So I was going to do the second part with descriptions of where I was etc… but in an effort not to bore anyone to tears, I’ll keep the urban geography jargon to myself.
The third day in Nice, the plan was to go with some of the people in the hostel to drop of their bags at a friend’s place before hopping a bus to Cannes to pass the day there. Since I had no set agenda, I offered to give them a hand with hauling their luggage before heading over to the bus station.
Arriving at the apartment, we had just hauled all the bags inside when the girl living there (I realized I probably shouldn’t use names too much in this) opened her door to let us in.
SLAM. “oh shit… uh guys?” The “slam” followed by the “oh shit” in relation to doors is never a good thing; she had been locked out of the apartment without shoes and pretty hungover as the night prior she was doing shots of vodka that filled up half a full size water glass.
So there we were, bags in the lobby of this apartment building, with a very much hungover and shoeless Australian, sitting around, thinking of a plan of action. After trying to first hunt down the concierge or someone in charge of the apartment by asking residents who were coming and going, two of us set off to get a the spare set of keys in a real estate office across the city. We got there just on time… rang the buzzer… AND…
No response. Office hours were 9-12 on Saturday, but there was no one there. Shit.
Back to the building where the other two were waiting…we needed to figure out something to do, as this girl’s roommate had stayed at another friends house because she, well, partook enthusiastically in drinking the night before. Here we were, with a shoeless and hungover Australian girl locked out of her apartment, with no cell phone to be had between the four of us, a real estate office that had the spare set of keys that was closed, and no one else to contact.
The best idea at that point…go the beach.
Now, keep in mind, the randomness of all this, as I had only met most of these people two days prior and could’ve easily just left and gone to Cannes, leaving them with luggage at the beach, but I stayed… it was totally worth it.
Had I been in this situation of locking myself out of the apartment with the possibility of being essentially homeless until the office with my spare keys reopened two days later, I would’ve been flipping a shit… but to her credit and perhaps given the fact that she was already hungover to begin with.. this girl just didn’t care! It was GREAT.
We sat at the beach taking in the sun for a few hours, doing absolutely nothing, without a care in the world. All four of us, kind of shocked by how this day was turning out, couldn’t do anything but relax at the beach; it was unbelievable. The sun, the warmth, the water, how COULD you care about anything but being happy?
At 3:00, after getting some food (prosciutto, cheese, bread and oranges...toute à la française bien sûr) to eat at the beach, the other two guys had to move in to their respective houses, as they were only going to be temporarily leaving their stuff at the Australian’s apartment. The three of us who were left after parting paths, made our way towards Vielle Nice where the other guy from the hostel, had found cheaper, temporary (and maybe now permanent) lodging at a bar run by a Canadian the night before. After talking to the waitress about his situation the night before, she referred him to this “really cool guy” who was renting a room in his flat at least for a short period of time, but maybe as long as my friend would be staying in Nice.
First, the guy. An American turned British/ Euro bohemian musician who could be best described a cross between Austin Powers, Don Juan, and I don’t know, you pick some mystic and wise figure from your life and insert them here… probably in his 40s but definitely still a… swinger…for sure. Then the apartment, the top floor of a building right in the old city with a huge balcony and terrace with panoramic views of the city, the water, the mountains and the Château… What the hell was I doing here?
We sat down over tea as my friend moved his bags into his new temporary lodging and just talked. What came up in conversation and what I remember most vividly was how the American turned British/Euro bohemian musician who smacked of Austin Powers and Don Juan was how he described himself as a “really slow backpacker”. He had traveled everywhere, spoke a lot of languages, maybe had gotten with a Brazilian amongst a plethora of women of different nationalities…. Was this a moment or what?
I can’t make all of this up, you have to believe me.
We left shortly after to hunt down the roommate of the girl who had locked herself out her apartment by starting where she was last night. No one was home but we had managed to get into the building by ringing a number of buzzers. Now, there had been a party that had..umm… received some complaints from the neighbors which we had all attended the night before. As we were leaving a not at the door, a tenant came down and proceeded to chew us up in French. Even though I tried to explain it wasn’t us, she insisted that the next time she would call the cops. Oh well, her tirade was lost on us for sure. Whatever.
Ok, back to the apartment of the girl who was locked out to try the concierge again. It was around 6 and this time, sure enough we had some success. After awkwardly trying to explain what had happened in French as I could speak it the most, we coerced him out to help us. Sure enough, seeing that this girls balcony window was open and that it was only on the 2nd floor, so not very high up, we had a plan. The concierge called up to this girls neighbor who’s balcony was somewhat attached to the balcony where the door was open, so needless to say, after a death defying stunt that received a couple of “ooo la la” from people watching on the street, we made it back in!
Her roommate, who we were worried about most of the day as she had no idea what was going on, was found later on and was fine as she had spent the most of the day with another person on this exchange. After all that happened, we STILL managed to make it out at that night to go to another party at another students place.
Great day? For sure. Random. You bet. Hopefully that'll give you a sense for what this WHOLE trip was like.
Nice: L'arrivée... Round 1
Ok… here we go, for all you procrastinators on the other side of the Atlantic (and this side for that matter), buckle your seatbelts… Nice was a trip for the books.
So this trip was probably one of the most random things I have ever done in my life… why you ask?
I essentially was flying solo; I knew no one in the city, had a vague idea of what it would be like and chose it based on the cost of the trip (50 Euro roundtrip by train to get to France… jigga what?!) In short, the master plan was to not have any plans… All this to say that in the end it was the makings of a good trip.
The train ride to Nice was probably one of the most beautiful train rides I have ever taken in my life as the route crosses the mountainous and coastal region of Italy called Liguria hugging the coast along the Italian and French Riviera all the way to Nice. You’re flanked by snow capped mountains to the right and the Mediterranean to the left for a good portion of the ride…I was, of course, staring out the window the whole time leaving awkward breath marks and a little bit of saliva on the glass, sighing every time there was a scenic view (essentially every two seconds…ok that’s embellishing the story a bit, but it was amazingly beautiful…)
To give you an example of what its like for that matter.. imagine this:
Tunnel… BAM! MOUTAINS AND THE MEDITERRANEAN… Tunnel… PALM TREES AND SMALL TOWNS BUILT INTO THE HILLS… Tunnel…MONACO….Tunnel…ORANGE AND LEMON TREES…Bonjour, Nice!
Overwhelming….huh?
Arriving in Nice, I rushed down to the hostel to check in mainly because I wanted to get down to the beach before the sunset (see photos). As you’ll probably see it was totally worth it… this was it, I was in France, Nice, the Côte d’Azur…. Palm trees and beautiful beaches everywhere and an amazing sunset to boot.. could I get any luckier (and dorkier for that matter)?
YES.
Just when I thought this trip couldn’t get any more random, fate stepped in and decided to mix it up a little more. Arriving back from the supermarché (after of course making the cultural faux pas of NOT weighing my fruit before paying for it and having to be explained in English how it all works… grr… apparently French supermarkets don’t render this service) I walked into my dorm. There were two new guys, both Americans, named Mike and Eric… Mike, from Brooklyn, came up to me introduced himself and basically was like “Hey I’m Mike, you wanna come out with us tonight?”
I honestly don’t know how I end up in these situations, so don’t ask me. Keep in mind that this was just the first day…
Pivotal decision time… go in and make this dinner by myself and essentially be alone all night…. OR go out with a random group of people and see what becomes of this evening… You guys, know me well enough to realize the choice was pretty obvious. It turns out there were a number of students (shout out to all you guys) doing an exchange at a French university in Nice who were staying in the hostel that were all going out to meet the whole group at a bar that night. I tagged along. It was pretty funny explaining how I ended up there, but given the randomness of these exchange experiences for everyone, I was in good company (thank you so much, everyone, by the way). After drinking a considerable of wine and doing an insane amount of talking, it was time to head back to the hostel.
Great day? I think so.
So this trip was probably one of the most random things I have ever done in my life… why you ask?
I essentially was flying solo; I knew no one in the city, had a vague idea of what it would be like and chose it based on the cost of the trip (50 Euro roundtrip by train to get to France… jigga what?!) In short, the master plan was to not have any plans… All this to say that in the end it was the makings of a good trip.
The train ride to Nice was probably one of the most beautiful train rides I have ever taken in my life as the route crosses the mountainous and coastal region of Italy called Liguria hugging the coast along the Italian and French Riviera all the way to Nice. You’re flanked by snow capped mountains to the right and the Mediterranean to the left for a good portion of the ride…I was, of course, staring out the window the whole time leaving awkward breath marks and a little bit of saliva on the glass, sighing every time there was a scenic view (essentially every two seconds…ok that’s embellishing the story a bit, but it was amazingly beautiful…)
To give you an example of what its like for that matter.. imagine this:
Tunnel… BAM! MOUTAINS AND THE MEDITERRANEAN… Tunnel… PALM TREES AND SMALL TOWNS BUILT INTO THE HILLS… Tunnel…MONACO….Tunnel…ORANGE AND LEMON TREES…Bonjour, Nice!
Overwhelming….huh?
Arriving in Nice, I rushed down to the hostel to check in mainly because I wanted to get down to the beach before the sunset (see photos). As you’ll probably see it was totally worth it… this was it, I was in France, Nice, the Côte d’Azur…. Palm trees and beautiful beaches everywhere and an amazing sunset to boot.. could I get any luckier (and dorkier for that matter)?
YES.
Just when I thought this trip couldn’t get any more random, fate stepped in and decided to mix it up a little more. Arriving back from the supermarché (after of course making the cultural faux pas of NOT weighing my fruit before paying for it and having to be explained in English how it all works… grr… apparently French supermarkets don’t render this service) I walked into my dorm. There were two new guys, both Americans, named Mike and Eric… Mike, from Brooklyn, came up to me introduced himself and basically was like “Hey I’m Mike, you wanna come out with us tonight?”
I honestly don’t know how I end up in these situations, so don’t ask me. Keep in mind that this was just the first day…
Pivotal decision time… go in and make this dinner by myself and essentially be alone all night…. OR go out with a random group of people and see what becomes of this evening… You guys, know me well enough to realize the choice was pretty obvious. It turns out there were a number of students (shout out to all you guys) doing an exchange at a French university in Nice who were staying in the hostel that were all going out to meet the whole group at a bar that night. I tagged along. It was pretty funny explaining how I ended up there, but given the randomness of these exchange experiences for everyone, I was in good company (thank you so much, everyone, by the way). After drinking a considerable of wine and doing an insane amount of talking, it was time to head back to the hostel.
Great day? I think so.
Alpine...err..excursion
I finally got to see some mountains. Being on top of the Duomo in Milan, you can see all the way to the Alps and as far as Mont Blanc on a very clear day, so you can imagine that being a boy born and raised on Long Island, any form of topography is the subject of great… fascination for me.
That all being said, Saturday we did a six hour hike in the Alps. It wasn’t supposed to be nearly as long or as hard as it ended up, but checking the website which was both in Italian and probably horribly out of date, we (Elena, her boyfriend Arnaud and I) selected a trail near a town called Lecco in the Italian Alps very close to the border with Switzerland for a leisurely hike. The trail started in this little town called Crebbio that we reached by taking a series of switch backs and roads that would’ve been the end of my Expedition through a small medieval town nestled above Lake Como. I was in heaven. All the little stone buildings built into a seemingly unforgiving hillside, old men with three dogs and hiking sticks everywhere… these were the Italian Alps! This was Italy!
The directions (which I had to copy from the computer because it was the late site open before the internet here crashed) were sketchy at best. We were, amongst other things, supposed to pass through a chestnut tree grove, a fountain (just indicated as a fountain), cross a little stream called Zerbo and a cross carved into the rock on a trail #5 which had essentially no sign. Just getting to the trail was problematic enough and, showing our directions to a local, I was met with a curious glare that really read as “you freaking people from the city, you think you’re actually gonna do this?” He was nice anyway and pointed us in the direction (keep going right).
The chestnuts were nowhere to be found on the trail, but somehow we ended up following a trail maker that seemed right. We made it to a fountain though and continued going right. Somehow but a series of chance decisions and of course a little divine intervention, our decisions put us on the right trail which was consequently, marked by the same marker we had chosen by chance. Talk about fate (ok it’s a little corny, but come on!)
The trail, which I imagine eventually let to the peak of a huge mountain started at a really... leisurely slope. Just as we finished commenting on how we would never make it to the top at this pace, we were met with, which would turn out to be about three quarters of our climb, with a trail at a slope at about 75 degrees. If you remember the winter we had in North America before… well now, you know that it felt more like spring. Somehow, the lack of winter seems to be chasing me wherever I go (even though I’ve probably expressed about a million times how much I love snow). Needless to say, nearly 2 seconds into the hike we were taking off layer after layer.
After about three hours of what seemed to be rock climbing more than hiking, I began to notice something strange. The trails were becoming more like roads….with people… and motorcycles. Somehow, the trail we had taken, led us to a community nestled in one of the lower summits of this big mountain. All this to say that our huge Alpine adventure up steep slopes and through treacherous and unforgiving forests brought us right back in the middle of civilization…at a higher altitude.
I loved it. You can’t imagine how beautiful it really was and granted, although we were sweating a lot, tired and sore at the end it was really worth it. The metaphors and life lessons of all this, the hike that leads you back to the middle of civilization, the right trailmarkers we followed by chance, the leaps of faith, the trials and tribulations that lead to unbelieveable beauty...I leave you to decide...but it was truly a journey for the books.
The photos (and where I'll be posting future ones) are here:
http://picasaweb.google.it/matthew.arancio/
That all being said, Saturday we did a six hour hike in the Alps. It wasn’t supposed to be nearly as long or as hard as it ended up, but checking the website which was both in Italian and probably horribly out of date, we (Elena, her boyfriend Arnaud and I) selected a trail near a town called Lecco in the Italian Alps very close to the border with Switzerland for a leisurely hike. The trail started in this little town called Crebbio that we reached by taking a series of switch backs and roads that would’ve been the end of my Expedition through a small medieval town nestled above Lake Como. I was in heaven. All the little stone buildings built into a seemingly unforgiving hillside, old men with three dogs and hiking sticks everywhere… these were the Italian Alps! This was Italy!
The directions (which I had to copy from the computer because it was the late site open before the internet here crashed) were sketchy at best. We were, amongst other things, supposed to pass through a chestnut tree grove, a fountain (just indicated as a fountain), cross a little stream called Zerbo and a cross carved into the rock on a trail #5 which had essentially no sign. Just getting to the trail was problematic enough and, showing our directions to a local, I was met with a curious glare that really read as “you freaking people from the city, you think you’re actually gonna do this?” He was nice anyway and pointed us in the direction (keep going right).
The chestnuts were nowhere to be found on the trail, but somehow we ended up following a trail maker that seemed right. We made it to a fountain though and continued going right. Somehow but a series of chance decisions and of course a little divine intervention, our decisions put us on the right trail which was consequently, marked by the same marker we had chosen by chance. Talk about fate (ok it’s a little corny, but come on!)
The trail, which I imagine eventually let to the peak of a huge mountain started at a really... leisurely slope. Just as we finished commenting on how we would never make it to the top at this pace, we were met with, which would turn out to be about three quarters of our climb, with a trail at a slope at about 75 degrees. If you remember the winter we had in North America before… well now, you know that it felt more like spring. Somehow, the lack of winter seems to be chasing me wherever I go (even though I’ve probably expressed about a million times how much I love snow). Needless to say, nearly 2 seconds into the hike we were taking off layer after layer.
After about three hours of what seemed to be rock climbing more than hiking, I began to notice something strange. The trails were becoming more like roads….with people… and motorcycles. Somehow, the trail we had taken, led us to a community nestled in one of the lower summits of this big mountain. All this to say that our huge Alpine adventure up steep slopes and through treacherous and unforgiving forests brought us right back in the middle of civilization…at a higher altitude.
I loved it. You can’t imagine how beautiful it really was and granted, although we were sweating a lot, tired and sore at the end it was really worth it. The metaphors and life lessons of all this, the hike that leads you back to the middle of civilization, the right trailmarkers we followed by chance, the leaps of faith, the trials and tribulations that lead to unbelieveable beauty...I leave you to decide...but it was truly a journey for the books.
The photos (and where I'll be posting future ones) are here:
http://picasaweb.google.it/matthew.arancio/
First Week
Allora…
I love it. Italy’s crazy, it’s completely different, it’s divided, it’s incredibly individualistic but some how it makes sense and just works.... almost like when you play Jenga and you take that piece out from the bottom and think that eveverything is going to fall over.. but it still stays up... imagine that and then put it on a country scale... see what I mean?
Some of the biggest successes of this week have been; registering at the University (which was no small task considering I got my foot in the door of the International Relations Office right as they were closing; even though I needed to leave the office again to get some photos taken, the lady behind the counter took a “smoking break” at the same time, and proceeded to help me fill out immigration forms well passed when the office closed …at 11:30), surviving an Italian post office and getting my temporary Permesso di Soggiorno (essentially an excuse to pay 50 Euro to the Italian government for another official document; again being petrified that I would just get my foot in the door), getting a cellphone (all of which in Italy are prepaid with special SIM cards which serve as the phone’s memory and can be transferred from phone to phone)… and finding an apartment (again thanks to the help of student service offices at the University of Bologna....check it out Via Acri 9, Bologna Italy). The apartment is huge with 8 students.. all international/ doing exchanges with one Italian; everyone knows how much I expound about and live vicariously through the movie L'auberge espagnole.. so seeing this made my heart jump for sure.
Linguistically, I’m pretty comfortable now; there are some times when I feel totally spaesato, but for the most part I can manage… winning Trivial Pursuit and watching Momento in Italian (and being able to actually follow the film) really helped boost my self esteem. Montreal (heart; sigh) was a good training ground for not being spooked by people speaking a language other than English around you and mastering the art of pretending to understand everything even though you man understand only a third of what’s going on. There are times where I’ll be mid sentence thinking in Italian, conjugating verbs in the past imperfect tense, only to find myself ONLY thinking in French…this makes for fun times, especially when I’m trying to ask for more water and all that comes out is “est-ce que vous pouvez…shit… ummm…mi potresti…?” At least they can’t tell I’m…which one.. French or English?
There is a sense of organized but absolute chaos here that bewilders me and many other foreigners (specifically from North America) as everything and everyone is always a little late, no one parks correctly, stores and municipal offices close at ridiculous hours. I guess this is to be expected of a place where the mullet and bright, metallic Nike sneakers are the going trend…but hey, it’s home for now.
I pretty much hit the ground running here, so I’m sorry to those of you with whom I’ve neglected to keep in touch. Ciao for now! Sorry if this is more of a summary... I'll find more interesting stories to keep you guys busy in your procrastination on the other side of the Atlantic.
I love it. Italy’s crazy, it’s completely different, it’s divided, it’s incredibly individualistic but some how it makes sense and just works.... almost like when you play Jenga and you take that piece out from the bottom and think that eveverything is going to fall over.. but it still stays up... imagine that and then put it on a country scale... see what I mean?
Some of the biggest successes of this week have been; registering at the University (which was no small task considering I got my foot in the door of the International Relations Office right as they were closing; even though I needed to leave the office again to get some photos taken, the lady behind the counter took a “smoking break” at the same time, and proceeded to help me fill out immigration forms well passed when the office closed …at 11:30), surviving an Italian post office and getting my temporary Permesso di Soggiorno (essentially an excuse to pay 50 Euro to the Italian government for another official document; again being petrified that I would just get my foot in the door), getting a cellphone (all of which in Italy are prepaid with special SIM cards which serve as the phone’s memory and can be transferred from phone to phone)… and finding an apartment (again thanks to the help of student service offices at the University of Bologna....check it out Via Acri 9, Bologna Italy). The apartment is huge with 8 students.. all international/ doing exchanges with one Italian; everyone knows how much I expound about and live vicariously through the movie L'auberge espagnole.. so seeing this made my heart jump for sure.
Linguistically, I’m pretty comfortable now; there are some times when I feel totally spaesato, but for the most part I can manage… winning Trivial Pursuit and watching Momento in Italian (and being able to actually follow the film) really helped boost my self esteem. Montreal (heart; sigh) was a good training ground for not being spooked by people speaking a language other than English around you and mastering the art of pretending to understand everything even though you man understand only a third of what’s going on. There are times where I’ll be mid sentence thinking in Italian, conjugating verbs in the past imperfect tense, only to find myself ONLY thinking in French…this makes for fun times, especially when I’m trying to ask for more water and all that comes out is “est-ce que vous pouvez…shit… ummm…mi potresti…?” At least they can’t tell I’m…which one.. French or English?
There is a sense of organized but absolute chaos here that bewilders me and many other foreigners (specifically from North America) as everything and everyone is always a little late, no one parks correctly, stores and municipal offices close at ridiculous hours. I guess this is to be expected of a place where the mullet and bright, metallic Nike sneakers are the going trend…but hey, it’s home for now.
I pretty much hit the ground running here, so I’m sorry to those of you with whom I’ve neglected to keep in touch. Ciao for now! Sorry if this is more of a summary... I'll find more interesting stories to keep you guys busy in your procrastination on the other side of the Atlantic.
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