Rock Climbing In Ischia, Getting Lost In Venice, And Hard-Fi

Well, we've been everywhere. We went to Ischia a few weekends ago, an island near Capri just off Naples. Nice enough island, although I think I've been spoilt by Thailand now and nothing comes close for staggering untouched beauty (got yer violins out yet? poor, poor me, take heed and never go to southern Thailand). And there aren't nearly as many perilous adventures to be had in Europe. I think the land of smiles is calling me again. Anyway, the hostel we stayed in was nice, although 6 to a room was a tight squeeze (at least we got there first tho so baggsied all the lower bunk-beds) and we had to share a bathroom with 10 other girls. We were sharing the room with 3 all-american university students who were having a break from studying architecture in Florence, and who liked listening to one song over and over again on their laptop whilst getting ready to go out:
"If you like Pina Colada's, and getting caught in the rain..." (cue them singing in chorus whilst sipping their vodka and cokes, "Yes I like Pina Colada's, and getting caught in the rain" at the top of their voices...) sweet girls tho, bless em.

We went to thermal pools on the Sunday, which are near a small village called Pranza, and we had to take a local bus to get there and Nat wanted to know when our stop was, so asked a bloke next to her -
"quando e pranzo?"
he looked at her strangely and shrugged. Not one to be easily deterred our Nat, she asked again
"quando e pranzo??"
"er, no lo so.. I don't know" looking very confused.
This continued for a while til someone else joined in who could speak english, and had realized that she didn't actually want to know when lunch was, but when the stop for Pranza was, which sounds remarkably similar. Cue uncontrollable laughter from me until we got off the bus. They must have thought we English are very strange, one of us insisting on knowing when lunch was to be served of a complete stranger on a bus, and the other laughing like a simpleton for no apparent reason.

It took us ages to trek to the beach and climb down the cliff, and then there was one rock pool that had steam coming off it, and boiling water inside and you sat down near it and dangled your feet in this sulphuric-iodiney-mineraly-type water (that's the scientific name) but the water was boiling, and then the waves which came in from the sea were absolutely freezing... a very, very strange experience, apparently very good for the nervous system and other ailments tho.

After laying shivering on the beach in out bikini's for a while which we were insistent on doing since we'd bought them and we were English and we were on holiday and in Italy and and it was very very sunny and hot (apart from the bitter coastal breeze which was the cause for a few wimpy people on the beach to wear jumpers and bomber jackets) we went for a swim in the sea, which can only be described as icily freezing, and being the only ones in the sea, I got worried and got out after 3 minutes as I couldn't feel my feet and my hands had turned white and I think the early stages of hypothermia were setting in. We got bored of freezing on the sand, so went to explore the coast of the island and ended up amateur rock climbing by accident- we got lost wandering around the coast of the island and ended up stranded below a dead posh restaurant right on the seafront. As we'd already had a rocky struggle to get where we were, and the tide was coming in, there was no way we were clambering back the way we'd come, and the only way to the main road was to scale a wall near this restaurant. So the Italian customers and their snobby waiter (who was in 2 minds whether to shoo us english urchins away from his high-class-Gucci-clad customers with a broom, but eventually I think his natural curiosity to see what on earth we thought we were going to do overcame this) forgot their posh nosh lunch and vintage vino for 5 minutes and sat bemusedly watching us through their Chanel sunglasses as we tried to scale the cliff face up towards the main road. Needless to say these 3 crazy foreginers looked a right state (again with the climbing buildings in a skirt and flip flops), although when we at last got to the top, they all put down their gnocci to give us a round of applause and wave at us as if we were pioneer mountain climbers who'd just scaled a rather difficult peak.

Then last weekend we went to Venice. On the way there I asked the Venetian man next to me on the plane what he recomended doing in Venice, and he told me to get lost, so I looked out the window perplexedly, trying to figure what I'd said wrong, when he carried on "Yes, that is the best way to see Venice, don't have map, get lost, then you will find nooks and corners very special". Accordingly I took his advice swiftly and literally and on the 2nd day, whilst meandering too slowly around an art gallery I got to the end to discover I had no idea where Han and Natalie were. Normally this wouldn't be a problem cos I'd ring them. Unfortunately for me, on leaving Sulmona a little behind schedule I dropped my phone into the train toilet as I was doing my make-up. I asked the conductor if he could reach in and get it, to which he replied with surprise and a little smugness that the hole actually leads straight to the ground, meaning my phone is now irretrievably lost between poo and toilet paper somewhere on the Majella mountains. So I spent the afternoon running over the bridges over the watery alleyways between buildings in Venice shouting and chasing an ugly old dwarf in a red cape who I thought could lead me to them... and hopping on and off the large cheap river taxi's (nowhere near as deadly and exciting as the Thai version) and poking around in the massively overdone gilded ornate churches (one of them had 10 collossal columns leading up to the alter, all wrapped in red velvet with a red velvet carpet down the aisle, and loads of 10 foot high gilded golden framed paintings on the walls, looked more like a Roman orgy auditorium than a church). St Marks, the main church, was beautifully gothic tho, with a strangely eastern look, and really old gold and bronze mosaics on the ceiling inside. There were also displays of archaeological mosaics from seven hundred years ago and you could touch them and everything! The alarm made a little buzzing noise when you did touch them but no guards came, so my finger actually touched a mosic that was glued together by another human being's finger centuries ago. Twice.

It really is the cutest little city in the world, saw loads of people on gondola's (lucky gits, we couldn't afford one of them) being serenaded with the cornetto song by old men in accompanying gondola's trying not to fall over as the gondola's squeezed very rapidly through the tiniest little watery thoroughfares between houses whose front step led down into the river, and which had boats instead of cars outside. Unluckily, not being the most observant person in the world, I neglected to notice little notes written on toilet paper that Han and Nat had papered Venice with, they'd gone to the cafe's we'd been to and other highlights in Venice, and plasted all the walls and bridges with notices of their mobile numbers saying "WHERE ARE YOU KATY??".

Coming back we landed in Rome on Monday 1st May, which, luckily for us, is the day of a massive freebie concert in Piazza San Giovanni (think T in the park without the park, or any tea, or any english people). My students had told me about it, and after asking them for directions to Piazza San Giovanni, they told me dismissively to "ask anyone". I thought this was a bit dubious and was expecting to come home having missed the concert, but arriving in Termini (central station in Rome) it had that unmistakable pre-festival atmosphere. Lots of groups of animated young people stocking up on alcohol, fags and food and making for a mass exodus towards the Colosseum. Arriving at the colosseum we asked a group of lads from Naples for directions and they let us tag along with them, liberally sharing their festival provisions (the usual stuff) and it turned out to be a mighty fine sunny afternoon of smokin, drinkin and listenin to Italian's finest bands...... AND Hard-Fi.... I mean, what are the chances of that?? The ONLY non-Italian band on the playlist and it turns out not only to be British but one of my faves! Altho I was the only one I could see around me singing along like a loon "There's a hole in ma pocket, ma pocket, ma pocket, la la la la la".

I'd decided to stay on and wait for Hard Fi and Negramaro, who weren't on til late, but Han and Nat had gone home early, so, making my tipsy way to Termini at 11.00pm I discovered I'd missed the last train to Sulmona and the next one wasn't til 7.45am the following day. Nooooo! Normally I would absolutely shit myself cos Termini station ain't the safest place in Rome after midnight (a bit like Sydney's Kings Cross but not quite as many hookers, or tramps and needles to step over on the floor) . Luckily, instead of having to pay a fortune for a normal hotel near termini, I discovered hundreds of like-minded people who were chatting and kipping all over the station. Turns out that on the 1st May the station is open right through the night just for the youngsters who've been to the concert to stay safely, with guards to stop the usual pikey wierdo's who hang out there at night and everything. Score. Although my lessons on Tuesday afternoon after "sleeping" on a station floor like a scuzzy old wino and arriving home at 11.30am were what you'd expect. Mullered.

So now it's no more extravagent weekends ever til I get home. I have absolutely zero funds. This weekend me and Han climbed the mountain which is nearest to my house cos that's free. Well, we didn't actually climb it, we got the base which took 2 hours, and then climbed a little bit, and turned round and came home cos our feet hurt and it was hot. Was awesome tho. Even at the base you can feel the majesty of it's presence. Or whatever.