Euroblazin' 3: As the Romans do...

When I left off, my jaw had just finished dropping in Prague and I was back in London.  After arriving back to London, I spent some quality time visiting with friends during the day on Friday and surprising people at their work. :-) Although, in future I will certainly rent a phone. Dashing to phone boxes constantly got tiresome! (And now I remember why my first purchase when I lived in London was a mobile phone). At any rate, on Friday night, I met up for Peruvian cuisine with a former flatmate and her friends, at a quaint little, tucked away restaurant . She lives and works in London now, but is from Peru originally. The food was phenomenal, and I was really glad to have the opportunity to try food from that corner of the globe. But, I'll have to try it in the actual Peruvian context someday! Saturday, I relaxed around London, still taking it a little bit easier after a week of dashing around Austria and Czech. However, Saturday night, I enjoyed yet another country's cuisine: South African. Lydia's husband (my Peruvian friend) is South African. So, at their flat in Kensington (near to where I used to share a flat with them), they were hosting a South African barbeque. And let me tell you, some bbq it was!! The meat was non-stop. There was pork, chicken, South African sausages and you name it. Heaps of food. And it was done South African style, on a coal bbq. It was a nice, calm, rain-free evening for it too. Thanks again Christian for the fabulous food, and it was well worth the wait!!! You see, South African style dictates that ALL of the meat must be done before anyone can set in on the food. So, our mouths were all watering as we saw the meat progressively pile up. First the chicken, then the pork, then the sausages, etc... But, I was told that was the point. You value the food more when the anticipation has to build up. So, it was a great experience and I did indeed value that mouth-watering meat!! Then, after the bbq, I jetted off to meet more former workmates in central London. We had a good night out, though it didn't go as planned. I had meant to organize former workmates and former travelmates all together, to go to "school disco." For various reasons it fell through, but we still had a blast pub-crawling central London. Sunday, I visited with one of my former travelmates (Emma, whom I'd met years before in Australia) for a relaxed coffee, before going out for yet another cultural dinner. This time it was Eritrean cuisine. Eritrea is a small country near Ethiopia in Africa. A former workmate is from there and was going to a Eritrean restaurant with a number of her Eritrean high school friends who had all landed in London! So, I tagged along and enjoyed yet another phenomenal and cultural meal.  That's the wonderful thing about London. So many cultures come together there. In one weekend, I enjoyed so many meals and yet that is only a small fraction of the virtually unlilimited culinary/cultural opportunities there! Sunday night it was quite late when I got back to the hostel to collect my gear to prepare for my early early flight to Rome. I was so tired from the busy weekend though (even though I hadn't been literally running around as much as the previous week, the constant visiting had worn on me). So, I crashed out and napped. By the time I got up, showered and all that, it was 3.30am. That may sound very early. However, I had to be at the airport by 5.35...at the latest. And the airport I was headed for isn't exactly central. You may recall the ordeal getting to Austria the week before? Well, it was that same airport I needed to get to. Since it was so early in the morning, the fast train did not run yet either. So I had no choice but to take the bus....which takes much longer. So, I needed to be on the bus by 4.  Well, when the look at the clock gave me a rude awakening to the fact that I was once again running behind, I high-tailed it to the coach station. I got there in time for the 4.00 coach. Barely. But it was full. So, I had to take the 4.10. Oh, the difference 10 minutes makes. I rolled into the airport with moments to spare for my flight's check-in closure.  I got there at 5.30...but I still had to run to the check-in counter, and the airport is not small. Plus, you would NOT believe how crazily busy that airport was so early in the morning! What's wrong with these people? Oh, wait. I'm one of them! But I wanted to get to Rome at a decent time in the morning. I guess they were all wanting to get where they were going early too... But, oh, their nerve! The masses of people made it hard for me to find my check-in counter amidst all the other line-ups for the same airline. Eventually, after standing for a moment in the wrong line-up, I found my line-up. Well, actually, I found my line-up...empty. Not a good sign. But the airline woman, who was literally about to leave herself, as check-in was "officially" closed, allowed me to check-in, after watching me nearly collapse onto my knees in front of her. (I had been bolting through the airport at top speed from the bus, carrying no less than 20kg on my back).

Thus, I made it to Rome. The rest of the commute went pretty smooth. At the Rome airport, there was a cheap and quick bus right into the centre. Plus, the bus arrived literally a stone's throw from the hostel where I had planned to stay! So, after checking into the ultra nice hostel, I was off to explore the city. The day was quite nice and I had a great time wandering through side streets, getting lost and then finding myself again, marveling at the beautiful architecture, floral terraces, the phenomenal number of mopeds and the numerous teensy "Smartcars" along the way. I went to a few bars along the way as well. Now, before you worry that I was getting too friendly with the drink, bars are not quite the same in Rome. They are coffee and dessert bars. So, of course, I was drawn in to have a cappuccino now and again as I passed Rome's many bars. Although, at first it was a bit hard to get used to the ordering system. One must go to the cashier in the corner, where one can buy everything from camera film to cigarettes and chocolate, to get a receipt. Then, you take the receipt to the "bar" and they get you your order, for you to eat/drink while standing there. Once I had the system figured out, I quite liked it...and let me tell you, I got my practice too. You know how well coffee and I get along...

I had only moments to spare to catch the "fast train" to Forli. Otherwise neither bus nor train would get me there in time. So, once again, I was running through a train station at top speed...first to get my bag back from storage, then to get a ticket (pushing my way frantically to the head of the line-up) and then across to the designated platform.

My next day in Rome was filled with more wandering through and around random streets, bars, pasta tratorrias, shops and monuments. I visited most of the main sights...the Coliseum, the Vatican, and various piazzas (main squares). Partly through the day, it began pouring rain and I bought a new, Roman-style women's jacket to repel the rain. My jean jacket and umbrella simply weren't a strong enough armour against the incredible downpour. Then, by evening, I was on a train to Florence.

A former workmate from London (from Sicily, Italy) had arranged for me to stay at her brother's in Florence.  She would normally have been in Florence studying, but had to be back in Sicily that week. So, when I arrived in Florence, I called for the address and then made my way there in a taxi.  It turns out her brother had expected me the day before, due to a miscommunication, and had been waiting at the train station at the expected time, with a sign for me and everything! Can you imagine? Poor guy! Oh, how I felt bad about that!! In the end though, it all worked out and I arrived at the flat without much difficulty. I met his flatmates too, who didn't speak much English either. Luckily, I had an Italian-English dictionary that I put to good use! That night, I was treated to homemade Italian pizza and wine while visiting with them all and having a grand time! It was so neat to be staying with actual Italians, as opposed to in merely a hostel. The next day in Florence was filled once again with more wanderings. I walked and walked and walked...around various residential areas, along with all the main attraction sights. By evening my feet were very sore and I retired to a wine cellar/shop. There, I rested my feet and chatted with the wine shop owner for nearly 2 hours, learning about wine and Italy in general. When my feet were recovered, I left the shop, not empty handed, to head back to the flat. Once again, I was treated to homemade Italian fare...this time pasta. I also had traditional Italian lattes in the mornings, made by boiling milk on the stove while espresso is made on another burner (in a burner-top aluminum espresso maker). I must get myself one of those...

Leaving Florence was a bit of an ordeal. On the morning that I left, I got a train to Bologna, for my flight to London. I thought I had plenty of time, to gather a glimpse of Bologna before heading to its airport. As it turned out though, the airport I was meant for was not Bologna's airport, but that of Forli, a neighboring town. However, the airline company advertises itself as flying to/from Bologna. Only in small print do you notice that it is actually Forli, not Bologna. Even the Italians I had spoken to in Florence did not realize that I would not be flying out of Bologna's main airport... Well, it was not until I had put my bags in a lock-up area and gone to tourist info for a map that I learned this all-important fact. And I was lucky to have learned it when I did. I had only moments to spare to catch the "fast train" to Forli. Otherwise neither bus nor train would get me there in time. So, once again, I was running through a train station at top speed...first to get my bag back from storage, then to get a ticket (pushing my way frantically to the head of the line-up) and then across to the designated platform. Thankfully, the train was a couple minutes delayed, and I made the train. But wait, was that such a good thing? The train was scheduled to get me to Forli at noon. However, from that station it is a 8-10 minute taxi ride to Forli airport. And...I had to be at the airport at...12.15. Without the delay, I could have gotten there with a few moments to spare. With the delay, it would be a close call! The delayed train was going to get to Forli at about 12.05...getting me to the airport at...12.15!! Well, on the train, as fate would have it, I met 2 other Italian girls in the same predicament, heading for the 1.00 flight to London. They hadn't mistaken the airport, but had misjudged the train times and the trains to Forli are not frequent, literally hours apart. I was so lucky to have been able to catch that particular train, let me tell you!! Now here's an image for you: the 3 of us bolting out of the train in unison and nearly throwing ourselves at a taxi to get us all to the airport. We got to the airport at 12.14... It was like a scene from a comedy movie! It was a tiny airport, and check-in was directly inside the sliding glass doors. When the taxi pulled up, we grabbed our bags and ran. Here we were. Two Italian gals pulling their stylish carry-on bags, and a Canadian with a monster pack on her back, all dashing through the sliding doors at top speed towards check-in. There were also exactly 3 check-in counters open for the flight so that we each able to speed directly to one of the them. And I think we all let out a sigh of relief in unison at the realization that check-in was still open! As it turns out, the airport is so small that they are not nearly as strict with the check-in deadline. There's only one gate at the airport, after all, and it is only a few paces away from check-in (That's certainly not the case at London's airports!) So, I made it onto that flight and back to jolly old England. Back in London, I trekked through central London, relatively effortlessly, to catch a train for the south coast and a last couple relaxing days visiting another friend, before heading back to Canada.

Back in Canada I took a while to adjust and get back into the new time zone and slower pace of life after all that touring and running to catch planes, trains and automobiles!  Once I got settled back in Vancouver though, I began to appreciate it much more. There's nothing like going away to renew one's senses. When I looked around my own grand city, I began to see it in all of its grandeur. In fact, last week I actually became a tourist in my own city, taking walks along the seawall and going for scenic drives, absorbing more actively the beauty that surrounds me here. In fact, I actually took nearly a roll of pictures around town last week!

Also, on the plane, the British girl next to me, being tired of England, was immigrating to Canada, choosing Vancouver as the exact location. She had never been here before, but had done her research. Before choosing Vancouver, she had narrowed down her choices to Vancouver and two other world class cities: Barcelona, Spain and Sydney, Australia. Ultimately though, she had decided Vancouver is "where it's at." I've kept in contact with her since being back, and so far all or her grand expectations have been met and surpassed, she says! Wow. Vancouver on par with major world class cities. But then again, I knew that! After all, it is rated top in the world by the UN and we did win 2010 Winter Olympics! :-)