If Italy were a woman…

If Italy were a woman, I’d make love to her for her beauty, and punch her in the face with a brick for her personality. Repeatedly.

That said, hi. It’s been a few days and I was nagged at for not making my blog bitchin’ enough, so here I am. It’s been a busy few days. I’m in Italy now, as you may have gathered from the above comment, which is literally the best way I can think of to sum up my Italian experience so far.

To explain my previous post, I felt so very old for a while because I was in the hostel in Genova, surrounded by 18yr olds on gap years before they go off to uni. I’m a full decade older than them. I mean, damn.

Genova itself I didn’t actually see very much of at all. I mainly went there to take a day trip to the Cinque Terre. Which I did. This turned out to be a very heavily expensive day trip.

The Italian train system is a little ass-backwards when it comes to tickets. You purchase a ticket for a train and receive a ticket. But, before you get on the train you have to get the ticket stamped and validated by a little machine at the station – this strikes me as a redundant step, all in all. Anyway, on my way to get the train to Cinque Terre, I was a little rushed and had to run through the station to the platform and, hold my hands up, I forgot to stamp my ticket. Once on the train, it was checked by a conductor who cordially informed me that as I hadn’t verified it, there was a fifty Euro fine. Which he wanted in cash, on the train. Now, because I’m not a bloody idiot, I don’t carry that much cash around with me, and after informing him of such a fact I was told we were getting off the train to call the police. I told the guy that I could get off at the next station and get the cash from an ATM in less time than it’d take him to make the phonecall, but no good. Eventually he took my driving licence and is apparently going to send me the fine. I’m thinking I just, you know, won’t pay it. It being in Italy, and me being in, well, not-Italy. What can they do, realistically?

So, that soured my mood for the rest of the day, really. When I finally got to the Cinque Terre, it was full, and I mean bubbling out the sides full of tourists. I realise the hypocrisy here, me being one an’ all, but I’m talking the proper bum-bags around their waists, big bright shirt, hotdog-eatin’ motherfuckers. It fairly ruined every photo opportunity to have some god damned landbeast waddle through the frame. It was, overall, not a good day. But I think I got some alright pictures, so we’ll see.

I did spend the evening hanging out in the hostel common room playing poker with a girl and later some guys we met, and generally chatting, which was very pleasant, so it capped the stay off nicely.

I left Genova and arrived at my next hostel, recommended to me by a girl I met in Genova, for my stay in Florence. This is a campsite, that have static tent-rooms that they hire out to people, so effectively very very small dorms. Outside. In a tent. It’s actually very pleasant, in the middle of an olive grove, and about a two minute walk from the best view over Florence, but it does lack certain amenities. Like power sockets. I had to wait half an hour to be able to use the one plug by the bar to charge my laptop, and had to pay to use a locker that had a power point inside to charge my phone. Philistines.

The attitude of the staff for some reason left me in a shitty mood yesterday. I’m thinking of hitting some smaller Italian towns instead of staying longer in the big ones to try and save money and such like. On that note, I need to be off for the day.

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