It's been a fast-moving week since we left Barcelona, making our way back through France and into Italy, but we're well underway with this trip now. As we weave out of Verona to Florence, the rain striking the train windows quite dramatically actually, I'm reminded that it's not all going to be the warm beaches and clear skies we've been pretty fortunate to experience so far- in the words immortalised by Mr. Snow, 'winter is coming'. Soon I'll be swapping my shorts for cargos, and my sweatshirt will finally make its way out of the backpack. But I am really interested to see how our style of travel is going to vary as the months move on- because we're a month in now, which is a mental thing to say. Part of me wondered, on the Eurostar on the way here, if I was even going to make it this far- but despite the diet of baguettes and pizza, and the nasty cough Zac and I have both almost certainly inherited from mould in our hostel in Barcelona, we're 3 countries down and I'm loving it.
So as I mentioned, it's been a fast-moving week since I last left off on the way to Lyon; in 7 days, we've spanned 3 countries (if you count a change of trains in Brig, Switzerland), and stayed in 5 different places. It can be difficult to find the balance between maximising the amount of places we are visiting and the time we give ourselves to just relax, and one-night stays have proven quite challenging. When you spend all day on a train, the last thing you want to do is try and explore a city; a shower, food, and sleep become your only goals. This was the reality that hit us when arriving in Lyon.
Our train got into Lyon at around 8pm, and the plan was to get to the hostel, drop off our bags and then find something to eat, seeing as we hadn't had an 'actual meal' since our McDonald's breakfast in Barcelona that morning. Something we hadn't taken time to appreciate however was how long the walk from the station would be- around an hour, uphill, in the dark, our backpacks adding only another factor to our weariness. It was a unanimous vote between us at that point to get food first, to avoid needing to actually crawl to our destination. And what blessed our eyes as we left the station but a Five Guys- after 2 weeks of speaking broken Spanish, speaking even more broken French was a challenge, but it was worth it for the double hotdog and excessive amount of fries we got to tuck into that evening.
So, now on a full stomach, we made the trek- and a trek it was. Crossing the river at night was a stunning view though, seeing the warm lights of the domes and buildings cast against the pitch black skyline making the journey a little bit more tolerable. By the time we reached the hostel, we just crashed- it was nice enough, big rooms crammed with pod beds that felt a little bit like a morgue, but it didn't matter. We had a place to rest our heads. The next morning we got up, changed, packed and attempted to explore a bit more of the city. It proved pretty difficult with our bags, but we didn't have much choice, and ended up having a really nice morning there. Zac and I have actually decided to visit again on the way back from Switzerland before moving on to Belgium, so we can get a real feel for the city. In the station, we sat opposite an older guy, probably in his 50s, and got talking, learning bits about his life. He'd been born in France, but moved out to Australia, where he'd lived for over 20 years with his partner who was from Copenhagen. His wife had recently died however, and so he made the decision to come back to France and live near his family in Dijon. We shared stories of travel, of life, for about an hour before Zac and I had to make our train to Annecy, and weirdly it felt like leaving a friend we'd known for years behind. This was the first instance, as I can say now retrospectively, of many, where we crossed paths with kind people who we will never see again. And I thought that was really special.
The two-hour journey to Annecy was one of the most breathtaking experiences of my life. If you've ever been lucky enough to see the Eastern French countryside, the mountains and valleys that make you feel so insignificant, the vast lakes and rolling green fields, you will understand the exact emotions that I was feeling. Scenic doesn't begin to describe the beauty in every aspect of the views outside of our bustling carriage window. I'd been really looking forward to Annecy, somewhere Zac didn't even know existed other than 6 letters on our itinerary sheet, and this journey into the lake town promised me everything I was expecting. We took the bus from the station down to where we were staying- a lakeside Airbnb owned by a lovely French lady called Christine. She later noted that Zac and I were a 'very pleasant and discreet' pair under my review section on Airbnb, potentially raising questions on her part of our sexual orientation. Regardless, a lakeside beer and an evening trip to the French equivalent of Big Tescos later, we sat out on the promenade that ran around the lake's east side and watched the sunset, tucking into our expertly crafted baguettes. We got up for a sunrise walk the next morning, but were slightly disappointed in that the mountains are so close you actually can't see the sun until its around 10am anyway- so headed back to our room, showered, made use of the free breakfast included in our stay and once again got back on the tracks. Much like Lyon, Annecy's stunning location left us wanting more, and we are heading back there in around a month's time to see it all again.
One thing the TikToks won't show you; travel is hard, hard work. It's exhausting being on the move all the time, and emotionally draining to realise you can't even stop and enjoy a place because you are so tired. The majority of your time is spent in hostels, on trains, in laundrettes, the cool sightseeing actually being a very small part of it. But this is the juggling act you have to perform, and the experience is worth it.
Originally we had planned 5 nights in Milan, and a day trip to Garda if possible, but what you draw up on your itinerary sheet and what you realise is practical when your journey is actually underway are two completely different things. We broke the journey up- 2 nights in Milan, a night in Garda, and 2 nights in a new location, Verona. The first obstacle however- making it through the 7-hour, 3-country, 3-changes journey to Milan. The train from Annecy took us into Geneva, where, after grabbing some Swiss chocolate and chocolate milk of course, we then took a connection to Brig, which was an awe-inspiring journey through the mountains and low-lying clouds. I remember just turning to Zac and saying wow- there are actually people who live here and experience this every single day. Thankfully we left Annecy pretty early in the morning, so it was only 4.40pm by the time we reached Milan, and we caught the tram to the hostel. And this hostel was one of the best parts of our trip yet.
As much as all the hostels so far had been pretty decent, they'd lacked a strong social atmosphere, and I don't think we'd considered how important that was until Milan. The hostel hosted karaoke the first night- everyone up on their feet, dancing, drinking, singing along, the Spanish guys singing Despacito, there was a really cool community feel about the place. The second night there were standup comedians performing- and whilst the comedy wasn't exactly Russel Howard, it was evening entertainment, and the beers from the bar made the jokes sound a lot funnier. Milan itself was a cool city, but it really didn't feel like there was much to do other than, of course, the Duomo, unless you wanted to go shopping, which I certainly don't have the budget for. For me, much like the station in Lyon, Milan will be most memorable for Arad, a guy we met at the hostel. Arad is a music producer in Israel, but was travelling Europe for a few weeks before he goes back and carries on working. To be honest, I felt really bad talking to him, because he kept apologising for his 'poor English' (which was actually really good)- and it made me realise how much we take the fact that so many people speak our language for granted. But listening to his stories of his time in the Israeli military, his family back home, how he grew up to love music- it suddenly hit me that every individual on earth has their own amazing path and we walk past them everyday not knowing them. Arad and I met by complete coincidence, but, like the man from Dijon, he left a resounding impact on my experience in Milan.
After watching the last set of the stand up comedy on our last night in Milan, Zac and I shook hands with Arad, wished him safe travels and headed up to our room to get a decent night's sleep before the next day's train- a decent night's sleep that was rudely interrupted however by a rampant lightning storm that flashed through our window and shook the panes with thunder all night.
We made it to Lake Garda at midday, and I can't describe how much I loved that place. We stayed at Meet Hostel Garda, which was more like an apartment complex really, we just shared the massive rooms with other people. The beds were comfy, the people were nice, and we even had a balcony to sit on, a stone's throw away from the lake itself. We hadn't had time for a shower that morning in Milan, and so it was quite convenient to change into our swimwear, go for a dip in the lake, and then come back and freshen up before dinner. I'd never actually swam in a lake before this (intentionally, anyway), and it was so refreshing. The waves were so blue, the water surprisingly warm, and not having saltwater cling to you is such a plus. The hostel offered a group dinner event that evening, which we had considered, but Zac and I ended up going to this place we had seen on our walk back from the beach instead. This was the first meal in ages that wasn't centered around carbs- at the first opportunity to have sausage and chips, I jumped, and the 6 bratwurst on my plate were the perfect match for the stunning sunset over the lake, the best of the trip so far. Garda felt like a little piece of heaven that I'd been shut off from all my life, and I couldn't believe it'd taken me this long to see it for myself.
We strolled along the winding paths around the lake for a while and talked about life- how crazy the last month has been, the things we miss about home, the fact that we've done this all on our own and it truly is the journey of a lifetime. When we look back and remember our adolescence, there's no doubt that this trip will be the point where we say we finally grew up. The organisation and maturity this all takes is something that's pushed me, us, every step of the way, and we just took a moment to appreciate that as we sat on the end of the pier, the last bit of light fading, as some Italians were practicing their front flips into the lake.
The next morning I woke up early to take a bit of a stroll on my own- I like to do this in the early hours when it's not too busy and it feels like I'm all alone in the world, to clear my head ready for the rush of the day ahead. I found a cool canal and walked beside it for a while, reminding myself to take it all in because at some point- like right now- I'll be trying to remember every detail of it to smile back on. The way the light catches the ripples across the slowly moving water, moored up boats swaying gently against the dock, flowers of every shade of pink you could imagine lining the railings all the way down the riverside. And once I'd snapped out of my romantic poet trance, I remembered that I was really hungry, and bought the nearest packet of crisps I could find for a typical backpacker breakfast.
We stripped our beds and left the hostel, catching the first train we could (they ran pretty regularly across this route) to a favourite place of a Mr. William Shakespeare's, Verona. One thing I have realised about Italy; whilst it does have some of the coolest sightseeing opportunities, it isn't particularly backpacker-friendly. We've really struggled to find hostels (especially at a decent price), and are usually subject to a fair bit of death-staring when getting onto a train with our bags on. Verona was no different, unable to find any hostels, so we ended up renting another Airbnb. The location was pretty perfect really- we were about half an hour's walk from the main tourist attractions, which meant we could make an easy walk into the center when we needed to, but also weren't swarmed by tourists whenever we wanted to pop down the road to Lidl to grab food to cook back at our kitchen. The apartment we rented was really nice, and we were basically able to just crash on the day we arrived, get some laundry done, and then go out and grab dinner. Our food of choice was, unsurprisingly, a takeaway pizza- although this place offered something I would have thought most Italians would consider blasphemous. Chips on pizza? Yes please.
Partnered with a beer, sat on the balcony in the still-warm Verona air at night, I was very happy with how the evening had gone.
The next day in Verona we ticked of some key bits of sightseeing- queueing to see, and of course catching a photo with, the statue of Juliet, trying some local gelato, and paying a €10 entry fee to see inside Verona's arena. It was cool, but if you're planning on visiting I wouldn't waste your money unless you were actually seeing a show. The arena is over 2000 years old, so it was really special to know I was walking across the bricks that have been there for millennia- but it was just as impressive visually outside as inside. Verona was one of those places where you could just wander the streets and find comfort, be happy to just be there. We stopped for lunch at potentially the poshest McDonalds in the world, complete with a logo of gold and marble tiling, and dropped into the supermarket on the way home to get some fish fingers and potato wedges for dinner. I don't claim to be Gordon Ramsay but they were pretty good, and a nice change up from pizza or pasta.
And so the next day it was up early, make use of our private shower whilst we could, and head to the train station once again. Life exists in the time between train journeys for me now really, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Cheers for the read,
EV
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