As with my posts about our Southeast Asia circuit, I'm going to make some diversions during the details of my Italian adventure. In some ways, even though this trip was only a week long, as opposed to our month in Southeast Asia, it seemed almost as epic -- because I was traveling alone. I've never really been afraid of traveling solo, and I've done so many times within the United States, but I did have some anxiety about what it would be like to travel abroad by myself.
My first concern, as is probably the same for many women, was my safety. With the tourist places I visited, I never felt unsafe, even going out after dark for the usual 8 p.m. dinner time. But for me, my security while asleep is scarier than my security while awake, when I can be proactive about my own protection. That's why I opted to stay in all-female dorm in Menaggio. That, and the cost.
To save money in Verona and Milan, I went with AirBNB for the first time. In case you don't know about AirBNB, it is a service where people can directly rent out extra rooms in their houses to travellers. On the upside, it's nice to know someone will notice if you go missing; if nothing else, they'd want their keys back. On the downside, if you go missing because of your hosts, probably no one would find out.
So I made sure to select properties that had female hosts (I know, I know, that doesn't ensure anything, but it made me feel better). And I completely lucked out in my choices. I loved the balcony off my loft in Verona (left), and even though there was a baby in the house, I always got a full night's sleep. In Milan, I had a completely separate room, so I hardly saw my hosts, although I wish I could've talked to the husband more about his motorcyle travels around the world (right).
Much like my AirBNB hosts, most people I met were more than friendly and welcoming to me as a solo woman. When they found out I was traveling alone, their responses ranged from respect to pity. Most restaurant hosts didn't bat an eye when I asked for a table for one, and servers said nary a word when I ordered a half-carafe of wine for myself. But when the elderly ticket-taker at the Torre dei Lamberti in Verona let me in for the student price, I couldn't decide if he felt bad for me or just wanted to flirt with me. I did get blatantly hit on at a bus stop, where another rider, despite his lack of English, made it clear that I should have a traveling companion -- him, to be precise.
For the most part, other people were not the issue. To be honest, I was my own biggest problem. When you're on your own, you're solely responsible for the success of your trip. If you run out of ideas of what to do, no one is there to offer a suggestion. And when you pick the activity or restaurant, you only have yourself to blame for bad choices and bad food.
And so, the only way to avoid blame is to blame someone else, and so I will blame Italy (not Canada). This country really has some explaining to do. First of all, its toilet flushers are inexplicable. They are all shapes and sizes, but even worse, there's no rhyme or reason to where they are located. Some are logically on the commodes, but others are on the floor, beside the tank, or even on the opposite wall. But while a tourist might have trouble navigating the bathroom, he or she will have no problem using public transport. Every stop has a clear timetable and map to show where the bus, tram, or train goes when. Perhaps similar informational signs should be posted in public restrooms, so people can find the flushers.
And for the more conscientious commuters, the bike lanes make even more sense. Unlike in the United States, where lanes are put in the suburbs, in Italy I more frequently saw them in the most congested areas. Elsewhere, where traffic was lighter, like in the suburbs, cyclists could use the roads instead. In the chilly early-morning hours, I saw plenty of hearty Italians pedaling intently to work. By mid-day, I saw more runners than cyclists. But "runner" is a bit of an exaggeration; most people I saw doing laps in the park could be more accurately described as doing something slightly faster than walking. This might be because Italy gives off a mixed message about health-consciousness. Even with the abundance of bike lanes and jogging paths, they were definitely outnumbered by automatic cigarette vending machines, which were equally efficient in their distribution throughout the city.
Another prevalent sight in the cities were dogs, which seemed to be allowed everywhere: buses, restaurants, stores -- even delis, which must be some form of doggie torture. Every park I visited had designated areas, both fenced and unfenced, where mutts were allowed to be off leash. Of course, that didn't stop dog owners from untethering them throughout the park. But no matter how many canines I saw running carefree, cygnets were even more common. Every city, particularly Mantova (left) and Sirmione (right), seemed to have a stock that they could release on cue to add to its charm.
I saw fewer swans in Milan, considered a fashion center, perhaps because Bjork already established them as a faux pas. Despite their stylish reputation, I have to question some Italians' clothing choices, particularly the trend toward retro. I saw many people wearing Nike Air Jordans and Adidas Sambas, which didn't bother me so much except that it drew conspicuous attention to their pegged jeans. The lack of style sometimes extended to the other end of the spectrum, a person's hair. I saw at least one adult and one child with a rat tail. Then again, I saw a toddler wearing a fur coat, so perhaps everything evens out.
I guess Italians can't help reminding you that they like trends, just like they can't resist exhibiting their love of wine. Even beer labels have vintage-like descriptions. The craft beer La Rossa di Verona, which I enjoyed with some tagliatelle in duck sauce, included phrases such as "delicate caramel and vegetable signs," "in tuning with the noble bitterness of radicchio," and "light sparkle, grassy and soft aftertaste." It also suggested pairings such as "white meats, game, and soft pasta cheeses." At least this brew was served in a pint glass; at other places, I drank beer out of wine glasses, and when I actually drank wine, it often was from squarish stems.
My first concern, as is probably the same for many women, was my safety. With the tourist places I visited, I never felt unsafe, even going out after dark for the usual 8 p.m. dinner time. But for me, my security while asleep is scarier than my security while awake, when I can be proactive about my own protection. That's why I opted to stay in all-female dorm in Menaggio. That, and the cost.
To save money in Verona and Milan, I went with AirBNB for the first time. In case you don't know about AirBNB, it is a service where people can directly rent out extra rooms in their houses to travellers. On the upside, it's nice to know someone will notice if you go missing; if nothing else, they'd want their keys back. On the downside, if you go missing because of your hosts, probably no one would find out.
So I made sure to select properties that had female hosts (I know, I know, that doesn't ensure anything, but it made me feel better). And I completely lucked out in my choices. I loved the balcony off my loft in Verona (left), and even though there was a baby in the house, I always got a full night's sleep. In Milan, I had a completely separate room, so I hardly saw my hosts, although I wish I could've talked to the husband more about his motorcyle travels around the world (right).
For the most part, other people were not the issue. To be honest, I was my own biggest problem. When you're on your own, you're solely responsible for the success of your trip. If you run out of ideas of what to do, no one is there to offer a suggestion. And when you pick the activity or restaurant, you only have yourself to blame for bad choices and bad food.
And so, the only way to avoid blame is to blame someone else, and so I will blame Italy (not Canada). This country really has some explaining to do. First of all, its toilet flushers are inexplicable. They are all shapes and sizes, but even worse, there's no rhyme or reason to where they are located. Some are logically on the commodes, but others are on the floor, beside the tank, or even on the opposite wall. But while a tourist might have trouble navigating the bathroom, he or she will have no problem using public transport. Every stop has a clear timetable and map to show where the bus, tram, or train goes when. Perhaps similar informational signs should be posted in public restrooms, so people can find the flushers.
And for the more conscientious commuters, the bike lanes make even more sense. Unlike in the United States, where lanes are put in the suburbs, in Italy I more frequently saw them in the most congested areas. Elsewhere, where traffic was lighter, like in the suburbs, cyclists could use the roads instead. In the chilly early-morning hours, I saw plenty of hearty Italians pedaling intently to work. By mid-day, I saw more runners than cyclists. But "runner" is a bit of an exaggeration; most people I saw doing laps in the park could be more accurately described as doing something slightly faster than walking. This might be because Italy gives off a mixed message about health-consciousness. Even with the abundance of bike lanes and jogging paths, they were definitely outnumbered by automatic cigarette vending machines, which were equally efficient in their distribution throughout the city.
Another prevalent sight in the cities were dogs, which seemed to be allowed everywhere: buses, restaurants, stores -- even delis, which must be some form of doggie torture. Every park I visited had designated areas, both fenced and unfenced, where mutts were allowed to be off leash. Of course, that didn't stop dog owners from untethering them throughout the park. But no matter how many canines I saw running carefree, cygnets were even more common. Every city, particularly Mantova (left) and Sirmione (right), seemed to have a stock that they could release on cue to add to its charm.
I guess Italians can't help reminding you that they like trends, just like they can't resist exhibiting their love of wine. Even beer labels have vintage-like descriptions. The craft beer La Rossa di Verona, which I enjoyed with some tagliatelle in duck sauce, included phrases such as "delicate caramel and vegetable signs," "in tuning with the noble bitterness of radicchio," and "light sparkle, grassy and soft aftertaste." It also suggested pairings such as "white meats, game, and soft pasta cheeses." At least this brew was served in a pint glass; at other places, I drank beer out of wine glasses, and when I actually drank wine, it often was from squarish stems.
All this is to say, as often as I came close to getting lost from inattention or getting frustrated from boredom, Italians aren't perfect either. In this way, I wasn't alone during my trip at all. Somehow, we all found our way to our happy place, which for me usually involved pasta.
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