Saved by Spontaneity

Right outside my hostel

When people ask me where I’m going or what my travel itinerary is, and I reply with, “I’m not sure yet. We’ll see,” it’s not that I’m lacking in preparation (though, let’s be honest, when am I not?), but, rather, going on three years of solo exploring experience. I’ve learned the best way to travel is as freely as possible. Why? Because things happen—you meet people, hear about a must-see island, or your money runs low, and your plans change. I’m an avid “know where you wanna go, but go with the flow” kind of traveler.
Casually browsing after breakfast, I began to question this philosophy as my plans to ferry over to Rovinj, Croatia started falling through. Not only were all the ferries booked, but so were most decent hostels on a Saturday night.  I started looking at Pula, another Croatian port, as a backup, but found trouble coordinating that as well. Stress hit. Screw Spontaneity =/ Why didn’t I plan this better??  I mentally banged my head against a wall.
Just as I was about to book a last resort train ticket to Trieste that would eventually get me to Pula, Marco, the hostel desk-worker, laughed at me as he flipped around his laptop with Istria’s forecast for the week.
Stormy
Stormy
Rainy
Stormy...
Ohh no. Nope, I was not going to trek down the Adriatic Coast with that weather. If I’d wanted to swim, hike and mountain bike in the rain I would have vacationed at home.

Saved by spontaneity—sorry for doubting.

I then started looking for sun. Budapest…Cairo…Sicily…Athens.  Going by my global hit list, Athens won out. So I booked a flight early this afternoon. I leave Venice tomorrow morning, head to Milan by train, and catch a flight to Athens in the evening.

I’ve been talking about Croatia for months now and I’m bummed it’s not happening tomorrow, but I mean…it’s Greece. 

Maybe later, Croatia?

And when you’re faced between the two...

 

Places in Croatia I wanted to visit

It's not really a tough call.

I’ve had such an amazing time in Venice; the city really is unreal. I went to Lido yesterday and the weather was perfect.

This is the prison part of the palace. I thought it was ironic.

Today was stormy in Venice and I ended up getting stuck in a palace.
Yeah, that happened.
I wandered inside trying to figure out what this big building was and it turned into that awkward moment you end up in a moving ticket line facing an outstretched hand and “16 euro, please,” before you can even turn around. I honestly didn’t know what I was walking into even as I stared at my ticket going through the entrance. I found out later (actually just now because I was still trying to figure out what this palace was called) that the ticket was good for four museums. That makes me feel better that I paid so much for the ticket then, but also maybe worse ‘cause I didn’t go to any of them. It wouldn’t have mattered since I was museumed out after this place—Palazzo Ducale, by the way; google it cause I still couldn’t tell you.
Seriously, though, google it and see how massive it is: three levels of oh-my-gee-I-just-want-the-exit.  
I was there for a solid few hours, but I did get some good pictures out of it.

Other than that, my stay has been pleasant. Coffee in the mornings, alleyway roaming, people watching, supermarket stops, tossing grapes on the way home, fresh pizzas by the slice, cobblestone runs, and evening drinks on balmy nights. I’ve loved it.

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On an added note, Marco put me in charge of the hostel tonight cause he wanted to leave early. Really, being “in charge” just meant I had to sit out in the lobby and wait for new guests to give them their key and show them their room. It also meant I stayed out here to write this blog, and when two guys from Holland returned from drinking, it made for some entertaining conversation that I had to mention:

(Just imagine two intoxicated guys with their Dutch accents…)

Guy 1: Where are you from?

Me: Oregon

Guy 1: Oh, like the cookie.

Me: …No?

Guy 2: That’s Oreo.

Guy1: Oreo (long pause) Oregon.

Guy 2: Hey, that rhymes.

Guy 1: See?

Annnyway, Athens tomorrow :) Goodnight.

Venice: Worth the Wait.

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Airport Bed

Getting where you need to be takes a lot out of you. I forget that almost every year. I thought I’d been brilliant booking a hotel “ten minutes from the airport” at Marco Polo in Venice. Free shuttle transportation, a queen bed, breakfast in the morning…perfect. I’d learned my lesson trying to get to hostels too late at night (see Barcelona blog) and it wasn’t gonna happen this time. I got in at 10:20 pm only to find that my hotel stopped running their shuttle service 30 minutes ago and a taxi would cost me almost as much as my hotel for the night. After promising I wouldn’t sleep outside (ahem, even though it was warmer with bigger benches) I curled up on two metal-gapped chairs in the freezing airport and bummed it.  I pretended I was in a big, warm bed with feather comforters because that’s what was already charged to my card. By two-thirty in the morning, falling between the chairs, my feet tangled in my bags, I was working the heck out of my imagination. 

I hung out in the airport, completely drained, till around 8 the next morning and took a bus into the city. The second I stepped off the bus and saw boats everywhere floating the gorgeous green waters between colorful, pastel paint-chipped façades with water-lapped bases, the past few days suddenly became worth it. I was in another world. The hell of getting to these places I usually forget; these moments, though, I never do. 

I took a waterbus, or vaporetto, to San Zaccoria in the San Marco Square. From there I found my hostel easily enough and was only a little disappointed when I couldn’t check into my room for another few hours. Exploring Venice until then, even 67 hours of nonstop traveling later, was still amazing.  

I'd forgotten how good real gelato was

Happy to hit a bed!

After I did get back to my room, however, I didn’t care that I hadn’t showered in nearly three days, or that I was hungry, or that it was the middle of the day. I washed my face, put a towel on my clean bed, and slept for five hours straight. I could have slept through the night I’m sure, but I forced myself up, changed and went on a run.

 

Late-night runs in foreign cities are my favorite

When I came back, Sierra (one of my hostel roomies) and I went out for some wine. We ran into a little corner bar with two friendly bartenders; the chatty one, Giovanni, told us he’d close the bar down for us at midnight and the four of us could hang out inside. We said we’d be back at midnight because, as Sierra said, it’s easier to lie than tell a persistent Italian man (or any man, really) “no.” 

Good wine, good company

I have two full days left in Venice and I hope they’re enough. Tomorrow I’m going to Lido beach to spend the afternoon, reading and relaxing. I expect it’ll be a good day.

Twelve Hours in Amsterdam

A few postcards are coming. I'll get to everyone, no worries!

I think I’m really glad I booked my flight to Venice with that twelve-hour layover in Amsterdam. I say “I think” because for one, I’m so incredibly exhausted that thinking in itself is a task (if my café wicker chair wasn’t so uncomfortable, I’d be sleeping now…revision: if a year later I wasn’t still paranoid out of my mind that my whole life in the form of a bag would be stolen AND if my chair wasn’t so uncomfortable, I’d be sleeping), and for two, being that incredibly exhausted makes cramming a city into half a day a ludicrous feat. Regardless, I got to see it, and I’m happy. 

I met a girl named Shannon waiting for the same train at the airport. She might be one of the most bad-assed girls I’ve ever met: she just returned from a two-month rock climbing trip in Africa while camping out and cooking animals her friend hunted over the fire (Yeah). Her layover was twenty-two hours so we talked for a while coming into Amsterdam Centraal. Turns out she’s a feline geneticist with a lab focus on phenotypic traits. Yep, turns out that’s a thing people do.

So I tried holding a conversation with her about her job (mostly me head-nodding) and all the animals she ate in Africa (more head-nodding cause I had no idea those animals existed) and then how she got mugged in Cape Town (bingo, enter conversation). But all in all we’re just two very different travelers, which is why we parted ways when she went to go find tickets for a concert playing tonight and I went on a canal boat through the city. 

Along the canal

I could probably live here

I still have five more hours until my flight to Venice and I’m not sure where I’ll wander next, but the sun is finally out so I better take advantage.