Sunday, March 20, 2011

Heaven is here, Where Juliet lives

I know when I come back home, I'll be hit with the question "Kelly, How was your trip?" How am I supposed to answer that? When overwhelmed with information like that, you have to answer a question with a question: Do you want the real answer, or should I just tell you it was amazing?

I was hit with this concept today. I had such a great day and came home to video chat with my mom, and I froze. I didn't know how to begin. I'll try to describe my day yesterday. Chances are, this will be a long post, and I will be telling a story then interrupt myself with an earlier detail I forgot. I'm okay with that if you are.

When I was waiting for my train from Bologna back to Florence, I had paper and a pen, so I started making a list of events for the day. Between that and the pictures, I hope I can remember it all:

One of my friends and I decided to go to Verona. Verona is a place I have been before and is probably number one on my list of places to be in Italy. After landing in Italy four years ago, this was the first place we had to really explore so when I think of my first real trip to Italy, Verona's arena is the first image that comes to mind.

Unfortunately, my friend, like the rest of her suite, got sick with the flu. It was 6:30, and I couldn't get in touch with her. I didn't think twice about not going, being that it is my favorite place I had ever been. My train was set to leave at 7am, so I had just enough time to run home and grab my book for the train, and I was off.

Most people would think, how sad, she went herself, but honestly, yesterday I realized that traveling alone (during the day of course, safely) is an amazing way to travel. You get to see what you want, without running it past if thats what someone else wants to do. You can go at your pace, how ever fast or slow that is. You eat when your hungry. I mean don't get me wrong, I love traveling with my friends, but yesterday was my first time traveling like that alone. I loved it.

To get to Verona from Florence, you have to first go to Bologna. I knew I had 20 minutes in between, so I went to the bar for un café. To be on the safe side, I just waited by the platform after that, platform 3. I was waiting and waiting. I realized it was getting late, and the train was no where to be found. Suddenly, the flashing dot says that the train is boarding. Where do I go?! I realized I was at platform 3 at the piazzale not the centrale platform 3! I run across the train station in my flats, scarf dancing behind me. Its gone. I missed it.

Whatever, this is why I wanted to go early (that and because it was 15 euros cheaper) I thought to myself. I go to customer services and ask when the next train to Verona leaves, wondering if I could still use my ticket. Because Bologna to Verona is a regional train, I could, but the next train leaves in... two hours? Well, I guess I better go explore Bologna.

And thats what I did. I knew that I would be coming back on Friday, to visit my Italian friend who will show me around, so there was no pressure to hit anything major. (This is the point where it is nice to be traveling alone. Most people, I could picture my father, getting agitated and upset that the train was missed. I figure, me getting upset about it isn't going to change the fact that I am in Bologna instead of Verona for a couple hours. Might as well make the best of it.) I browsed an outdoor book market and found a perfect gift for a friend. I went into a local crowded bakery and got two pizzettes. Yum. I visited a church and then off I was to Verona.

I was reading on the train when someone sat next to me. After some time had passed he asks, are you from New York, as he sees I am reading in English and the title of the section is Seven Seconds in the Bronx.

We get to talking. He is a 36 year old man from Naples. It was funny because when I gave him the last name Esposito, he called me family. We talked about Italy and America, and their differences as he has a friend in New Jersey who he has visited a few times. He, Gennaro, talked about how bad Italy is, saying that everything south of Rome is like Baghdad. He said that Italy will soon be Africa, politically. Gennaro talked about how he loved USA and if it weren't so hard to get a green card, he would move. His mother lives in Naples still, but he lives in Modena because thats where he found a good job. I am an immigrant here, because Italians can tell I am from Naples. What is the difference if I am an immigrant here or in America? He said. I told him that that's what I like about America, you can walk down the street and people don't know if you are a resident or a traveller, unless your rocking the fanny pack.

Once we got off the train and said our goodbyes, I went to a little stand and got a map and a bus ticket to the center of town. It was only a 10 or 15 minute bus ride, and I figured I would start there and work my way back to the station. My first stop was of course, Casa di Guilietta. I met an Irish couple who were willing to take my picture. It was amazing, being back to where I fell in love with Italy. I took the classic picture of me with the statue, which brings good luck to every person who holds her breast (its true).

I walked around the museum with a British couple who were in Italy for the first time.

My next stop was the tower. I always go to the highest point of the town that I am visiting so I can make sure that I see it all. Plus, I'm a sucker for a nice view. At the top of the tower, I had another British couple take my picture. The bell rang, and it scared me and the woman so badly.

Walking around the outdoor market, I got a big cup of all different fruits. Yum. Right around there is one of my favorite fountains, then I explored and found the arena.

The arena, like I said, was my first Italian memory, aside from the time I was in France with my family, and we stopped into a small Italian town. There was a woman sitting down with her newborn wrapped around her. Her mother was taking her picture. They asked me if I could take a picture of them, all three generations. They were American, from Connecticut.

I took pictures all around the Arena and listened to the two young boys speaking Dutch, what a strange language. Then met a group of guys. There were six of them: two from Florida, two from Finland, and two from Indiana. They were all studying abroad in Austria and were visiting Verona for the day. They were so cool. I took a picture of them all, with all six cameras, and they took one for me. We actually had a lot in common, it was funny. I gave them some advice about the rest of their stay in Verona, and again I was on my way.

I went to Urban Café and got served my cappuccino by the hottest Italian I have seen in Italy, hands down. It was funny because he was wearing a shirt that said Sunset Blvd.

After flirting with him, I looped around back to the city center, and there was a parade forming. There were tons of people holding flags and getting sweatshirts, and I just had to be one of them. I convinced a man I was Italian, and succeeded in my free goodies. I made some friends, nervous about my Italian being believable and walked (with the second cutest guy I befriended that day). There was chanting and singing and music and, hopping? It was fun.

I knew I couldn't spend forever here, and I had one last stop to make before heading back. I wanted to see Juliet's tomb, which was included in the price of the Casa di Guilietta museum pass. I loved it. The gardens, the history, the art, it was all amazing.

Finally, I was on my way back. I grabbed a panino con pollo e un bomboloni con nutella.

My train rides back were a lot less dramatic, and I was finally back home. Going back to my favorite Italian town, meeting so many people I had things in common with, and getting some free gifts. What a perfect day.









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