This is a travelogue. Since the intention of any travelogue is clearly to bore the pants off any reader, you are hereby directed to the relevant IWroteThis.co.uk photo gallery for the trip, which may prove to be more entertaining or, at the very least, more illuminating.
Is The Pope A Catholic?
(and other important questions that are best answered by backpacking around Italy)
Is it true that all residents of a hostel are really friendly?
No, actually. People tend to be travelling in groups and don’t mix all that much. Even those that are keen to share the benefit of their experiences on the backpacking trail seem strangely reluctant to pass on even the most basic personal details – like their name.
Which is the best nationality with whom to share a hostel room?
The French. Not only are they able to offer a constructive criticism (in either English or French) of real substance on the artistic and cultural sights of a city, they’re also the friendliest. Some of them even have a wicked sense of humour: anyone who says that Frenchmen don’t understand sarcasm has never met one.
And the worst?
Actually, that would be the French again. Specifically, large groups of French teenagers, who decide that two hours after curfew is a good time to start ablutions, or indeed, to chat up boisterously the group of girls that has sneaked into the male accommodation under cover of darkness.
Is that the worst thing about staying in a hostel?
No, the worst thing is not to have any privacy and to be constantly wondering whether this is the best that can be managed after a year of saving up for a holiday. Or maybe it’s discovering that one’s resting heart rate (in my case, about 120 beats per minute) happens to be the resonant frequency of the bunk bed.
It’s not all that bad, surely?
Not at all. The best thing about staying in a hostel is that you never quite know what you’re going to get. All the hostels we stayed in are of the same 2-triangle standard, yet they differ greatly. Some have four single beds to a room; others 16 bunks. While Rome hostel feels like a cross between a railway station concourse and a prison, Florence is set within an enormous 16th century mansion, with a wood-panelled dining room and a stunning galleried entrance hall complete with Renaissance painted ceiling. Oh, and a cinema, although that probably isn’t a period feature. Meanwhile, fears that the Venice hostel would be in some smelly back alley were alleviated when we discovered that it is not merely on an island reachable only by boat, but also rather less than five metres from one of Venice’s busiest shipping routes.
You mentioned cinema. Did you notice any evidence of the Italian love of film?
The cinemas were quite low-key, with small facades. There is a Warner Village near the Rome bus station but all the others we saw appeared to be independents. There is an Odeon in Siena, but that doesn’t appear to be related to the Odeon UK chain. But more than half of the indie cinemas we saw – and almost 80% of the ones in Bologna – had closed down for the summer; clearly, film is a very seasonal thing to the Italians.
Having said that, several cities had elaborate outdoor cinemas established in their largest piazzas or, in Siena’s case, within the walls of their citadel, showing films throughout the summer months.
Myth-busting. Is it true that Italians are appalling drivers?
Not in the main. Granted, in Pompeii, you’d hear a car horn every two to three seconds, but then it could mean anything, such as: you’ve cut me up; you’ve stepped out in front of me; “all right, mate?”; or, most often, a cheery “Ciao, bella!”
Pompeii is just about the only place where you regularly see two streams of cars sedately heading along a single carriageway, only to be punctuated every minute or two by somebody in more of a hurry than the rest. The lines of traffic part like a zip then join back together seamlessly. Italian drivers must have very good reaction times.
But the south of the country is very much the exception. Elsewhere, vehicles stop politely at zebra crossings, obey speed limits and very rarely sound their horns. The image of Rome of being full of enormous piazzas with cars entering and leaving chaotically in any random direction is, simply, a myth.
Is it true that the public transportation is excellent?
Whilst not as punctual as the French, the Italian railway system is very good indeed. The same trains run every day of the week, which makes timetables easy to follow. The trains are sometimes old, but are always clean. The ticket machines manage to have clear instructions in six languages (ours frequently aren’t even decipherable in English) and show full route plans for the proposed journey, charging accordingly – none of the Saver / SuperAdvance / Rover / Apex / AwayBreak rubbish that we have to decipher every time we get on a train in the UK.
In a rather neat touch, the ticket also shows the exact distance that the journey covers. This enables a very good comparison with UK rail fares and it’s not in our favour. In fact, a ticket on Trenitalia probably costs less than one third of an equivalent journey on National Rail, sometimes as little as one fifth. One particular 100km journey cost a fiver. Beat that, First Great Western.
It’s not all good news. Every single bus in the country, including the Venice vaporetto boat service, seems to be packed full constantly, as is the Rome Metro, no matter what time of day or night.
In fact, public transport within Rome is probably the worst example of mass transportation planning in the world. There are only two ageing Metro lines and these run between stations that are named after people, rather than actual places, requiring a detailed knowledge of the city’s geography to decode. Furthermore, buses (running on natural gas, battery power or normal diesel, according to whim) often follow the same routes as trams and there are even a few trolleybus services – a mode of transport that nearly everywhere else in the world has long ago phased out. It’s quite a mess and not what might be described as an integrated system.
Is it true that they’re cruel to animals and the destitute?
It certainly seems to be true that social security is not what it might be. There are many beggars, including many apparently of Romany origin, and many more street scammers.
But it seems that the Italians love their animals. Blue Cross animal ambulances are afforded the same lights-and-siren service that regular ambulances are allowed, even in Venice, where most of the emergency services utilise speedboats.
Is it true that Italians eat pizza all the time?
Yes. It’s next to impossible to find a restaurant that doesn’t serve pizza. Even the curry houses have a pizza option.
And ice cream?
Yes, that too. Gelatarias are as plentiful in Italy as pubs are in the UK. Obscenely chic It-Girls on mopeds eat them while waiting at traffic lights; middle-aged men in very expensive silk suits holding leather briefcases in one hand lick away at a cornet in the other; and of course, the tourists get through a great many.
Is it true that Italians are very beautiful?
Ooh, yes. The men are handsome and the women beautiful. Since you ask, Bolognese girls are the best looking, the Sienese dress the smartest and, for some reason, Florentine women of all ages tend to dye their hair blonde. Roman and Venetian girls usually turn out to be American, so there’s no point in offering a criticism of them. There didn’t appear to be any Neapolitan women. In fact, come to think of it, there didn’t appear to be anyone at all in Naples.
But at a certain age, something weird happens. Perhaps it’s all the olive oil in their diet, but both sexes suddenly realise that they don’t look as good as they once did and take bizarre steps to attempt to rectify the situation. The result is that all women between about 35 and 60 look like drag queens, and all men of the same age look like mobsters. Which, to be completely fair to them, they might very well be.
Is crime a problem?
We saw no indication of this, with the exception of blatantly ripped-off CDs, DVDs and designer goods on sale on the streets. Part of the explanation for this may be the very, very high-profile armed police presence in almost every public place. Italy has two separate police forces, which is a little confusing, but it does mean that every property is well-protected by handgun-bearing patrols, even inside private buildings such as museums. Add to this private militia / vigilante patrols and security guards, and one starts to feel very well looked after.
Is it true that Italians are a very romantic people?
Yup. Between about 2pm and 6pm, it’s nigh on impossible to find a bench in a park or piazza, because they’re all taken up by courting couples of all ages.
How’s the weather?
Hot. This year has been especially warm, apparently, with temperatures in cities across the country reaching 39°C in the middle of July. The reason couples can afford to spend all afternoon hanging out in parks is because everywhere closes down all afternoon due to the heat. This means that even specialist shops are open well into the evening, but not even some big supermarkets open in the afternoon. It’s really hot.
I take it that all Italians have fantastic tans?
Usually, yet there is obviously something underhand going on there, because Italian television appears to be full of adverts for fake tans and tanning salons.
Which is worse: roasting in Rome, baking in Bologna, grilling in Naples, or burning in Siena (you’ve heard of Burnt Siena, right?)?
None of those, although they’re all pretty unpleasant. Worst is being slowly steamed to death in Venice. All that water means that the air is exceptionally humid. This means that once something is wet, it is completely impossible to dry. For example, in the time it takes to step out of a refreshing cold shower and grab a towel, not only has the perspiration started to run down one’s forehead already, but the towel hasn’t dried out from the last one. That goes for everything, too. Clothes, bedclothes – anything that either gets wet or gets perspiration on it just doesn’t dry.
Just how much perspiration are we talking about?
Using the highly scientific method of comparing the amount of water drunk in a normal day at the office, the volume and frequency of passing of same, and the equivalent intake and output while travelling around Italy, I would estimate that something of the order of three litres a day made it in at one end but not out at the other.
How do you carry supplies of that much water?
The Italians very thoughtfully supply fresh, clean drinking water in the form of fountains in nearly every street in their urban areas and in their parks and open spaces. It’s free, limitless and cold.
Still, it may have been hot, but it can’t be as bad as a safari; at least there are no dangerous wild animals to worry about.
What about insects? Rome is full of nasty little parasites. They managed 40 bites in a single night on my right arm alone. Still, at least none of mine turned septic.
And while we’re talking about wild animals, Pompeii is full of wild dogs. Many of them live amongst the ruins of the old town. Goodness knows what they find to eat there. Presumably tourists take pity on them and drop scraps.
I’ve bought the Daily Mail’s guide on how to cover Rome on foot in a single day. Is it worth doing?
Well, yes and no. They’ve identified the ten most important things to see in Rome (Vatican, Coliseum, Trevi Fountain, that kind of thing). What they’ve done wrong is suggest that it’s possible to see them all in a day. We did half that number – and by Metro, not on foot – and nearly keeled over at the end of it.
It’s also a myth that you have to turn up at the Vatican at 7am in order to avoid the queues. We were first in line when the Vatican museums opened at 8.45am, and we’d only been there twenty minutes or so.
What about Venice? Can Venice be covered in a day?
Physically, yes – allowing for the fact that if you walk, you’re going to get very wet. But seriously, it consists of a number of groups of small islands, the largest of which can be walked across in a reasonably short period of time; islands in the same group are linked by footbridges. But the smaller outlying island groups are well worth visiting, especially Lido, with its long Mediterranean-facing beach, and Murano, home of Venice’s glassmaking artisans.
Is it true that Venice is very expensive?
Not, to our relief, anywhere near as bad as expected. Good food could be found at entirely reasonable prices. Anybody who pays 80 euros to get from place to place by water taxi might start to find it expensive after a while, but the vaporetto waterbus service is as good as any other public transport in Italy, and does a three-day tourist pass for 20 euros which will take you to all the islands and up and down the Grand Canal as often as you want.
According to my landlady, her hotel in Venice has offered to provide a transfer from the airport when she arrives for 150 euros. I have advised her that our airport transfer cost a rather more reasonable 3 euros.
I’ve heard Pompeii has been turned into something of a theme park. Is this true?
Not really. There is a very extensive modern town of Pompeii, which is full of overpriced stalls selling tat, but within the ruins, although they were busy, it was easy to find quiet spots to explore. The thing is, the excavations are so extensive that inevitably people are going to head towards the biggest monuments, such as the forum or amphitheatre. This means that some of the private houses are empty, but contain very interesting remains.
Just how much is intact at Pompeii?
Not all of it has yet been excavated, so it’s difficult to say. Some frescoes have been looted, leaving ugly holes in the middle of the walls in private homes. But remarkably, there are some buildings with their roofs still intact and there are some incredibly well preserved wall paintings and mosaics. Even entire garden layouts, complete with elaborately painted shrines and working fountains, remain in places.
In Goodbye Mr Chips, Mr Chips meets his future wife in Pompeii. Whereabouts?
Pompeii has a very large amphitheatre and two smaller theatre auditoria, the latter of which are collocated in what may conceivably be the world’s oldest example of a multiplex. Although the outer walls of the amphitheatre are intact, the interiors of the theatre auditoria are much better preserved. Therefore, although I haven’t seen the film in a while, I’m pretty sure it’s the larger auditorium of the multiplex in which Chipping meets his future wife.
Did the characters in the Cambridge Latin Course really live in Pompeii?
Yes, Lucius Caecilius Iucundus’ house is clearly signposted, just around the corner from the baths. Altogether now: “Caecilius in tablino laborat…”
Why is the Leaning Tower Of Pisa so-called? Why not just the Leaning Tower?
They may have given the world democracy, central heating, the Renaissance and more than 50% of UNESCO World Heritage Sites on the planet, but sad to say it, the Italians just don’t seem to be very good at building towers. There is a pair of towers (the Due Torri) in Bologna, for example, one of which is bolt upright and the other leans drunkenly towards it. There’s at least one in Florence, too.
Venice is chock full of leaning towers. In fact, some entire buildings have sunk significantly at one end. For example, there is a particular basilica in the university district which, judging by its exterior, must now have quite a steep climb up the aisle towards the altar.
One art critic described Michelangelo’s David as being so perfect, that there is no point in ever looking at any other sculpture. Agree?
Apart from his well-publicised squint, not to mention needing a bit of a hair cut, David may well be the perfect specimen of a human being. However, there is one bizarre but little-known quirk of Senore Buonarotti’s masterpiece. Realising that it’s quite difficult to get an enormous marble statue to stand up on its own, Michelangelo props him up using a small tree stump behind David’s right calf. The result of this is that when Goliath hoves into view, David’s going to take a step backwards, trip and fall flat on his back.
How, physically, did Michelangelo construct David?
Sculpted from a single, very large, block of marble that had been left over from a building site. There are three versions of the David statue in Florence. The best-sited version is a copper cast on a hilltop overlooking the city. The original stands in a museum in a hall full of Michelangelo’s unfinished works, giving a good idea of how he would have gone about sculpting his masterwork. However, it also gives the viewer a hint that he wasn’t a complete genius; one of the unfinished statues doesn’t have enough marble left above his chin to form a full head, which smacks of a bit of bad planning on the part of the artist.
I understand a bit of French. How quickly can I pick up Italian?
Written Italian, very quickly (a knowledge of Latin helped a little, too, but not as much as expected). Conversational Italian, perhaps not so much, but they’re a very friendly people and don’t object at all to conversing in English, unlike the French, who are often too proud, arrogant or impatient to give you a chance.
Is the Pope a Catholic?
Yes.
David Abbott
July 2004
