Mmmmmm...Italy

View blog top tags

Italy was wonderful, of course. I flew into Pisa on Ryanwhore and got a train straight to Florence where I stayed here http://www.hostelarchirossi.com/ for two nights. No complaints, but it was like being on a US summer camp. Everyone was american. Or canadian. Plus I was kept awake by two snorers flanking each side of my dorm bed like sleep grim reaper twins but that was my own fault for forgetting to buy earplugs. They were very polite when they were awake so I just about managed to contain my nocturnal rage and just wandered round in daylight like a zombie.



Florence was lush - did a free walking tour then hopped on a train over to Lucca and Pisa. I wanted to stay in Lucca forever. Unfortunately I only had two hours. A walled place that feels quite magical, and it seemed to have a disproportionate amount of young people amongst the 40-50 people I saw (it as torrential downpour so everyone was holed up inside whilst I was darting between awnings like some oddbod trying to see as much as possible before my train left).

I love Italian trains too. They work, they are really easy to use, and always give you an option on fares. If you are in a hurry and can claim back expenses, then you have the Eurostar trains to choose from. If, like me, you are a lone bum floating about on no timescale and not much money, you just choose the local trains. I did this from Florence to Rome, which took 3.5 hours. It was lovely to see how the countryside changes going south, and also gave me the chance to see the area dear Kate worked, the wee village of Sarteano in Siena. I only saw the view from Chiusi but that was enough. It was nice to see.



All this time I was chewing on the world's largest choc chip cake/biscuit thing I picked up in Florence. It was about as large as my head, but luckily as we neared Roma, I had managed to get most of it down (my front, my book, and some down into my stomach). It's not a good look, travelling alone and eating something decorated with chocolate chips, especially if your journey starts off somewhere cold and ends up somewhere warm. I had chocolate chips drop all over the place, and in Tuscany that was fine as it was chilly, but as we neared Rome the air warmed and suddenly I was developing soft warts and moles all over my arms and face that I never remembered having before. Maybe it is a good thing that I didn't notice the facial ones til I looked in the mirror that evening. It was too late to be embarrassed.



I was going to Rome to get a train out to the near by Sabina hills, to the village of Collevecchio and an old monastery where I was staying for an ashtanga yoga retreat. It was amazing, and I even got my own nun bedroom. Being out there in the hills was so peaceful, and of course being in a monastery does more of the same, and I slipped into the way of life for 3 days so well that coming home on Monday morning was a very rude awakening. It was interesting to note the differences in demographic: here in London, ashtanga classes are populated by miserable looking, childless, media types desperately trying to 'get' the yogic state of mind but still spending £185 on designer 'yoga trousers', whose diets consist of wheatfree crackers and yeastfree mushroom pate - all they really need is a good feedup . On this Roman retreat, it was predominantly middle-aged Roman women whose kids had left home (some were glam grandmas), all very bendy, who were massively advanced in class but at mealtimes ate pasta, bread, pudding, several went out to smoke after dinner and everyone tucked into the wine, plus a strange liquer after dinner each night. They were all fine looking ladies. I don't know if they were all minted so could afford to look good but I got the impression they were all just chilled out. I must move to Italy as well some time...



My flight back was from Rome so I got a lift back into town from one of the ladies on sunday afternoon and then lost all yogic calmness at Rome Termini train station (which is like being in an airport - it is HUGE) as I found Benetton and some shocking oversized jumpers in lurid 80s knit - I had some Euros to use up (I told myself) so I got one. As soon as my sister saw it when I got back she mentioned Su Pollard, but at least that means we won't be wearing the same outfit any time soon. She obviously can't tell a design classic (of Nancy Dell Olio influence) when she sees one...