And finally, a taste of Italy concludes
Italy, 2002

The rest of our trip to Italy (our whirlwind tour of three cities in four days) was pretty uneventful. We walked around the city. I found gelato everywhere we went. We discovered the joys of risotto.

Let me add this thought…Terri and I love to eat. Seriously. It’s not, “Man, I’m really hungry, let’s go find some food.” It’s “Are you hungry?” “I could eat.” I could eat. Infamous words that have gotten us in a lot of trouble.

But hey, we were on vacation, and we decided we could eat a lot of good Italian food.

My trip back to London was much less eventful—fortunately—than the one to Milan/Florence. I made it home in a respectable two hours, taking only one slow bus ride home.

Something else I learned—the cheap plane ticket is cheap because you’re flying out of an airport that no form of British transit wants to go to. You will probably miss your flight or get stuck somewhere. It may not be worth saving $80 for that.

After that debacle, I decided to buy the slightly more expensive British Airways ticket when I traveled. While it did cost a bit more, it flew out of a very popular airport, and there was even a shuttle—a train that was actually very fast—that went directly from a tube station to the airport. It was definitely worth the extra money.

So, if we’re coming full circle with the Tarantino sequencing (and I’m not a huge Tarantino fan, so I’m not exactly sure how he would bring this back to the end, which was the beginning). So here’s my feeble attempt.

Here is a quick list of what I learned, in no particular order of importance or sequence.
1. Public transportation isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
2. Cheap tickets aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.
3. Crowded trains + heat – deodorant = unpleasant traveling conditions. Well, I suspected this already, but I had never been able to confirm it until then.
4. Language barriers can sometimes result in elementary drawings that are of no help. None at all.
5. Everyone will implore you to see a major landmark when in a new city. Even if they haven’t seen it.
6. Sometimes that landmark is worth the hype.
7. People feel the need to have photographic evidence of almost anything.
8. I have more control over my bladder than I knew
9. Street vendors aren’t always so nice.
10. Pistachio is the best flavor of gelato.

Is it ok to just repeat what I said at the beginning? Well, I did anyway.

I learned a lot of stuff on that trip. And I had a great time.

Venice—a cliché, but totally worth it
Italy, 2002

Venice was even better than Florence, in my opinion. Everyone knows about the canals and the gondolas and the men wearing white and black striped shirts with a red kerchief pushing the gondola, probably carrying stupid Americans.

Despite how clichéd it seemed, it really was beautiful. The canals were kind of green and muddy. Surprisingly and happily, however, they did not smell, as everyone will warn you when Venice is mentioned, “the canals smell.” I guess we were there on a good day.

Terri and I walked around (after I took a picture of an Italian steering a gondola down a narrow canal—yes, I have that picture, and honestly, it’s one of my favorite ones from that trip).

We looked at the street vendors. I looked at a silver-colored bracelet (I knew already that it was not real silver). I wasn’t interested in it at all, but the seller was very interested in selling it to me. It was 80 Euro, just less than $80 USD. For a bracelet made of something that wasn’t a precious metal. Right. I politely thanked him and walked away. I wasn’t trying to play hardball, but the seller sure thought I was.

He followed Terri and me down the street, calling out “for you, pretty lady, 60 Euro.” No, thanks. “For you, pretty lady, 40 Euro.” No, thanks. “For you, pretty lady, 10 Euro.” Really, no thanks.

Eventually it was “Ok, 2 Euro.” Yes, less than $2 USD, and I wasn’t interested. I should have just bought it for that price and gotten him off my back, but at that point it was a matter of principal. I didn’t want it.

“No, thanks.”

We walked away, and I heard a profanity yelled at me.

I learned that those street sellers are persistent. And they will be mad at you if you walk away without buying their crap that they’re passing off as real silver.

The rest of the day in Venice was great. We passed the time shopping—of course. That’s what we do. Shopping and eating. We bought some leather goods (when in Rome…er, Italy…) and silk scarves. We saw a lot of glass, and eventually realized “oh, this is Venitian glass.” Yeah, we’ve heard of that before. Uh huh, Venitian glass is, in fact, from Venice.

It was in Venice that I learned that I loved pistachio-flavored gelato. Seriously. It was the best ice cream I had ever had. Terri insisted it was because I was thirsty, and that anything would taste good. But I still, to this day, say it was the best ice cream I ever had (just a short step ahead of some Cold Stone creations, mind you).

I would absolutely go back to Venice if/when I go back to Italy. Even if it’s just for more pistachio gelato. $600 for a plane ticket, a few hundred bucks for a hotel, $2 for gelato. Totally worth it.

Finally in Milan…er, Florence…same difference, right?
Italy, 2002

I ended the last blog missing my flight to Milan and having to buy a new ticket that would take me to Florence—and for only an extra $50! Wait, the ticket only cost $40 to begin with. I had no choice. This “cheap” ticket was turning into an inexpensive ticket with a lot of added hassle.

And, being a stupid American, I had no idea where Florence was in relation to Milan.

Finally, finally, I was on a plane about two hours later, and I arrived in Florence very late that night. Unfortunately, there were no trains leaving the station until about 6 hours later the next morning. I thought about just sitting around waiting, but it wasn’t a big station, and it was mostly outdoors. A British woman who was on my flight begged me not to stay at the station, and she walked with me to the hotel across the street.

After paying for a room to stay in for the night, I quickly realized that my cheap, cheap vacation was costing more and more. Because Terri was in Italy on business, she already had a hotel room, which she conveniently reserved one with two beds in it. So I could stay with her for free.

On top of buying a second plane ticket, I had to pay for a hotel room. Expect the unexpected.

I called Terri saying “guess where I am right now?” She had no idea, and I told her I was in Florence. Yeah, I gave her the quick-and-dirty version of how I ended up in Florence.

She said she didn’t have to work the next day (on her business trip), and she would meet me in Florence.

When I saw Terri early the next afternoon, she was looking a little weary and a little worn out. It was a five-hour train trip (which is much longer than it should have been if I recall correctly), she had to stand most of the time, and people in Europe aren’t as fond of deodorant as Americans are. Did I mention this was in April? On a crowded train?

We were excited—despite the many extra hours—to be in Italy. Just stepping out of the train station and looking at the surrounding area was really cool. It was the first time I’d been to Europe aside from my time in London.

Terri and I were not in the city center of Florence; we were in the land-locked part, so we had to ask a ticket agent for some help in buying a ticket. She spoke minimal English, and combined with my less-than-minimal Italian skills (which only stemmed from my lacking skills in Spanish), we had a difficult time understanding each other.

We asked how to get to Florence, and she kept repeating “Firenze” (Italian for Florence, that much I got), and something about water. She just received more puzzled looks from Terri and me, which frustrated her even more.

Eventually, possibly she was trying to be helpful, but really, she was quite insulting, she said in her best English, “See, Firenze is an island. This is how you get there.” And she proceeded to draw some water on a sheet of paper and a sad-looking fish, one that an eight-year-old would draw.

Terri and I looked at the fish, we looked at her, and we looked at each other. Right, we’re supposed to be the dumb Americans. Eventually she made some hand motions, and we gathered we were supposed to buy our ticket at the back of the station. Really, did it have to be that difficult, and did it have to be that condescending?

When you’re in Florence, “You have to see the David!” Yes, everyone who’s been to Florence, or who knows about Florence will say this to you.

So we waited in line to see the famous sculpture of David. I wasn’t too excited about this.

“Art and artifacts collected in museums really are just a demonstration of imperialism at its finest,” I started to say. I had learned that in one of my post-graduate courses. Or, I had learned something like that. I couldn’t really remember the concept that my professor had talked about just months earlier.

I learned I had no idea what I was talking about and wondered if I should have taken a different elective. I think an Italian who heard me thought the same thing; he gave me a funny look.

After one of the many strikes that Italians are infamous for that will shut down a museum or make trains hours late, we finally got into the museum.

We pretended to be interested in some of the smaller sculptures, but really, we wanted to see the main attraction. So we headed toward the back of the museum to do just that. I was ready to be underwhelmed. And with that expectation, I was disappointed.

I learned something right then…some things are much more impressive in real life, and you can never get the full beauty and enormity of seeing these things in a book in art class.

The David is one such thing. It really was beautiful. I will give everyone credit who has asked their friend who traveled to Florence, “Did you see the David?” that it is, indeed, something worthy of seeing in person. Now, I won’t just ask that obligatory question when I have a friend heading to Florence. But if they ask, I will say that it’s something that they should see if they have time. But no pressure.

It’s ok to be the dumb American tourist sometimes. I did discover; however, that I still couldn’t bring myself to take a picture of the David as so many people were doing. And yes, Terri was one of them.

“Why are you doing that?” I asked her. “You know you saw it.”

“Yeah, it’s to show other people I saw it.”

Ok. Now we need to prove we saw things. Another thing I learned. Apparently you can’t just say “I saw the David.” Even if this person has never left the United States, they need photographic evidence that you saw something because they know you’re “supposed” to see it.

When we were ready to leave Florence, we headed to the train station. Of course, we couldn’t leave right away because it was unknown when the next train would be arriving. Yes, another mini-strike.

Now, I know that I have a small bladder, and I have to go to the bathroom all the time. All the time. And after our day in Florence, I kind of needed to use the bathroom. But seeing as I had no idea when the train would arrive, and I had no idea how long it would stay in the station, and I didn’t see a bathroom nearby, I wasn’t going to risk a train arriving right when I locked myself in a stall.

So I held it.

Eventually a train came. I don’t remember how long, but it was over an hour. Probably two hours.

Terri and I boarded the train. And finally I was able to use a bathroom.

What did I learn? That I could hold it for an undetermined amount of time when I feared being left in a strange city. It’s good to know things like that.

When Terri and I arrived in Milan, I was relieved to finally be in the correct city, only to head to Venice the next day.

Being at the mercy of public transportation
London to Italy, 2002

As I described in my earlier blog, Terri and I headed to Italy in April 2002.

This trip got off to a bad start. While I love public transportation, and I wish Atlanta and the U.S. in general had better transportation, I learned that it can also be a nightmare. It took me more than four hours to get to the airport, when it should only have taken me an hour and a half.

What took so long? Let’s see…

To start my journey, I waited at the tube station for at least 20 minutes before I realized that the train was not coming. I was told by some other passengers that sometimes that particular train just doesn’t arrive. How is that possible? I have no idea.

I quickly found an alternate route to the tube station that had my Express Train to Stansted Airport, a lesser-used airport in London, but the flights out are incredibly cheap.

I finally got to the Liverpool station, only to get off the train and to be told that all trains from Liverpool to the airport were now going out of another station. This was mildly annoying as I was already at almost an hour behind now because of the mysterious train that never arrived at the first station. So back onto the crowded train to the new station.

At least 30 minutes later I arrived at this new station. Only to be redirected to the station I had just left.

“What? Are you kidding me?” are the words that actually came out of my mouth when the station employee told me this.

I looked at my watch, carefully calculating how much time I had left before my flight took off, and how late I could possibly get to the airport. I had probably two hours before the flight was to leave.

I quickly hopped back on the train and headed back to the previous station. Thirty minutes later, I arrived.

I bought my ticket to the Stansted Express and waited…and waited…for the train to arrive.

When it did arrive, I think the entire city of London decided they needed to be on that train with me. Apparently we all needed cheap flights out of Stansted that afternoon.

The train being very crowded made the trip a little unpleasant. The fact that I now had about one hour to get to the airport before my flight left (forget arriving an hour early, I would have minutes to spare) made the trip unpleasant and ridden with anxiety. I am a clock-watcher. I am obsessed with time and with being on time. I knew I was not going to be on time, and I hated that. The fact that I could miss my flight made it even worse. Add on top of all of this that the train was moving probably ten miles an hour made it all unbearable. Did I mention already that this was called the Stansted Express? Yeah.

I kid you not. I could have run faster carrying my duffle bag. And I don’t run. Anywhere.

Everyone was talking about how late the train was and how they were late for their appointment/flight/dinner at home.

I said to nobody in particular, “Yeah, I have a flight that leaves in about forty-five minutes.”

I got a few of the stares you give people when you think they’re an idiot. “Why did you not give yourself more time? Stupid American.”

No, really. I left three hours ago, I wanted to say. But London transportation has totally been messing with me all day. And I still wasn’t at my destination.

And the entire way to the airport I was dangerously close to groping the older businessman in front of me. It’s a little uncomfortable when someone looks at you with the “I think that was your hand on my unmentionable” look. I gave the obligatory “I’m sorry, but really, there’s no place for me to put my hands without touching someone” look.

When my train arrived at the airport, I had to run (yes, me, run!) to the gate. I missed my flight by a mere 15 minutes.

I was out of breath, and my hair was probably starting to frizz. All for nothing.

I scheduled another flight to leave later that evening (for only an extra $50! Wait, the ticket only cost $40 to begin with), but instead of arriving in Milan, I would be arriving in Florence. Sounded good. I had no idea where Florence was in relation to Milan. I had to call Terri at her hotel in Milan and leave a message with the desk clerk, who hopefully understood and wrote English decently, that I would not be arriving in Milan that evening.

So, thanks to the British transportation, I waited for a train that was never going to come. I went back and forth between two stations twice. I wasted a lot of time waiting for trains. And I went on the slowest express train ever. Ever. And then I missed my flight and paid more than the original cost of the ticket to change to another flight.

Oh, it was a day full of learning. I vowed to never buy a ticket with this airline because it only flew out of Stansted Airport, and I would never, ever spend four hours to travel maybe 30 miles.

Where it all began
A trip to Italy in 2002

Terri and I have been friends since the seventh grade. We were both at a new middle school and were the odd ones out. We ate lunch together on the first day of school (maybe the second, it was a while ago). And we've been friends since.

We made it through our awkward teen years and high school together. Hating teachers, talking about the future, and shopping at the mall. We made it through a long distance friendship while we went our separate ways to college. And we made it through me moving overseas to attend graduate school in London and Terri starting a professional career. (And there are plenty of stories about me living in London for a year that qualify as things I learned while traveling that I will write about another time.)

It was while I was in London for school that Terri and I first traveled together. That's a lie...we took a short road trip from Atlanta to Maryland one year during college. That was a pretty uneventful trip, however. Our first real trip was when she was in Europe on business (yeah, nice job!), and I was going to meet her while she was in Milan, Italy in the spring of 2002.

This trip was a huge learning experience, whether it was learning about myself, Italy, Italians, or tourists in general, I gained a lot of knowledge.

Let's Tarantino this (thanks, Dane Cook, for that one), and start at the end. Here is a quick list of what I learned.
1. Public transportation isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
2. Cheap tickets aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be.
3. Crowded trains + heat – deodorant = unpleasant traveling conditions. Well, I suspected this already, but I had never been able to confirm it until then.
4. Language barriers can sometimes result in elementary drawings that are of no help. None at all.
5. Everyone will implore you to see a major landmark when in a new city. Even if they haven’t seen it.
6. Sometimes that landmark is worth the hype.
7. People feel the need to have photographic evidence of almost anything.
8. I have more control over my bladder than I knew. (Really, that’s important stuff to know.)
9. Street vendors aren’t always so nice.
10. Pistachio is the best flavor of gelato.

Now, let's go back to the beginning and see how I came across these lessons.

All of my posts will indicate a certain part of any trip I took, so to read more about this one in particular, look for "Italy 2002" in the subject title.

What I have learned while traveling

I have learned weird things about my best friend and I while we have traveled together over the past several years. Ok, I have to admit, some of these things I have always known about myself, but I haven't wanted to admit.

Who wants to admit that they're only mildly interested in culture? If it's not too hot out, or not too expensive, then yeah, I might be interested in that museum.

Who wants to admit that sometimes you'd rather not walk through the entire Louvre while visiting Paris because you're too tired? So you race frantically to see the Mona Lisa, only to stand there and take a picture of it at a distance...like every other tourist.

But this is just some of what I have learned, and oddly enough, I learned the above lessons are true for both Terri and I.

What else have I learned? I fear being the typical dumb American tourist, and sometimes, just sometimes, I am that person. That is painful to admit.

I really love traveling. I want to go all over the world at my own pace. And I want to experience all the different cultures and environments and new things you do when visiting a foreign place.

So I don’t mind learning a few of the uglier things about me if I can take back new experiences with me during the process. And that’s why I continue to travel.

And I think I travel with Terri because we can both laugh at the dumb things we discover and do while in these new places.

Ok, I know I travel with her because we can laugh about it all. Maybe sometimes we have to laugh a little later, but we have laughed about it all at some point.