Last weekend was a glorious 4-day trip to Bergamo, Como, and Milano in Italy (pictures on facebook in 2 albums). I met my good friend Aude there, and we managed to stumble our way through the Italian countryside while eating food and pastries that were out of this world. What is wrong with America - why don't we have these pastry shops and sidewalk cafes?!
Bergamo
The first night I arrived, Lucio, the owner of Hostel #1 picked me up. Although he spoke ok English, he was either not confident in it or was the strong and silent type, because the minute we got into the car, he turned the radio way up. The station was a very confused one; it played multiple genres of music - classic rock, soft rock, and then bandstand music - and the only consistent theme was that it was all in English. We arrived at the hostel, which was in this random residential neighborhood and was actually a 3 BR, 2 Bath apartment. Lucio has only been running this place for 3 months, and I strongly suspect I was his first guest. I know that, at the very least, I was his only guest while I stayed there.
I woke up Friday, packed my things, and ate a bit of the large spread of breakfast food Lucio had laid out for me...all of which was prepackaged. Despite this, it was actually ok and not too bad. I tried to pay him but he said I could wait until Sunday (this was a theme- it's like I had to twist the hostel owners' arms to pay them). We then talked about getting me to Bergamo. I understood from our conversation that he would take his son and then take me to town. I got out of the hostel and instead found his son waiting for me on a motorbike. Yes, I rode on the back of a motorbike, gripping nervously onto the sides of a random Italian guy. I mean, what's the etiquette here? What's too invasive or tight a grip? Oh, and his son knew zero English. Hilarious.
I managed to get to downtown and then headed to Hostel #2 to drop my stuff off. Boy, this was another adventure. I took the bus as instructed, got off, magically, at the right spot...and got lost. I wandered around a very nice but quiet residential neighborhood and finally found the hostel. After some phone calls, I managed to get access to my converted silo B&B. The owner had to clean up the room from the previous guest. Her English was so-so, and so we ended up communicating in "No prooooblem!"s. For example, I was sitting in the room, collecting myself as she went about some other errands, and she pokes her head in the door, motioning to me to come out to the common room. She has placed a chocolate cereal box, sugar, and milk on the table. She then says, "And, 1 banana," places the banana on the table, spreads her hands and says, "No proooblem!" By this point, it was 11:30am, and I already had so many questions: did she expect me to eat this now? am I allowed only that 1 banana the entire time I stay there? 1 per day? 1 per person per day? and how much of the overflowing foodstuffs I see crammed in this fake little kitchen can I eat?
After she was done with cleaning the place, she kindly offered me a ride to La Citta Alta in Bergamo, which is the medieval town on high. We arrive somewhere in Bergamo, and she says, "Now, go up that road, and there is La Citta Alta!" Keep in mind that I have not seen a single map of Bergamo since I've arrived, as neither hostel had maps nor timetables of nearby transportation. I nod, smile, wave, and start walking. OK, she neglected to say that it was a 2-3 km hike up a very steep hill. I got hungry and stopped in a small restaurant that only served 4 things during lunch. I had the penne al salmone and thanked god for Italy.
I finally managed to find La Citta Alta and the views from the perimeter were spectacular - you could see the land and town stretching out below. It took me a while to realize that continuing to walk on this road would just take me in a circle around the actual town, and that if I wanted to get to its center, I had to actual go toward its center. I almost have a master's degree, and it took me a good 20 minutes to figure this out. Go team.
Anyway, the Maggiore Baptistry was really quite beautiful, as was the plaza and duomo. A Bach baroque chamber orchestra, with harpsichord, were rehearsing in the duomo for that evening's performance, so I quite enjoyed sitting for a bit to listen to that. I loved walking up and down the cute little coblestone streets and looking at the shops. I excused myself for a little slice of heaven, courtesy of a fabulous pastry shop. I also had some gelato. Then I got frustrated I wasn't still hungry when I passed a divine looking pizza place. I still regret not getting a slice. It rained a bit while I was there, but I was good to go with the world's tackiest umbrella of major Munich sights.
I headed back to the hostel early because the last bus leaves at around 7pm and I was nervous about missing it. Fortunately, I got back in time, worked out a bit in my room, and then wandered to the single bar/restaurant in the entire area. But, to my horror, it was having some sort of shindig for dudes - there were like 12 of them eating from food that had been set out. Where the heck did all of these people come from? There's nothing out here! And why are they there? Anyway, I quickly ordered a random sandwich and scurried back to my room, where I watched TV. First, I watched Smallville in silence (this was before I realized I had to smack the TV to get sound), and then I watched a variety of shows dubbed in Italian as I channel surfed. There was Leverage, Lost (boy, you thought that show was confusing in English? HAH), Walker Texas Ranger (if Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer when he speaks English, they create whole new universes when he's dubbed in Italian), and CSI: Miami (this show was not dubbed, as the network clearly realized it was so awful that they needn't go to the expense of making it understandable to Italians). There was also a horrifying Italian game show that really has to be seen to be believed.
Como
The next day I was set to meet Aude in Como. Alas, it was a day of missed connections and logistical failures. I missed the bus from near my hostel by 10 minutes and had to wait another 45 minutes for the next. Then I missed the train from Bergamo by 5 minutes and had to wait another 30 minutes for the next. As I was trying to puzzle together exactly how I get to Como from Bergamo, I was approached by a Lithuanian cardiac surgeon who was also confused and spoke excellent English. Together, we managed to puzzle through how to get to Como and became travel buddies. We went our separate ways in Como, and Aude and I were reunited!
Oh, man, Como. I love Como. It was perfect weather too: sunny and warm. The lake looked gorgeous, the food was excellent, and the shops were a ton of fun too. The town was a cute ocean-side town with many small streets. We also went up the hill by funicular to Burnate, where we had an amazing view of Como, the lake, and some of the other towns nearby. I would love to go back to Lake Como some day and travel on it to see other towns. We got back late to our hostel that night, and I managed to convince our hostel owner, via text, to come early the next morning so we could pay her.
Milano
After we paid our hostel, we wandered out of the hostel trying to figure out if the hostel owner had meant she would give us a ride to the bus station...or what exactly was going on. We turn back, and she's motioning for us to come back as she chases after some other guests who have just exited their rooms. She then convinces these nice guests to give us a ride to Bergamo train station, as that is where they were going as well. Turns out, it was a family from Salzburg - very nice mother and two daughters. The mother was hilarious - she had to pass and circle past the exit to get back to Bergamo at least 4 different times.
At the train station, the machines weren't working so everyone was reliant on the ticket windows. Of course, as the line hit its longest, one of the windows closes. A man tried to cut in line but was yelled at in Italian by everyone else, which was pretty awesome. We barely got our tickets in time for our train, despite getting there 30 minutes ahead of its departure. Once in Milano, we found the Duomo and were in awe. This places is an impressive, spiral-filled white structure. Unfortunately, it's also a bit of a tourist trap and you have to be wary of people trying to sell you friendship bracelets and the like. We decided to wander around and see if we could do some shopping. Alas, my radar seemed to be set on "price range out of this world," as I had a knack for picking the ever increasingly expensive streets. It was fun to see these expensive boutiques, though, and to people watch. People in Milano are certainly fashionable, but not necessarily tasteful... In any case, we were definitely the poorest people on that street.
We managed to see a photo shoot for a fashion magazine of some sort, I met two Japanese store clerks in a glove store, and we bonded, and I got to try Risotto Milanese, which was pretty good but not my favorite Italian dish. Aude had to leave me at that point, and it was a pretty hard goodbye. I didn't want to be in Italy anymore at that point, and didn't relish returning to Bergamo. Fortunately, I'd brought a book with me (Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere), which helped me feel normal soon enough. I got another ride from Lucio to Hostel #1, where I was still the only guest, but get this: there were now maps of Bergamo in a variety of different languages laid out on the bench in the hallway.
The next morning, as I was eating breakfast, Lucio puttered around as he listened to blaring Italian rap. This stuff was hilarious - it was like...upbeat pop music tracks with rhythmic Italian phrases overlaid. I don't know how to describe it other than to just say it was very funny. I was able to buy my ticket to Milano from the machine, but it gave me 1 euro in change in the form of 5 cent coins (UGH). Back in Milano, I wandered around Duomo again, this time getting a ticket to go on the roof. I hung out there for an hour and wandered back down, had my daily gelato (me: "1 scoop please" man: "WHAT? WHY?!"), and finally found the inexpensive street in Milano. By this point, I'm wandering around with my backpack on, scarf tied on top, sweatshirt slung around the bag, khaki pants rolled up, and I'm not really in the mood to shop. I also am not sure it's possible for me to look any more like a backpacker. So, as I pass the Greenpeace volunteers, I see immediately that they're going to hone in on me. I try to beg off in English, but they speak English as well. So I just say, "Sorry, no..." The woman gets this over exaggerated indignant look on her face and ways, "WHAT? WHY?!" I seem to provoke this reaction a lot from Italians. I earned a slightly toned down version of that from both hostel owners when I refused coffee.
Anyway, I was tired of wandering around alone - you're such a prime target for every tourist hawker. They follow you around, and random men come up to you and tell you you're pretty and walk with you (this sounds nice, but it feels threatening to a woman traveling alone). I decided to go to the airport early to see if I could get an earlier flight, but no dice. So I was at the airport about 5 hours early. Fortunately, they have stores for window shopping, I had capstone research to do, and I found another book at the bookstore (Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey). I left Italy with a full stomach and a rested mind.
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