At the Trento train station I met up with my friend Julia, who showed me the nice little student town in a valley near the Alps region. I went to Castello Del Buonconsiglio, which is a castle turned into a museum of some really cool gothic and Renaissance stuff. There was this really cool room called Torre dell’Aquila, with frescos depicting life of royaltys and peasents outside in each season of the year. The outside yard of this castle is where revolutionaries against South Tyrol were executed.

The outer yard of Castello Del Buonconsiglio

A photo memorial to the revolutioaries against South Tyrol, who were imprisoned in the castle and later executed in this spot.

Inside Castello Del Buonconsiglio.

Back in town there was this multi-day medival festival. People were walking around in funny costumes with accompanying fireworks and drum bands.

Woke up the next morning and first order of business was to get a seat reservation for Bern, Switzerland. I encountered what must have been the most stupid ticket office staff person I’ve ever met. Maybe it was the language barrier, but I already had everything written down on a piece of paper to avoid that. Gave the person ahead of me a wrong seat reservation. Did the same with me, twice.

Met up with my friend again and we took the cable car up one of the mountains surrounding Trento for a bird’s eye view of the town. Later we met up with her friends in Piazza Domo in the town center. They were all going for Pattine (french fries) and ice cream, which I later learned was a Thursday ritual for the group. Blame it on the lack of excitement in a small town.

Trento seen from the top of a nearby mountain.

I split for a little solo wandering. A couple school girls stopped me and wanted to sell me a painting they made. When I asked what it was about one of them said its about “War and Piss“. Now that’s creative…but hey, I am not in a position to rip on other people’s English, it is my second language after all. Later I met up with the same gang at a bar to watch the Italy Vs. Czech Republic game. The place was packed. Italy won 2-0 and the crowd went wild.

I hung out until it was time to go to the station. I had a night train to Bern. I shared a sleepertte with an overweight and funny Italian who kept sweating and panting like he just ran a 10-mile marathon. The next thing I knew was being awakened by the train conductor to switch trains in Brig.

There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish’d from the world,
And world’s exile is death…

Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Secene III

I was actually considering scraping Verona off the trip plan to add a couple of days in favor of extending my stay in either Paris or Amsterdam, but I am glad I didn’t. It was beautiful. The first night I stayed in a guest house that was unjustifiably expensive, then I moved to the beautiful Ostello Villa Francescatti, a converted 500-year old mansion with vaulted roofs, remains of the original frescos and a huge garden. I wasn’t into the fact that it was a HI hostel, becuase they usually have the stupid curfews and a dead, stale atmosphere. But this one is an exception.

Ostello Villa Francescatti from the outside

I loved Verona. It didn’t seem to be as intensely crowded with tourists as other places. I checked out the popular spots: Casa Julietta (house of Juliet), Gusti Gardens, the Verona Arena, which is the second largest Roman arena in the world..only smaller than the one in Rome. Actually, Verona itself is known as piccola Roma, or Little Rome. Just look at the pictures.

Casa di Giulietta (house of Juliet)

Legend has it that if you touch Juliet’s “heart”, you get lucky with love. I wanted to tell all the tourits that the heart is actually on the left side of the body, but I was busy taking pictures.

Graffiti covered walls at the house of Juliet. Can you feel the love?

The amazing Guisti Gardens

The Verona Arena

Did my obligatory two hour aimless walk, then I went back to the hostel to hang out with my dormroom inmates and watch the England Vs. Sweden game. 15 minutes into the game I got bored and went back out. The streets were queit and beautiful. I found a bar and spent the rest of the eveining with a wine carafe.
The following morning word in the hostel had it that there was a rail strike schedueled for today. Great. I wouldn’t have minded a couple more nights in Verona, and I was on a loose itinerary anyway with no advance bookings. But I decided to go down o the station and see if I can get a seat reservation to Trento. Turns out that the strike didn’t affect all trains and there was a train going to Trento in an hour. I had left my luggage back at the hostel to avoid lugging it all the way back the uphill hike to the hostel, so I retrieved my stuff, scrambled back to the station, getting there 10 minutes after the train was supposed to leave. Lucky Italian trains aren’t as punctual as their Swiss and German counterparts..train left 15 minutes late.

Trento is just an hour north by train anyway…I bet I could’ve walked to it.

My hostel in Nice had tiny dorm rooms and a microscopic bathroom. But Nice is nice (excuse the pun). The usual walking and cruising around the city, etc. I did the evening routine of watching a WorldCup game in the hostel’s common room (I think it was Ghana vs Czech Republic). The hostel was full of people on this Busabout tour, which is, to my extent of knowledge, a sort of package deal for backpackers…with a guide on the bus and everything. Isn’t that cute?

Later that evening I went out with a an Australian couple to find a place to see the Italy Vs. USA game. The place is friggin’ expensive! The girl got dizzy during the half time break and we left..I wasn’t sticking around for another EUR 7 beer anyway!
The next day I went to check out Cannes..the little town of the rich and famous. I walked the length of the water front boulevard and did some people-watching. It seemed like at least 3/4 of Cannes’ population is made up of filthy rich 60+ folks with facelifts and toy dogs. Whoever said the french aren’t friendly didn’t visit Cannes though: twice when I was looking at the city map, I would be stopped by an old lady with a toy dog who would ask me” Que est que vous cherchez?”...my French was as good as their English, and the language barrier screwes up everybody’s good intentions so I usually got even more lost than I actually was. But it was cool of them all the same.

There was this classic car show near the Palais de Festivals . Check out the sweet rides.

Art on some buildings in Cannes

On my way back I bumped into the Aussies from yesterday. I hang out with more Aussies back at the hostel. Cool bunch. I met so many Aussies on this trip that I was thinking “Is there anyone in Australia right now?!” I decided to make use of the cooking facilities and made a pasta and suasage dinner, half of which got thrown away. I went down to this local market earlier this day to procure rations and there was this cheese display with all those kinds of cheese. I loudly said “Look at all those kinds of cheese”. The vendor said “Yes, monsieur..we have 60 different kinds of cheeses“. I said “Cheeses Christ!”. He didn’t get it.
The following day I go to check out Monaco. I spent the morning wandering its opulence-dripping streets. I have never seen that many exotic cars on one street!

Count the Ferraris…

..and checkout the yachts..

The famous Casino..

Back in Monaco’s train station the weirdest thing happened: I got attacked by a seagull! I was on the upper level of the station in this open area and this little bastard makes a quick, sweeping flight over my head, almost touching my hair. First time I though it was nothing, just a curious bird checking me out. Then it made a second run…and a third. Then I realized that the damn thing was going for my sunglasses, which were up on top of my head. I ran back into the station. Aggresive wild life in Monaco! Who would’ve thought?!

A 4-hour flight to Frankfurt, a 50 minute layover and another one and half hour flight and I landed in Barcelona. An hour later I found my hostel, tucked away in a remote corner of Plaza Real off Las Ramblas. I checked in, threw my pack in the locker and ventured back out for the first thing I do in a new city: aimless wandering.
I did a lot of walking around. At least it was a lot for the first day of my vacation. My legs decided it was enough for the day and I went back to the hostel. I was tired and sleepy. I decided to shower, eat and hit the sack.

I got out of the shower to see a number of towel-wrapped young women drying their hair in front of the sink mirror. Remember how I said I was tired and hungry? I have mistakenly went into the ladies room. There was a tense moment as they all stopped whatever they were doing and glared at me. I smiled dumbly and waited for a reaction. They simaltaneously burst into a crazy fit of laughter. I ran out mumbling apologies and red-faced. At least they had a sense of humor.

The next day I teamed up with a group of guidebook-toting backpackers to go and check out the sights around Barcelona. One girl had a guidebook the size of an encyclopedia volume, heavy as a brick. I thought it might also come in handy for clubbing tourist hasslers. She had to stop every ten meter to “check our bearings” in the guidebook map.

I went to see Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, which is a pretty amazing piece of architecture. The thing is monolithic and the pictures don’t do it justice. They started on it in the 1880s, and it is yet to be finished. There was heavy construction and renovation work going on. Just look at the number of cranes in the picture below. Its a UNESCO World Heritage site.

More of Gaudi’s stuff…

Near the harbour area in Barcelona..

Another day in Barcelona, more walking around and met up with a friend. It was time to head to Nice.