the debate: "I WOULD have gotten frustrated, but I got drunk instead!"
After a dinner like that, we need to walk a little, and there's nowhere to go but up. We walk out onto the sea wall that surrounds the harbor and then up the hill through the center of town, past the train station. Beyond the train station is even quieter and seems to be mostly residential, with little or no activity after dark. We walk back downhill and then start the climb up to our loft. We follow signs to the castle at the edge of the promontory, but find it closed. So we settle for the garden terrace, marveling at how pitch black it is, with little artificial light in sight. We wander back to the hotel and call it quits for the night.
My family has a running joke regarding "porn star pigeons", and apparently these same pigeons reside in Italy, not just the US. When I moved to my last apartment, my roommate and I both thought that we had very "active" neighbors who preferred morning hours for their "activities". Eventually we realized it was the cooing of the pigeons that resided in the eaves. I have realized this phenomenon in several locales since then, the latest of which - San Gimignano, Italy! And so I awake at 7:00 to the sound of the Italian porn star pigeons outside our window.
I am AWAKE this morning and ready to go, so I jump in the shower. Mom calls my sister's cell phone to tell her what a fabulous view of the sunrise they have in their room. We have a view of an inner air-shaft space and said pigeons, so I run, camera in hand, towel on head, to their room to take pictures and then to the end of the hallway on our floor. The sunrise view IS fantastic - we're high on a hill overlooking what seems like all of Tuscany. Rolling hills rising above morning mist, valleys hidden from view, and the sun, pulling itself up and out from it all. I take plenty of pictures.
We eat breakfast in the same restaurant, less hurried this morning with a buffet. What we couldn't see last night is that the restaurant has that same sweeping view of the valley, and we drink it in with our coffee. It is finally sunny and we are anxious to get out into the beautiful weather.
We venture out into the morning and wander the stone streets with no direction in mind. Eventually, we come to the edge of the high stone wall that surrounds the city and find a walking path along the outside edge of the wall, circling the city and overlooking the valley. We pass an older gentleman who offers a chipper "Giorno", and the sun begins to release some heat. We walk about 180 degrees around the city, climbing back into the streets just below our hotel where we arrived last night.
From here, we do some gift shopping: Mom buys a hat (for PopPop), some wine (for themselves), pasta (for coworkers), jewelry (graduation present for niece), and a ceramic bowl and Pinocchio ornament for herself. Dad and I amuse ourselves people watching, because my shopping urge is shot and he never had one. We walk back to our hotel to check out, take some pictures of the well in front of our hotel - I'm sorry, but the thing makes me think of a gallows rather than a cisterna! - and meander down the hill.
We walk to the bus stop at the "entrance" to the city after buying bus tickets at a shop near the hotel. We take the bus to Poggibonsi, which is considerably livelier this morning, and buy train tickets for Empoli. We have difficulty with the ticket validating machine, which, again, creates some stress. The train is practically pulling into the station as we figure out the delicate balance of the machine on the last ticket.
We chug through the countryside, and it starts to get cloudy. From Empoli, we travel to Pisa. The regional trains are not nearly as nice as the high speed trains, but they're also a lot cheaper. We enjoy the ride anyway. Upon arriving in Pisa, we set off in search of The Tower. The one that leans. Now, I have seen this, and although iconic in a pizza-place menu type fashion, it wasn't on my list of highlights. But Mom and Dad do want to see it for themselves, and I can't argue that. So we walk. And walk. We're hungry, so we stop at a gelateria, each get pizza-type pastries that, although require a warm-up before we get them, are surprisingly good. We get some water and each order a gelato to go, chocolate for everyone except Dad, who gets pistachio.
And we walk. The city is not exceptionally scenic; in fact, the walk from the train station to the Leaning Tower is pretty gritty. We certainly don't feel endangered in any way, it just isn't the prettiest place we've seen on the trip. Eventually, we make it to the Piazza that houses the Tower and do what everyone does: take pictures, especially those "holding up" the Tower. I get a little carried away with this and my sister refuses to have her picture taken. I don't know why. We don't look foolish at all. I also take a picture of all those tourists who either cannot read the signs printed in both English and Italian or who choose to ignore said signs and are crawling all over the grass they're not supposed to stand on, taking pictures. I make sure I frame the "keep off" sign in front of them. I have pictures of Mom, Dad, and me each flexing and holding up the tower, but none of my sister; I do have a picture of her scowling up at the tower in apparent exasperation and confusion, which is almost as good.
We have some general idea of the following train schedule, so we realize we have to race back in order to NOT have to sit around the train station. We have to pick up the bag we're storing, buy the tickets, get to the platform and get on the train. We just make it. As we're boarding, a guy tries to pickpocket Dad, but my sister spots him and yells "HEY!" He disappears. (Travel solution number 2: to scare off pickpockets, just yell something, anything, really loudly).
We take the train to La Spezia, with no reservations or concept of time, really, for arrival in Cinqueterre. We pass through the marble region of Carrera along the coast, which is interesting to see. There is really no other scenery whatsoever, and you glimpse nothing of the sea. From La Spezia, we train to Monterosso al Mare, the northernmost town in Cinqueterre. It's not until we pop through the other side of the tunnel from La Spezia that we actually see the sea. But it is beautiful when we do see it, on the verge of cloud-cast sunset.
Mom and I leave Dad and my sister at the train station to scope out a hotel, but since it's off-season, there is basically nothing. Monterosso is, in my opinion, the least scenic of the five towns, and nothing looked available or appealing. We decide to take the train to Vernazza. Upon arriving back at the station, however, we discover that the other two have decided to pass the time by ordering a bottle of wine. They are sitting outside the small station cafe, wine bottle and two glasses between them, looking pretty pleased with themselves.
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em; the next train doesn't leave for an hour, so we order another bottle. It is cold and rainy but we are pretty warm from the wine. We finish up and saunter to the platform. Everyone is feeling pretty good at this point. We board the train to Vernazza, the next town to the south, and three minutes later, upon arrival, can't get off the train because we don't know how to open the doors. So we decide to continue on to Corniglia. It's not really a decision. We do somehow figure out the doors in Corniglia and end up watching the sunset from the train tracks in Corniglia. We wait for a train in the other direction and board it back to Vernazza. The doors, or maybe we, work as they should the second time.
Vernazza is quiet and dark, and we wander aimlessly down into town, without even the name of a hotel to look for. There are signs for "rooms", but we push on, and farther towards the harbor, we find the Hotel Gianni Franzo, with signs in the bar of a restaurant. The bartender directs us up the flight of stairs just around the corner, follow the signs, and into the door with our room number. Okay. We leave the bar after reserving a table in the busy restaurant (probably because it's one of the ONLY restaurants open right now) for 30 minutes from now, round the corner... and look up.
Vernazza is built into the cliffs along the Mediterranean, and the cliffs are steep. So between tiny buildings are tiny but steep staircases. We walk up one of these, switch-backing several times while following signs for Gianni Franzo. We are all tired, the wine is wearing off, and Dad is carrying the backpack that ate Italy. We don't count the stairs because we're too busy trying to maintain balance, but there are a lot. Eventually, we come to our door, open it, and look up. Again. We are in rooms numbered in the 300's and the first floor shows numbers in the tens. The spiral staircase winds upwards for what seems like miles. I run up ahead to see how far we have to go, anticipating a ten-flight trek, and by some miracle of mis-numbering, we're actually only on the second floor.
Once settled in our rooms, we have a moment to catch our collective breath and look around, and we discover that it is truly adorable. The hotel is possibly an old castle, but everything in Vernazza looks like it could have been part of a castle once. We freshen up and descend into the depths once again for dinner.
This may be our number one meal in Italy. The restaurant is built into a grotto in the cliff and seems to be seated by a mix of tourists, locals, and maybe an expat or two. The food and the service are both excellent; our waiter is an older gentleman who probably speaks a little English but doesn't share any with us if he does. My sister tells him, in Italian, that she's studying in Firenze and he lights up and we know for sure we won't hear any English from him. Food, however, has a language all its own!
We have an antipasto misto for the table of whole anchovies, whole fish fried (I'm a little squeamish, but try them and enjoy it), and seafood salad, all fresh, foglie al pesto (a local specialty, and was it ever) for me, Mom and my sister, veal for me, baked anchovies for Mom, cheese croquettes for my sister, spaghetti alla vongole and then prawns for Dad. Then dessert: tiramisu for me, sponge cake for Mom and Emma, and Grand Marnier for Dad. Of course, wine with dinner and vin santo with dessert. Yum.
We can finally relax after a somewhat harrowing search for a hotel, and this spawns a discussion regarding travel styles and points of concern. I like the “unknown factor” hanging like a question mark over the day because I think half the fun of "traveling" is the adventure of discovering things. My sister did not find the day quite so adventurous and was pretty stressed out for a while. Mom, in her response to the stress factor involved in not having lodging arrangements before 8:00pm, wins the debate: "I WOULD have gotten frustrated, but I got drunk instead!"
After a dinner like that, we need to walk a little, and there's nowhere to go but up. We walk out onto the sea wall that surrounds the harbor and then up the hill through the center of town, past the train station. Beyond the train station is even quieter and seems to be mostly residential, with little or no activity after dark. We walk back downhill and then start the climb up to our loft. We follow signs to the castle at the edge of the promontory, but find it closed. So we settle for the garden terrace, marveling at how pitch black it is, with little artificial light in sight. We wander back to the hotel and call it quits for the night.
Oct 24th, 2007 | 08:31 AM
#28
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
Likes: 0
Day 7 - March 27, 2007 - Herculean Hiking, Train Travel, and Dad’s Important Date - Cinqueterre to Firenze to Roma!
Again, my goal is to be up early for photo ops, but again, the weather is non-cooperative. I sleep anxiously, waking up at 4:45, 5:45, and then 6:45 with the alarm. It is cloudy and freezing cold, but I drag Mom out to see what we can see. Early morning is my favorite time of day when traveling, although I'm not a morning person. Even with the bluish light of cloudy predawn, I take tons of pictures. We walk around the sea wall and crawl along the rocks at the edge of the harbor, up to a statue posed above the church in the center of the harbor. We walk through town and capture more pictures. Eventually, we run out of things to photograph in this light and climb up to the hotel.
After showering and packing up again, we check out of the hotel in the bar and leave our luggage there. Although everyone is not as enthusiastic as I am, I insist that we must do some hiking. The sun has broken loose from the clouds, and it's warming from the morning. We wander through town and then up a set of stairs, following signs to the trail that leads to Corniglia. What I never realized before is that there are a number of trails, some closer to the sea, some higher up the mountain, some easier, some harder. I have taken this same trail before, but it's harder than I remember. We're all breathing pretty heavily along the way (an excerpt: Mom, to Dad, strong measure of concern in her voice: "What's WRONG?" Dad, exasperated, bluntly: "SWEATing."
, but the views are incredible and totally worth the effort. There are some surprises along the way, with vineyards, olive groves, and even a tavern popping up along the trail.
Despite complaints, everyone enjoys the daily constitutional, for the most part, as we stumble into town, looking for the way to the train station. I forgot this part, also - from town, it's a tight twist of switchbacks with wide steps down the train station. Hey, at least we're not walking UP them. Again, we can't be bothered to count, and again, there are a lot. Eventually, we find the bottom and the train tracks there and board the train back to Vernazza.
In Vernazza, we pick up our luggage at the bar and stop for a quick lunch at the Blue Marlin, which appears to be a pretty happening place during tourist season, judging from the scrolling pics on the internet access computers' screen savers. The food was very good: salame panino for me, pizza Napoli for Mom, gnocchi with pesto for my sister, and ham and mozzarella focaccia for Dad. We share a carafe of wine, which puts us in good spirits and makes us sufficiently sleepy for the upcoming train ride.
We take the train from Vernazza to La Spezia, La Spezia to Pisa, and Pisa to Firenze, where we trek, yet again, back to my sister's apartment. Here we reorganize our belongings for the last time; we are taking the train to Roma, staying there overnight, and then Mom, Dad and I are flying home and my sister is flying to Paris for the weekend. Lucky. After moderate packing drama, we trudge back to the station, full baggage in tow. We buy our high speed tickets to Roma with ease and board the train in short order.
The train ride is, as always, enjoyable, and we arrive in Rome, map in hand, in search of our hotel, which is near the opera house. We don't know where the opera house is, so that doesn't help. We do find the hotel pretty easily and check in without any difficulties. Once again, it's relatively late and we are hungry, so we make necessary adjustments and wander back out into the city.
We have no restaurant recommendations on hand, especially not for those open this late, and as is the fashion when trying to find a restaurant when everyone is hungry, end up wandering all the way into the Trevi Fountain area again. I have concern with this, considering most restaurants surrounding the fountain are probably very touristy. But they're OPEN and that's all that matters at this late hour.
Today is Dad's birthday, and we are hoping for a decent dinner with which to celebrate. And we get one. If this is a "touristy" restaurant, more should be like it, because the food is very good. Again, we share our prerequisite bottle of wine, share a mix of antipasti, and order a mix of pasta and meat dishes. My sister, en route to the restroom, informs the waiter of Dad's birthday.
It is LATE at this point, about 11:00. There are still other diners eating in the restaurant, so we don't feel rushed. The waiters are cleaning up in general, and then, suddenly, a waiter turns out the lights. One waiter cries out in disgust for them to turn them back up and gestures to us as if to say, "They're still eating!" We think the same thing. Then music comes up, loudly: "WHENNNNNNN THEEEEEEEE moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie..." And the waiter comes dancing and singing over to our table with a huge candle-studded dessert... We are all stunned. Mom will swear later that she saw tears in my Dad's eyes; it was definitely a great end to the trip and a great birthday acknowledgment.
After we do what we can with what turns about to be a big pile of éclair-type pastries, we pay the bill and wander towards the fountain, only steps away from the restaurant. We are trying to convince Mom to kiss Dad in front of the fountain for his birthday, and she does, but she's not being very romantic. There are tons of people at the fountain again, and she's embarrassed. We each toss a coin into the fountain to ensure a repeat visit, and then we get carried away for a little while, chucking coins into the water viciously. We have to get rid of our Euros some way, right? We stick with smaller denominations. We catch all on video.
We wander around some more, soaking in our last minutes of Italy, but nature is calling my sister. It's 11:00 and everything is closed. We venture on to the Spanish Steps, where we're confronted by the peddlers we'd so carefully avoided. My sister gets the rose deal and, more concerned with her bladder, takes it from him, then realizes and insists on giving it back. Finally, he takes it back, cursing at her in Italian. That's enough of the Spanish Steps. We walk up them, stop at a hotel lobby for directions, and walk back to the hotel. We inadvertently walk through the piazza with the four corner fountains, so I get a few bonus pictures of those as we charge onward.
The hotel spells relief in more ways than one, and we organize everything for tomorrow's early departure, falling into bed.
Day 8 - March 28, 2007 - Planes, Trains, but no Automobiles - Roma to Homa!
This is a quick summary, because it's really a boring day, in terms of a trip report!
The alarm rings early to start the shower cycle. Breakfast is eaten standing the lobby because the room is packed with a student trip. Off to the train station, where we take the 30-minute airport train. We say goodbye to my sister earlier than expected because we have different security points to go through. Security is relatively easy but more thorough than the US. The flight attendants even perform random carry-on searches as we're boarding.
The flight is uneventful, and we split up upon landing for my mad dash through customs and another security check point, where I get pulled aside for a more thorough search. I end up missing my flight to Las Vegas, but I switch to a later flight with minimal drama, although it is full and I wind up with less than ideal seating. I arrive in Vegas hours later, exhausted but thrilled at our recent adventure.
Observations:
My family travels REALLY well together, all things considered, and I'm anxious for our next trip.
Impressions of places, to me, are so strongly affected by weather. It sets the tone for the energy of the locale and colors your experiences. Venice, on this trip, equals grey and rainy, which is fitting for Venice.
Our next trip will be a little less ambitious and focus on a smaller region.
The first time I traveled through Italy, it was raining and miserable in Florence, and then we went on to a sunny, warm day in Rome. I liked Rome better. This time, I like Florence better and finally understand all the hype!
Knowing just a few words or phrases in Italian can get you a LONG way.
What seems confusing and daunting at first (bus schedules, ordering breakfast) isn't usually that scary. It's just new and different.
Trains are great.
I thought I packed "light"; next time, I will pack even less.
Writing this trip report was wonderful, because I relived the entire trip, six months later, in glorious detail.
Thanks to everyone on Fodor's who, for four years, supplied me with hotel, restaurant, and transportation tips. Hopefully my next trip won't take so long!
Again, my goal is to be up early for photo ops, but again, the weather is non-cooperative. I sleep anxiously, waking up at 4:45, 5:45, and then 6:45 with the alarm. It is cloudy and freezing cold, but I drag Mom out to see what we can see. Early morning is my favorite time of day when traveling, although I'm not a morning person. Even with the bluish light of cloudy predawn, I take tons of pictures. We walk around the sea wall and crawl along the rocks at the edge of the harbor, up to a statue posed above the church in the center of the harbor. We walk through town and capture more pictures. Eventually, we run out of things to photograph in this light and climb up to the hotel.
After showering and packing up again, we check out of the hotel in the bar and leave our luggage there. Although everyone is not as enthusiastic as I am, I insist that we must do some hiking. The sun has broken loose from the clouds, and it's warming from the morning. We wander through town and then up a set of stairs, following signs to the trail that leads to Corniglia. What I never realized before is that there are a number of trails, some closer to the sea, some higher up the mountain, some easier, some harder. I have taken this same trail before, but it's harder than I remember. We're all breathing pretty heavily along the way (an excerpt: Mom, to Dad, strong measure of concern in her voice: "What's WRONG?" Dad, exasperated, bluntly: "SWEATing."
, but the views are incredible and totally worth the effort. There are some surprises along the way, with vineyards, olive groves, and even a tavern popping up along the trail.Despite complaints, everyone enjoys the daily constitutional, for the most part, as we stumble into town, looking for the way to the train station. I forgot this part, also - from town, it's a tight twist of switchbacks with wide steps down the train station. Hey, at least we're not walking UP them. Again, we can't be bothered to count, and again, there are a lot. Eventually, we find the bottom and the train tracks there and board the train back to Vernazza.
In Vernazza, we pick up our luggage at the bar and stop for a quick lunch at the Blue Marlin, which appears to be a pretty happening place during tourist season, judging from the scrolling pics on the internet access computers' screen savers. The food was very good: salame panino for me, pizza Napoli for Mom, gnocchi with pesto for my sister, and ham and mozzarella focaccia for Dad. We share a carafe of wine, which puts us in good spirits and makes us sufficiently sleepy for the upcoming train ride.
We take the train from Vernazza to La Spezia, La Spezia to Pisa, and Pisa to Firenze, where we trek, yet again, back to my sister's apartment. Here we reorganize our belongings for the last time; we are taking the train to Roma, staying there overnight, and then Mom, Dad and I are flying home and my sister is flying to Paris for the weekend. Lucky. After moderate packing drama, we trudge back to the station, full baggage in tow. We buy our high speed tickets to Roma with ease and board the train in short order.
The train ride is, as always, enjoyable, and we arrive in Rome, map in hand, in search of our hotel, which is near the opera house. We don't know where the opera house is, so that doesn't help. We do find the hotel pretty easily and check in without any difficulties. Once again, it's relatively late and we are hungry, so we make necessary adjustments and wander back out into the city.
We have no restaurant recommendations on hand, especially not for those open this late, and as is the fashion when trying to find a restaurant when everyone is hungry, end up wandering all the way into the Trevi Fountain area again. I have concern with this, considering most restaurants surrounding the fountain are probably very touristy. But they're OPEN and that's all that matters at this late hour.
Today is Dad's birthday, and we are hoping for a decent dinner with which to celebrate. And we get one. If this is a "touristy" restaurant, more should be like it, because the food is very good. Again, we share our prerequisite bottle of wine, share a mix of antipasti, and order a mix of pasta and meat dishes. My sister, en route to the restroom, informs the waiter of Dad's birthday.
It is LATE at this point, about 11:00. There are still other diners eating in the restaurant, so we don't feel rushed. The waiters are cleaning up in general, and then, suddenly, a waiter turns out the lights. One waiter cries out in disgust for them to turn them back up and gestures to us as if to say, "They're still eating!" We think the same thing. Then music comes up, loudly: "WHENNNNNNN THEEEEEEEE moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie..." And the waiter comes dancing and singing over to our table with a huge candle-studded dessert... We are all stunned. Mom will swear later that she saw tears in my Dad's eyes; it was definitely a great end to the trip and a great birthday acknowledgment.
After we do what we can with what turns about to be a big pile of éclair-type pastries, we pay the bill and wander towards the fountain, only steps away from the restaurant. We are trying to convince Mom to kiss Dad in front of the fountain for his birthday, and she does, but she's not being very romantic. There are tons of people at the fountain again, and she's embarrassed. We each toss a coin into the fountain to ensure a repeat visit, and then we get carried away for a little while, chucking coins into the water viciously. We have to get rid of our Euros some way, right? We stick with smaller denominations. We catch all on video.
We wander around some more, soaking in our last minutes of Italy, but nature is calling my sister. It's 11:00 and everything is closed. We venture on to the Spanish Steps, where we're confronted by the peddlers we'd so carefully avoided. My sister gets the rose deal and, more concerned with her bladder, takes it from him, then realizes and insists on giving it back. Finally, he takes it back, cursing at her in Italian. That's enough of the Spanish Steps. We walk up them, stop at a hotel lobby for directions, and walk back to the hotel. We inadvertently walk through the piazza with the four corner fountains, so I get a few bonus pictures of those as we charge onward.
The hotel spells relief in more ways than one, and we organize everything for tomorrow's early departure, falling into bed.
Day 8 - March 28, 2007 - Planes, Trains, but no Automobiles - Roma to Homa!
This is a quick summary, because it's really a boring day, in terms of a trip report!
The alarm rings early to start the shower cycle. Breakfast is eaten standing the lobby because the room is packed with a student trip. Off to the train station, where we take the 30-minute airport train. We say goodbye to my sister earlier than expected because we have different security points to go through. Security is relatively easy but more thorough than the US. The flight attendants even perform random carry-on searches as we're boarding.
The flight is uneventful, and we split up upon landing for my mad dash through customs and another security check point, where I get pulled aside for a more thorough search. I end up missing my flight to Las Vegas, but I switch to a later flight with minimal drama, although it is full and I wind up with less than ideal seating. I arrive in Vegas hours later, exhausted but thrilled at our recent adventure.
Observations:
My family travels REALLY well together, all things considered, and I'm anxious for our next trip.
Impressions of places, to me, are so strongly affected by weather. It sets the tone for the energy of the locale and colors your experiences. Venice, on this trip, equals grey and rainy, which is fitting for Venice.
Our next trip will be a little less ambitious and focus on a smaller region.
The first time I traveled through Italy, it was raining and miserable in Florence, and then we went on to a sunny, warm day in Rome. I liked Rome better. This time, I like Florence better and finally understand all the hype!
Knowing just a few words or phrases in Italian can get you a LONG way.
What seems confusing and daunting at first (bus schedules, ordering breakfast) isn't usually that scary. It's just new and different.
Trains are great.
I thought I packed "light"; next time, I will pack even less.
Writing this trip report was wonderful, because I relived the entire trip, six months later, in glorious detail.
Thanks to everyone on Fodor's who, for four years, supplied me with hotel, restaurant, and transportation tips. Hopefully my next trip won't take so long!
Oct 24th, 2007 | 11:08 AM
#29
Joined: Nov 2005
Posts: 2,861
Likes: 0
Thank you for a delightful trip report. I love reports of families traveling together. (My sisters are the best travel companions.)
What a wonderful birthday for your dad.
Best wishes to you and please take another trip soon so we can have another trip report
What a wonderful birthday for your dad.
Best wishes to you and please take another trip soon so we can have another trip report
Oct 25th, 2007 | 01:58 PM
#33
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
Likes: 0
Thanks for the responses! I hadn't planned on posting the pictures... I don't even have a photo sharing website account! Let me see what I can do, although it took me six months to post this report, so I can't make any promises! Any suggestions for an easy, free one?
Oct 25th, 2007 | 03:15 PM
#35
Joined: Jan 2005
Posts: 701
Likes: 0
Ceb -
A wonderful report. Although I have no clue what you or the rest of your family looks like, I could somehow picture the four of you in virtually every tale you told us. That's the mark of a superb author I think.
Next time, take me with you? Rather, take my wife and me and my daughter (possibly about your age) and my sister. Why? Because you apparently had SO much fun! Yes, as a slow traveler I might get frustrated with the indecision and uncertainty and stress - on the other hand, your mother's solution seems perfectly reasonable to me ("... I got drunk instead".
Travel again soon. And give us another report.
KC
A wonderful report. Although I have no clue what you or the rest of your family looks like, I could somehow picture the four of you in virtually every tale you told us. That's the mark of a superb author I think.
Next time, take me with you? Rather, take my wife and me and my daughter (possibly about your age) and my sister. Why? Because you apparently had SO much fun! Yes, as a slow traveler I might get frustrated with the indecision and uncertainty and stress - on the other hand, your mother's solution seems perfectly reasonable to me ("... I got drunk instead"
.Travel again soon. And give us another report.
KC
Oct 25th, 2007 | 06:06 PM
#36
Joined: Aug 2003
Posts: 1,124
Likes: 0
I have enjoyed reading about your adventures so much that I think you should go ahead and make up a few more days so I can continue to secretly check this site at work to look for more installments. I wish you would have made it to the Amalfi Coast just so you could keep this going. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Oct 27th, 2007 | 12:51 PM
#37
Original Poster
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 336
Likes: 0
Thanks so much for the compliments! Trust me, I wish I could have more days to write about! I'm sure I could make something up...
We do have fun with pretty minimal drama, as far as family travel goes, I think. We try to just enjoy the ride.
I'm actually considering writing a trip report of my last European travel experience, which was six years ago... outdated, but it's fun to relive the experience and then get it out there and share it!
We do have fun with pretty minimal drama, as far as family travel goes, I think. We try to just enjoy the ride.
I'm actually considering writing a trip report of my last European travel experience, which was six years ago... outdated, but it's fun to relive the experience and then get it out there and share it!
