So many friends have told me how much of an impression Florence has made on them, so it was with anticipation and a slight worry of being underwhelmed that I set off into the city. Being with friends who know a place already is a double-edged sword: it’s such a relief to have a guide who knows how to navigate the narrow streets (keeping a sense of direction proved desperately difficult at times!) and who know what is really worth a look. At the same time, however, you miss out on the thrill of discovering it all by yourself, falling upon things by chance. It is a relief to have a companion who knows where is a good bet for food: so many of the places open in the most densely visited areas serve low quality food at overpriced rates, and having somebody tell you where to find the needle in the haystack is really necessary for those on the student budget! A good option was the markets that open daily from the early morning. One of the highlights of the trip so far has been the fresh fruit- locally grown nectarines are dirt cheap and delicious, something lacking in the rocky little things you’d find in Tesco on St Giles! Walking around Florence in the daytime is impressive, and after spending a year in chilly Britain basking in the Italian sun is nothing short of luxurious (even if gelato becomes a basic human need after ten minutes).
There’s something so exciting about the city: the slight shabbiness of the streets and the ramshackle way in which piazzas open up to you, revealing priceless displays such as the Loggia, an open air display of sculptures based on Graeco-Roman mythological heroes. There is, moreover, a feeling of attachment to Florence that many friends have described to me: this sense of privilege that you gain just being there is signified by the brass boar fountain near the Mercato Nuovo, one of the main market squares, whose snout you’re supposed to rub to be sure of returning to the city (however awkward that sounds!). We walked south of the river, too, to find the awe inspiring view from the Piazza del Michaelangelo: the whole vista of the city opens up in front of you, from the top of the Duomo to the uneven terracotta-tiled roofs, row on row. We’ve managed, mostly by chance, to land a brilliant view of all of the cities that we’ve visited: definitely advisable for getting a sense of the whole area! Florence at night is equally enjoyable, mainly for the buzz of the nightlife: although, admittedly, it still seems full of tourists. We found out that the Ponte Vecchio, the world famous bridge that appears to be a street until you reach the middle, opens up to a lovely view of the river at night: there’s nothing like seeing the unique Florentine buildings shimmer in the still water by moonlight (quasi-poetic waxing lyrical is completely necessary here!)
After two nights in Florence, we moved on to Venice. We found our apartment eventually, riding the Vaporetta for half an hour through the lagoon- pretty as this vehicle sounds, it is, in reality, a horrific chugging craft that could induce seasickness at first sight. A friend described it eloquently as ‘a tin can riding on the waves of hell’. Nevertheless, it offers a unique view of the Venetian buildings: travelling through the lagoon feels totally surreal after a three-hour train journey! Our accommodation was in the Giardini area: suburban, yet on the canals and a mere fifteen-minute walk from San Marco, the main square. We were lucky to have the chance to escape the tourist/backpacker trail for a few days, and also had the opportunity to experience the living and working Venice. The beauty of the streets which are interspersed with the waterways is enhanced by the realisation that it is a real city, in which real people go about their day to day business. These smaller canals that we stumbled upon felt, to me, like the best sights on the whole lagoon. Despite the splendour of San Marco and buildings such as the Ducal Palace, being surrounded by tourists like ourselves became exhausting, and the experience of finding surprisingly elegant side-streets is rewarding: a definite product of the cliched ‘straying from the beaten track’ attitude towards travelling!
We did, nevertheless, experience some of the main attractions of Venice. The Doges Palace is open to the public as part of a ticket which is valid for all of the museums on San Marco, and aside from being an astoundingly opulent palace facing directly onto the lagoon offers much insight into Venetian history. This is something that I was never going to get away from, seeing as I am travelling with three history students, but it still aided us to have a sense of the background to the place. Some of the central areas of the city were, however, too involved in tourism, part of the reason why we felt that little bit uncomfortable. The Bridge of Sighs, for example (the famous bridge between the Ducal palace and the city prisons, where prisoners walked to their execution), was scaffolded and plastered with an abhorrent L’Oreal advertisement: appalling!
Leaving Venice meant leaving Italy: ending a leg of the trip in a country with which I had fallen even more in love! After a debacle in organising trains to Croatia in a horrendously priced internet cafe, we opted for a coach to Pula, where we had booked another apartment for the supposed ‘rest stop’ in the middle of our travels. It was with a heavy heart that we said goodbye to pasta, cheap table wine and Venice, which seemed surreal to the last, and boarded a packed coach filled with teenagers going to a music festival on the Croatian coach, making our sleepy stay in the Pula apartment seem tame at best! It was, however, necessary- when we finally arrived to what was, in fact, a small house after a day’s driving in blistering heat, we all collapsed in a daze: twelve days of moving through different cities really drains you! Croatia seemed like a fiscal land of dreams after the expense of France, Spain and Italy, and we found some absolute bargains (that is, if our bewildered calculations of the Kuna/Sterling exchange rate were anything like accurate!). We were recommended a cafe/bar by our extremely welcoming landlady, the ‘Porat’ bar, in which we discovered beer for the equivalent of one pound forty for 0.5l and cevapcici, an amazing dish of small fried kebabs- a delicacy that will be missed! Pula, however, is a strange town: a mix of Italianesque Mediterranean buildings and roman ruins, such as an amphitheatre, and a tangible sense of being a post-communist country. Nevertheless, it boasts some scenic beaches, with warm water for once- a surprise for the Brit who remembers the icy currents of the English Channel: the rocks underfoot are like sandpaper, granted, but the bays near our apartment were the perfect places to head in the evening.
The rest stop over, we moved on to Vienna: another complicated journey (it became apparent that trains in Croatia are non-existent). Our escape plan took the shape of yet another coach, to Zagreb this time, where we waited three hours for a connection to Vienna. Enough time, then, to encounter several lecherous men eying up my companions in the station corridor- not the best atmosphere! Our last meal in Croatia was another dish of cevapcici, feeding our addiction in the station restaurant, which had to be bolted down following an agonising wait, leaving the train ready to depart before we were even on the platform. We made it, thankfully- speeding further into central Europe and having our passports and tickets checked around eight times each, looking forward to what Austria had to offer.
