London

London, England:

"Hi there, can I get the strongest anti-itch cream that you have, please?"

Thank goodness I was back in an English-speaking country with good pharmacies. Thank goodness I was in a hostel with self-service laundry machines (this is a true rarity, at least in my price range). For I had been viciously attacked by bedbugs in one of my hostels in Northern Italy, most likely the one in Venice. I am allergic to bug bites, and my skin reacts strongly, as you can see in this photo:

My whole arms, along with good portions of my chest, core, and legs, and even my face, was covered with itchy welts. I stayed up to the wee hours of the morning washing and drying everything, including my shoes and my backpack itself, in hopes of killing any bugs that may have traveled with me. I even reported the incident to hostel staff and swore to them that I had taken every measure to be sure the bugs were gone.

The downside of dealing with a bed bug attack in London is that it cost over $10 to do my laundry. You see, everything in the United Kingdom is expensive, and even more given that the exchange rate at that time was roughly $1.25 US for 1 British pound. The one deal I had found was a relatively affordable hostel in a mansion in the ultra-wealthy Kensington neighborhood, which is home to the national museums, the Royal Albert concert hall, high-end boutiques, and best of all, Kensington Park, which is London's equivalent of New York City's Central Park, except that it has a palace in it. The hostel was super cool - picture an old British mansion in your head, and your idea probably won't be too far off from the common room:

Posh common room

Posh neighborhood

I woke up here the morning of Thanksgiving 2016, itchy and more than a little homesick. So I did what I always do when I need to be in touch with my roots: I went for a run. I've run all over the world, and every time I run in a new place, I am thankful that this routine can ground me anywhere, and that I get to explore new places in such a wonderful way. Kensington Park is enormous, and beautiful, and I got to take a sweaty selfie in front of the home of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, more commonly known as Prince William and Kate Middleton.

Kensington Palace

Keeping it classy, as always

I then cozied up on the massive leather couch in the common room and watched a movie, and attempted to Skype my family to say hello for the holiday. The WiFi signal was poor, so we only chatted for a brief moment before giving up. In a gesture I deeply appreciated, our hostel's planned activity for the evening was a American-style Thanksgiving Dinner prepared by the staff. So I still got to eat the traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, and even cranberry sauce. Travelers from around the world broke bread, and I was so thankful not to spend the evening alone.

Also in true American style, I did a bit of Black Friday shopping, because when packing up for a red-eye flight in Venice, I had forgotten to pack a pair of jeans which I had left out to dry. When you only own two pairs of pants (cheers to backpacker life), you desperately need to replace the other pair. So I found a TJ Maxx and located a suitable replacement. I then dashed to a coffee shop so I could Skype my best friends. Apparently, I am not meant to Skype anyone in London, because the power went out on the entire city block mid-video call and the shop lost WiFi, so I wandered the streets and eventually ended up in McDonalds so I could finish the Skype call. I truly felt like a ragamuffin.

Speaking of ragamuffin - one night I was out and about in London and really needed to use the bathroom. I saw a bookstore and decided that would be a good candidate, and the woman working kindly showed me to the employee bathroom in the basement. When I wandered out after completing my business, I decided to at least pretend like I intended to buy something. So I perused the shelves and picked up a book, then double-took when I saw the price tag. No way in hell a book could be that expensive... until I noticed that it was a first-edition, signed by the author. And they were letting me touch it! Then a ripple of fear tore through my chest - what if I tore a page? There's no way I could afford to buy any of these books! So I frequently wiped the sweat off my fingers, and opened the spines carefully - it was as if my fingers were whispering, when they normally shout and stumble their way through life. I held an original edition Don Quixote, Dr. Seuss, Harry Potter, Dickens, and many others. The cheapest books cost a few hundred pounds, and the most expensive were £35,000 (that's almost $45,000!!!), but average was £8,000 to £10,000. Apparently some people will pay as much for one book as others will spend on an entire college education. Peter Harrington's Rare Books was quite clearly the most fortuitous bathroom break of all time.

Original edition Don Quixote

Original edition and/or signed JK Rowling, Roald Dahl, AA Milne, and others

My first afternoon in the city, I had taken a free walking tour of London and got to see some of the traditional touristy sites, such as Buckingham Palace and Trafalgar Square. The best piece of information I'd found out was that if you pretend to be religious, you can go to the nightly service at Westminster Abbey for free. Normally, it costs £22 for a tour, which is hard for a backpacker to justify paying. The downside is that the truly religious don't take photos inside the church, and they probably don't show up late for the service like I did. The church staff know that miserly travelers like me crash the service for other-than-pious reasons, so they walk behind any stragglers who walk out slowly once the service has ended, and escort you toward the door as you stare upward at the ceiling and around at the beauty of the chapel. I do have to say, attending a service there was a unique experience, and listening to the choir fill the cavernous space with hymns gave me chills.

Buckingham Palace

The most solemn horse guard

Lion in Trafalgar Square

Palace of Westminster - UK Parliament

Westminster Abbey

What else did I do in London? The Beefeater's Tour of the Tower of London. What is a Beefeater, you ask? It's the nickname for the Yeomen Warders, or the guardians of the site. We got to see the royal jewels, as well as the tower where famous folks such as Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry the XIII, who was later beheaded on site.

Tower of London

Tower holding the Crown Jewels

Tower Bridge (NOT London Bridge, London Bridge is actually quite plain)

I visited the reconstructed Globe Theater, which is a faithful version of the theater where Shakespeare's works were performed centuries ago. There are still theater performances in the Globe today.

I met up with my friend Molly, who was studying abroad in London. I met her in Prague, when she was visiting her brother Ian, my friend whom I met in Romania. We met each other at a Girls LOVE Travel outing. Girls LOVE Travel is a Facebook community for women who, well, love to travel. It was so wonderful to see Molly again, and also to meet a group of women who were as passionate about new places and experiences as I am. We went to the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, a massive outdoor Christmas festival with rides, food and drink tents, and so many shining lights. It was a magical evening.

London does Christmas well

Ice skating rink by the national museums

And, perhaps most importantly, I made the Two Great Pilgrimages. What are these, you ask? Well, you aren't a Millennial who visited London unless you see Platform 9 and 3/4 in King's Cross Station.

You also aren't a true Coloradan unless you go out of your way to eat Chipotle. My fellow diners were staring a bit, because I was so excited to finally be eating something spicy and vaguely resembling authentic Mexican food. It was the first taste of home in months, although it did taste a bit different than the original US version, probably because of ingredient access.

Overall, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed London. I've never thought of myself as a fan of British culture, and I tend to like grittier or more "off-the-beaten-track" kinds of cities. There's a reason London is so popular, though - it's beautiful, so well-organized, and has its own quirky sense of humor.

Florence and Venice

Florence, Italy:

Just walking from the train station in Florence to the hostel was a magical experience, getting to chug through cobblestone streets between world-class designer clothing stores, beneath the most beautiful Christmas lights, while hauling a massive pack on my back and another one on my front - I clearly fit right in.

The hostels I selected in northern Italy may tie for some of the worst hostels I've ever had the pleasure of staying in. Upon checking in, I discovered that some error with the hostel's website had allowed them to continue accepting reservations long past capacity. My ten-bunk room slept twenty-five people that first night. There were cots flung everywhere, and some people shared twin beds or slept on the floor. One person even slept in the luggage storage closet. It was mass chaos, and out of that utter disorder arose some of my favorite travel friendships. Miles and Arlo, whose South Dakota origins made them the only other Americans, and I instantly bonded over the absurdity of the situation. This hostel was also notable because of its all-male staff, and the bathrooms which were right off the kitchen where communal meals were prepared and consumed. One day I was walking to the shower in my towel when an overweight, greasy, balding middle-aged man asked if I "needed any help with the shower." Disgusted, I raised an eyebrow and shot him a sarcastic, "Really?" His buddies just laughed, and he felt obligated to clarify that he was "joking."

Miles, Arlo, and I explored Florence together. We saw the magnificent Duomo and the art museum which houses the famous David. I had no idea how big that statue is in real life! Arlo wandered off to do his own thing, so Miles and I sat on a wall and watched the muddy Arno river, which picked up and reflected the colors of the surrounding Tuscan hills. This was one of my favorite afternoons of the trip - we talked for hours about the Big Topics, like love and loss and religion and politics. I learned all about his lovely girlfriend, who I would have the pleasure of meeting the following summer back in Denver, and he learned all about a boy who (though I didn't know it at the time) would break my heart as soon as I returned to the US.

Inside of Duomo's dome

Front of the cathedral

Duomo

Bridge, or the photo where the water matches the walls

Miles and Arlo agreed to hunt down a gluten free pizzeria with me. As soon as we stepped out of the hostel it started pouring rain, and of course we didn't bring an umbrella. We stood under an overhang on the side of the road, and Arlo took a selfie-video of us in the downpour. You see, Arlo was recording a short video each day of their months-long trip, and was planning to compile the clips upon returning home. (Unfortunately, some jerk broke into his truck back in South Dakota and stole his phone with all the video footage, so I can't share it here). Anyway, we eventually kept going through the rain, only to find that the pizzeria was closed. So instead, we went back to a surprisingly affordable, cozy, classy restaurant which I had found the night before. It ended up being one of our favorite meals of the trip, because it was delicious and came with multiple courses and wine for somewhere around 11 Euro. There was an entire gluten free menu, including bread and dessert! We also probably shocked the diners around us, because each of us is filthier and funnier than the last.

Gluten free gnocchi in a beautiful setting

After this night, they were headed to other cities, but mentioned that they'd be in Venice a few days from then. I said I would be in Venice too. They asked what hostel I'd be in, and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be the same one they were in. So we hugged goodbye and said maybe we'd meet up in Venice.

The next morning, I walked up to the hill overlooking Florence where Michelangelo originally installed the David statue. On the walk up the hill, I found a lovely little Japanese garden where I sat down and drank in the views and contemplated. I also visited Museo Galileo and learned a lot about scientific tools over the centuries, which was pretty neat. I can see why so many people fall in love with Florence - what a charming city.

Venice, Italy:
Then I arrived in my last stop in Italy, Venice. When I think back on my time in the city, I remember a lot of meandering through misty canals at night, completely lost. Eventually I learned to navigate the canals, but at first it's super disorienting.  After trying to find a place to eat dinner the first night, I decided to just sleep.

The next morning, I go to make breakfast, and who do I see? None other than Miles sitting at the breakfast table. I was wrong and they were right - we were at the same hostel. Arlo and our new friend Fran were in poor shape because things had gotten a bit rowdy in the pub the night before, but they were able to rally and we set out to explore the canals together.

Do I have something in my teeth? Also, Ponte Vecchio is cool I guess

"Arlo, take a picture of me being basic!" [feat: Miles and Fran, photobombing]

We saw St. Mark's Cathedral, which has to be my favorite church I've ever visited (and that's saying something, I visited a LOT of them). I loved the Eastern Orthodox style of art and the gold foil shimmering on every surface. We also saw the outside of the Doge's palace, the waterline, and a whole lot of canals. We happened upon a musical instrument museum and went in on a whim, where I saw advertisements for a string sextuplet playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons that night in a church. I bought a ticket, on another whim, because it just felt right - Vivaldi is from Venice, after all. The boys went back to the hostel, and I (on a third whim) went back to St. Mark's Cathedral because I loved it so much. It wasn't nearly as pretty the second time around, perhaps because it was already getting dark and the gold didn't sparkle as much in the dusk. This was a poignant lesson on the impossibility of creating life's greatest moments, and thus an exhortation to be fully present as things happen.

Outside of St. Mark's

Inside (kind of) of St. Mark's - the part you can photograph, anyway

That night I tried to look as presentable as I could for a backpacker - I put on a scarf with my black dress and tights, and I even wore the black flats which I schlepped around for months for the "fancy" occasions I anticipated. Honestly, I only went to a handful of nice places, and every time I wore the flats they gave me mad blisters, so I should have ditched them and worn my trusty combat boots. Anyway, I didn't stick out too badly at the concert, and I quite enjoyed the music, even if I nodded off a bit during the adagio songs.

Smirking because I know I don't belong

I bid Miles, Arlo, and Fran farewell, by sharing one final crass joke, and then I was on my way to the UK!

Naples and Rome

Naples, Italy:

I loved Naples for the exact opposite reason that I loved other European cities: it's NOT a fairy tale. It's gritty, even trashy. The mob still has a large presence in the city, and you can feel in the air that you should keep an eye out. And yet, the beauty still shines through. I went for a run one morning, a fool's proposition if there ever was one, and I breathed exhaust along a curvy, packed road where drivers care not for traffic laws and scooters zip in and out of traffic. Check out this view, though, with volcanic mountains in the background:

Beauty is always there, if you look for it

Naples reminds me of my beloved Valparaíso, Chile - both are port cities, and port cities are rough around the edges, blue collar and unrefined and proud.

Naples in particular shows its long history. It's home to the National Archaeological Museum, meaning I got to glimpse a few mummies and endless quantities of ancient Italian sculpture and paintings.

Apparently the ancients could be crass as well - the museum has an entire exhibit devoted to R- or X-rated artifacts:

I'd also argue that southern Italy has the best food, hands-down. Perhaps surprisingly, Italy is one of the best countries for traveling with Celiac because a relatively high percentage of Italians have developed the disease. I savored this amazing pizza, prepared in a separate kitchen down the street from the restaurant:

On my second day in the city, a large group from my hostel was going to explore "Il Sentiero degli Dei," which translates to "The Walk of the Gods," or as we joking called it, "Diggly Day." It's a breathtaking walk along the Amalfi coast between the small towns of Bomerano and the more famous Positano. To arrive, we took a series of buses from Naples up through the mountains to the coast. The roads were windy, the hills were steep, the bridges weren't quite wide enough to serve two-way traffic, and the bus driver was, well, an Italian bus driver. One devout elderly local woman grew so nervous as we turned a corner and charged a hill that she performed the sign of the cross, with eyes turned toward heaven and lips muttering a prayer.

The hike was beautiful, if steep. The path has lots of stairs, and winds straight up and downs the hills as it navigates between villages perched on cliff sides. Our group met a middle-aged Norwegian hiker named Stan on the trail, but we simply called him "Dad," and he kept up the best of spirits as we trekked along. Some of the group snagged fresh oranges out of the heavily-laden branches which draped across the path. Others played with the cats each time we entered a village. One or two climbed the rocks for the photo opportunities.

Have I mentioned that I'm basic?

  

Upon reaching Positano, we wandered down to the beach to put our toes in the sand. We also tasted the limoncello in the local distilleries - I was expecting it to taste something like a lemon drop, but it was so strong that the lemon flavor was more of an afterthought. Stan joined us for a few drinks, which was lovely, and we eventually took a train back into Naples.

We got some dinner in a cheap fast food kebob restaurant, and this is where the day turned sour, at least for me. One of the travelers in our group was angry that the "combo deal" wasn't actually a deal because it would have been cheaper to order the items separately. Rather than smugly smiling to himself for an astute realization and ordering everything separately, he began yelling at the owner for trying to rip people off. I hate when people make a scene, so I wanted to leave, but knew it wouldn't be good to travel through this part of the city by myself at night - we were right by the port. By the time the group finally ate and left the restaurant, the metro station had closed. I was the only one in the group who had explored Naples at all, so I knew that the roads were like a tangled spider web. We were roughly a 25-minute uphill walk away from our hostel, so I suggested that we take two taxis. The thrifty travelers in our group refused to spend the money. I felt uncomfortable walking because I was sure we'd get lost. I'm not usually a fearful person, but I knew the reputation of Naples as an unsafe city (in terms of pick-pocketing, mafia activity, etc.) and, more importantly, I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I refused to take a taxi alone, because I hadn't heard great things about the Napolean taxis either.

So I angrily walked with the group. Rather than leaving me be, they roasted me as we walked through dark alleys in a relatively sketchy neighborhood. "See, this is what's wrong with Americans - they're so fearful, they never go out and do anything fun." I replied that I had been travelling for months alone as a woman and had been just fine, thank you very much, but I had learned to listen to my gut and I didn't like this situation at all. The group said, "Well, the worst that will happen is that you'll get mugged," and proceeded to share stories of when they all had been mugged and been "just fine." This, of course, really helped their case. That, and the fact that we were loudly speaking English in a city where not much English is spoken - might as well put a sign on our foreheads saying "not from here." At some point, I realized I'd do better to shut up, appreciate the beauty of the neighborhoods lit up at night and filled with locals enjoying the evening (we had gotten to a better part of town), and hope the walk would go by fast. We did in fact make it back safely, because our navigators did an excellent job of following their downloaded map. I was fuming at that point, and went straight to bed without saying much else to the group. People ask me all the time if I ever felt unsafe traveling alone, and I usually answer that this night was one of the only moments when I did.

I was only too happy to do my own thing the following day. I rode the train up to Pompeii and take a tour of the ruins. I don't think I comprehended just how large the city was. I also found it fascinating that you could still tell the purpose of buildings - for example, we saw the gymnasium where men swam, the restaurants which were along main roads, and even a brothel.

Edge of the city

Outside the temples

Major road

Brothel and the services offered

An artist's larger-than-life installation in the ruins

Courtyard in a wealthy family's home

I was surprised to hear that a lot of people survived the Pompeii eruption and got away on navy boats, which is why we have an account of what happened. More gruesome were the bodies (a few still on site, for memorial purposes) of those who died almost instantly.

Child's body

After leaving the Pompeii archaeological site, I took a van most of the way up Mount Vesuvius and climbed on a dirt road to the top. It's at most a 30 minute walk, but hey, that still counts as climbing a volcano, right? At the top, I peered into the open, lightly smoking crater. I also appreciated the beautiful views of Naples, while drinking a bottle of Vesuvius-branded rosé.

Are you really living your best life if you're not drinking rose on a volcano?

And, of course, I listened to Bastille's Pompeii on repeat.

Rome, Italy:
Rome is massive, and ancient. I'd describe the city as stratified - you can be walking down a city street, and then you see an archaeological site where they are unearthing centuries' worth of history. First thing, I visited the Colosseum, which was as cool as I hoped it would be. You can see the underground passages which transported wild animals and gladiators, who were usually slaves, criminals, or prisoners of war. The Romans didn't just bring lions through there - they brought animals like crocodiles. Can you imagine going out to trap one of those things and then bringing it all the way back to Rome?

Inside the Colosseum

We then walked to the crown of the Palatine Hill, which held Roman palaces and temples along with wild parties. I could have spent hours wandering the ruins, but unfortunately the sun was about to set so they politely but insistently forced us out of the park. I therefore sat by the rows of street artists and performers and ate gelato while the sunset colors stained the ruins beautiful shades of blush and persimmon and violet.

Palatine Hill

I was lucky to meet my friend Kirby for dinner - she and I met in Switzerland, and she was teaching English in Rome. We ate at a delicious local restaurant between my hostel and her home, and she took me to one of her favorite gelaterias. It was so good to see a familiar face and catch up a bit! She also gave me recommendations for seeing the Vatican (book a tour), getting out to run (take the metro toward the river), and the best artisan gelato place (just a few blocks from my hostel).

Working in reverse order, let me tell you about the gelato. First of all, I was so obsessed with gelato that I ate it at least once a day while in Italy, sometime more often than that. Second, the place she recommended was amazing. It was tucked away on a tiny patio in the middle of a neighborhood, and it had the most amazing flavors. One I tried was named "Thumbelina," and it had Sorrento walnuts, rose petals, and violets. Another was called "Pink Venus," and it was a combination of black rice (I don't even know what this is to be honest) and rose buds. Simply exquisite!

Now, for the run. This was a bit more of an adventure than I anticipated. I got off the metro at a station that had a park, which I thought would be promising for getting toward the river. However, the metro stop was in a mall, and I literally ran in circles through the parking garage and looped driveway before a few maintenance workers in the garage asked if I needed help. As was my habit in Italy, I spoke very slowly in Spanish, so that they could get the gist of what I was saying. One of them very generously walked me all the way through the garage and pointed to where I needed to go. I zig-zagged through the park and eventually found the river! I had to figure out how to get down alongside it, however, so I ran along the side of the road for a bit until I saw a staircase. As I dashed toward the stairs, I saw a homeless man lying behind the wall with his pants partially down, most likely pleasuring himself. My brain sternly commanded that I simply keep going and don't look back in case he would get angry for me seeing something I shouldn't have (and really didn't want to see, to be honest).  Once I had distanced myself and was sure that he wasn't following me, all I could think was, "Oh my god, I just saw that man's scrotum." I'm pretty sure I will never forget that sight. Oh, and the views along the river were nice too. I ended up in a plaza, ate some gelato (what else?) and took the metro back.

Finishing my run by a fountain

On to holier topics - the Vatican. Vatican City may be the smallest country in the world, but it is filled with massive buildings. And yet, it's still crazy crowded, particularly since I was there at the end of the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy. Pope Francis declared a year-long occasion to focus on pardon and forgiveness for all, lasting from December 8, 2015 until November 20, 2016. This is a special occasion in the Vatican because the Holy Doors remain open, and thousands make pilgrimages to receive mercy. I was there on November 18th, so to say that St. Peter's Basilica was busy would be an understatement. There were few times on the trip when I felt so claustrophobic as I did in that moment.

The Vatican, as seen from the dome on the roof

Gardens surrounding Vatican

In front of St. Peter's Basilica

Do you feel claustrophobic just looking at the photo?

Anyway, the tour was pretty spectacular. Although the Vatican is mostly known for Michelangelo's mural on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, there is incredible artwork throughout - various popes over the millennia have had a penchant for collecting artwork. Many wealthy individuals have also donated artwork to the Vatican, including famous artists themselves. Heck, Michelangelo himself designed the dome on St. Peter's Basilica, which is the largest church in the world. I kept thinking to myself, wow, this certainly seems like a lot of wealth and power for an organization which follows a Savior who once preached to "go and sell all your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven."

Casual Dali painting in the Vatican

Pieta, blurry

I saw a few more things - such as the Trevi Fountain (because how could I be a basic white girl traveling Europe if I didn't),

the Pantheon and Raphael's grave,

the Spanish steps (I have no idea why these are so popular), and the windows of expensive Italian designer clothing stores (I have to say, I admire the quality fabrics and clean lines).