Venezia

Within minutes of arrival in Venice, Colleen and I fell head over heels in love with the city. Venice was an Italy that we had not yet seen. After experiencing the outrageousness and brazeness of Rome and the glamour and sophisitication of Florence, we were relieved to find that Venice, with its quiet canals, was a place where real people lived. We passed shopkeepers and grocers on the street. We walked through grocery stores and farmer's markets in the piazzas. We saw grandparents pushing their Italian grandchildren through parks, and we watched kids play on playgrounds.

After dropping our stuff of at the hostel, we spent the day walking through Venice.
Here's the city that captured my heart:









This is the Realto Bridge at night:



Venice's transportation system is quite unique. Because Venice is a series of islands, there are few cars that can be found in Venice. The public transportation system is not comprised of a series of bus lines, but a series of boat lines. The Valporetto is the city's equivalent of a metro or subway system. As a passenger, you wait in a covered dock for the boat line you would like to arrive. Then, you hop on and cruise the waterways until you arrive at your particular stop. This is a typical Valporetto stop:

Even the ambulances in Venice arrive by boat!



During our second day in Venice, Colleen and I decided to make use of the city's public transportation system. We spent the day riding the Valporetto and island hopping. Our first stop was Lido - a quiet, residential island with a beach! Colleen and I were pleased to spent part of our morning on the water, but we were completely unsure as to which body of water we were at.



The first question we had to answer was whether the water was salty or fresh. So, I tasted it. (Colleen was disgusted and began lecturing me on diseases.)




Through this taste test, I discovered one thing and was reminded of another. First, my discovery: the water was definitely salty. Second, if you stand too close to the water as the waves come in, you will get wet! And in the winter, the water is COLD!



One of the other interesting things about Lido was the artwork that was scattered throughout the island. Here is our favorite piece, and here is Colleen adding her own artistic vision:



After Lido, we headed to Murano, the little island with a big reputation. Murano is known across the world for its production of Venetian glass. There were glass jewelery shops and glass sculptures everywhere.





My favorite part of Murano (and perhaps my favorite part of Venice) was watching the glass-blowing demonstration at the glass factory. I was surprised to learn that it takes a minimum of twenty-five years of hands-on apprenticeship before a person can be considered a glass master. I have decided that if I am ever independently wealthy, I will move to and live on Murano and learn how to blow glass.

In these pictures, the glass-blowers were blowing a vase right before our eyes!







Our last island for the day was Cimiterro, which is Italian for "cemetery." Because land is precious in water-locked Venice, the Venetians set aside an aside an island as the final resting place for their dead. This is the view of Cimterro as you would see it on the Valporetto.



This is the church on Cimiterro.



This is the path to the cemetery.





Colleen and I were both impressed with the holiness and "set-apartness" of the island. Cimiterro was beautiful.

Our ride back to the main island was also beautiful. The sun painted blues and pinks across a golden sky before it went to sleep. In these pictures, you can see the Italian Alps in the distance.





As Colleen and I were packing on the morning of our last day in Venice, two of our hostel-mates burst into our room after an early morning of sight-seeing hollering that Venice was flooded. They were planning on hanging out in the hostel until the waters receded. I was thrilled at the idea of seeing a flooded Venice and announced to Colleen that we were going to exploring!

This is Venice at flood levels.











The flood waters didn't stop the Venetians for a second. In fact, I was impressed with the way in which the people pulled on their knee high or thigh high golashes and splashed their way to their jobs.

During our stay in Venice, we had seen this sign everywhere:



In case the print is small, the sign essentially shares a flood contingency plan. Whenever Venice floods, the city will lay out and connect a series of long, wooden platforms for people to walk on as they go from place to place. This me walking on the platforms on the way to the bus station on our last day in Venice.



Colleen and I slowly made our way across the city on these crowded platforms. When we arrived at the bus station, we were shocked and dismayed to learn that there were only going to be two buses out of Venice going to Vienna and both buses were full. We rushed to the train station to see if there were any trains that we could take -- only to discover, that to leave Venice would cost us the equivalent of $500 a piece. (We would learn later that there was a transportation strike and only limited buses and trains were running on that particular day.) It looked like we were going to be stuck in Venice for another day. Thankfully, neither she nor I had to be anywhere immediately, and the extra twenty four hours didn't hurt us.

We explored the far corners of Venice that we hadn't yet had a chance to see. Here are some of our pictures from our "bonus" day.





The next day, we were able to catch a bus to Villach and a train to Vienna. Little did we know that our Italian Christmas Adventure was going to end with a bang... I'll fill you on the details of our New Years soon.

Firenze

The day after Christmas, we woke up with enough time to watch the sunrise at the train station in Rome.



Now, you know that Colleen and I are missionaries. You also probably know that we have fairly meager salaries. Colleen and I exercised all our creative powers to be able to afford our stomp through Italy. We grocery shopped for breakfast and lunch and only ate at small holes-in-the-wall for good, but inexpensive dinners. We did not visit many museums so that we did not have to pay admission cost. We firmly believe in walking. Everywhere. Eliminating metros and buses was an easy way to save money. We also took the commuter trains (not the Eurostar/Eurail trains) between cities in Italy. These trains are different than the major rail lines because, while they may leave from a major train station, they usually drop you off at a smaller station in the suburbs of your destination city. This meant that Colleen and I would backpack three or four miles into city center and then go to our hostel from there. Before you think that we are crazy, let me say that walking from the outside of the city in allowed us to see the Florence and the Venice that real people live in. I have discovered that what I like best about travelling is simply soaking in new tastes and textures, sounds and smells of the people who live there. This is hard to do when you limit your experience in a foreign city to the main attractions because you end up spending the majority of your time with other camera-carrying tourists who are just as turned around and lost as you are. Our hike into Florence was one of my favorite experiences in Italy. The weather was warmer than we had expected and neither Colleen nor I needed to wear our winter coats.

We were so far out of the city, that the we weren’t even on the map we had purchased. After asking for directions at a local drug store, Colleen and I decided that instead of taking the bus the woman had recommended, we would merely walk the bus route into town. So, we determined which streets to take and which turns to make by simply connecting the dots between the bus stops that led into city center.
We were greeted at our hostel with good news. Because of some mysterious booking issues, we were given a private room. After the crazy people we lived with in Rome, we were relieved to have our own space. I think this was enough for Colleen and I to fall in love with Florence.

Florence, or Firenze as it’s called in Italian, is a city for window shopping. Colleen and I spent our first night in Florence wandering through the streets, stopping periodically to gawk at the displays in the windows. We passed Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, Valentino, Roberto Cavalli, Armani, Versace... this list could continue. This was my first experience with concentrated European fashion. It was a jaw-dropping experience. When we could peel our eyes away from the windows to the people around us, we realized that we were severely underdressed for a rainy walk through the streets of Florence. I don't think I have ever seen so many well-dressed people in my life. Even their umbrellas were color-coordinated with their shoes. I am not a person who cares much at all about the latest and chic-est trend (and this is a good thing because I would need to take out a second mortgage on my future house in order to afford to be so); however, after two hours in this city I found myself lusting after 4 inch, knee high Gucci boots and a lime green Versace purse. This is a city that could get the pope to covet.

As a penance or actually because we were excited to do so, we attended 6pm mass at Santo Spirito Church. The worship was in Italian, but we recognized many of the words and even the melodies of songs that were being sung. Here is a picture of the outside of the church.



As a penance for coveting - or, more honestly, because we wanted to, we attended 6pm mass at Santo Spirito Church. The worship was in Italian, but we recognized many of the words and even the melodies of songs that were being sung. Together, with our Italian brothers and sisters, we worshipped the new born bambino. Here is a picture of the outside of the church.
After viewing the church's facade, I assumed the church was going to have a plain and minimalist interior... but as I was reminded yet again: appearances can be deceiving. I was shocked to find that this church has 38 decorated, ornamented chapels - and almost all of them are trimmed in gold. We were not able to take pictures of the inside of the church, but here is one I found online. This is Santo Spirito's formal nave:



After mass, we went back to the hostel for a long night’s sleep.
The next day was Sunday, and Colleen and I woke up and walked around Florence until we saw a church that was having morning mass. Would you believe the first place we stumbled upon was the Duomo? We caught the 10:30am mass in chanted Italian. Here are pictures of the Duomo:





After church, we grabbed some lunch and headed to La Accademia to find David.



From there, we went on a city walk. Before I left Slovakia, I printed off a “Florence City Walk” from the internet. This walk took us through the Florence that the tourists want to see, but it also took us through the Florence that the Florentines see every day. One of my favorite parts of the walk was strolling through the Mercato Street Market. We shopped for a while, and eventually both Colleen and I bought pashminas to take home with us.

This is San Marco's Church in San Marco Piazza where we began our walk.



Here is Santa Maria Novella Church:



There was an abundance of street art. We watched as an older man created this:



There was a scuplture park off one of the main piazzas.



This is the view of the Arno River from the Ponte Vecchio Bridge at sunset.



On our last day in Florence, Colleen and I woke up early and hiked out of the city, across the Arno River and into the Oltrarno neighborhoods. Our walk took us up into the hills and vineyards above the city. Florence – the Florence beyond the window displays, gelato stands, and street markets – was beautiful.







We left Florence well-fed, well-walked and very excited for Venice.

When in Roma...

I am not a traveler extraordinaire. I am easily confused by road signs, airports, and train stations. Truth be told, when journeying to new places, I often spend more of my time wandering in circles than actually getting to my destination. (My mother says I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag.) Aside from a screwy internal compass that refuses to point north, I also have "TOURIST" visibly stamped on my forehead with a sticky note saying: "Attention: Pick-pockets, easy target right here" just underneath it. I have the worst travel luck known to man, as the travel gods constantly frown and scorn my attempts to enjoy a new place. I am always the victim of delayed trains, bus breakdowns, transportation strikes, and freak flooding.

Despite all of this, I love to travel. Thankfully, I do have some redeeming travel qualities: I am an absolute dare-devil when it comes to trying new food, I have no problem making a fool out of myself as I stumble through a new language, I will ask anyone for directions, and I can walk for miles. I say all of this only so that you will have context for the stories that are to come.

This is how my first backpacking trip through Europe began:

My Polish-missionary-teacher-friend Colleen came to Tisovec on Tuesday, December 22nd. I heated up some Zabyacka Capusnica for dinner, we shared some Slivovica, and then (after dancing to the latest USA radio hits on youtube), we went to bed. When we woke up early the next morning, the twenty-four inches of snow that had so delighted me throughout the entire week before had begun to melt. (Please note: Until December 22, 2009, it never occurred to me that snow melted – let alone the fact that snow melts into a miserable mess. If Facebook had a "Snow" Page that you could "become a fan of," I would be the first person removing my name from the fan list. I officially dislike snow.) Wearing our packs, Colleen and I waded through the slushy lake that used to be Tisovec's main street in order to catch the 8:05am bus to Bratislava. We arrived at the bus stop at 8am (FIVE MINUTES EARLY), and an hour later our bus still had not arrived. Andrej, however, did arrive. This drunk and toothless-smile wielding man sporting raw facial wounds resembling raw meat and an ever-darkening, swollen right eye adopted Colleen and I as friends. After uncomfortably stumbling through a conversation, Andrej began gesticulating wildly to us explaining in broken Slovak that our bus was probably not coming and that we should wait for the 9:11 bus to Banska Bystrica. (Colleen and I had already figured this out, and the 9:11 bus was now our “Plan B.”) Somehow, in Andrej’s drunk pantomime, his hand landed on my chest… and stayed there. Let’s just say our trip was off to a stellar beginning.

When our bus finally arrived, we hopped on and prayed that we could find a good connection to Bratislava. After one bus ride, two tram rides later and a lot of worrying, we made it to the airport with twenty minutes to spare. Colleen and I had booked tickets with Wizz Air, a no-frills, cheap airline that earns money by charging people for baggage weight and that saves money by not providing passengers with seat assignments. Thankfully, Colleen and I were able to find seats next to each other. We spent the duration of the plane ride practicing out Italian saying things like: “grazie,” “prego,” and “spaghetti.”

The first thing I noticed on the train ride into the city from the airport was how warm Rome was. We had come from temperatures that hovered just above freezing, and after five minutes in Rome we quickly began shedding layers. The second thing we noticed as we looked out the train window was that Rome had palm trees. Go figure. When we saw people speeding down the highway on their little motorcycles and mo-peds, Colleen and I knew we were in Rome.

We woke up early the next day because Colleen’s dad had gifted us with backstage passes to the Vatican for Christmas. We left with plenty of time to make our 10:30 tour. When we got off the metro, we followed the crowds towards the Vatican. Everywhere we looked, men were selling knock-off purses and watches. People representing restaurants and tour companies were thrusting fliers at us. One man watched us walk by and said jerking his thumb in the opposite direction, “Hey ladies. The Vatican museum is that way.” Colleen and I, who were indeed trying to get to the Vatican Museum, ignored him and kept walking. Within a few minutes, we approached the giant columns that guard St. Peter’s Square. We were immediately knocked off our feet by the Vatican’s one-two punch of power and tradition.







We saw St. Peter and his keys. I wished that I had brought my Bible with us so that we could sit on the steps and read from Romans.



Because St. Peter’s Square was not the Vatican Museum – and because we needed to meet our tour guide at the Vatican Museum, we turned around and walked back through the columns and into the crowds looking for signs to direct us. As we walked along, the man from earlier recognized us and said sassily, “See! I told you the Vatican Museums were that way.” Colleen thought this was hilarious. I was less than amused.

Our tour of the Vatican was stunning in the truest sense of the word – I was unable to process everything I was seeing. Even the walls wreaked history. I couldn’t believe how much money and time was spent through the centuries on the creation and maintenance of this place. While visiting the Vatican, I learned that you should look up, down and all around. The ceilings, of course, were covered in gold. The floors were original tiled mosaics. Here is just a small part of what we saw while we walked the Vatican grounds: This is one of the many ceilings:



This is one of the many tiled mosaic floors:



Here's St. Peter in the Pine Cone Garden:



Our tour ended at the Sistine Chapel. I think we held our breath the whole time we were there. As we were herded into the room, I asked Colleen, “Where are the hands?” We found them quickly, and we stood there for quite a while taking in the beauty and the wonder of the love Michelangelo had captured. The Vatican guards barked, “Silence! Silence, please. No photo! Holy place,” and we took our time slowly walking around the room and through the crowds all the while staring upwards and open-mouthed. We could not take pictures of the ceiling, but here are some that I found online:






After the Vatican tour, Colleen and I stopped at an outdoor café (yes, an outdoor café in the middle of December!) to have lunch. Then, we walked the streets of Rome and people watched. I immediately liked Rome. This city is outrageous and demands your full attention. The people here are beautiful. The Italian women are well-dressed, usually wearing heeled boots and dark eye make-up. The Italian men were even more striking than their female counterparts. Our walk inevitably led us to a gelato shop.



Later, we celebrated our Christmas Eve dinner at McDonalds (a little taste of home) while we sat at the outdoor tables and gazed at the Parthenon.





We attended Caravitas Catholic Church 7pm Christmas Eve mass – in English. Colleen cried her way through singing “O Come, o come Emanuel” and “Joy to the World.” After worship, we were invited to the congregation’s coffee hour – and we were surprised to find that champagne, not coffee, was being offered. This is the organ at Caravitas. We were excited to learn that Mozart played on this organ as a young musician.



We came home to the hostel that night exhausted – only to find that our hostel had decided that everyone needed to celebrate Christmas Eve together. The people we were staying with talked us into going back out to St. Peter’s Square for the pope’s Christmas Eve mass. Because the metro was not running so late on a holiday, we walked across Rome to get to the Vatican. As we approached the square, we were greeted with strains of “Adeste Fidelis.” We joined the crowds of people camped outside the cathedral and watched mass take place on the jumbo screens on either side of the square. This is Pope on the big screen.



This is the life-size nativity scene set up in St. Peter's Square.



We were not there long before the skies opened and rain began pouring. As best we can tell, it was while we were running to the columns for shelter from the rain that Pope Benedict got tackled.

Colleen and I walked home with one of our new friends, Patrick who had been studying in Rome for the fall semester. We assumed (and you know what they say about assuming things…) that Patrick knew where he was going as he led us home. (Patrick also said he had a map when we left the hostel.) Two hours and an “oops, I guess I left the map at home” later the three of us resembled drowned rats, and we still had not located our hostel. Colleen and I learned a lesson the hard way that night – never, ever leave home without your own map. Ever. Still, I guess we can check getting lost in Rome in the middle of the night and the pouring rain on Christmas Eve off our things to experience in life.

This is Colleen and Patrick looking at a city map at about 1:30am.



A little worse for the wear, Colleen and I dragged ourselves out of bed early the next morning. It wasn’t until after we had showered and had breakfast that we remembered it was Christmas, we were in Rome, and we should be joyful.

At 8:30, we arrived at St. Peter’s Square for Pope Benedict’s Noon Address. Because we arrived so early, we were able to score sweet seats in the SEVENTH row. Even if we had been cardinals, we could not have been any closer to the pope unless we were the barber hired to trim his nose hair! These are pictures of St. Peter's Square pre-noon address.









One of the highlights of our morning was sitting next to a group of Catholic school girls visiting Rome on a field trip from Rhode Island. These girls, dressed in plaid pleated skirts, knee highs and ribboned braids, could not have been more excited about their upcoming meeting with the pope. In fact, they performed their own home-made and choreographed cheers in anticipation of the pope's arrival. These girls were chanting: "OH! We love the Pope!" "Bene-bene-ditto, si si si!" and "We love, we love Benedict. What? The Sixteenth."

In preparation for the Pope's address, the Vatican guards, army and marching band paraded through the crowd.

A typical Vatican guard dressed in the special occasion uniform:

Either Benedict did not see his shadow – or the rules that apply to groundhogs don’t apply to popes when they finally emerge from their chambers. When Benedict appeared at the window, the crowds (Colleen and I included) went wild. Benedict came out and stayed out! He delivered a short homily in Italian and then to my surprise and delight, he blessed and wished people a Merry Christmas in over sixty different languages. Benedict announced the name of the language before he began his blessing saying, “Italian,” sharing a blessing and then wishing all who spoke Italian “Buon Natale!” Whenever the pope announced the language, everyone in the square who spoke that particular language cheered and waved flags. Colleen and I were stoked to cheer three times – once for English, once for Polish and once for Slovak.







After leaving the Vatican, we walked to the Spanish steps.







This is the view we saw as we walked up the steps:





This is Rome from the top of the Spanish Steps:





Later, we saw the Colosseum and the Roman Forum at night, and with that, we officially said goodbye to Rome.