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
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.