La Dolce Vita

I have always found traveling to be an invigorating, energizing, and at times challenging experience. After an entire summer of “traveling” while working as a Backroads Trip Leader, I learned many things about myself, about Europe, and about my fellow travelers. For example, no matter what time the Czech train schedule reads, the next train will arrive “when it gets here,” so grab some dumplings and relax. The Dutch (despite their fascination with cheese) really are some of the nicest people on earth. On all roads in Europe, there is an invisible third lane in the middle that is commonly accepted as a passing lane, regardless of oncoming traffic. Europeans can and will put a toe hitch on any car they can, no matter how small. Italian men are some of the friendliest people who are always willing to offer you a ride, wherever your destination. When caught in a fourteen day transportation strike in Paris, grab some bread and cheese and pray that your TGV to Provence will depart the Gare de Lyon on time. And no matter how good their intentions, when a guest asks you when you are going to get “a real job,” you still feel like letting the air out of their tires before the next day’s ride!

With these precious pieces of knowledge and more, I loaded up a full unit of bikes, tools, helmets, sunscreen, and tupperware and drove across four countries (avoiding the speed cameras whenever possible) to return back to the place where it all started....Provence. Never again will I be a first year leader. Never again will I be surprised by the amount of prostitutes on the Czech/Austrian border. Never again will hail storms in July catch me by surprise. Then again...never say never. I became so accustomed to moving at a high rate of speed, that when I was off trip, my body and mind quite literally did not know what to do. An even bigger shock was ending my first season knowing I would not be leading another trip for seven months! So....I did what any girl with traveler’s blood would do...I repacked my bags and hit the road for the next two months!

With five weeks to burn before the Backroads staff ride in Thailand (imagine 165 Backroads people riding through the small villages in Northern Thailand), I flew from Nice to Rome where I met my travel buddy for the next three weeks. Buongiorno Mama! Who better to travel with than a very excitable, blond, slightly older version of myself?! We have a good time, but we definitely travel at different speeds. While I am more of a go-go-go, drinks a lot of water, willing to walk the five miles uphill to the hostel carrying my bags on my back kind of girl, mom is more of a cappuccino drinking, gelato eating, let’s get a taxi even though they charge fifteen dollars for an eight minute ride kind of girl. Put the two of us together in a country of friendly Italians, unorganized public transportation, and beautiful scenery, and we will laugh our way through anything.  

Welcome to the European, more specifically the Italian, way of life. You can stop your car on a blind hairpin turn because you feel like it. Yelling at the top of your lungs while throwing your hands in the air is considered a normal conversation, not an argument. Drinking wine and visiting with friends will always be more important than making a sale or meeting a deadline. The bread is fresh and the wine is old. And a healthy breakfast is eating only one croissant and cappuccino instead of two. Yes, the Italians really do love life (thanks to the aforementioned wine) and are usually very friendly and helpful to the clueless tourist wandering aimlessly through their little town. Thus we enter upon one of the traveler’s most common past times...asking for directions. Enter...the language barrier.  

Along with her speciality tea bags, blankets, and bulky wool sweaters, my mom brought an Italian/English phrase book. These books make me laugh. What good is it to ask a question in the local language if you are unable to understand the answer?! You find the phrase you need. You follow their pronunciation guide. You do your best to deliver the phrase in a comprehendible accent. Then you wait anxiously while the other person delivers a full blown answer in Italian. Grazie. What I find most helpful is the emphatic hand gestures and pointing. You thank this exuberant Italian and continue in the direction they were pointing until you repeat this process again with the next store owner. After only a few more of these friendly yet confusing interactions, you eventually find what you were looking for...albeit at this point you could definitely use some wine! Rest assured, no matter where you are going, if you are in Italy, you are no more than “five minutes” away from your destination. And in just 21 days of travel, we squeezed in a lot of destinations.

Our Italian journey was as rich and colorful as the limoncello mom chugged in Amalfi. Our attention was captured by the deep history of the Vatican City, the Pantheon, and the Colosseum in Rome. We plugged our noses as we waded through the garbage and crime infested streets of Naples. The island of Capri offered us panoramic hiking trails, breath stealing swimming in the blue grotto, and picture worthy sunsets. We risked our lives at each cliff hanger turn on the Amalfi Coast (those bus drivers deserve a metal for surviving each day). We climbed 325 stone steps to sleep in a room with no windows and no hot water. From sunrise to sunset we hiked all five cities in Cinque Terre. We waded through the flooded maze that is Venice. We ate local chocolate and drank Tuscan wine with the wine maker himself. And we learned that a day spent with good friends, good food, and a good sense of humor is something you can never buy.

Blonds in Italy really do have more fun,

Kristyn