A Backpackers Diary 2

A BACKPACKERS JOURNAL
ROUGHING IT

How I love that feeling of packing your backpack. Each time knowing it is because I am off to a wonderous new country. This time, a tour through Italy. On a bus for 12 days with 53 people. I didn’t know what to expect. I would probably be the eldest as it was a 18-35 age limit. But thanks to a very helpful travel agent and a few phonecalls, I was able to make the trip. Arriving in Italy with a friend (on our cheap flight) was a day of excitement. Meeting the rest of the tour group, was equally as pleasant. Especially when the age was such a varied mixed and I wasn’t the oldest.
The weather was cold and at times we had snow. Somehow hopping off the bus to take the usual snap of my friend holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa wasn’t quite what I had expected. We were hung over and sleep deprived, and it was bloody snowing!!! It probably didn’t help that the night before we had been checking out the local nightlife and hadn’t been to bed. Leaving the clubs just in time to get back to our motel, pack our bags and hop on the bus. 12 days of very early mornings, long hours on the bus and lots of late nights. Exhaustion was just part of life. This country was far to stimulating to miss a thing. This passion for exploring is growing day by day. The travel bug, as it is so often referred to. I am very lucky to have my 4 year ancestory work visa for the U.K. I can take my time and breath. If I didn’t have this I wouldn’t have been able to travel as there is an age discrimination on normal work visas and I was way over the limit. The beauty on this side of the world can stir anyones soul.
Italy is a country of beautiful sites and amazing experiences. The food is glorious. Before I left New Zealand I was probably one of the fussiest eaters you could have possibly met. I could never go out for a meal and not rearrange the menu when ordering. Now, I eat more types of food than ever before. I think because you live on such a basic diet while travelling, that when you do finally eat, you are tired and ready to consume anything that is put before you. Each evening meal consisted of five course. The Italians believe meal times should be slow and relaxing. Taking at least three hours to receive your courses. As much wine as we could drink, accompanying our meals for free. We visited vineyards and tasted some of the worlds best wines and olive oils. What more could you ask for.
People in other country’s seem to be more vocal than the laid back Kiwi. Perhaps because in a foreign country like Italy, english is not their native language so expressing themselves to us in english proves quite difficult. The woman, not afraid to let you know if you irritate them and the men, well, I don’t quit know what to say except they are extremely forward. At times quite nerve wracking. But all the same, I had to remember I was an intruder in their country. Always polite and courteous. Especially when needing there help.
We travelled from one end of Italy to the other and then back again on the other side. Taking in every tour that was available in each city. The Vatican city, the most amazing churches and buildings. The collesuem , a crumbling monument of history right in the city centre. It was hard to imagine the gruelling games they played there in a time gone by. I could'nt help think of the movie Gladiator. Pompeii , acres of ruins to wonder through at our own leisure. I saw fossilised people and animals from the eruption of Mt Vesuveous. I touched the statue of Juliet and watched people pay to go and stand on the balcony where Romeo called to her. They say that if you rubbed the breast of Juliet you will find your true love. This dull bronze statue was a sight to see. Lines of people waiting to rub her breast. The giggles from each and every one as they cupped the one shiny golden breast (from so many hands) in their hand and posed for their photo. We floated down the canals of Venice. Even in the winter it smelled terrible. The murky green waters. I hate to think what they smelt like in the heat of the summer. Our gondola captain was dressed in his traditional attire, complete with panama hat. Singing at the top of his voice. Even though it was cold and smelly it was still captivating at the same time. What broke the spell was his mobile phone ringing.
This remarkable city, a close knit of over 200 islands, all joined by small walk bridges. There are no vehicles. The roads only wide enough for foot traffic. The islands are believed to be sinking. There are wooden walkways, just wide enough for two people, about one metre off the ground, everywhere. The rising tides flooding the city at times. It was so easy to lose your way through the maize of paths. It was a thriving city and we were chilled to the bone. But there was just to much to see.
Once again the architecture unbelievable. We entered one of the most amazing churches I have ever seen, hundreds of years old. No photos were allowed, the flashes from our cameras can deteriorate the colour out of the most incredible mosaics I have ever seen. How they ever managed to build them I don’t know. There were giant statues that towered all the buildings, angels, roman figures, animals. Far from anything I have ever experienced or seen. Thank god for digital cameras.
The weather was extremely cold but it made no difference to us. We explored, slept on the bus, partied at night and moved onto the next city to start again. The tour guides were amazing. There are some people that constantly need care and attention and our tour-guide was only to happy to accommodate them and solve any problem quickly and efficiently. It was a fantastic time and highly recommended to anyone. There is nothing left unorganised and your days are filled with fun. Even our bathroom breaks were in the programme.
Oh yes the backpackers life. Taking time for travel and then having to find somewhere to settle for another few months and earn some money so we can do it all over again. Sometimes feeling so lonely even though you are surrounded by many, and then sometimes wandering how you could possibly have such an exceptional life. Making new friends, one moment rich, then broke, happy, unhappy. A roller coaster of emotion. We love this life and yet at times we hate it. We long to come home. But deep down we know that if we come home we probably won't get the chance to do this again. We stay in beautiful hotels one day and then dark and dirty hostels the next. I have endured living with mice running over my pillow while I sleep, (actually trapping three in one night, as they were munching one of my cup of soup sachets until it drove me insane in the quiet of the night,) cockroaches crawling through your clothes, mould running down the walls of your room, buckets in the hallways to catch the falling rain and even a toilet above a room over flowing into someone elses. But I have also had glorious rooms overlooking tropical island seas, lazing beside the swimming pool each day and room service to stunning rooms.
Still, I love the atmosphere in a hostel. The lounge room a place of recreational heaven. 20-30 people from all over the world gathering to meet, drink or simply snuggle together on the small couches to watch a movie. At any time you can walk into the lounge and there will always be someone who would like to join you for a coffee or a beer. Like a huge family outing for the day, we would contemplate what to do and then set off for the park to play football or head down to the pub in a mass group. Oh, how the pub owners love backpackers. The kebab shops that stay open all night just to feed the hordes of drunken groups that will overflow through their shops at 3 in the morning. We can live like kings or paupers from one moment to the next and we never no when that moment is going to be….

Next week - France