By the
middle of my trip to Italy, I was sick, tired, and my ankle looked like an
angry blue puffer fish. I had seen the wonders of Rome, stared in awe at the
wastes of Pompeii and when I arrived in Naples – and I fell prey to swarms of
gnats, a selfish Argentine and the common cold.
A sort of
inertia, enflamed by travel fatigue and the various irritants of Italy’s most
controversial city, overcame me. My ankle made me loath to walk. Our room was
such a bright orange and so hot that, in my more dramatic moments, I swore I
was burning in hell. Bitter thoughts turned on the amount of money I was
spending, and I started wondering whether saving up a year’s salary for my
Italy trip-of-a-lifetime had been worth it.
The answer
is, of course, a resounding affirmative.
The Trevi Fountain - photos by yours truly
My trip
started with a few days in the Netherlands, where I met up with my sister before
we departed for Rome. What followed were 17 days of a self-indulgent,
ruin-packed tour that I had agonized over for months – it was a dream come true.
We began in Rome, swept down to the ruins of Pompeii, festered in the bowels of
Naples and then traipsed up to Tuscany, where a sunset watched through the green
shutters of a Tuscan villa restored my wanderlust.
My hate for
Naples is somewhat unfair, but due to a confluence of unfortunate and
unexpected events, I abhorred the very air of the place – the hot, gnat-filled
night air.
When I
started my trip, I was armed with a piece of canonical travelling wisdom:
things will go wrong. I knew this, and adjusted my expectations accordingly. I
knew that I would get sick. I anticipated food poisoning. I was even 100%
percent sure I would twist my ankle somewhere along the way.
What I,
stupidly, did not anticipate was snoring, the Argentine and weird European
toilets.
Being young
and not even modestly rich, we stayed in hostels for most of our trip. It was
amazing to see the national stereotypes come to life as travelers came and
went. I must say, however, that I am not stereotyping the Argentine based on
nation. I call him the Argentine simply because that was the only fact we could
exchange between his broken English and my single-word Spanish. “Hola!” only
gets you so far.
This
Argentine is perhaps the foremost factor in my bad experience of Naples. In the
eight bed mixed dorm room we shared with him, he was hated by seven others. He
treated that crowded orange room as though it were his own. While the rest of
us toiled in fitful, sweaty sleep, he would switch off our air-conditioning. Naples
in the middle of July reaches the high 30s, and doesn’t cool down at night.
Imagine eight people in a tiny, ranging on dilapidated room in 38 degree (C) heat
and no air conditioning, fan or airflow.
And then
there is the snoring. I was not aware of how many people suffer from this
affliction. I met the nicest Canadian girl on our first night in Rome. We
chatted about the weather, our travel plans, our countries. When she turned in,
my sister and I agreed that she seemed exceedingly pleasant.
And then
she fell asleep.
Whereas men
snore with a loud and pronounced hack, hers was the continual scrape of a saw
over glass. Unsurprisingly, the Argentine’s snores. He brayed like a donkey,
and on the night his friend shared our room, they snored in chorus.
The
toilets... I won’t go into. Suffice to say that, in South Africa, we’re used to
them being designed without holes in strange places that serve no discernible
purpose.
But, for
all my complaining, it did actually turn out to be the expected trip of a
lifetime. Once I got some solid sleep, medicine for my cold and ice for my
ankle, my enchantment with Italy resumed.
The Roman Skyline |
Barberini Fountain in Rome |
Rome is
beautiful, crowded, crumbling and ever in repair. Magnificence does not begin
to describe the Eternal City. But for all the glory of St Peter’s Basilica and
the Colosseum, my favorite site was a small monastery on the Via Veneto – what
used to be Rome’s swankiest street in the La Dolce Vita days.
This
Monastery – Il Convento dei Cappuccini
– contains six crypts that are decorated by the remains of over 4000 Capuchin
monks. No one is completely sure what drove one of their brothers to liven up
the crypts with installations such as “The crypt of Shin-bones and Thigh-bones”,
but his interior-decorating has attracted such visitors as the Marquis de Sade
and Nathaniel Hawthorne. The first crypt – “of the Three Skeletons” – contains
an epigraph that reads: “What you are now we used to be, what we are now you
will be” in three different languages.
Inside the Colosseum |
View from St Peter's Basilica's Duomo |
Wonderful little panini joint outside The Vatican's walls |
Pompeii cannot be described to the uninitiated. The paradoxical wonder of history captured in a moment of abject terror is something that should be experienced to appreciate. You have to stand over the screaming, smiling and choking casts of people long decayed to get a sense of their terror, and their significance.
Memento mori: one of Pompeii's famous casts |
Gate to one of Pompeii's three Necropoli |
Naples did have its charms |
Once we
moved on from Naples, Tuscany recaptured my exhausted imagination. It is a
different world: Rome, Pompeii and Naples all have stronger ties to the
ancient. Tuscany is art, countryside and the pastoral personified. Walled
cities, rolling hills, 18th Century Villas with antique furniture,
creaking floorboards and dark hallways fulfilled all my time-travel fantasies.
We got up at five in the morning to see the sun rise over the hills outside
Sienna. In Lucca, we followed a medieval parade and watched a cross-bow
contest. In Florence, I slowly circled
David and guiltily admired his bum.
It was
worth a year’s toil. Expectations were met, disappointed and dashed. I marveled
at the majesty of Rome and Tuscany, felt bitterly aghast in Naples and it only
took me 15 minutes on the cobblestones of Pompeii to twist my ankle.
The Tuscan landscape as seen from our Villa's backyard |
Farm implements on the hill |
In Siena |
Flag throwing in Lucca during the Medieval parade |