Girl and City

My Europe trip ended yesterday, and I spent the better portion of today vegetating in my house. It was glorious.

I come home with a few battle scars, like the huge burn on my arm from the frying pan while I was making our gourmet home-cooked last meal in Paris, or the many mosquito bite scars that line my legs and arms from our “open-window” policy in Italy (not smart), or the calluses on my palms from lugging around my 50 lb suitcase across 21 cities in 8 countries over 47 days.

I also come home with 34 postcards, 7 art prints, and 2 paintings. And of course, 27 GB worth of pictures, so that will take some time to sort out.

But most importantly, I come home with knowledge about the history, food, art, music, and people of Europe, and some incredible memories.

I have so many stories to share that I don’t know where to begin. I no longer think writing about my day-to-day in chronological entries is the best way to go, because I want to skip to the exciting parts, like my friends’ accident in Rome that almost landed all of us in hospital, or my one night with a Parisian boy in Budapest, or the Hungarian millionaire’s VIP treatment for us, or the five-floor night club in Prague, or the Singaporean boy who fell in love with me in Paris.

So yes, the stories will come. For now, I am just excited to be back home, chillin’ like a villain, because I desperately need a vacation from my vacation.

I woke up at 7am and slipped out for a run to Riomaggiore. I had nothing on me except my music player – no watch, no cell phone, no connection to the life I normally lead. It was exhilarating not to have a care in the world, not even to know what time it was, and just run. I was running along Via Dell’Amor (Lover’s Lane), and I enjoyed stunning views of the sea and cliff sides in the morning sun. How lucky was I to be running along the Mediterranean right now without a care in the world?

When I reached Riomaggiore, I took my time to explore the town since we hadn’t really gone in the day before. Like all Cinque Terre towns, I had to walk up a steep hill to get to the central town, but the views were worth it.

As I was jogging back, I was stopped by a woman at the information desk, who said I needed a park pass to go onto Via Dell’Amor, since it was part of the National Park of Cinque Terre. This I knew as soon as she reminded me, but I didn’t have anything on me except my music player. How was I to get back? She wouldn’t let me through, not even out of pity, but she told me to take the train.
I didn’t have money so I couldn’t buy a train ticket either, but perhaps I could go on without being checked by inspection officers. After all, it was only one stop, and in the trains we’ve taken on our trip so far, we’ve only been checked 50% of the time.

Unfortunately, as the train pulled into the station, I could see there were a lot of inspection officers on board. Nonetheless, I sucked in a breath and got on the train. With each chug chug of the train moving forward, I could hear my heart beating loudly. I suddenly had the terrifying thought that I was going to be caught. What would they do to me? I couldn’t even pay the fine because I had no money on me, nor any identification. What if they threw me in a holding cell while I waited for someone to vouch for me? Oh God, I thought, imagining myself on the inside of an Italian jail cell, I don’t want to be the dumb tourist who got thrown into jail for going jogging at 7am! This is what I get for trying to be healthy, I thought to myself, I knew I’d be better off not exercising.

Luckily, I got off the train at my stop without being checked, walking boldly and quickly straight past an inspection officer. (more…)

Part of 30 Days of Me

A photo that makes me sad:

This is a photo from the Japanese soldier’s massacre in Nanjing, China, otherwise known as the ‘Rape of Nanking‘. Nanjing is my home town, so I’ve heard many first-hand accounts of the event. Needless to say, it horrifies me. Not just because I can’t believe human beings are capable of this level of atorcity, but the fact that the Japanese government still has not apologized for the event, or even acknowledged it. The ‘Rape of Nanking’ is not included in Japanese history books.

Part of 30 Days of Me

A photo from my trip that I like:

In front of the Palais du Papes in Avignon, France. I love cobblestone streets so I tried to get a macro of the street with the palace in the background. My camera’s not advanced enough or else it would be an even cooler shot.

On our first morning in Cinque Terre, I went for a walk around our town, Manarola, at dawn. It immediately charmed me, with its colourful houses on the cliff-side, facing a vast green and turquoise sea.

I walked into a restaurant/bakery and bought a focaccia with tomato for breakfast, then I went to the small grocery next door and bought some fruit, cookies, and water in anticipation of our hike. I noticed that everything was more expensive here than in France. I don’t know if that was because these were small towns or because they were tourist hot spots or because Italy is just more expensive – maybe all three. All I knew was that I missed France; service in Italy was not as friendly or helpful. I was starting to form a theory that Italians were just more lazy, which was later confirmed by the state of their trains – poor¹, the hours of operation for our hostel and all the shops in town – few², and the extent to which they will go out of their way to help you – non-existent.

By 9:30 am, Vin Diesel and I were setting out on our hike to the next town, Corniglia. The distance was only 1.0 km, but it involved a lot of steep climbs, so it took over an hour. We spent a good 45 minutes in the town of Corniglia, which seemed more touristy than our own, before heading back. By the time we reached our town again, our friends had arrived from Monaco. We went out for lunch together in a great little trattoria in Manarola. Everything we ordered was more delicious than the last, and I devoured my own plate of trofie with sea bass with gusto.

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1. As compared to French trains, Italian trains were dumps. Clearly the Italians either do not care to maintain the quality of their assets or do not believe in investment in infrastructure to the same extent that the French do. [↩]
2. Our hostel was only open from 7am-10am and 4pm-12pm, the rest of the time, we cannot even go in. What kind of hostel doesn’t let you enter for most of the day? [↩]