When the Moon Hits your Eye Like a BIG pizza pie, that's Italy.

I have vanished into a land of nothingness (the nothing like in the never ending story) since I got back from Italy.

And now, it's time, for, the, Italy, blog. , , ,

I set off from my house at around 7am, I was catching the 7:30am train to Prestwick... which got me in so SUPER early that I could have had another 30 minutes in bed at least. Doh.

I always leave packing to the last minute which means I don't get to bed until a crazy time and then I don't want to go anywhere any more because all I want to do is sleep. I am a fool.

Prestwick were being idiots and they made me pay £1 for four plastic bags from a vending machine to put my lip balm in. What a joke. It doesn't even have to be in a bag. I actually had to ask a lady for a pound coin for two fifties and we were all totally held up then by the stupid bag rule. Man I was so mad. I got over it though, and went on with my life, that involved sitting. Luckily Kate called me at the airport and I was able to kill some time.

The best part about being British and flying with an airline that has no assigned seating is the strange fascination people have with queuing. It's great to sit there and watch Brits queue when they've not been told to. It happened with the Dublin flight, and then again with my own flight to London. People just started queueing because someone, around the time of boarding, got up for a wizz. It's madness.

Anyway, everyone started queueing, my flight was called, and then I hung up with Kate and nipped to the loo. I've never had to use the toilet on Ryanair and I hope I never have to.

There were perhaps 4 people behind me, the queue went by quickly, and I was one person from the front. I had just walked past a middle eastern looking man who was out of the count and a half. He was pretty much comatose on the seat. I had this overwhelming feeling that I should wake him up. So I left the queue and skipped back to him and poked him and prodded him. For a while I thought he was dead, but he finally woke up and he was, indeed, meant to be getting on my flight. So I was pleased that I had helped him not to miss it.

I had a million hour lay over in Stanstead, which I filled with buying the Catcher in the Rye (again) and eating in Pret a Manger. I love that shop so much. Their food is beyond amazing.

I also took some pictures of Donkey and Oinker. Yes I took them with me, yes I photographed them a lot, and yes they now have their own blog.

On the plane to Naples I was sitting next to a man and lady, who switched seats half way through the journey. The man was reading the easy jet book so I offered him my Times magazine, he declined. I continued to sleep randomly in a strange and odd curled up position. I will damage my back one day sleeping the way I do on planes.

We got to Naples and I thought I saw Alexis, Donna's friend from Edinburgh, but I decided it wasn't her and then set about getting my own bag. I then bumped into the man and lady I had been sitting next to on the plane. And then I just took off.

I got outside and was looking for the tourist information or the bus depot but instead found a taxi man who bundled me in his car without my 100% consent under the pretence that he would take me to the train station for 2 Euro???

I know.

On the way there I started wondering if he was even a taxi driver. The air was so warm, and he was driving like a crazy crazy nut. He kept asking if I wanted him to drive me all the way to Sorrento for 120 Euros. To which I told him to bolt.

Rather than taking me to the big train station he took me to the dodgy one. Thank you taxi man, which was further away, and which had scarier people.

After charging me THIRTY Euros and me getting really nasty and cowish towards him – because he pretty much robbed me – he brought me into the train station and spoke to the lady behind the desk to get my ticket. I paid up and then he gave me a hug goodbye. I forgot to mention that the entire time in the taxi he kept being sleazy and weird, and kissing my hand.

So when we were parting he kissed my cheek, and gave me a half hug... THEN... THEN he went for it... he went for a proper kiss. I totally shoved him away and he was like...' no no no kiss? how much how much?'

To which I replied, NO MUCH... and then ran off down the stairs to the train station.

Downstairs wasn't much friendlier. It was vacant, vandalised and very unfamiliar.

There were four backpackers over in the corner so I sat with them and kind of eary wigged their conversation. They were heading to sorrento too, so I just decided to follow them.

The train station looked like this:



and I think this turned out to actually be our train.
The inside was basic - plastic seats, lino floor and dirty windows. I sat and read the catcher in the rye with my headphones on and any scariness was gone. There were a bunch of Londoners on the train too.

We arrived in Sorrento and I walked to the hostel, couldn't find it, and kept wandering about. I found Donna and Daniel's hotel, which was pumping 'YMCA'. Amazing. And then I finally worked out that the street my hostel was on went underneath the road I was looking for a right turn. It was more of a right turn and jump. When I arrived the man at the desk knew me by name. Crazy. I went to my room and after making beds and rifling through bags I was pretty much asleep instantaneously. Man it was so hot, the air conditioning was on and at about 7am I woke up freezing. It was so odd. I had to put on a hoody while sleeping.

There was no window, so I slept in quite a bit, had a shower and then wandered about the streets of Sorrento.



Everything that is an Italian stereotype is true. It's insane. Scooters everywhere.



and tiny tiny streets with cars driving up them regardless of people. It's really crazy.



And a lot of Jesus. :)



After wandering for a bit I headed down to the shore and paddled around in the Mediterranean sea. Amazing.



On my journey I found an amazing cat, which spoke to me in Italian. I swear it did. You have to listen to the little bits the cat actually says and not me... its high pitched and slow... Very Italian sounding. Well to me anyway. Haha.

I hoofed it back to the hostel, got changed for the wedding, then set off to the most beautiful wedding either. I swear it was amazing. So pretty. How many people are ever married with grapes growing behind them. Seriously. Amazing.

I'm so pleased I went, I would have regretted it if I didn't.

While we were waiting for Donna to arrive a man and lady walked into the cloisters and I swear I knew them from somewhere. And it turned out to be the couple I was sitting next to on the plane. SERIOUSLY. And then Alexis and her friend Alexis showed up and it WAS the girl I had seen at the airport. So the majority of the non-family guests were all on the same plane from London to Naples. How crazy is that? Haha.

Amazing.










Wedding feet.

There was dinner, there was drinks, there was chatting, there was everything amazing. It was such a good day.

The next day, much to everyone's worry, I set off for Naples via Pompeii.

Pompeii was pretty cool, and they had a free left luggage, so I didn't have to drag my backpack all around that sweaty place. It was so hot, so dirty and so BIG.

I ended up following the Chinese people all around, I kept loosing them and walking off but I would always find them, or they me. It was amusing. I wish I could have spoken Chinese so I could hear their tour guide.



I hadn't eaten anything for breakfast and just kept drinking water. I had a packet of polos that I'd bought in London and kept chewing them. Then a familiar logo flashed before my eyes and I got really mad. WHEN DID NESTLE TAKE OVER POLO. That's why he spearmint flavour no longer has green bits in it. I was so mad. I still finished the packet though, and then raged about it for a while.






One of the Chinese tourists stopped and showed me a picture of a petrified person, and asked if I had seen those people anywhere. I told him, I was looking for the same thing.

Sure enough, when we parted ways, in different directions, and when I found the people, he was there too. I tell you, I was with them the whole way.

While I was taking pictures of Donkey and Oinker this lady walked past me and said 'Tiene un psycho.' I don't have to be able to speak Spanish to know what she saying about me. HAHA.






Pompeii bogging feet.

I then caught the train the rest of the way to Naples, and there was a guy on the train that kept looking at me strangely, but then not. It was one of those 'you're a backpacker, I'm a backpacker, we should be friends, we have stuff in common' kind of looks. It killed time watching him watch me though.

I then walked around Naples, here's a thought, when you give directions give people the real name of the street rather than the local made up name. Man I was so mad. I found the street, but it didn't match the name I had so I kept walking around and about. By the time I got to the hostel I was sweating to death. I swear, from the second I stepped off the plane until the rain came down I was just constantly sweating and too hot. Utter madness.



The hostel was really close to the train station and I seemed to have walked the most scenic route to get there. It was run by a nice man who gave me a map and a guide to the quick walking tour of Naples.



I felt like there was so much life there, so much character. After being in tourist spots this felt like home. It was amazing. I loved it.



The hostel man also told me where to go for pizza, and I tell you, I have been spoiled, never again will I ever taste pizza like that. Not unless I go back to Naples. I swear it was the best thing I've ever had.



And it was all wood burning fire cooked by this man. He was so amazing.



After filling myself, I wandered around the streets. There was a lot of people begging for money, and a lot of people performing. I met this man who clocked me for British as soon as I stood next to him. I think it was because I was so pale.



I ended up at mass, I sat in real catholic Italian mass for about 15 minutes before going back out onto the streets. I think the secret is to not behave or act like a victim, not to stare too much at people, and pretty much use common sense, it's like being in Glasgow. Seriously.

I was walking down a main shopping street and I was so impressed that there were no major chain stores or anything. It felt so nice. I saw 0 starbucks'. I tried to communicate with a lady asking me about donkey and oinker. Spanish and English were no good. All I was looking for was the word art. But I couldn't explain it.



I wandered further down the street and these two men spoke to me for about 10 minutes. The one on the left spoke english and Italian, the one on the right spoke Italian and Spanish. So I spoke to the left one in English, The right one in Spanish and they spoke Italian to each other. It was one of the greatest things I've ever done in my life. I loved it. And I even got to say the words 'El Policia' to the Spanish speaker, because I was talking about the left guy who was a service guard or something. It was amazing haha. Just like Ben Stiller in Anchorman.



Feral Dog.



This was the outside of the pizza place I was at earlier. It was totally full when it got later. Amazing.



But I was going for Gelato.


The dark alley.



When I was leaving a Japanese girl called Masami asked if we could travel to Rome together. I said I would meet her at the train station and that I wanted to wander through the market outside. While wandering through the stolen and fake trainers and bags and people heckling me to buy their things and me telling them I had shoes and I didn't need any, there was an eruption of panicked chatter. One word repeated over and over echoing down the market. Then every dodgy person grabbed their goods and started running. They had everything in/on an easily liftable bag or table. They just started running, and then seconds later a cop car drove down the market. It was crazy. Once the cops had left all the men came back.

It was a crazy market and I couldn't resist whipping out the SLR to try and photograph it. Idiotic move.

Just as the market had erupted in chatter before, it did again, but this time to the word photographia. Now, whether they thought I was the fraud police, or whether they wanted my camera, I don't know. Needless to say, after two shots, I quickly exited.



I met Masami at the train station, and we travelled to Roma. After a 20 minute hunt for the tourist information place, we went to my hostel which was crazy, and filled with European boys half-naked in the bathroom. Shared multi cubicle bathroom? It was weird. Very weird.

I changed my shoes and set about Rome. First to the colosseum, which was large, interesting, and old.





I did seem more enthralled with my M&Ms though. The M&Ms I had to buy to get changed of a 10 Euro because the shop man refused to sell me a twix for change, and before that I had to get a 10 Euro from the bank because the machine in the station wouldn't take a card for a 4 Euro 24 hour ticket. I just didn't understand. And I couldn't locate my change purse. I decided I'd left it in the hostel. I still haven't found it, so either I was pick pocketed in Naples, which is unlikely, or I left it in the hostel in Naples. Meh.

It was a rigmarole trying to get the ticket nonetheless. When I finally got it I went to the colosseum. Then to the Vatican, and then to the Trevi fountain when it was just getting dark.

The Vatican was ace. Although it was totally the wrong religion, it was still interesting and Jesus Christ was on top of it, right above where the pope gives his wee talks.



Jesus Christ IS on top of that building, with his twelve disciples.



The inside of the Vatican.



The outside of the Vatican. (This is where I was being blasphemous.)



This shop was amazing, it was filled with Baby Jesus'. I'll let me tell you though in the video.

I then went over to the Trevi fountain and found this man:



on the way. I love that he is using a shoe on his hand. That's innovation.

The fountain was swarming with people, it was pretty and all but I was Hunger-yyy. So I started wandering the streets looking for eats. I knew that if I stayed near the fountain I would be charged a fortune for Western Italian food, and I was dying for some pasta. I've never been able to have pasta that topped the stuff I had in Little Italy in New York in 2006. So i was looking and trying.

I finally settled on a restaurant because 1. I was weary, 2. The man at the door told me what the best thing on the menu was, 3. He didn't lie.

I sat outside and they sat me next to a table with three people at it, but I was slightly outside the canopy. There was thunder and lightening and then it started to spit... the waiter told me that it was fine and there would be no more than that. As a precaution the three Americans at the table next to me invited me to sit in with them. I was pleased to, and moment later the heavens opened and the sea poured out of the sky. It was mad. The whole right side of me was wet from the constant splashing of water.

The three people were so interesting though. They were from the university of Tennessee and they were there for a diabetes conference. I was telling them all about me, my life, my research etc etc and they were discussing mormonism with me and how one of the guys they work with is a member and they used to work with another guy who moved to Idaho so his children would marry members. It was brilliant, and there was never any awkward silences, and the pasta was incredible. IN CRED IBLE. And then I ordered hot chocolate. The air was warm, the rain cooling and hot chocolate was a perfect weight, temperature and flavour that just made the moment I drank/ate it the best of my life. I swear.

One of the Americans walked me back to the Metro station because he was going the same way, we ran through the streets of Rome soaking wet with the cities finest entrepreneurs selling us umbrellas that they must have had in reserve at home waiting for the rain to pour. Amazing.

I think I can honestly say that I will never run through rome again soaked to the skin, with a university lecturer from American that I met 2 hours before. It was brilliant.

We parted ways at the Termini station and wished each other those fake pleasantries for future travelling etc etc.

I headed back to the hostel and almost died I was so tired.

Masami had spent the day getting her plans together for the future days. She is my utter hero. She's 34, she was an office worker, and one day she quit and she's been travelling since May with no real time of when she's going home. Possible October, possibly not. She's been to Cambodia, Thailand, India, England, and now Italy. I'm not sure where else in Europe she'd been but I'm sure she had been other places too. She is my utter hero.

I met a tonne of solo backpackers. People that would just quit and travel, Australians and Americans mostly. It inspires me to do it. The leaving would be the hardest, but once I was on the road, I would be fine, I think. Amazing.

While I was brushing my teeth that night I stood at the open window which opened onto a bit of a balcony. I stood there and watched the rain trickle down, and I watched the beginning of 'Snatch' on a TV through another open window, and I watched another person hang their clothes in their house. It's moments like that, that make my life I think. When things are so peaceful and the world is just getting on with it. I think it's beautiful.

While I was away, the entire time I was worried that I might have been talking in my sleep. On the fourth night in Rome I woke myself up about 6am when I was trying to say some kind of long sentence, what I remember saying was something like 'well, I don't think that's very nice at all, you... '

I can't remember how it was going to end though. But I woke up and got really embarrassed haha. But then I got over it and went back to sleep.

When I woke up for real for real Masami and I got ready and left together, and I decided that I had six hours so I could see a couple of things and get another hot chocolate a pizza then hit the road for the plane station.



My left foot hurt a little, but I thought nothing of it, Masami and I parted ways and I headed towards the Trevi fountain again to see the Pantheon.

As I was walking off the metro my foot started to agonise. It felt like nerves were catching in the bone. It was the sorest pain. What took me 5 minutes to walk the night before took me about 20 because the pain was so much and it kept increasing.



I ate some random pastries outside the Trevi Fountain where I chatted to a man from Holland. And then continued my walk to the Pantheon via pharmacies and sports shops. Finally I found some kind of bandage for my foot, which I put on outside a church that someone was getting married in. I'm lovely.

My foot was lovelier. Haha.

I ambled my way to the Pantheon where this amazing video was filmed.



I then thought of trying to go to the park near the colosseum, but by the time I got back to the metro there was only really time to go back to the hostel, eat some pizza and catch the bus. While eating pizza I happened to chat to two Australians, again solo travellers that had found each other, one was hanging about until he went to Johannesburg, the other was off to work in the UK for 1 - 2 years. Either London or Glasgow. He was nice, I wish I had been a true Scot and given him contact details in case he was up this way. I suck. I never even got his name. I think that's the beauty of backpacking though. People start to get realistic. They realise that they can't keep in touch with everyone, so they enjoy each other's company for what it is, a few brief hours, one night, and then just keep the memories. No complication, its like the unwritten rule of backpacking. It's just like wee John told me, It's easier to get from A to B if you make friends along the way. That drunk man knew his stuff.

I then got myself tipsy in the airport on a liqueur. AND if you thought Prestwick was bad, try flying out of Ciampino. It was horrid. After getting tipsy, the plane being delayed, and the travel pills kicking in, I was almost unconscious in the airport.

I finished reading the Catcher in the Rye on the train to central, where I had my mum come pick me up because I was in so much foot pain agony.

I even met another solo traveller on the train to Central and he had a strange accent, but he was actually English, living in Inverness, and was in Rome for the diabetes conference too... AND I kid you not, he said the reason he had a strange accent was because he had been in Italy for those few days and he picked up the accent. OH SHUT UP. No one picks up an accent that quickly...

but apparently he does.