Travel log: Perugia to Verona (the long way)

Travel log: Perugia to Verona (the long way)

by | Oct 23, 2017 | Italy, Travelling | 0 comments

Well, I arrived in Verona yesterday and will be here for the next seven days. I wish I could say my trip here was all ease and grace but sadly, it wasn’t.

I left the AirBnB apartment in Perugia with Riccardo (the owner) and Sonya (the other traveller staying there) waving to me from the door as I awkwardly shuffled my luggage into the tiny lift. They  both got up especially to see me off and I was touched (particularly as they looked as though they could easily sleep for another three hours).

I boarded the train from Perugia successfully and then found myself in conversation with three Americans (a couple and another woman). The couple were a little older, well-travelled and he was a lawyer with a passion for food, Italy and travelling in general. He reminded me of that actor Robert Klein in Two Weeks’ Notice. Their daughter was flying in later that day and they would take her shopping in Milan for her wedding dress over the next week- what a lovely engagement gift. He talked about the importance of creating experiences his children would remember. I loved that. Experiences are what you take with you.

The other woman was friendly and clearly enjoying her trip after indulging in some wonderful shopping for scarves and wine. However, she did spend a significant amount of time talking about how AirBnBs aren’t really clean (i.e. dust under the bed) and how the food in Italy doesn’t taste the same as it does back home (e.g. tiramisu). Why people expect things to be the same as they are ‘back home’ is beyond me. If you want things to be the same then don’t go anywhere. However, it was clear she was doing her best to push her own comfort limits generally and she was nice enough.

Unfortunately, as we pulled into Firenze (where I was to catch my connecting train to Verona), they all took a while to get their bags and I, being the polite person I am, waited for them. As a result I made it to the train exit doors just as they locked.

As fate would have it, I couldn’t catch my train from the next station and my ticket was non-transferrable. Fortunately for the Americans, the station didn’t overly affect their travel plans so they were fine. Serves me right for being polite. Ha! Ha! As the lawyer also pointed out, this was an occasion when I just needed to go with it (I’d mentioned during our earlier conversation that I try to take this approach whenever I travel…ha bloody ha Universe!).

So I had to buy a new ticket (37EU). This time it would take me via Bologna where I would need to change trains to get to Verona. Cue two-hour wait in the train station.

My next train was one of the high-speed deluxe trains and it was a fabulous. Ultra-modern, new and clean. But the trip from Firenze to Bologna is relatively short so I couldn’t enjoy it for long. I did have a great chat to an older Columbian couple sitting across the aisle though. They both had lovely energy and had spent about a month in Italy so far. They were loving every minute of their holiday and recommended I visited the towns of Turino and Lucca.

Unfortunately, the stylish train was 15 minutes late leaving Firenze. The train conductor kindly rang ahead and asked the driver of the connecting train to delay his departure for a minute or two as we would now be arriving precisely when he was due to leave.

Unfortunately, Stefania (another passenger) and I leapt from the Firenze train and sprinted to 2 est platform just in time to see our connection pulling out at the other end.

We then bumped into Rita (another passenger in the same situation) and after perusing the timetable we established that it would be two hours before we could hop the next train to Verona. Fortunately, our tickets would still be valid by then.

We retreated to a bar where Stefania, a civil engineer who also weaves (yes, on a loom to create beautiful rugs and blankets, etc.) and Rita downed an expresso or two in tiny white cups while I indulged in a hot chocolate (not appropriate for mid-afternoon by Italian standards but by this stage I cared nought for that!). Stefania generously shouted the round and then in true Italian style she and Rita smoked up a storm while we chatted about life. Smoking is still de rigueur here whereas it’s increasingly rare back home in Australia. Italians of all ages smoke anywhere, anytime, near children, while pregnant, at dinner. What can you do but accept…when in Italia and all that.

Anyway, we had a wide-ranging conversation, me with my stumbling Italian, Stefania with her good English and Rita with her no English at all – Stefania translated for her at various times.

Eventually the hours passed and we finally boarded the train for the last leg of our journey. Rita disembarked before me – she travels to Firenze once per month (and has done for 17 years) for experimental treatment to prevent her going blind from a rather nasty condition called retinitis pigmentosa. She and three of her sight-impaired friends had just this week decided to write a book about all the ‘train stories’ they have experienced/learned during their monthly trips. Rita uses Google translate extensively and my resounding memory is hearing her say “Okay, Google” as she would speak into her phone and ask for a translation.

I got off at Verona and said goodbye to the fabulous Stefania (we will definitely stay in touch). I made it easily to the Tabacchi to buy my bus ticket and then, with the AirBnB man What’s App’g me instructions and then asking “Where are you?” I boarded the number 11 bus. Following the instructions on the Moovit App I got off at Porta Vescovo and the two transport inspectors on the footpath made room for me as I maneuvered my suitcase and my person out the bus doors. One of them subsequently asked me for my bus ticket.

Over the next five minutes I unsuccessfully searched for that piece of thin card on my person and in my bags to no avail – picture me crouched on the footpath with my belongings strewn around me as the two inspectors (and Lord knows who else) watched on. Eventually, he took pity on me and said don’t worry about. My humiliation as I stuffed my belongings haphazardly back into my bags was complete and it was only the third time that day that I’d felt like crying from tiredness/frustration/overwhelm. Last year I’d had a similar experience on a bus in Ischia so it seems I am a magnet for transport inspectors. Next time I buy a ticket I’ll staple it to my forehead or something.

The AirBnB man was conspicuously absent throughout this incident and when I rang he said he was at the bus stop we’d discussed but could not see me.

I had got off one stop too late – thank you Moovit app.

Olindo eventually found me and with his minuscule English (far less than my Italian skills), he grabbed my suitcase and walked me to the apartment – kindly carrying my rather heavy luggage up a flight of stairs to get there.

He showed me around the apartment (it’s very modern), gave me a map and said he’d What’s App me the details for good places to eat. He also asked if I spoke Spanish (because apparently my Italian sounds like it’s Spanish). I’ve never spoken Spanish in my life. Clearly my accent is deplorable.

When I recounted the day’s debacles to a friend she said, sounds like you’ve been taught a lesson in patience today. She’s probably right. I also learned that the best laid plans can go awry when you’re too polite.

Lucretia Ackfield is a published author, psychic channel and transformational teacher who is currently traveling through one of her favourite countries in search of adventure, inspiration, transformation and space to write.

 

 

Italian dining with a garden hose

Italian dining with a garden hose

by | Jul 7, 2016 | Travelling | 0 comments

As a lover of Italy it pains me to admit that I have two criticisms of this beautiful country: their bathrooms and their treatment of single, female diners.

Anyone who has traveled in Italy will know about their propensity for placing the shower head right next to the toilet. But I don’t mean with a shower curtain or a screen between. No, that would confine the water to one relatively small and localised area near the drain. Far better instead, despite this showering person’s best efforts, to have the water spray all over the walls, floor, toilet and occasionally the bidet as well. My last shower experience had me sopping up water with every available towel in the place as water drifted inexorably off the tiled bathroom ledge and into the bedroom. Containment of water, like the containment of passion, is seemingly not an Italian speciality. For the record, I love that they’re passionate but I don’t love their bathrooms.

Then of course, there’s the single female diner thing.

Now I’m accustomed to traveling solo and surely it cannot in this day and age, be that much of a novelty in this part of the world? But some restaurants and cafes don’t quite meet the customer service standard I’d prefer.

For instance, just because I’m dining alone does not mean I should be given the worst table in the house…like in Roma where, a couple of blocks from Scalina Spagna (the Spanish Steps) I was seated next to the air conditioning vent. Now had it been winter, the rather warm breeze it created would have been lovely. However, in summer (somewhere in the mid-30s) it didn’t help to create the fabulous dining experience I’d been hoping for (if I’d been wearing make-up it would’ve melted and slid off my face onto my pizza).

A few days earlier, I was an early diner in a beautiful spot on the Ischia coast. Only one other table was occupied but I was ‘kindly’ shown to a single-chaired table where my close dinner companion was a bright yellow garden hose (located a mere inch from my left elbow).

When a noise emanated from my throat (something like an incredulous grunt) and this was accompanied with hand gestures that clearly indicated my discontent, the waiter simply moved the chair to the other side of the table. The view of the water was a little better but the hose was still ever-present.

Sigh.

However, despite their lack of comfort with single female diners and occasional flooding incidents in, it must be said, very clean bathrooms, I still love Italy very much

But I don’t want to dine with another garden hose anytime soon.

Coming home to me

Coming home to me

by | Jul 1, 2016 | create your life, Inspiration, Italy | 0 comments

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. There’s been a lot going on in my life personally and professionally and, strangely for me, I haven’t been able to find the words to describe what’s been happening. I’ve been a writer lost for words and that is a peculiar feeling indeed.

But today I feel like the words are beginning to trickle back in, hence this post.

I’m writing to you from Assisi in northern Italy. Yes, I’ve finally made it back to a place that I love, Bella Italia. Despite my name, I have no Italian heritage but I always feel drawn back to this place. It’s my fifth visit and I know it won’t be my last. There is connection for me here and I’m sure I’ve lived here before, in a past life, more than once. There’s something about Italy that fills me up and although I’m still not fluent in the language, I always feel as if I am visiting an old friend.

Yesterday as my bus traveled up the hill towards Assisi, I felt tears welling in my eyes and that song, I’m Coming Home began playing in my head. Many years ago on my last visit to this town, I had a similar experience; an almost overwhelming feeling of spiritual homecoming. I guess time has not changed that circumstance for my soul.

I’m not of the catholic faith but there is something about this place that moves me. Despite the focus of many of the religion and artworks in the great churches here on pain, suffering, obedience and sacrifice, there is also a joyful recognition of something higher than ourselves. The angelic sculptures in Cattedrale di S. Rufino soar ever upwards and reach for that which is unseen but believed to be possible. I guess it is faith I am talking about; faith in something more

To visit this place reminds me of my faith in what is possible, not what has been lost. I guess in many ways that is what this trip is about for me – a rediscovery of grace and hope. Often it is too easy to work and work and work and lose sight of what you are working towards. And I guess that is what I’ve been doing. After all, this is my first holiday in four years and when I got on that plane bound for Roma I was exhausted. But now, a mere week or so later, my tiredness has begun to lift and I am beginning to see through the mists to what could be real, if only I maintain my faith in my capacity to create the life I desire and know I deserve

I’ve had glimpses of that life recently so I know it is near. All I must do is keep my faith, my focus and come home to me in this beautiful place where inspiration lays around every corner and from every window.

La vita bella. Life is beautiful.

Bring it on 2014…I’m ready

by | Dec 26, 2013 | Emotional, Inspiration, Life, Men, Travelling | 0 comments

Image - futuresobright.com

Image – futuresobright.com

I‘ve been wondering about 2014.

I know I should be living in the present but honestly, there are lots of reasons I’d like this year to be over and to start a new chapter in my life. Many friends have been experiencing their own challenges in 2013 and I think we’ll all draw a collective sigh of relief at midnight on 31 December.

There have of course been some wonderful moments but geez, sometimes it’s felt like we’ve been pushed to our limits on so many levels.

The question is, if 2013 was so ‘challenging’, what will be different in 2014?

Well, me, I guess. I want to be different. I want to take all the lessons I’ve learned about life, love, business and money and apply them constructively.

I want to let go of all those heavy emotional weights that have been holding me back and tripping me up whenever I’ve tried to move forward.

So I’m making a list of what I want my life to look like in 2014.

It doesn’t include becoming a millionaire (although of course, I wouldn’t say no to that!). But it does include having enough money to pay all my bills on time, buy some pretty shoes and do some travel beyond Australian shores.

It doesn’t include being rescued by a Prince on a white steed who will sweep me off my feet and take me to his castle. But it does include an emotionally mature and sexy male who is capable of commitment, fun and being a true partner…with me. I’m done with Bridget Jones-like tragedies.

It doesn’t include being the CEO of a multinational company. But it does include work that is satisfying, challenging, uses my skills and contributes towards making the world a better place.

It doesn’t include being a world-class athlete. But it does include good emotional and physical health with no injuries.

And finally, it doesn’t include glamorous parties with celebrities. But it does include regular gatherings, long chats, laughs and hugs with good friends and family members.

These are just some of the things I’m setting my intentions for in 2014. I know I’ll have to take action to help make these things come to pass. But I figure setting my intentions is a good way to start the process.

So bring it on 2014! I’m ready.