Archive for Italy

Wild affair with Travel God

I’ve never been religious. I’ve personally hated going to crowded temples and waiting in long queue’s to pray to God, when the first thing I was taught when I was a child was “God is one and everywhere”. But, I still went to temples to please my grandparents. And then, as I grew up, I saw random bullshit happening around the world over “which God is better” et all. It drove me nuts. I stopped going to temples when I moved out of home. The only time I visited a temple since then, was for my wedding, that too since the venue itself was a temple.

And its been more than a decade, temple free. But, I realised I’ve been making up by visiting all these sacred places around the world in the name of traveling and forgotten they are houses of prayer. Did I go there for God? God no. I’m trying to remember why I went – Architecture maybe. Unesco World Heritage site I guess. History for sure. Wonder of the World, who knows? Either way, I never prayed when I went anywhere. But, looks like there is one God hanging around across all these places and that is the Travel God. He loves me, chases me and makes sure I find him in the next destination or he finds me in the next destination. I’m having this wild affair with him and no one seems to mind. It is for him that I climbed those ridiculously steep steps in the Guatemalan temples or walked through claustrophobic passages in Egyptian temples. It is for him that I kept silent in the serene cathedrals across Europe or danced with no inhibition on the streets of Salvador. And, the beauty of it is that we keep discovering each other all the time.

So, here are the memorable moments from across the world in sacred places, where I found the one God to love. He made me fall in love with him and he taught me a lesson or two.

At Christ the Redeemer in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil – Where Travel God tested my patience with the crowds and the unbearable sun (not being favourable to my photography).

At the Cathedral in Cusco, Peru, just outside which my wallet got stolen. This was the first test of travel – Can a solo woman backpacker manage without money in a strange land. He was just putting me in a situation to see how tough I can be.

At the Bonfim Church in Salvador Brazil, on the day of Bonfim festival, the first house of prayer I went to after having beer and dancing. A strange new concept to me. But, he seemed to derive joy from the mad parade and I just went along.


At Westminster Abbey in London, where he showed me two sides of a coin. The place were union and separation exists under one roof. The place where so many people marry. The place where so many lay buried. I had goosebumps thinking about Grand Royal weddings. I felt more moved when I saw the graves of those Great poets, authors, scientists, nobles… The poets corner and so on.

At a beautiful Hindu temple in Bali, devoid of the loud chattering Pujaris that you often see in India or the crowds or the Aarti’s or the flowers or the fire. He showed me that religion is incidental. It doesn’t have to follow norms. The same Hindu temple in Bali was more Buddhist than anything else. Buddhism. Hinduism. Doesn’t matter. It was silent and beautiful.

At the Duomo in Florence, Italy where I found the Artist in him. The artistic cathedral itself. The artists outside the cathedral wanting to make portraits of you. The artist within.

At the Alhambra in Granada, Spain where he showed me that God is in the detail. The less said, the better.

At Chichen Itza in Mexico where I discovered that God doesn’t mind an evil side. All those skulls. All those demons. All those you see oh so often across the world. If we did not know what evil was, how are we supposed to identify what’s good.

At Abu Simbel in Egypt, where he taught me that nothing comes easy. Getting up at 2 30 am and taking a convoy to reach there to see the majestic idols at sunrise. What’s tougher. This whole temple was moved from one place to another and built piece by piece. Nothing comes easy, my dear.

At the monastery in Ladakh in India, where he showed me that God is as much in energy and restlessness as much as he is in calmness and patience. Check out the young monk and old monk and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

That’s the only spiritual discourse I have for the traveler’s soul. Tell you more when I meet him next.

Certified Europhile – Top 5 Quaint European Getaways

Every since I can remember, I’ve been a Europhile. When I saw Sound of Music more than a hundred times, I gazed at the landscapes and wondered where in the world things would be so beautiful and charming. When I heard the Beatles and Pink Floyd for the first time, I dreamt about the first studios they would have recorded their music. When we used to fight as kids for a plate of French fries (unhealthy as it gets according to my mother), I wondered whether all French mums would do the same. To cut a long story short, I always wanted to visit Europe. And like any other middle class kid from India, it was a far fetch. I kept myself happy by visiting every nook and corner of India with anyone who would leave Chennai. Whether it was a religious trip to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Badrinath with my grandparents or an adventure trip with my best friend’s family to Sikkim, I escaped hot Chennai by cajoling my parents. But, I never stopped dreaming about Europe.

It was a little after I passed out of school, 2nd year of college, to be precise, that a miracle happened. Firstly, I had turned 18. Secondly, I had topped my school when I was 16. It took my parents two years to surprise me with a trip to Europe. Not very long ago had Dilwale Duljaniya Le Jayenge released in the movie halls and every girl dreamt of meeting Raj in Eurail. My only dream was to step foot in any European country and experience being away on my own. Ooops, did I speak too soon. Alone was out of question when I was 18. So, my parents decided to send my 15 year old sister with me. Not only would that push me to be responsible, there was no way I could have entered a bar with her. So, a 6 week trip was planned to Germany, France and England, three places where I had some family or friends so that I would never be on my own. That was my dad’s comfort zone. In anycase, from the day I landed in Frankfurt airport in the summer of 1999 till date, I get goosebumps when Im in Europe. It could be the cold. But, Ill leave it to travelers thrill.

Its been 11 years since I started traveling and I’ve somehow managed to tuck away money every once in a while to visit a new country in Europe. So, here are my top 5 quaint European getaways, places and experiences that have made me fall in love with travel even more.

Cinque Terre, Italy – When you hear about Italy, you hear about Pizzas and Gondolas. Most people head to Florence, Rome and Venice and get an art overdose. As sheer luck may have it, we landed up traveling through this untouched region called Cinque Terre. A Unesco World Heritage site that has a beautiful sea face, a winding walking path for nature lovers, quaint villages with murals in the stations and colourful catamarans, it is an Italian hideout that I hope the tourists never find. From the  first village Monterosso till the fifth village Riomaggiore, our mouths hung open awe struck for a few days. Cinque Terre means Five lands and in my books, I’ll remember it as Cinque Gioielli – Five jewels.

Bruges, Belgium – So, who says Venice is the only place with little canals. Bruges, this little town an hour away from Brussels is probably the place which inspired the word ‘quaint’. With vine covered houses, little cobble stone streets winding away alongside canals, small stores vending cheesy waffles and Belgian chocolate in all forms, Bruges is just the kind of town you want to laze around when traveling overwhelms you. Don’t miss the musicians with instruments you can’t put a name to charm you with their little hats. As medieval as it gets, witness time slowing down and a calmness taking over you as you literally float through the alleyways. Travel like a crazy obsessed traveler, but find Bruges for a pitstop.

Ceske Budejovice, Czech Republic - When you think of beer, you probably think of Oktoberfest. Well, in this little town called Ceske Budejovice in south of Czech Republic, a true beer connoisseur will love the vibes. You ever wondered where Budweiser came from? For a town that has been known for its beer since the 13th century, Ceske Budejovice is the home of Budweiser, or Budvar as they like to call it. Wearing the crown for being the largest city in the Bohemian region, it hosts some of the finest brewerys (Pivovar something or the other) and is a must for everyone in search of the holy grail – oops, beer trail.

Toledo, Spain – Every adventurer would have heard of Don Quixote. The Don Quixote route begins in this city Toledo, the capital of the Castilla – La Mancha region of spain. This small town just an hour or so away from Madrid is the surprise package that Spain has in store for you when the capital city of Madrid leaves you confused and disappointed. Whether it is the Iberian kingdom or the Muslim kingdom, Toledo’s architecture stuns you and its the perfect blend of old and new. More than the winding streets and the history, I remember the tiny stores selling tiled souvenirs, the windows with little flower pots popping out of nowhere and most certainly the delicious roast suckling pig that was available in practically every little restaurant. Visit Toledo if you are hungry for some culture or just plain hungry.


Costa Nova, Portugal - Visiting friends in the small town of Aveiro in Portugal, we were treated to an afternoon at Costa Nova, one of the best stretch of beaches I’ve seen in Europe. What stood out was the little town of Barra with striped houses in various colours, bright and completely out of the box. A lazy summer vacation spot for the Portuguese, the entire stretch offers you all the variety you want from a beach town – the golden dunes to boat rides to watersports. And like every place in the world has something famous to eat, this region does too. The local egg-based sweet speciality is called ‘ovos-moles de Aveiro’. Pop one before you bid goodbye to Portugal.

With these 5 little European secrets, I hope I have passed on some of my European addiction to all you readers.

Visit Europe, and you’ll be a certified Europhile in a few minutes, I guarantee.

Flashback-packing !

It was exactly 5 years ago that I left on my first backpacking trip out of India. August 2005. My first Europe trip as well. I guess its been no looking back ever since that trip. So, this is a blast from the past – the post I wrote before my first trip.

fatter me larger backpack

I had been dreaming for eight years and saving for two years to go for a Formula 1 Grand Prix and that’s how it all started…


The Italian Grand Prix was in September… Scarlet Ferraris … Scarlet flags… thousands of fans dressed in scarlet… I sure wanted a taste of it… By March, I had accomplished the most difficult task… convincing my husband that our entire saving needs to go towards financing his wife’s dream to see Schumacher in flesh and blood. The decision that we were going to make that trip… Those words ‘Yes honey, I think we can manage with a zero balance in our bank accounts for sometime’… those were the most encouraging words for me. I just had those words, a free Internet connection at office and my will to plan the entire trip…


‘Entire Trip’ – you must be wondering how Italian Grand Prix turned into entire trip… Well, who goes all the way to Italy and just visits little Monza without seeing all the beautiful cities and countries in and around Italy… I bought a nice notebook and wrote my name very stylishly… and gave it a title ‘Mission Monza’. 6 months to go. That’s sufficient time to plan… So I thought… After all, I was an amateur traveler… My earlier experiences were limited to official trips within the country invariably planned by my company, school excursions geographically limited to South India planned by the teachers, family trips planned and funded by parents or impromptu day trips with friends in and around places where I have lived.


In any case, I started very optimistic like most people do, wanting to see all of Europe in 20 days and with a budget in mind that could probably just take me to the airport and back. My first itinerary looked like the index of an atlas. It had all the names of all the cities that I knew existed, within each of those European countries that I could spell correctly. If I had gone with that itinerary, sure shot I would have spent more nights and days in buses and trains and probably managed to catch the E of Eiffel Tower and L of Leaning Tower of Pisa.


Where do I start? Where… I was confused like any other traveler wanting to see the world. I decided to start by buying the traveler’s bible – Lonely Planet’s Europe on a Shoestring. I always wondered why it was Europe on a Shoestring and not Europe on a Sock with a hole in it. That’s probably how much I could afford.Now that I had committed close to 1000 Rs on a guidebook, there is no backing out… Right! Nope… my husband was having second thoughts about the cost of the trip, considering the excel sheet cost estimates that I was mailing him everyday after reading a few pages of the guidebook. I had to do something before he changed his mind. I decided to commit on the most expensive thing, which is buying our air tickets. Once we buy our air tickets, there is definitely no backing out… (Evil me waving those expensive air tickets in front of my husbands face with an innocent pout which stands for ‘Guess what I bought for us honey’ look… I am sure that would work!)


Air Tickets… Air tickets… I decided to go to The Wanderers… they are travel agents if you are wondering whether they were a band or something… I felt like I was sitting for an interview to do a Ph.D. in Travel & Tourism… they asked me intelligent questions like where I wanted to go, what I wanted to see, how many days, what was my budget, blah blah… And my preparation was weaker than my preparation for a microeconomics examination… I learnt 2 lessons that day… Lesson 1 – A cheap holiday is not easy… the more it costs you in terms or time and preparation, the lesser it will cost you in terms of money… Lesson 2 – A traveler has to learn to sacrifice… The list I had drawn out would ideally take someone a year to cover… and I just had to get more realistic… The objective is not to tick off 30 places like a To Do List… The fun is in experiencing each place like you are tasting a new flavour of ice cream for the first time… relishing every moment and making it last long… I rushed out promising to return after doing my homework.


Rome, Venice, Florence, Pisa, Milan, Paris, Bordeaux, Nice, Monaco, Cannes, Corsica, Barcelona, Madrid, Ibiza, Amsterdam, Brussels, Prague, Vienna, Salzburg, Interlaken, Zurich, Montreux, Lucerne… I started with a list 3 times longer… Pages of scribbling, pouring over the Internet, I landed up with a realistic list… 3 countries in 3 weeks… France, Italy, Switzerland… here I come!


How did I shortlist these three… Italy… well the race was happening there… that was obvious… The other two were the difficult choices to make… I could have done Sweden and Turkey… or Poland and Belgium… wait a minute… I did not need ‘Europe for Dummies’ to figure out that France and Switzerland were neighbouring Italy and would hence be logical options… Thank the map vendor outside Andheri Shopper’s Stop who sold us a world map about a year ago… We decided on these two countries instantly… all the stuff I had downloaded on other countries were neatly transferred to this folder called ‘Ruled Out’.


The next two months went in a flurry, a completely crazy time pouring over hundreds of hostel reviews, Eurail timetables, sightseeing websites and I felt like I had already seen most of the places I intended to travel to. I could tell you how long it would take to travel between each of the cities I planned to go to by train, air or bus, with daily departures and fare details. I could tell how much it would cost to stay in a 4 bed dorm, 6 bed dorm, mixed dorm, double room, twin room, single room in atleast 10 hostels in each of the cities. I could tell you where you could get beer for a Euro… After this intense research, I had excel sheets titled Itinerary Version 1.0, Version 1.1 and so on… linked to Stay Options sheet, Sightseeing sheet and finally a formula filled cost sheet which would calculate the cost automatically. I tried thousands of permutations and combinations till I saw the magical figure, which was my budget, on the cost sheet. I was home.


The best part of this search was short-listing a hostel in each city. With peculiar names like 3 Ducks Hostel, Flying Pig Hostel and Fawlty Towers
Hostel, I guess we had to rely on reviews and a large amount of gut feel, before we chose any hostel… there were equal amount of good reviews and bad reviews for each of those places… So, I figured the best approach was to actually book the cheapest place and take a chance… If two places tie for the cheapest option, then book one with perks like free breakfast, proximity to railway station, non-shared bathrooms, sheets for free, free maps, free internet connection, no curfew… the list is endless.



With everything figured out pretty much, the only thing left was to get a Visa to visit those countries. I was enraged to find out that British citizens and American citizens do not require a Visa to enter Schengen countries. I started my Visa application process in a protestor mode… ‘How can you discriminate against India’ mode… that was just my ‘Rebel without a clue’ side waking up for a few days… After a couple of days, I was feeling practical and started collecting all the documentation required… the docket I made contained everything from my blood group to my tax returns to my marriage certificate to my ration card… I had no clue what the guy at the French Embassy would do with all these details… as long as he let me and my husband enter his country as tourists… The fat docket and a crisp covering letter on my company letterhead clearly stating that I had a secure job in India, which paid well, was the assurance that I did not intend to run away to France to sell postcards outside Eiffel Tower. Oh God… how much I hated to lie…


Anyway… to cut a long story short… we got our Visa… confirmed our bookings… planned a little more… and it was now frightfully close to August and we still did not have backpacks. Carrying suitcases and walking all around was out of question. I searched on the net, on roadside luggage stores in town and suburbs and just couldn’t find a nice looking comfortable backpack. The search for the Holy Grail would have been easier. After umpteen enquiries, I managed to find a tiny store in Matunga, selling professional backpacks for long trips. Who would think the place most known for Idlis and Dosas in Bombay would be the place where I would find the ideal backpack. Mumbai Masala proves itself, yet again…


All our bags are packed, we are ready to go… Come August 20th and we set out of our homes with our backpacks and every vegetable Vendor in Pali market was wondering why we were carrying a bag the size of a sack of potatoes and grinning like idiots at 6 am in the morning… Little did they know what was in store for us… Little did we know…


Like I have always said in all my stories… the journey is the reward… the three weeks come and go like a super fast train… but it’s the planning which makes me feel like I went on a six month trip and not three weeks…


What happened in those three weeks… Well, this pre travelogue is not meant for that… Watch out for the travelogue… Coming soon to your mailbox!

Italy on a Sunday morning

It almost felt like I visited Italy last Sunday. Mom’s neighbour Jacopo and Sheerja invited me over for an authentic Italian Espresso. Not very long ago, my French friend who lives in Vienna gifted me this cute little Italian Espresso maker and I’ve become rather addicted to it. However, I realised this Sunday that I’ve been (mis)using the little coffee maker.

So, to travel through a cup of coffee, here are 5 steps to making the perfect Italian espresso -
1. Fill water in the coffee maker only till the safety valve
2. Fill coffee powder till it looks like Mount Vesuvius


3. Heat the coffee maker in low flame only
4. With the first few drops of coffee (the thickest of the lot), beat a spoonful of sugar till it turns into a white paste almost
5. Pour the rest of the espresso into the beaten sugar to get the perfect espresso with the beautiful froth

Now, that’s what I call coffee! Or, should I say kitchen traveling.

Italy It-is….

The land of Pizzas and Piazzas… Italy is about 5 countries rolled into one. It was 3 months ago that we visited Italy, a complete pot pourri country. Italy has always been on the ‘exotic’ lists of any dreamy traveller… the name Italy itself could give someone who hasn’t visited the country goose bumps.

We had planned to visit only Rome and Venice, which are the top two destinations in Italy. I am so glad that our plan did not work out the way it was supposed to. The list grew to include Florence, Pisa, Cinque Terre Region, Milan and this little beach town called Sperlonga. I don’t remember whom to thank here, but I do remember what that person had told me – ‘Do Italy like you would never return’. And that’s how our itinerary materialized.

26h August was D-day. We were in the railway station at Nice, France and were about to board a train to Genova, Italy. The thrill of crossing over to Italy made up for the sad goodbye kiss to France. It was a lovely train journey along the sea for an hour or so. The scenery was tinted Mediterranean blue. Snoozing for a couple of minutes with the pleasant blue memories, I woke up suddenly to see a brown landscape. What a transition! We were in Italy.

Changing trains at Genova, we reached Monterosso, the first of the 5 villages of the Cinque Terre region. The Cinque Terre region, a Unesco World Heritage site boasts of a beautiful sea face, a winding walking path for nature lovers, quaint villages with murals in the stations, colourful catamarans and water sport adventure clubs. We walked through the first village Monterosso in awe and we would have walked all the way till the fifth village Riomaggiore, but for the burning sensation we felt of the straps of our backpacks digging into our skin. We took a ferry till the fifth village instead. After spending the day amidst such delicious faces of nature, we were enthralled with Italy on Day one itself.

We transited through La Spezia and reached Florence at around 10 pm. We had an email giving us directions to the Camp we were supposed to stay in – Camping Michelangelo. Who wouldn’t be excited about staying in a camp named after one of the greatest artists in Italy. Our excitement lasted till we were shown to our tent. It did slip our mind that camping meant no electricity in the tents and metal beds, which would creek every time we tossed and turned. Thankfully, the journey from one country to another had exhausted us so much that we crashed without any hesitation.

After lovely steaming cups of Italian Cappucino in the morning, we were charged with energy to explore Florence. We headed straight to Galleria dell’Academia, one of the museums I was keen on visiting. The queue was frightfully long and completely blocked the little alley leading to the museum. Thank god for the reservation we had made in advance, we could enter the museum without a long wait. It is only after entering the museum that we realised why people waited for hours to come in. The majestic sight of Michelangelo’s David is unexplainable. The 500-year-old 5000-kg plus masterpiece held us rooted to a single spot, and no earthquake could have shaken us up at that moment. I was in love with David and would have given anything to be transported into his world.

After spending half the entire morning with David, we headed towards the Duomo, Brunelleschi’s impressive creation. No words can describe the feeling one experiences as you walk through the tiny lanes and suddenly come across the magnificent dome, the Baptistry and the Bell tower, all towering above you. Florence had managed to win our hearts in half a day.
We walked through the streets of Florence, passing by Ponte Vecchio, one of the oldest bridges across River Arno. One can actually walk through the entire city of Florence and keep discovering artistic nooks and corners, curious little shops, all adding to the romantic touch. We ate at an Italian roadside cafe, with waiters who spoke in different accents to attract tourists. They managed American, Australian… but were completely stumped when we told them we were from India.

Post lunch, we walked to the Uffizi Gallery and sat in the courtyard listening to the musicians and admiring the lovely paintings displayed by the artists. We clicked pictures in front of the duplicate David, kept outside the gallery. We indulged in Gelatis (icecreams). After assessing Florence the entire day, we had come to the conclusion that God probably made sure that every child born in Florence could either draw, paint, sculpt, sing or do anything extremely artistic.

It was late evening and we took a bus back to Piazza Michelangelo. We sat there just overwhelmed, when we suddenly saw the sky darkening. I have never seen clouds move in so rapidly, nor swirl so ferociously above me. Within 6 minutes, the clear blue sky had been devoured by a wild storm. The Piazza was suddenly deserted, save for two stranded, rather sorry-looking Indians, clutching bags. It was the heavy drops of water, which got rid of our shock and cracked us up completely. Onlookers would have thought we were mad (and rightly so), except that there was nobody around. We ran back to the camp, thankfully running distance and took refuge in the modern bar – complete, I was glad to note, with a handsome bar tender. Ordering half a litre of wine (we were used to guzzling wine by the pitcher after the week in France), we sipped and savored every drop of wine like they were representative of exquisite memories of Florence. The rain and wine led us to our beds and Florence had taken the position of the Romantic capital of Italy in our books.

Next day, we left Florence for Pisa. Who visits Italy and misses the Leaning Tower of Pisa? Reaching Pisa, it felt as though we were in one of the suburban stations of Mumbai. Sheerly the number of Indians in the station took us by surprise. I guess all the tour operators had decided to visit Pisa the day we were visiting.

Standing in the lawns in front of the Leaning tower, we were also shocked by something else.
The Leaning Tower wasn’t actually very tall. I guess one expects all monuments to stand very tall. It was our own fault for having such ‘high’ expectations. No pun intended. The truth is that no guidebook ever mentioned the Leaning Tower for its height. It leaned and that’s all mattered. The queue to go up the tower was twice the height of the tower. Hence, we did not bother. We just visited the Cathedral, the Baptistry and the cemetery, which were in the vicinity. We took the cliché ‘stop the tower from falling’ photograph in front of the tower, with my husband pretending to hold it from the side. After stretching out in the lovely lawns in front of the tower and buying a postcard, we decided to cut our trip to Pisa short and head to Rome.

We took the train and reached Rome in time for dinner. Fawlty Towers Hostel awaited us. I was so curious about this hostel, thanks to the weird reservation confirmation I had received from them. It read – “You can stay at Hotel Fawlty Towers. But, remember it is not possible to pay by credit card. So, please rob a bank on your way here and pay in cash on arrival. We also accept gold bullion – but if you are having trouble getting those, cash will do.” Fawlty Towers however surpassed our expectations. In the 5th floor of a nice building, this hostel had the best rooms we had ever come across on our entire trip till date.

Is it Rome or is it Rome? We couldn’t sleep thinking about what lay in store for us the next day. After some nice breakfast that we picked up from the Station, we headed to the Metro station. A multicolored graffiti express came to a halt in front of us. It struck me after a few minutes that it was the Metro.

First stop for us was the Colloseum. We co
uldn’t believe that we were entering the Colloseum for real. It was amazing. Scenes from the movie Gladiator spiraled into our thoughts. Fifty thousand people at the edge of their seats… the gladiators, the lions… Earth to us! The Colloseum can only be experienced in person. It is a Herculean task to describe the mammoth structure and the air about the place.

After seeing the Colloseum, we walked through the Roman Imperial Forums, where the excavations are still in progress. Not very archaeology friendly, the entire place looked like a bunch of stones to me. I apologise to any archaeologists reading this piece. We walked up to the Palantine Hill, which offers a wonderful view of the Imperial Forums. We were sincerely following the Lonely Planet and we were going in order. Next on the list was Piazza Venezia, which is walking distance from the Imperial Forum. Sitting on the lawns, we gazed at the Palazzo Venezia, a royal building, which set apart the crowded traffic place from others in Rome.

Post lunch, we spent time at Piazza Navona, a huge square with a lovely Egyptian obelisk and tons of tourists. We visited the Pantheon and walked to the Spanish Steps. We would have passed the Spanish Steps without realising that we had. It was so crowded that one could barely see the steps. We took some photographs, which we captioned ‘Try to spot me at the Spanish Steps’. We spent the evening sitting next to Fontana de Trevi and wondering whether midnight collection of coins was anyone’s business model. Having accomplished major Rome sightseeing in one day, we drowned one litre of wine, gobbled Spaghetti Carbonaras and hit the sack.

We spent the next day at the Vatican City. Dan Browns book Angels and Demons was fresh in my memory and that made Rome and Vatican City ten times more exciting than reality. St. Peters Basilica exhibited a tranquility, which I had not come across in any other church that I had visited. The sculptures inside were so lifelike, the ceiling intricately ornamental and each and every element was to die for. We also climbed upto the roof the Basilica. As you are walking up through the narrow passage, which was built around the dome, you can actually feel the curvature pressing against one side of your body. It’s quite a hike but the view from the top etches the mind-blowing Vatican City in your hearts forever.

Next on the list was the Vatican Museums. Michelangelo’s works in the Sistine Chapel… the Gallery of Maps… Raphael’s works… I couldn’t believe we were going to see these things for real. We walked through the museum in a trance, from one painting to another, from one room to another, our visions glued on every minute detail. Every crevice in the museum had some significant work. It was actually frightening seeing such a rich collection under one roof. The Sistine Chapel was serene even with five hundred people inside and Michelangelo’s work on the ceiling took my breath away. We had not read up sufficiently on the background of every painting in the museum. That is our only regret. However, as much as I was a stranger to this world, each and every painting spoke to us with a story so descriptive and memorable.

From the Vatican City, we decided to visit the Catacombs, which was in the other end of the city. The bus ride to the Catacombs gave us enough time and space to digest the morning’s intensity. We visited the catacombs where St. Sebastin was buried. The story of the catacombs and the martyrdom of St. Sebastin left us thinking. There are some serious moments like this in every trip, and one must be prepared to shed a tear if the need arises.

Rome had taken us by a storm for two days and we were sapped. I think I forgot to mention that it was a brutally hot summer in Rome and it was blazing. We wanted to visit the Roman Baths and other historical monuments, but heat and stones was a deadly combination I wanted to avoid on the third day. That was the precise moment we decided to call it quits and proceed a little each town outside of Rome called Sperlonga. A winding bus journey from Fondi railway station, about an hour away from Rome, gets you to Sperlonga beach. Dotted with bright green, yellow and blue beach umbrellas, this was the perfect place to laze around. I strongly recommend one day of laziness in the middle of an Italian tour to unwind and get your energy back on track.

Italy is like India in many ways. Each city or region is diverse in its own way, rich in culture, but unified by a common ‘Italian’ spirit, that one has to experience, while in Italy. We proceeded to Venice by a low cost airline early next day. There is no other place like Venice. It was gorgeous when we arrived. We took a bus from the airport to the water bus station. Hopping on to the waterbus, we headed towards our little hotel ‘Al Campaniel’ in San Toma. Run by Marco, a friendly Italian who made the best English breakfast in Venice, we felt at home instantly.

We set out towards Piazza San Marco where we were greeted by thousands of pigeons. The square was alive with tourists feeding pigeons and we could hear the live music from the nearby cafes loud and clear. On Piazza St. Marco, you will find St. Marks Cathedral, the Bell Tower, the Doge’s Palace and several other museums. A visit inside the Doge’s Palace is not a must, but to cross over a tiny bridge called ‘The Bridge of Sighs’ and visit the prisons is an experience one shouldn’t miss. The bridge was given its name for the sighs of the prisoners who were taken to the other side for incarceration. You can get transported back into history if you stood at the bridge and closed your eyes.

Going up the Bell Tower is again not a must, but the picture perfect view that one gets from the top is worth the cost. Overhead view of Venice, those faraway tiny islands, the domes of ancient buildings standing out, one cannot refute that Venice is a city floating with charm.

Walking by the souvenir shops decorated with colourful Venetian masks, miniature Gondolas carved out of wood, I indulged in some gifts for some friends at home. We then took a waterbus to Rialto Bridge. The beautiful bridge right in the heart of Venice was home to many a fruit and vegetable vendor on their boats. It was home to some of the most expensive cafes in Venice. It was home to hundreds of tiny souvenir shops. Rialto Bridge was a Venetian concoction. We then visited the island of Murano, famous for glass blowing. The island was lined with stores selling delicate glass jewelry and lampshades. We were given a free tour of the factory, which made these glass artifacts.

A trip to Venice is not complete without a Gondola ride. 45 minutes on a gondola costs you 100 Euros. That’s an awful lot of money. We landed up sharing the ride with 2 American ladies, who were extremely glad to share the cost. The Gondola ride is a very delicate balance – everyone has to keep pretty still. It was extremely relaxing however, with our gondolier even singing and whistling a couple of tunes. As the gondola glided its way through tiny canals, Venice grabbed the ‘Romantic capital of Italy’ title from Florence in our books.

There were many museums and churches to visit in Venice, but we decided to give it a go. We spent the next day walking through the tiny alleys, taking the waterbus from one random stop to another, sitting by the canals and feeling Venice intoxicate us.

With heavy hearts and promises that we would return one day, we left Venice for Milan. Arriving in Milan station, which was painted Red, I took out my Ferrari cap from my bag adding one more stroke of the brush to Milan. Milan was our final stop in Italy. Milan was time to play. It was time to party. No more churches or museums. It was time for the Italian Grand Prix of 2005 Season.

The last two days in Italy were spent in Monza, a small town outside Milan, which housed one of the best racetracks in the world. Amidst beer stalls and hot dog stands, amidst Spanish Alonso fans
and German Schumacher fans, amidst thousands of people who traveled for days to watch 60 minutes of action, among flashing glimpses of the best cars in the world, amidst orange clad marshals, amidst camping grounds, we lived our college dream of seeing life at 300 miles per hour.

Till we started our trip, we believed that the only reason we had come to Italy was to be a part of the Grand Prix. I don’t think I mentioned that before. Well, today, its incidental that we were there for the Grand Prix. The rest of Italy handcuffed us with cultural diversity and we did not want to get released. The Grand Prix was the chocolate sauce over the sinful sizzling brownie. The rest of Italy was the sinful sizzling brownie… and I am elated that we had indulged in every last crumb…

The trip to Italy came to an end with us moving from a brown landscape to the green and white landscapes of Switzerland. We had breathed Italy as though we would never visit again… we are still holding our breath… we will visit again…