It's quite funny, I've realised, looking at the route map as I'm on the train now to our final city in Italy, Venice, we're actually passing back through all our previous stops since I last wrote in here; departing from Naples, next Rome, and then Florence. It feels like filling in a colouring book; before, those names were all just blank pages, I had a vague idea of what they might look like. But now, when I read those words back, each is coloured full of different memories, laughs shared, meals eaten, people met. I've lived several lifetimes in a matter of weeks- imagined myself in my twenties spending evenings with a picnic in the park in Madrid, or retiring with a lake view in Annecy. Fine dining with a view of the Colosseum in Rome, or waking up on the beach in Valencia. All of these things seem so much more possible now that these places are real to me, not just a name on our itinerary list. And that's exactly what I wanted this trip to be- I can complain about the fast pace, constant changing of locations, but we only have three months and I want to live every second of every day of them.
I can't exactly say that was the mood on our day of arrival in Florence, however.
We had to get a train from the side of Verona we were staying to the other side of the city; then wait half an hour, before taking the high-speed train into Florence's main station, Santa Maria Novella, then wait a further hour to catch our local train to where we were staying. It totalled over 4 hours of travel- which we then extended by catching the wrong local train and having to wait even longer to get a train back in the opposite direction. After a long day's travel you get to the point that even minor inconveniences like this take you to a real breaking point. By the time we had reached our Airbnb, and met our lovely host, the last thing we wanted to do was then go and make a supermarket trip, but we were so, so hungry. I'd resolved myself to the idea of making the 50 minute round journey when we found pasta and a can of tomatoes in the cupboard, which our host gave us the green light to use up, so it was chef Ethan on duty for the night.
The next morning, we took the train into Florence itself from our countryside abode, and spent the day seeing what the city had to offer. I've been on a quest to find myself a cool football shirt somewhere, and Fiorenta have one of the coolest in Europe, let alone Italy, playing in bright purple. After failing to get one from either team in Milan, I was determined to find one for a decent price in Florence. It's got to be said- Italy is absolutely rubbish at making fake football kits. Every Fiorentina fake we saw had the wrong coloured collar, or a printed badge rather than a sewn one; and even now, on the way to Venice I can say neither Rome nor Naples gave me an alternative to forking out 100€ on a real shirt, which I'd much rather spend on four nights accommodation, to be honest.
That debacle aside, Florence was a really beautiful city. We only had to walk five minutes from the station to reach its main attraction, the Cathédral Santa Maria del Fiore, and photos don't quite do it justice. The scale of it is immense, and it's even crazier to realise that its pattern is all painted on. The intricacy, the perfect mirroring of each detail is unbelievable. And, as with many things on this trip so far, I found it was best appreciated with a beer at hand, which we were fortunate enough to do sat on the balcony overlooking the cathedral's square at a nearby Irish pub. You could question the amount of beer Zac and I have had on this trip so far, but the simple answer is that we're training ourselves for Oktoberfest, where we will be in around a week's time to see out the last 2 nights of the festival. It's training, that's all!
So, on a belly full of train station McDonalds and Peroni for brunch, we headed towards the river to cross Florence's famous Ponte Vecchio bridge. Lined with different jewellery shops, windows filled with necklaces, watches and bracelets of gold and every description, I could see where it gains its tourist traction. The view across the river, blue skies stretching out to the mountaintops in the distance, encased with buildings of warm yellow and orange, is something I had to take a mental image of in my head. Florence is a truly stunning city in every aspect.
After crossing the bridge, I fancied a gelato- setting me back 8.50€ however, I really did have to savour each spoonful of it, but I suppose that's the price you pay for buying things right next to tourist attractions. We headed to the supermarket to grab some bits to make use of our kitchen again- breaded fish and rice was a nice change up from our go-to baguette or pasta-based cooking so far, and walked back to the station. We had some time to kill until our train, so decided to take a look in the station bookshop, and that might have been one of the best decisions of the journey so far; as soon as Zac spotted the guitars hanging on the far wall, I knew a match had been made. After a failed attempt to buy one in Barcelona, he wasn't about to turn down the opportunity for a 50€ guitar, despite the objections of the shop owner that it was for children. As soon as we got back to the room, it was out of the case, tuned, and in action, and Zac's face absolutely lit up. I've even been giving it a go, to various degrees of success (make of that what you will), it's a great way to pass the time at train stations, or on rainy Naples evenings.
The departure from Florence wasn't the smoothest- we'd booked a seat reservation for the 2:48 train, and boarded the 3:48, resulting in a fine after stowing away for an impressive hour in first class. But eventually we did make our way into Rome at 5:30pm- and little did we know, the chaos of the evening was only just beginning.
You couldn't have written it- the second we stepped out of the station, the heavens opened, and so we made the walk to the bus station in the rain. Our accommodation was on the outskirts of Rome, and we had to take an hour and a half's bus journey there. Already tired at this point, that journey seemed endless, it was absolutely rammed, and I really just wanted to get some food and sleep in a comfy bed. Arriving at our 'hostel' it was immediately apparent that wasn't going to happen. We had to make a twenty minute walk from our bus stop to what was literally a campsite. Our room was probably no bigger than 10 square feet, nothing more than a shed in the woods, furnished only with a bed and two shelves. Showers were communal and constantly flooded, and in the same building as the toilets which weren't clean either so that smell seeped through the entire block. I wish I was exaggerating but this was a living hell. Maybe we should have anticipated this for 10€ a night- we more so assumed that the low cost was merely because of its location outside of the main city, and we were willing to get the train in if need be. But Zac and I both knew we couldn't spend the next 3 nights we'd already paid for here, and during dinner found somewhere else in the city center. Nowhere to stay in Rome was particularly cheap, but any alternative to our less-than-cozy cabin was a positive in our books.
So the next morning, we returned our keys early and waited for the 'shuttle bus' service the campsite offered to the train station. It wasn't a bus; it was someone's 7-seater car that we had to pile our bags into and cram ourselves in. We didn't care- we were leaving, that's all that mattered.
I got talking to a guy on the way to the station, he was from Quebec, Canada, and was flying to Brussels that evening out of Rome airport. Once we arrived at the station and saw that all the trains had been canceled for an hour, we made more conversation, and decided to spend the day together with him in Rome. We arrived in the heart of the city around midday, and after Zac and I had unburdened ourselves of our bags at our new hostel (you'll be happy to hear, much nicer), we took off first to find some food. Quebec man knew a good pasta place, where we ate well, drank well, and he even paid for the meal, despite our offers to split it, which was very generous of him. As genuine and kind as our new friend seemed, we were very wary of what he had to gain from spending the day with two 18-year-old travellers- it's the sad reality of the world we live in that you can't just trust nice people, but you have to be so cautious, especially in a big city like Rome.
We then took a short walk across the road to a Cathedral that he'd wanted to see (the first of many in Rome, unsurprisingly), and it was a spectacle to say the least. Ceilings unbelievably high, coated in layers of gold worth more than I'll ever earn in my lifetime, intricate paintings of biblical stories and statues depicting all sorts of Christian figures in rows of pillars stretching right across the church. There was almost a morbidity to it- remembering all of the people we'd already seen on the streets in this city, let alone the country, or the trip so far as a whole, you couldn't help feel angry that the church was able to take centuries of funding to make their buildings this unnecessarily lavish, whilst children starved in the underground stations below their feet. It was an unfortunately common pattern in Rome.
Still yet to have a shower though, Zac and I wanted to get back to the hostel, so parted ways with the guy we'd known for no more than 5 hours but got to know like an old friend. It was only then we exchanged names- Jeff, who'd been a military strategist and taken out of service after a shoulder injury, who now ran his own hostel back in Canada, who grew his own vegetables in his garden, whose mother had Alzheimers and brother was an engineer. We knew all these things about him, experienced an entirely new city with him, before even knowing his name. I think that's potentially the most mental, but exciting, thing about this traveller's lifestyle.
Showered, a fresh set of clothes on, we relaxed in the hostel for a bit, and then headed out to a gig that Zac had found online. He'd been missing the live music scene since we left the UK, and to be fair it was actually good to change up from the usual activities in the big cities. The venue was really cool, and whilst the music might've been a bit heavy for my taste, it was a great night. We caught a taxi home, and I can't tell you how good it was to sleep in a bed without the worry of bugs crawling in from the woods outside to join me.
The next few days were spent enjoying the capital of modern Europe ('all roads' and all that) in the way everyone does- ticking off the main sights, wandering the Vatican, flipping a coin into the Trevi Fountain, walking the Spanish steps. We wanted to explore the Colosseum, but all tickets were sold out, so just had to admire it from the outside. Nearby though, we had a meal at a restaurant the taxi driver had recommended on our first night- my lasagna was delicious, but too much even for my hungry backpacker belly. For me, Rome was everything you expect it to be, an incredible tourist destination full of brilliant landmarks and mouth wateringly good food. As you might anticipate, this does come with the downside that it does have massive crowding issues, and it can be pricy, especially as a budget traveller. But, and I feel like I say this a lot, you really can't miss it. It's one of the highlights of the trip so far, undoubtedly.
On our last night, I fancied a good drink, so headed to the first Irish bar Google suggested. It turned out to be a brilliant choice- the Irish rugby was on, so it was absolutely rammed. Every tackle, scrum won, and try scored caused the room to erupt, drinks flying, songs belting in every corner of the pub. I barely understand rugby, and I'm not Irish, but you best believe I was there celebrating like a madman with the rest when the full time whistle was blown and Ireland won the game. Whether it was in Valencia, Florence or Rome- Irish bars have blessed us with the best music, best people, and the best beer, and it was a great way to spend my last night, walking back past the Colosseum's lit up arches on the way home to the hostel.
We didn't need to leave Rome until 12:45, so did a bit of shopping for snacks for the journey ahead after checking out, and then grabbed a toastie and midday beer at a café down the road from the metro station that'd take us to Roma Tiburtina, where we'd later depart for Naples (with a correct seat reservation this time!). To point out how useful having our Interrail passes has been- that would be the 20th train we'd taken; and whilst we have had to buy seat reservations, the pass has essentially paid for itself in saving on individual journeys, and we aren't even half way through yet. An hour and a half was all the ride took to arrive in one of the most confusing places I've ever been- Naples.
Naples is absolutely chaotic, and finding our hostel was the first taste of that. We followed the address on Hostelworld and ended up at a phone repair shop, which left us completely baffled. There was a big wooden door with no apparent way in without a key, and no signage as to if this hostel even existed; to be honest the thought did run through my mind, 'are we even going to have a place to stay tonight?'. We ended up asking at the café at the next door down, who advised we try the buzzer and see if anyone answered. We did, and were let in through a smaller hobbit door that opened out of the big wooden one, then walked up three floors to be greeted by Alex, the man that owned the B&B. It was an odd arrangement- it seemed that we, along with the owners of 4 other beds, would be staying in this Asian couple's spare bedroom- but in all fairness, I had no complaints. The rooms were clean, beds were very comfortable, we had our own shower and bathroom, and an eating area too. We settled in, rested up a bit, and then headed out for a reliable McDonalds as it started raining again. The city didn't feel the safest to be honest- it wasn't very clean, there were street sellers everywhere, and I'd heard a few accounts of what pickpockets were like in Naples. Walking to the supermarket that evening it did feel like we had to be wary of what was around us, but to be honest we never saw or experienced any sort of danger throughout our entire time in the city. Quite the opposite actually; everyone was incredibly friendly, there seemed to be a really strong community feel in Napoli.
On our first evening, 2 of the beds in our room were occupied by a French guy, Teo, who plays piano and smokes a lot, and one of the nicest guys we've met on the trip- an Aussie called Matt. Matt's travelling around Europe himself, and it was almost relieving to connect with someone close to our age having such a similar experience. As the rain poured on heavily outside and the car horns went on through the night, we took turns with Zac's guitar and jammed out, and it made the painful stay in the cabin in Rome seem like a lifetime ago. It's really cool, my Instagram has a growing collection of different people from all across the world that I've crossed paths with, and memories like that night flash back and make me smile when I see their accounts pop up on my feed.
Matt and Teo left the next morning, and Zac and I took off around midday to visit somewhere we actually had thought far enough ahead to book- the ruins of Pompeii. Getting there was a painful experience; once we'd found the right line, hundreds of us were piled into the carriages of the very short train, and packed like sardines for the entire duration of the nearly hour-long journey. Winding out of the city to the view of Vesuvius was impressive though- seeing a volcano in person is something I've always wanted to do, and whilst it is really just a big mountain unless you get close enough to see the crater, realising that it was that very volcano that turned Pompeii into the city we saw that day is pretty immense.
Walking the Pompeii ruins is a strange feeling- a literal ghost town, you wander the cobbled streets that would once have been filled with horses and and people, go into homes that would once have homed an entire family, stand in empty patches that are now nothing more than rubble and dust. Actually seeing the bodies that have been mummified, fixated in their dying position, frozen forever in time by Vesuvius' ash. You begin to understand the scale, the real human impact, not it just as an event in history. We spent around 3 hours walking the ancient city, occasionally tagging along with a tour group to pick up little pieces of trivia- there are ovens in Pompeii still with bread in them from when the actual eruption occurred, for example, being my favourite fact. We stopped off for food at a family-run pizza place a short walk from the archaeological site, and caught the train back into Naples, where we had the room to ourselves for the night. I watched Pirates of the Caribbean at Zac's request (he couldn't believe I'd never seen it before), and we got an early night.
For our last full day in Naples, we set two main precedents; visit the city's Spanish quarter, seeing its football influence and exploring its famous labyrinth-like alleys; and of course, try a Neapolitan pizza in its birthplace somewhere in the heart of the city. So, in my Argentina shirt- yes, I had saved it for this day specifically- we took a walk through the markets and alleyways of the city's West, dodging scooters that came flying in every direction on the bustling streets, stopping at any football shop for a decent fake shirt (still no luck), and realising how much this city worshipped Diego Maradona. It felt like every direction you walked, there was some mural to him, a flag or towel with his face on draped over a balcony, or some shop window crammed with his memorabilia. Being in Naples directly after Napoli's first winning season in the Serie A in over 30 years was perfect timing; if the Maradona love wasn't enough, the faces of Osimhen, Kvaratskhelia, and their entire league-winning team were printed across banners, on posters and in restaurant windows even now, months later. It couldn't be more obvious that football absolutely united this city, and it served as a reminder as to how important the beautiful game really is. We took the metro back to the hostel, stopping on the way at the TikTok-famous 'most beautiful metro station in the world' (don't waste your time), packed our bags ready for leaving the following day, and then made our way to L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele, which had raving reviews online for the best local pizza. We arrived, however, to a 40-minute queue, and decided to not waste our time, taking a seat across the road at Pizzeria d'Angeli instead. Now, I can't say for sure that it was better than what L'Antica had to offer because we didn't try it, but my Buffalo Mozzarella pizza at d'Angeli was without a doubt the best pizza I have ever eaten. The perfectly puffed crust, the flavour packed into cheese, the tomato sauce, it was incredible. So no matter what Google tells you, take my advice, this was heavenly. As has become a tradition now I suppose, we saw off the night with a walk to another Irish pub, sat outside and were serenaded (or harassed, depending on how you view it) by a man with an accordion, and found ourselves in conversation once back at the hostel with two Chilean guys who were our roommates for the night. I tested a bit of my Spanish (we decided to just settle for English) and we had our final sleep in Naples.
And that's me all caught up- it's been a long post, sorry about that, but the bulk of Italy has been one of the biggest parts of our trip. We've spent over 2 weeks here in total, explored right from North to South and now back up North again, and seen so much this country has to offer. I must admit though, I'm looking forward to some cooler weather and a diet shift from pizza and pasta.
As always,
Cheers for the read,
EV
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