On to Venice

The last leg of the journey begins: Italia

The train ride from Ljubljana to Venice was the best we had taken thus far. The train winds up into the rocky hills with views of the snow-capped alps in the distance. Crossing the border into Italy was again effortless. The mustachioed border guard came on board, glanced at our passports and then carried on. It would have been nice to get a stamp though.

The previous night we had booked in at a campground near Venice. When we searched the Internet for hostels, the campgrounds seemed to top the list. The price was right and the concept sounded cool, so that was that. We followed the instructions given by the campground. Get off the train at Mestre and take the number 11 bus to Fusina, not the 11 that didn't go to Fusina, because that one wouldn't get us to Fusina. We waited and waited and watched as another group of Canadian backpackers got on the not Fusina 11. Finally after forty minutes or so, our bus came. We were supposed to ride it to the end of the line, which was the campground gate. I was watching a pair of Americans, thinking they would be getting off at the same stop. When they got off the bus it seemed right to get off too. Was this the end of the line?

Oddly enough, we saw those Canadians who had gotten on the wrong 11 hop onto this one, and we realised too late that this was not the end of the line. Oh well we'll walk. It's only a couple more stops anyway. Of course I had put my jacket on and with the heavy backpack and front day pack, combined with the hot Italian weather, I was starting to sweat. We reached the second last bus stop before long and continued as we watched the houses disappear and the vegetation getting thicker. There was no campsite in view and the signs had disappeared long ago. After a kilometre or so, the thought of sticking my thumb out was becoming more appealing. But luckily we didn't have to resort to that, as a little black car honked and pulled over for us. When the man got out of the car, I saw he was wearing a Camping Fusina shirt. Rescued at last. We threw our bags in his car and were informed that the campsite was another five kilometres up the road. We thanked the man profusely and soon found ourselves at the check-in desk.

Our accommodation was a nice little duplex cabin. Each side has a two twin bed room with some shelves, cupboards and a heater. Our first order of business was to change into shorts and have a stroll around the campground. It didn't take long for us to decide that this was going to be a two night stay instead of one. This campground had a restaurant, bar, pizza place, a little store, showers, bathrooms, and a doubledecker bus that had Internet computers in it. There were mobile cabins like ours, an RV park, and tenting grounds. At the edge of the campground was the Adriatic Sea, and off in the distance was the island city of Venice, with its single bridge leading to it from Mestre. The campground had a dock that offered a boat to the city for €5 each way. We decided we take the more economical option of catching the boat there and the bus back, a savings of €4.

The boat ride across takes about a half hour and the heat of the mainland quickly drops when out on the open water. Of course it returned once we alighted at Venice. This city is something to see. One only sees cars on the outer edges and at Piazzale Roma, the terminus of the bridge from Mestre. As you walk along the canals and cobbled streets, over the stepped bridges, you find yourself following a crowd and you realise that you really can't get too lost in Venice, because eventually you will have to come to an edge. It's like a maze in that sense. If you hit the canal and there's no bridge, you just have to look down the canal to where the bridge is and walk back toward it.

Venice isn't nearly as dirty as I expected. There was some trash here and there and a funky smell from the canals every now and again, but it really seemed well taken care of despite the flocks of rubbish-tossing tourists. We made a big ring, catching most of the sites including the Rialto Bridge, a massive structure that had two streets of shops right on the bridge. All over the place were guys with white blankets covered in sunglasses and purses. Much like the souvenir sellers in Paris, they were nomadic. Once the authorities got a sniff of them, their wares were rounded up in the blanket and they were off to another site.

We grabbed a slice of pizza at a little by-the-slice place and enjoyed it as we walked. Eventually, tired and worn out from the heat, we just sat on a bench in a campo and watched the people and animals go by. Some mothers were chatting with each other in the centre while their children played. A couple of scraggly old dogs would wander in, looking at the humans for some potential nourishment. Beside us was one of the many free water fountains that can be found throughout Italy, constantly emitting a stream of pure water for all to take. People came to fill up their bottles, children played in the water. It was really relaxing to just sit for a while and watch it all go by.

Eventually we mustered up the ambition to move on, and following the yellow signs we made it back to Piazalle Roma, where we caught the number 2 bus back to Mestre Station, along with many other day visitors and their body odours. While on the bus we saw a fight break out outside between two men. Some strong Italian words were exchanged, and then a punch was thrown. As we drove away another man was on his phone to the Polizia. Not sure what ever came of that.

Back at Mestre, waiting for the number 11, we met a couple guys from Winnipeg who were also camping at Fusina. They had just taken the train from Venice, and snuck off, not realising that they could have had a more cramped but less stressful ride on the number 2. Back at the camp we unwound a bit, and changed clothes to suit the now cooler weather. We popped by the bar patio, where we saw our Canadian acquaintances and joined them for a bit. Eventually we ended hanging out with a couple Australians and we enjoyed some back and forth banter about Canada and Australia. They were quite amusing.

The next day we slept in for the first time in a long while. We were keen to just hang around at the campground, do some laundry and relax a bit. Later on we headed back to Venice for one last look. Once there, we picked up the route we had missed the previous day, and caught the stuff on the other loop. The eventual goal was to reach Piazza San Marco, the big square in Venice. Once we found it we sat and enjoyed the pigeons and the crazy people who were willing to let these filthy birds sit on them and eat food off of their arms and heads. Patios line the square, and every few yards, there is a little quartet playing to the diners. After sitting a bit we picked up and headed along the water to Piazalle Roma. I think we probably stopped for gelati somewhere. We stopped for gelati a few times. I get mixed up as to when and where.

In the morning we bid adieu to Venice and got on the train southward to Florence. We had arranged a similar setup there. Camping at Camping Michelangelo. Judging from the map it didn't look too far out of town and it sounded charming. Here it would be a house tent, because the whole site is also an olive grove, and there are restrictions with regards to hard topped structures. We got into Florence (Firenze to the Italians) and got on bus 12 this time looking for a stop called "Camping.") This bus driver, though shaky in the English department seemed like he was willing to let us know where to get of the bus. We noticed there was a couple on the bus reading the same directions. After a long winding bus ride the bus stopped and he said, "camping up there," pointing to the left. We made peace with our fellow campsite seekers and learned they were from Mexico. We all walked together to the entrance of the camp and did all the administrative duties.

Our tent was quite nice. Very simple: a hardwood floor, a metal frame with a vinyl cover, a twin bed and a bunk bed, and a locking door. The view from the campsite was fantastic. Florence was down in the valley. We were just a block away from Piazzale Michelangelo, the best spot from which to look down and see the whole city. The red-tiled Duomo stood proudly amongst the cluttered city. It had seemed a lot farther from the City Centre after that long bus ride, but the guy at reception said it was only a fifteen minute walk from the Piazzale. This campsite also had a bar and a market. This place seemed to be run more by Italians though. The Venetian site had a bit of an Australian thing going on. We knew we were in Italy when the washroom was equipped with the strange "sink-on-the-floor" type urinals, and the "choose how much toilet paper you're going to need before you go in the stall" system.

We ventured toward the Piazzale and got our first unobstructed glimpse of the old city of Firenze. It was here that the Italian Renaissance was born, and where much of its results are now kept. The Piazzale had a bronze scaled-down replica of Michelangelo's famous David at its centre. Steps down toward the river brought us through the old city walls and past some very Italian cafes before letting us loose in the city. It was another scorching day.

Not knowing much about what things were or where to go we did our usual aimless meandering until we bumped into something. We found a few little piazzas and churches. Eventually we came to the Duomo, that big iconic red-tiled dome in the centre of Florence. We stood in the fast-moving queue to get inside. The interior doesn't seem that big, but like most cathedrals in Europe is open-plan. The front half of the building was roped off and seats were set up. An eavesdrop told me that this was only done for special occasions, which in this case was likely the transferring of the relics of a saint into the church. Normally visitors can walk up under the massive dome, the largest frescoed dome in Europe. We followed a crowd down a stairwell into the crypt to discover, to both of our disgust, that there was a gift $hop set up there. Typical tourist exploitation. We weren't too interested in that.

Back out in Florence, we grabbed some food and decided we should figure out where Michelangelo's famous statue of David was located. We were used to seeing little maps with all the touristy things drawn on them but we hadn't seen that yet. A little Blackberry Wikipedia search revealed that it was at the Galleria dell'Accademia. So we headed up the road to see what we could find.

The Galleria is not a very prominent building. We had been used to big neo-classical or Baroque buildings with big staircases leading up to them. We saw a line of people wrapping around this three-storey building, and followed it to the head to find out if we were at the right place. Sure enough, this was it. And luckily this was the last day for free entry before it went back to regular admission. We went to the back of the queue and moved slowly along the graffitied wall to the entry door. It only took about forty-five minutes or so. Not bad.

Inside we saw some Medieval paintings and then turned the corner to see an allee of Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures leading toward the famous David at the end. We spent a bit of time walking around this amazing piece of marble. It towers above its spectators. A bit ironic I suppose as it represents a boy who slayed a giant. The room also had several Renaissance paintings as well. At the end was a room full of plaster castings of busts and sculptures from the Nineteenth Century. And save for a few more Medieval paintings on the way out, that was it for the Galleria dell'Accademia. It seemed just the right size for the amount of time we had to see it.

We continued on up the road through an open-air junk market, and then on to a fortress at the north edge of the City Centre. This turned out to be not much of a sight, just a wall really. The interior didn't seem to be open. We headed back down toward the river and walked along until we came to the Vecchio, where we crossed to the south bank. The sun was beginning to set, and we wanted to be back up at the Piazzale Michelangelo, as it offers the most fantastic view of Florence at dusk.

Back at the Piazzale the pink sky over the city was indeed a sight to see. We hung around there for a bit, watching a spray paint artist make ten minute paintings for awe-struck observers. The steps were crowded with people sipping wine and beer, enjoying the evening. Our old friends the sunglasses/purse sellers were there, as were the popcorn and drink carts. We saw our Mexican acquaintance again and chatted briefly with him. We ran into him again at the campsite bar and sat down with his travelling companion and their Edmonton tent-mate.

We sat talking there for quite a while, until an Italian man named Edward came up to us and began to relay his philosophies and wisdom about what is wrong with the world today. He wore a very trim white beard and moustache, and long white hair. He told us he was a tenor, but refused to sing when we requested. He was mostly on about how culture is disappearing, and that it's all for money now. There was a lot of truth in what he was telling us in his broken English, but he discredited himself by staying too long, and boring us all off to bed.

The next morning, when I crossed the bar patio to use the washroom, Edward was there again, in his red New York City shirt, giving the same rant to a couple of backpackers. I'm not sure how they ended up getting away. Darryl and I checked out shortly after, and caught bus 13 back to Mestre station, only to be about five minutes late for our pre-booked train, thanks to a crazy Italian traffic jam. Luckily we were able to transfer the ticket to a later train. This was the most stressed we had felt during our entire journey, save possibly for the missed bus in London a few weeks earlier. Oh well, Rome would have to wait a couple more hours I guess.

Be sure to check out the videos at Darryl's site.

Cheers.