Europe 2010/11 final leg: Switzerland and ???

If you know me in person or online, chances are you've already been subjected to my post-trip rants regarding a certain incident that happened after my final stop in Switzerland. If not, you can scroll down for spoilers as to what ??? in the title stands for, or just keep reading to find out.

In transit: Chamonix to Zurich

We waited in the freezing cold for our shuttle back to Geneva airport and thankfully it came early in the pick up window. From the airport we would need to catch a train to Zurich. This was good in theory, but does not take into account any unforeseen circumstances, such as, for example, the train breaking down and the replacement trains being a convoluted mess of routes that involved no less than four connections. So much for an efficient transport system. We ended up arriving in Zurich in the evening rather than the afternoon as was planned.

Pro tip: Zurich is dead on Sundays

Zurich is situated in the German-speaking part of Switzerland, and is the largest city in the country. It is a major transport hub for the country as well as for Europe, and it is for this reason that we chose it as the last city in our respective trips.

A cold, overcast day in Zurich

When we arrived in Zurich, I proceeded to immediately lose Morgan at the train station. Excellent start. 10 minutes later, I found him waiting for me near the end of the train, both of us clueless as to how we got separated. Well, okay, I do have a clue as to what happened, and it has something to do with Morgan's awareness and sense of direction.

One important thing to know when visiting Switzerland is that the price of absolutely everything is higher than most other places. Even one night in a hostel dorm set us back more than what it would probably cost to stay a couple of nights in a similar establishment elsewhere in Europe. We mostly stuck to low-cost tourist activities and made meals from things we bought at a grocery store.

We did want to do a lot more sightseeing than we ended up doing, but it turned out that most places were closed on Sundays, possibly because a lot of people were at church. That's the other important thing of note - don't plan to go out on Sundays when you're in Zurich. Stay in, or partake in a sufficiently interesting outdoors activity not involving the services of other people.

St. Peter

Fortunately for us, we found a liquor store open that carried craft beers from Europe and around the world, aptly named Drinks of the World. We raided the place and hunkered down at the hostel to escape the cold and boredom. We even played a board game (the hostel had a copy of Pandemic, which is a great game (you should get it)) and chess while we were sampling some fine ales and lagers. Well, ok, not all of them were fine. We did, for laughs, buy a can of Duff Beer and it was as horrible as you can imagine.

In transit: Zurich to Sydney

On the final day of our respective trips, it was time for our paths to diverge. Morgan had a Singapore Airlines flight that didn't go through Heathrow, and I had a later Qantas/British Airways flight that did go through Heathrow (because I'm cheap like that). When Morgan left I stayed at the hotel attempting to finish the novel I was reading until it was time for me to head to the airport. A little bit later, I got a call from Morgan. It turned out he had left his passport on the train and was going to miss his flight. I was not in any way shocked at this news. He was on his way to pick up his passport from another train station and was calling to ask if I could check on available beds at the hostel. It would seem as if I would beat him back to Sydney.

Connecting via Heathrow was uneventful enough. I wasn't able to change my seats due to the type of ticket, but I was happy enough with what I got. The flight from Heathrow would make a stop at Bangkok before continuing to Sydney.

An hour or so into the Bangkok-Sydney leg, the pilot made an announcement. "As you may have noticed, we have turned around and are jettisoning fuel from the engines." Hmm. News to me, I was busy watching movies on the in-flight entertainment system. It turned out that one of the four engines had failed, and they were going back to Bangkok for safety reasons. Fair enough. I wouldn't want my life endangered just to make schedule. The jettisoning of fuel was to make the minimum landing weight. I could imagine it to be a disconcerting sight to look out the windows and see a stream of white coming from the wings, but I was oddly fascinated by the whole thing.

I would have thought that Qantas would have us wait for another flight when we got back to Bangkok, but things started to look bad when they sent everybody from the flight to a five star hotel halfway to the city.

One night in Bangkok

It was the middle of the night in Thailand, and hundreds of us were shepherded into the hotel reception area, being processed two at a time and sent to our luxurious rooms for the night. The poor overwhelmed staff handled themselves great. We were given a complimentary dinner and were told to wait until morning when there would be an airline representative to update us on our flight. Fair enough, I guess. I mean, I would have preferred it if there had been an airline representative at the hotel to meet us all when we arrived, but whatever. I could afford a twelve hour delay in my schedule - instead of arriving in the morning I'd be getting in in the evening, and I would just have to go straight from Sydney airport to the Opera House, where I had an Amanda Palmer concert to attend. No big deal at all, I thought. In retrospect, I was perhaps a little too optimistic at Qantas's attitude towards its customers.

My hotel room had a window in the bathroom

I woke up early in the morning, at the time specified by the hotel staff the night before, to check up on updates on our rescheduled flight. The piece of paper left in front of our hotel room doors carried terrible news. Not only would we not be flying out that morning, we would also not be flying out at all that day. Our rescheduled flight would be early the following morning. We'd be stuck in Bangkok for the entirety of what was Australia Day. Bugger.

Ok, let's stop there for a bit. A piece of paper? I mean, c'mon, you have to do better than that, Qantas. If you're telling people their flight has been held up for more than a whole day, at least send a human being to break the bad news. A piece of paper adds insult to injury.

As they had still not sent a representative to the hotel, I tried to contact Qantas using the hotel reception's phone. Unfortunately, they told me, they wouldn't be able to guarantee anybody a seat in an earlier flight due to them being full, and that if I wanted to I could go to the airport and go on standby. I decided not to partake in that stressful exercise, and instead made arrangements to have my mum take my place at the Amanda Palmer concert. (She enjoyed it, by the way. Go mum!) I had a day to spend in Bangkok, a place I'd never been, so I may as well make the most of it.

Armed with a wad of local currency acquired by exchanging unused British pounds from the start of the trip (because I was far too enthusiastic in withdrawing cash), I caught a taxi to the city so that I could check the place out. Seeing the driver weave through traffic was terrifying at first, but eventually it became kind of hypnotising. Despite the long cab ride, I didn't have to hand over very much cash. I could get used to this.

The first thing I noticed was the heat. Coming from Switzerland in the middle of winter, it was equally unpleasant in the other end of the spectrum in Thailand. Cheap and really hot, so I guess it was the complete opposite of Switzerland.

Bangkok

I wandered around in the sweltering heat, checking out temples and other tourist attractions and eating street food. Every once in a while a local would approach me, giving tips on what I should be checking out, before suggesting that they take me on their tuk-tuk to the place they just mentioned. I would politely decline, saying that I was perfectly happy to go on foot. "Why you stupid?" they would invariably say to me when I began to walk away from them. It was a bit insulting, really. I meant no offence to them, and wasn't sure if they were scammers or genuine, I simply enjoyed walking around to explore a city, despite my maligned sense of direction. In the end, I was still too pissed off at Qantas that I wasn't in the mood to do very much.

I wanted to go to a Muay Thai event that evening, but the time it took to get from the hotel to the city was too long, and I was worried I might miss the bus to the airport when I returned. Instead, I had a nap before getting up for the mass exodus of tired and angry passengers.

In transit: Let's try that again, shall we?

Sorting out the buses to go to the airport was a mess. Once again, it was mostly the hotel staff that had to deal with all of this. We got to the airport ahead of time, and I went to get a meal at the food court. I was impressed - even the airport food was cheap in Thailand. I had some money left over, and I would have had a hard time trying to get rid of it all before the flight.

The final insult of the whole debacle was that we were made to wait several more hours at the airport because the plane, which was meant to take us back to Sydney, was carrying a fifth engine - a replacement for the blown engine from the original flight - and this had to be removed before the plane could be boarded. You'd think they would have factored this in when they told us what time to wake up to be taken to the airport. It meant that I would have had plenty of time to watch Muay Thai in the city after all. It also meant I'd be cutting it very close to see Gotye on the evening of my arrival - I was now in danger of missing a second concert.

A full day and a half after our scheduled arrival time in Sydney, we finally landed. Morgan, who had missed his flight, had arrived well ahead of me. Karma, perhaps, for laughing at him misplacing his passport. Thankful that I had no checked baggage, I hurried out of the airport to meet my brother at the car park and collect my Gotye ticket - the gig was in less than an hour - before getting on the train to the city. I arrived at the concert after two and a half songs had been played. I guess I should have been happy that I didn't miss more than that.

As an apology for the incident, each passenger on that hyper-delayed flight was sent a voucher for credit to be spent on future Qantas flights. I've still got a bit of credit left on my voucher, but once that's done I plan to avoid flying with them again if I can help it. I can understand the turning back of the plane due to safety concerns, but I do not understand nor agree with the extended turnover time to schedule a new flight for the stranded passengers. I also felt that, by not having a representative of the airline present at all times, Qantas did not really care about its customers. 36 was a long delay for a flight that was not hindered by natural disasters or adverse weather, and to convey updates via printouts in the hotel lobby without having anybody on hand to answer questions was an added insult to an already stressful situation. In light of the recent employee disputes dominating headlines, I wonder if Qantas management care about anybody at all. My guess is that they only care about themselves.

Final leg overview

Cities: Zurich (2 nights), Bangkok (1 nights, 2 if you count time spent in the airport)
Weather: Ridiculously cold, ridiculously hot
Arrival time in Sydney: 36 hours later
Concerts missed: 1 (and 2.5 songs)

Flickr set: Switzerland, Thailand

Europe 2010/11 fourth leg: France (pt 2)

In transit: Venice to Chamonix

My bus to Venice airport broke down halfway, which would have been concerning had I not been paranoid and left super early. I still ended up at the airport with time to spare.

To get to Chamonix, in France, I first had to fly to Geneva in Switzerland before completing the journey on the ground. Venice to Geneva is not a busy air corridor and most flights require a connection, so I was fortunate to time my stay so I could catch one of the few direct flights per week. I love small planes - you get a better sense of actually being in the air, as opposed to just sitting down for a few hours - so it was great to see that our plane for the day was a turboprop. Despite the size of the plane - probably towards the larger end of the scale in terms of commercial passenger turboprops, but still small compared to the many of the more common jets - I counted probably less than twenty other passengers on the flight. The majority of the seats in the plane were left empty.

I took a shuttle bus from the airport (which wasn't large, but was nevertheless very busy) to Chamonix, the ski resort town that would be my destination for the next week.

Chamonix: Open wallet policy

Chamonix-Mont-Blanc is one of the most well-known ski towns in France. It serves as a good base for several ski areas, including one in Italy. It can also boast to hosting the first ever Winter Olympics in 1924.

The sunset showcases several peaks surrounding Chamonix

I met up with Morgan at our hotel for the week - he was in Europe for a shorter period of time - and we set off to hiring some gear and me some clothing (as Morgan had packed heavier than I did and brought snow clothes). Being a shorter guy, it took me a bit longer to find everything that fit, but I eventually settled on an outfit, including women's snowboard boots and a helmet painted with silver reflective paint that would have fit in well in a ski-themed glam rock music video.

We tried to go to as many ski areas as we could so that we could make the most of the multi-area pass that we bought.

Le Tour was our first stop. There was no new snow on the ground, and it started off a bit icy, but did get softer as the snow melted away under the sunshine. I lost Morgan a couple of times, a result of his sense of direction, which was worse than mine. We went back there the next day and decided to take lessons since the conditions weren't really great for off-piste. As usual, I hurt myself during the lesson, I guess because I always push myself to try to improve whenever I take one.

We had a relaxed afternoon in Le Brevent and La Flegere, two connected ski areas, and the closest to Chamonix. In fact, you can walk from the bottom of one of the areas back into town, which is precisely what we did.

A few kilometres away from Chamonix is the small resort town of Les Houches, situated at the base of a more family-oriented ski area. It was the flattest, lowest altitude area covered by our multi pass, and also had the sparsest snow cover. Many of the runs were closed, and we mostly felt it worth the visit thanks to an oddly placed bathtub on one of the slopes.

Random bathtub in a ski run at Les Houches

Feeling optimistic about the AUD/Euro exchange rate, we decided to go on an off-piste tour of one of Les Grands Montets, one of the larger ski areas. The snow was icy and crusty at the top and the air was thin - I think it was the highest I've ever ridden before, and part of the route actually took place on a glacier. The beginning was very steep, too - it didn't seem like it when I was concentrating on sharp turns, but when I stopped to look at the horizon I was blown away at how vertical we were. The traverses were the hardest - very flat and at times uphill - and I wished, not for the first time, that I knew how to ski for tours like these (or, at the very least, knew how to snowboard really bloody well). It was tough work, but the views were worth it. Such a shame I didn't have my camera in tow.

The last ski area we visited was across the border, in the Italian town of Courmayeur. Its French-sounding name is likely a result of its proximity to France and/or due to past border disputes. I asked the guide but I've unfortunately forgotten his explanation for it. Chamonix and Courmayeur are connected via a tunnel that runs under Mont Blanc. The journey could take longer than the 11.6 km traverse through the Mont Blanc Tunnel due to strict border inspections at either end.

Courmayeur, the ski area, gave us the best ski conditions of the entire trip. We once again took a tour, and started off doing groomed runs. After lunch the group was split into two, with one taking on the easier off-pistes, while the other would tackle advanced terrain. I was feeling adventurous after the grappa we had had with our delicious meals, and I decided to join the advanced group. We did a lot of tree runs and hit a lot of soft patches of powder. It was tiring as hell but very fun. We ended the day with a long exit run - I suspect it was an out-of-bounds cat track, but I didn't question the guide, who seemed to know what he was doing - that led us all the way to the car park.

We spent our final ski day at Courmayeur, having enjoyed our time the previous day. Because we weren't with a tour this time, we had to take a large cable car the size of three small garages that connected the town to the ski resort. The icy path up to the lift was perhaps the most dangerous thing I encountered for the entire trip. The groomed runs were just that bit icier and the off-piste was just that bit more crusty that we didn't have as good of a time as the day before, and we ended up quitting early on, happy with the snowboarding on the trip overall.

Another thing covered by our multi-area pass was a cable car ride up to the top of Aiguille du Midi. The visitor centre at the summit gives some breathtaking (almost literally at an altitude of 3,842 m) panoramic views of the surrounding mountain ranges. In summer months, the Vallée Blanche Aerial Tramway crosses to the Italian side, and is an alternative way to get to Courmayeur. In winter, those skilled and brave enough can take on the infamous Vallée Blanche, a glacier route that is 20 km long with a vertical of about 2,700 m. It's something I'd like to do one day when I reach the skill level of awesome.

The view from Aiguille du Midi


A steep descent to get to the start of the Vallée Blanche

Being a ski town, it was not surprising that the night life in Chamonix was vibrant. However, being a couple of beer geeks, our main goal was to determine the best place to get some good, or at least decent, beer. Some Internet researched tipped us off to Micro Brasserie de Chamonix, more commonly referred to as MBC, a microbrewery started by some Canadian ex-pats. Sadly, the beers they made were mostly bland, probably so it would appeal to more people. On the other hand, we did end up going back there for the food, which was fantastic.

We stumbled upon another place called Berlucoquet, which stocked some French and Belgian beers as well as cheese and other goods. You could drink there or take away, and the owner was very hospitable, so it became our go-to for good beer.

As part of our extravagant spending, we also tried a couple of the town's fine dining establishments. The culinary highlight of the trip by far was dinner at La Maison Carrier. Our guide from the ski tours recommended it to us so I'm not sure if he was getting any commission from sending people their way, but it didn't really matter because the food was superb. My meal must have been the most perfect rack of lamb I've ever had. I can't even remember what Morgan had, but everything we ate and drank in that restaurant was amazing.

We went to another place our guide had recommended, but it was not nearly as good as La Maison Carrier. To be honest, we were more blown away by an appetiser from a Japanese place that consisted of green beans and what may have been peanut butter or sesame paste, or something similar. To this day I cannot figure out what that dish was, but I could have a main-sized serving of it any day of the week.

Of course, it wasn't all haute cuisine while we were in Chamonix. We'd found a central fast food place that served burgers and crêpes. The burgers were massive and the size of the galettes were almost equally impressive. I couldn't finish my burger, and Morgan was unable to get through his galette, but in a moment of glory I did manage to finish an identical galette along with some fries.

The most memorable thing from Chamonix happened when we were at the laundromat putting our clothes through a wash. We put the coins into the machine and as we were leaving to grab a bite while the clothes tumbled away, we couldn't seem to find the door handle. After several futile attempts to pull the door open in creative ways, we began to panic. There was a red button on a wall near the door that we thought may have controlled a mechanism to open it, but after pressing it we were still stuck. In the end, we only had our stupidity to blame. The side of the door, which looked like it was part of the door frame, was actually the handle, and we felt like idiots when we finally figured that out. I wonder what it must have looked like to passers by when they saw two guys by the door of the laundromat facing outwards and looking perplexed. That said, I'm probably more concerned that the red button I pressed set off some alarm in some guy's house and disturbed a nap or some sort of important task.

Fourth leg overview

Cities: Chamonix (7 nights), Courmayeur (2 day trips)
Weather: Ridiculously cold, mostly sunny
Times Morgan got lost in a ski resort: At least 3
Times stuck in a laundromat: 1

Flickr set: France

Europe 2010/11 third leg: Spain and Italy

In transit: Montpellier to Barcelona

Possibly due to administrative issues, there was no direct train from Montpellier to Barcelona. Instead, one must catch a French-run train to Figueres, past the French-Spanish border, then transfer - literally metres away on the adjacent platform - to a Spanish-run train to Barcelona.

As the train sped towards Spanish territory some blue began to emerge from the gloomy skies, and looked more promising this time. When I changed trains at Figueres, the sun was well and truly out. I got excited about the prospect of finally spending at least an afternoon outside in well-lit conditions.

One thing I immediately noticed upon boarding the Spanish train was the number of different languages used for announcements - four instead of three. The French train had announcements read out three times, one each in French, Spanish, and English, while the connecting train had an extra repetition of announcements, this time in Catalan.

Barcelona: The city that never sleeps (except during siesta)

I had been to Europe twice before, but not once had I stepped foot on Spanish soil. It was a bit of an oversight, I will concede. One of my priorities for this trip was to finally tick it off the list.

In case you've never heard of the place, Barcelona is the second largest city in Spain (after Madrid) and is the capital of Catalonia. It's a very old city (over 2000 years old, supposedly) that is also very modern, thanks in part to the 1992 Olympics, which it hosted.

The weather was brilliant when I stepped out of the Metro - blue skies and warm enough to go around in a t-shirt, which is amazing for the middle of winter. Because of this, I picked up the pace on the way to my hostel so I could spend the rest of the afternoon exploring. I was staying in Barri Gòtic, the Gothic Quarter of Ciutat Vella, which is Barcelona's old town (the name translates to old city in Catalan). It was a nice area to be staying, with the Gothic architecture attracting many tourists. I had a good walk around to get a feel for the place then had a pretty ordinary dinner at a fast food place with a surprisingly decent beer list.

Blue skies!

Staying on the topic of beer for a little bit, Barcelona is not exactly renowned for its craft beer scene. Most places will sell you Estrella Damm, the local beer that has been brewed in the city since 1876. Thanks to BeerAdvocate, I found a place near my hostel called La Cerveteca that stocked a good range of bottled beers as well as a few on tap. The highlight for me was the Great Divide Yeti, which I had tried in London earlier in the trip and is still, to this day, one of my favourite stouts. Sadly, the place closed at 10:30pm, which is very early for Barcelona. And I do mean very early.

I don't know if this is a symptom of the siesta, but people in Barcelona seem to start their night very late and party hard and long well into the morning. When I got back to the hostel after my beer hunt, I tagged along with a group of people who headed to a club in another part of the city. The place was just starting to get busy when we arrived. Clubs not really being my thing, I must have left at around 1 or 2am, but I think some stayed until 5am or later.

I spent most of the next day checking out Gaudí architecture as part of a walking tour. Antoni Gaudí was a Catalan architect most famous for designing the Sagrada Família, a breathtaking church that is one of the main tourist draws of Barcelona. The church is so massive in scale and complexity that it was not completed in Gaudí's lifetime. In fact, it is still a work in progress, with the expected completion date being 2026, the centennial of Gaudí's death. The construction work did not deter the crowds and, because of this, none of us bothered to join the lengthy queue to go in.

One of the façades of the Sagrada Família

Apart from the Sagrada Família, where our tour ended (and a fitting end it was), Gaudí also designed many other buildings around Barcelona, and the tour took us to these places while talking a bit about the architect's life and work. One place the tour did not go, because it was too far away, was Park Güell, a garden complex designed by Gaudí. Three of us decided to make the trek there, which involved walking up a hill after taking the Metro. It was worth the effort as the place featured impressive architecture and had a festive atmosphere thanks to the favourable weather.

The main terrace of Park Güell

After a long morning and afternoon of walking around, I did as the locals do and had a siesta back at the hostel, waking up just in time for dinner. The same people who ran the walking tours during the day were meant to run a pub crawl that night, but interest was too low so it was cancelled. A few of us decided to go out with the pub crawl people anyway, although it didn't last too long, and I once again found myself heading off before anybody else.

I really should have known better than to walk home by myself, but soon enough after leaving the last pub I once again found myself lost in the streets of a foreign city. How did I get out of it this time, you ask? Well, I'd been walking around without any clear direction for the better part of an hour when I ran into the people from the hostel with whom I had gone to the club the night before. Lost themselves, they were once again on their way to a club and decided a taxi would be the easiest way to get there rather than just walking. One of them was less than enthused about continuing on and I ended up walking back to the hostel with him. The hostel, it turned out, was only a couple of blocks away from where I had run into them. Figures.

In transit: Barcelona to Florence

Having nothing to do for an entire morning, I arrived early at the airport for my afternoon flight to Florence. It was therefore no surprise at all that my flight was delayed. Twice. I wasn't overly concerned as I had a book to read, but there was also some sort of kerfuffle once the queue for boarding began to form. Were people being bumped from the flight? I couldn't really understand what was going on as it was all in Spanish (or maybe Italian), and when we all boarded there were still spare seats in the plane, so that is one mystery that will remain unsolved.

Florence: Gelato doom

Some past mistakes I never learn from. One of them is this: ice cream greatly increases my chances of catching a cold. But more on that later. First, a primer on the next stop of my trip.

From around the 14th century to the 16th century, Florence was one of the most important cities in the world. Florentine political influence was vast, coming in the form of the Medici family. Look them up on Wikipedia - some members of the family held important roles, such as pope, or regent of France. You know, small things like that. The word "Medici" doesn't even come up with a red squiggly line in my web browser indicating it's unknown or misspelt. (Gelato does, though. Madness.) Economically, Florentine money is said to have funded the development of industry all over Europe. And of course, you can't talk about the importance of Florence without mentioning its cultural history. There, I mentioned it.

Ponte Vecchio

After two nights out in Barcelona, my plan for the day was to have a quiet night. This plan was promptly thrown out the window when I ran into a workmate from Panorama at my hostel. Throughout my travels I've run into many people I know or people who know people I know, and I still find the whole experience fascinating. When you're travelling around, and especially when you're travelling alone, there's always this artificially inflated sense of camaraderie with familiar people - more so than strangers - that you may not necessarily get at home with the same people. Perhaps it's some sort of coping mechanism to deal with the loneliness and the distance from home. I'm sure there's been a study done on it. Speaking of which, at the same hostel, I also ran into a girl who went to my high school (albeit from many years below me, so I didn't know her prior). Small world.

What's that? You want me to elaborate on the cultural history of Florence? Oh, ok, if I must. But only in an oblique way. For example: How to get into the Uffizi without having to join a massive queue. The Galleria degli Uffizi, or Uffizi Gallery, is one of the world's most famous art museums, which means it can often have several-hour-long queues just to get into the place. The following is a check list on how to avoid the crowds.

• Arrive early in the morning - before, at, or just after opening time
• Inclement weather (e.g. rain, hail)
• Visit in winter

Ok, the last one is killer. You really have to travel in the low season if you don't want to waste a lot of your time lining up for popular attractions like museums. I learnt as much on my first trip to Europe. It was cold, in the middle of winter much like this trip, and the fabled queues at the Louvre in Paris were almost non-existent. In contrast, just a few days earlier, the good weather in Barcelona meant entering the Sagrada Família was just not worth the time wasted.

So, once again, travelling in winter has worked to my advantage. Actually, the main reason I went to the Uffizi was to avoid the rain, but I did see some amazing art in there. I won't pretend to be any sort of expert on art or architecture or whatever, but seeing works like Botticelli's The Birth of Venus in person really is quite something.

After a bit of time at the Uffizi, the weather was a bit better, so I went to a few outdoor places. Worth visiting are the Boboli and Bardini gardens, which feature sculptures in a relaxed setting. You get a really good view of the city from Giardino Bardini, too. I even saw a double rainbow all the way across the sky, albeit briefly. One ticket gets you entry to both gardens.

One of the sculptures at Giardino di Boboli

Another place with a good view and does not cost any money to visit is Piazzale Michelangelo (signposted as Piazzale Michelangiolo). The trek up there is uphill and therefore a bit more difficult, but it's well worth it. There was a wedding party there at the time, and lots of photos were taken. I decided to take a few shots of my own.

Maybe I should be a wedding photographer

I'd completely neglected Spanish cuisine in Barcelona, so I wanted to make up for it in Italy with some Italian food, and make up for it I did. We'd ducked in for lunch at a random restaurant, and it began to hail outside just as we entered. Good omen or bad? I ordered freshly made pappardelle with a wild boar ragù which was certainly good, and I was told not to miss out on gelato while I was in the country, so we went for some afterwards. I can't fault the taste of the local equivalent of ice cream, but what I can fault is my judgement, which dictated that I consume a cold dessert in cold weather. Needless to say, I woke up with the sniffles the next day. Sigh.

Venice: Overrated tourist capital of Europe

Ok, perhaps I'm a bit harsh with the above subtitle, perhaps I could have visited under different circumstances (i.e. not winter), and perhaps I was unfairly biased due to being sick for most of my time there but I didn't really think much of Venice. (Let us also recall that the last time I was meant to go to Venice I got sick and couldn't go, but I digress.)

No doubt you know about Venice, the pedestrian city with a maze of canals and streets, and supposedly one of the most romantic cities in the world. I won't bore you with a spiel for this one. What I will bore you with is the reasons why I was decidedly underwhelmed by the place.

Let's start with the lurgy. Now, I'm not sure if my flu née cold was actually gelato-induced, or if it was because one of the people in my dorm appeared to be deathly ill. Either way, it made sure I wasn't feeling great when I arrived in Venice. My motivation to enjoy the place, therefore, was low. The weather didn't help either.

I didn't do much on my first day there. After the train trip from Florence, I met up with a friend I'd previously met in Japan who was studying in Venice, and with whom I was staying. I bought some disposable razors and finally shaved for the first time in the trip, leaving only a moustache (for laughs) and we had a cheap but tasty pasta lunch, which I guess is the Italian student's version of microwave noodle lunches. Because it was cloudy outside, I opted to have a quiet day to rest off my cold. Unfortunately, the weather didn't improve very much over the next couple of days, and what little time I spent wandering the streets of Venice was under clouds, sometimes rain, and often in fog.

My friend showed me pictures of acqua alta, literally "high waters", the occasional flooding Venetians have to deal with when there is high tide. The uneven nature of the city meant that some streets would be covered in water but would still be accessible for those keen or desperate enough (high rubber boots are essential for residents) while others are just too flooded for pedestrians. It was one of the really interesting things about the city, and I kind of wish I was there to experience it.

Canals and gondolas were everywhere

My flu was subsiding by my last day there, so I did have a bit of time to explore. A word of warning to the potential tourist: bring a map. A big map. You can get a good map of the city from the airport, which has most (if not all) of the streets on it. Thankfully my friend had got me one in advance, because I came by train. The reason I say this is because Venice is huge and discombobulated. This, combined with a lack of roads or clear signage (except on the way to major landmarks), means that the city is at times hard to navigate. Even the strategy sticking by a major canal for navigation purposes isn't completely sound as there is no one walkway that sticks completely to a canal - the buildings are the ones that usually hug the water.

Along one of the major canals

You've probably assumed by now that I got lost, and you'd be right. I got lost at least once. Maybe twice, or more. I can't really remember. I think much of my self-guided walking tour of Venice was just a long string of being lost, and that was with the big street map.

Nevertheless, I did see a couple of landmarks. A lot were churches, and many looked the same. One that I was on a lookout for was the Chiesa di San Barnaba, probably better known as the library from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade - the real-life church's façade was used as the in-film library's exterior. Unfortunately, there was a lot of construction going on at San Marco, one of the main attractions of the city, so the effort I spent getting there didn't pay off.

The Indiana Jones theme was playing in my head

Ok, that probably made me sound like more of a cynic than I actually am. I wanted to like Venice, I really did, but for some reason I left feeling somewhat empty. You'll probably tell me that I did it completely wrong, and you may be right.

It wasn't all bad, I suppose. To focus on the positives, my hosts were great. My friend and her housemates were good company to have during a pretty boring few days of being miserable, and we shared Italian food and Italian wine. Sometimes it's the small things that get you through those times.

Third leg overview

Cities: Barcelona (2 nights), Florence (2 nights), Venice (3 nights)
Weather: Rain, hail, and shine
Days spent with a seedy moustache: 2
Times lost in the streets: At least 3, maybe 4 or 5 or more

Flickr sets: Spain, Italy