Europe Chapter 4: Part II Does my travel insurance cover this?

"Ken, how sure are you that we have a reservation at our hostel?" Stacey yelled as she walked out of the Amalfi train station. I was down at the end of the pier guarding our 4 bottles of wine we had been lugging around since Florence a week prior and taking pictures of the full moon's reflection off of the Mediterranean sea.

"Pretty sure. I got an email confirmation." Ken replied.

"Because some Scottish guy just told me they were closed for renovations." Said Stacey.

It would be a fitting end to the day we had just experienced. In the morning, we'd spent hours in the Italian version of mail boxes etc., Ki Point, communicating with the store clerks through Google Translate. We wanted to mail home our 4 bottles of wine and some winter clothes we no longer needed, but the clerks spoke minimal English and we only spoke traveler's survival Italian. So, we'd ask a question by typing it onto the computer and clicking 'translate.' Google Translate would spit out the rough Italian translation. The store clerks would reply by doing the same except from Italian to English. Half the time, we'd have to guess at the answer because the translator would only give exact text book translations which often made no sense at all. We finally figured out that it was illegal to mail wine to the US, but from what we could get out of google translator, the clerks wanted us to mail it anyway and not declare it. We passed on that option. Stacey and I didn't think we'd ever see the box again if we did. Some US customs personnel probably would have had a wine and cheese party at our expense. More time was spent at Ki Point looking at transportation options for the day and later to Athens, Greece.

I walked back to the group after taking my picture just as two guys approached and greeted us. "Oh geez. Here they come. Just ignore them, maybe they'll go away." Stacey whispered.

"No need to be frightened, we're not in Naples anymore." Said one guy. Naples is from where we had just come. It doesn't have a very good reputation with travelers and was definitely not one of my favorites in Italy. It was congested, polluted and there was construction occurring everywhere. We had just spent 4 hours on several buses trying to escape the industrial city. We hadn't made it more than 30 minutes out of town when our bus broke down in Pompeii. That of course made us late for the rest of our connections to Amalfi and we had arrived barely in time to catch our last connection on to Positano where we had booked 3 beds in a hostel.

"My name is Willy and this is me brother Chris. We were talking to your friend in the train station and she said you guys think you have a reservation at Brikette in Positano. Well I drove by there today on my way to Sorrento and it looked like it was closed for renovations. You can borrow my phone if you like and give them a ring or you can stay with my brother and I at our hostel just up the hill for 15 euro each."

Stacey, Ken and I exchanged worried glances. Ken said, "I got an email from them confirming our dates, but I believe you." We decided to take them up on the offer to use their phone. Stacey dialed and sure enough, no answer with a machine saying they were closed.

"You guys are more than welcome to stay with us, or you can take your chances and take the bus to Positano, but like I said, they were doing work on it when I drove by this morning. If you plan on staying for a bit, we're opening our pub in time for St. Patrick's Day on Friday. Chris, give them a card."

Eventually, after a group huddle, we decided to stay with Willy and Chris. They seemed like sincere guys, and our only other option was taking the last bus to Positano to see if Brikette was actually open. If it was closed, we'd have to take a taxi all the way back to Amalfi or to Sorrento and it was already 8pm.

Willy had room to take one person up to the hostel on his moped while the other two would have to take the bus. I was feeling adventurous and decided to have a go at being a moped passenger. As I handed over my belongings to Stacey and Ken, I second guessed my decision. Willy was not a small man and his moped (as all mopeds are) was quite small. There barely seemed to be room for him alone. I wondered out loud, "Does my travel insurance cover this?" and laughed a nervous laugh. I strapped on the helmet, climbed on to the back edge of the moped's seat, and wrapped my arms as far around Willy's belly as I could. "See you guys at the top." Ken and Stacey walked to the bus stop and I waited for Willy while he chased after another backpacker in front of the bus station. I guess that's their main method of getting business, stalking.

It was a cool night and the breeze against my face felt chilling but nice as we wound our way up the hill. Picture Highway 1 along the California coast on a full moon evening. Now imagine it is a one way road switchbacking up a Sierra Nevada cliff. That was the road up to Willy's hostel. I pretended I was in no danger and chatted (well, yelled...the moped was loud) as I took in the sights up the cliff. Turns out he and his brother were both from England and the house that they ran the hostel out of was left to them by their now deceased grandmother. Oh, and they didn't have a hostel license, so the whole operation was illegal. I could only think to myself, "Too late to turn back now!"

Willy and I met Ken and Stacey at the bus stop closest to Willy's hostel. I grabbed my roughly 30 pound pack (It's winter ok. I have a lot of layers and a heavy coat!) and Willy led us to the base of some stairs. "Pace yourself" he said, "There are a lot of steps." I thought he was joking. He wasn't. I was too busy concentrating on lifting my leg to the next step to count, but the next day, I counted just under 300 steps from the bottom of the road to Willy's front door. Sure enough, there were A LOT of steps.

After we caught our breath and settled into our very humble accommodations, Willy, as promised, took us out to a cheap meal. We walked back down the ~300 steps and to the bus stop and waited for awhile for the bus that would take us to the neighboring town of Pogerola. We waited...and waited...and waited some more. The bus never came, but Willy flagged down someone I assumed to be a friend and we hitched a ride to Pogerola. Now would be a good time to describe to you how Italians learn to drive. They don't. I mean, they drive, but there are no rules or laws governing the way in which they drive. In fact, there's not even painted lines separating one side of the road from the other and for good reason: because there really isn't two sides of the road. And if there's a speed limit, they don't abide by it. They barely even pay attention to traffic lights or stop signs or pedestrians!!! Getting into the car with Willy's friend was the first time any of us had actually been in a car with an Italian driver. We knew Italian drivers are crazy, but it's a whole other story when you're actually in the car with them! Anyway, as you can tell, we made it to Pogerola alive, otherwise I wouldn't be sharing this story with you and would most likely instead be in a car somewhere at the bottom of the Mediterranean sea or if we were lucky, trapped on the hillside below.

Dinner was excellent. Quite possibly the best we had had in Italy. It helped that Willy spoke fluent Italian. He ended up ordering for all of us and we shared a few plates of antipasti (artichoke hearts, grilled peppers, olives, etc) and bread, as well as a massive pizza. After dinner, we headed next door to a bar where Chris (Willy's brother) and another American girl, Allegra, who was also staying at Willy's, met us. We spent the rest of the night with a few rounds of beer and red wine and singing really bad karaoke with the bartender. Needless to say, it was a crazy night. It felt like a dream. Nothing seemed real or possible. When the bartender had had enough of us, he drove us home. Yes, the bartender drove us home.

The next few days in Amalfi were pretty normal. We went to Positano the next day (Thursday) to walk around a bit and have lunch.

While waiting for the bus back to Amalfi, we decided on a whim to hop on the bus going the opposite direction to check out Sorrento. Nothing spectacular to report there, except that the place is a rip off. I spent 8 euro on a small dessert and hot chocolate which should have cost me no more than 4.

On Friday, St. Patrick's Day, we walked the "Path of the Gods" which linked Amalfi and Positano together via the top of the mountain. We had a gorgeous day of few clouds and bright blue skies to match the Mediterranean blue.

On Saturday, we left Amalfi to go to a small town called Sora which was our last stop in Italy. We spent 3 nights and 2 days on a farmstay in the small town learning how pecorino cheese is traditionally made (from sheep's milk), horseback riding, walking, and relaxing. I ended up getting sick one of the days we were there and stayed in bed.

We flew out to Athens, Greece on Tuesday, March 21 and spent a few days seeing the Acropolis, Temple of Zeus, and the Archaeological museum. We are now on the island of Crete. It is Ken's last day with us. He's off to London for a few days, then home by April 1. Until my next update, I hope spring is treating you all well!

Europe Chapter 4: Part I Snow in Venice!

I think in my last update, we were leaving Torino and on our way to Florence for a few days. I wasn't really sure what to expect. Stacey raved about Florence since she had lived there for a few months while in school and Ken enjoyed it while he was visiting with Kat. Walking around, I could tell why Florence is so charming. It's different from other Italian cities that we had been to. It's considered large, but it's not industrial and everything is centralized making it seem like a small town.

Florence is art central. I spent my first few days in the Galleria del' Academia (where the statue, David, is housed among other sculptures and works of art), Uffizi (lots of Madonna paintings as well as a few famous Raphael's, Da Vinci's, and Botticelli's such as the Birth of Venus), climbed the steps of the dome in the Duomo (aka cathedral), visited a museum dedicated to the inventions of Leonardo Da Vinci, browsed the street and leather markets and walked around town.
Ken, Stacey and I booked a bicycle wine tour through the Chianti region of Tuscany, just outside of Florence. Unfortunately, Ken came down with a bacterial infection that kept him from doing the bike tour and much of anything while in Florence. So, what was to be a short stay became a week. Stacey and I felt really bad for Ken, but we enjoyed the downtime. We made friends with Martine, the 4th person in our 4 bedroom dorm, who replaced Ken on the bike tour. I hate to say it, but Ken missed out on one of my favorite days. The bike tour was just what I needed; A leisurely pedal through the green rolling hills of Tuscany. Well, most of it was leisurely. At one point, 60 year old men were passing us up a hill while Stacey was getting pushed up by our bike guide. (Shh!!! Don't tell her I told you that!) We only went to 1 winery, but it was formerly the home of Machiavelli post "The Prince." We also stopped to pet and feed fresh grass to a few ponies on the side of the road, one of which demanded our attention over the other ponies and nipped me in the arse! I always secretly knew ponies were evil!

While Ken was recovering, Martine (who is from the french speaking part of Canada), Stacey, and I took a day trip to Sienna. Of course, they were doing work on the local cathedral (Stacey and I have found that every town we visit, the cathedral is covered in scaffolding...Milan, Florence, Siena...it's our running joke at the moment), but we did manage to see the preserved head and thumb of St. Catherine. Ooooooo, aaaahhhh! If anyone knows why her head and thumb are in Sienna while the rest of her body is in Rome, please do share!!

When we weren't out and about being busy American tourists, we were in the common room of our hostel playing cards, writing in our journals or watching movies. This is where we met another friend, Shawn who hung out with us for awhile. The four of us (Stacey, me, Martine and Shawn) decided to take a train to Venice where Shawn, me, and Martine spent a weekend and Stacey a day exploring the man-made islands.

I've heard a lot of bad things about Venice, but I'm glad I decided to form my own opinion on it because it was beautiful!!! We stepped off of the train to warm weather and bright sunshine and managed to snag a great deal on a good hotel. The four of us spent the afternoon in t-shirts getting lost on the winding streets and canal-lined pathways and stuffing our faces with gelato. I couldn't believe our stroke of luck with the weather. Maybe it was the sunshine, but I was giddy. We unknowingly wound our way to San Marcos square in front of St. Mark's Basilica and proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes entertaining ourselves with pigeons. You kind of have to be there to understand. They're just EVERYWHERE and they're not scared of people. In fact, they will stop and poop on you as if you were a tree if you have food. Shawn and I laughed at Stacey and Martine. They're not bird people and would scream or duck (no pun intended) whenever one or a dozen came too close.

The next morning, I awoke to white stuff fluttering through the Venice sky. Snow was not on my mind, especially since I had spent the previous afternoon walking around in a short sleeved shirt. It took me a more than a few glances to convince myself it was actually snow! Yes, in Venice of all places! The hills of central Italy were white with snow on the extremely long train ride from Venice to Naples, where I reunited with Stacey and Ken. Even the Italians seemed a bit shocked. Me, Stacey and the rejuvinated Ken spent the next few days day tripping from Naples to the Island of Capri, where we hiked, and Pompeii, to tour the ruined aftermath of the infamous Vesuvias erruption.
Naples was mostly uneventful except for the archeological museum and a prank Stacey and Ken pulled on me. They checked into the hostel before I arrived and when asked where the third member of our party was (because we reserved a room for 3 and I was still in Venice), Ken told the staff member that I ran off to Venice with a boy for the weekend (which is less than HALF true because it was with Shawn AND Martine and the way he said it implied that the boy and I were romantically involved). The next morning, the ENTIRE hostel staff knew about me and made comments such as, "Love is in the air." Yeah right! For our remaining time there, one of the staff members kept trying to play matchmaker with me and all of the eligible bachelors staying at the hostel. I'm still plotting to get even with Ken.