Italia 2003: Roma

*Homestay friends at the Trevi Fountain
*Scootermania near Spanish Steps
*Nicola and Gladiator - Colosseum
*Advertising near Trevi Fountain
*Class in Roman school
*Homestay friends at airport
*Nicola & Denise in Rome
*Swan in Villa Borghese
*San Pietro
*School

Roma

Ahh... Roma. If not for this whirlwind experience I may not have had quite the travel adrenaline rush that has kept me coming back for several years now. Visiting cities is always a fun and valuable experience, but it is the real life experiences that really shape who you are.

After a whole day of driving from Venice to Rome we were haphazardly ejected from the bus onto a crowded suburban street corner in what I now know was the outer suburb of Ciampino. We were in a frenzy trying to retrieve our suitcases from the bus, listen for our names being called by the Italian organiser, and trying not to trample the passersby. What would transpire is a classic example of the Italian take on organisation.

Unwilling to push to the front to ask for my homestay buddy, I waited back until most people had been called, matched up, and sent on their way. Finally when the coast seemed clear I went to the list-holder.

Nicole? Oh. Nicol-A?? Oh. Hmm. Ahh. Hmm.. I talk... one moment... your teacher.

As it turned out, our dear organiser had in fact sent another "Nicky" off with what had been planned to be my buddy. However this did not seem to be a problem, as I would simply be sent with the family that Nicky had originally been assigned. I was introduced to the girl who was 4 years older than me, as Nicky was. The father seemed very nice. They packed me into their car and headed off into suburbia. Even the most simple Italian babble refused to enter my brain. Their attempts at conversation sounded like complete jibberish, despite having studied Italian for a couple of years. Upon arrival at their house I was warmly greeted and shown my room. I was introduced to her sister who was more my age. All seemed well. I felt comfortable. Yes... this will be fine. The girl said she and her friends were having a party and we all got ready. Some hours pass and we are waiting downstairs... we get a phone call.

There is a problem. The other girl is your age. You have to go to her now.

So... I awkwardly re-packed, said my friendly farewells and was packed into the car with Marco and sent hurtling back through the suburbs. I was not very pleased about this at all.... I had just alleviated the stress of finding a friendly family and then was immediately uprooted to be put through the same anxiety again. Upon arriving at the new house I was somewhat coldly greeted by a family that must have been irritated by being uprooted as well. I was hastily fed some pasta. I was not feeling so welcome this time round.

However.... apparently the best way for Italians to open up is by them helping to unpack your suitcase. Whether you consent to them rifling through your collection of underwear, holding it up for examination, and questionining me on my colour choices or not. I was then herded into the shower and had the process of the technological wonders that are taps meticulously explained to me. No sooner did they hear the water stop running were they barging back into the bathroom, ushering me onto the bed, where my feet were promptly hand-dried by them... and then I was sent back into the bathroom to dress.

Can I just say... that I am extremely proud of the way my 15-year-old self handled the week and a half with this family.

The mother keeps hugging and kissing me. Denise proclaimed me as her little sister even though I am 1.5 years older than her.

Despite being bored.. well... most of the time, school was a very interesting experience. They were kept in the same classes and classrooms all day, with only the teachers swapping.

Diary excerpts:

The first question I was asked when they sat down to talk to me was “What mean slut?”

I was also informed about how funny it is to steal things, which her friend seems to enjoy doing.

They have a weird sense of humour. I tried to make a sort of joke because I had the word “Dimenticare” written on my hand. I wrote it there because I wanted to know what the word for “to forget” is. And I think Silvia asked me why it’s there, and I go “Ah, perche non voglio dimenticare la parola ‘dimenticare’" (Because I don't want to forget the word "to forget!") And she just stares at me totally not getting it.

I can’t even remember English anymore.

They’ve already had me singing Avril Lavigne and J-Lo songs for their entertainment.

I suggested to the teacher that it seemed better to say "I have brown hair" than "I've got brown hair" to which she replied "No, no, no, you speak wrong. You speak Australian. We teach English.” She can bite me.

I just got interrupted because that Marco guy appeared with Emily and Michael from another school. So I used it as an excuse to go out of the room for a while. Apparently they’re going somewhere. And we can’t. Marco came only to tell us that they were going out, and we weren’t allowed to come. Nice guy.

Aside from school my homestay family and friends were good value when it came to sightseeing. I was taken to the Colosseum a couple of times (never did manage to find it open, however), to the Trevi Fountain, the Vatican, Piazza di Spagna, Villa Borghese and various shopping and McDonald's trips.

Damn this cigarette-filled Italian air. Hmm, that’s all I have to say for now. Oh dear Denise is doing her dancing exercise so I should keep writing or she’ll get me to join in.

I was fed so much I could barely breathe. I was forced to cross roads when every part of my intuition said that the oncoming traffic would hit us. I was driven around at breakneck speed, defying a lifetime of brainwashing about wearing seatbelts. I was hugged so much that I almost developed a nervous twitch (I was not a very touchy person... at all).

Despite being completely thrown out of my comfort zone, isolated in an unfamiliar city, unable to speak the language and freaked out by a swathe of social and cultural customs... when it came to going home I suddenly felt a huge loss.

I thought it was great that I was barely spoken to in English. When I was reunited with the old tour group the onslaught of familiar vocab was a shock to the system. I came back streets ahead of the rest of my Italian class and, if I do say so myself, remained there til the end.

I think you most notice the effects of a trip once it's over.

Which is why I asked for a second homestay in 2005....

Italia 2003: Venezia

*Bridge of Sighs *Burano *Verona *Nicola in Piazza San Marco * Gondola Ride

Venezia

At the time Venice was my favourite place I had visited. These days I'm not so sure. I was fascinated by the idea behind the city. It shocked me that most people did not even know that it was built on a series of islands, right up to the point when they were deposited ON said islands.

On the way up to Venice we stopped in Verona where I was berated for my "cynicism" as to what I would actually dub a cynical marketing scheme - "Juliet's House". In recent years this place has got much worse, with no less than three tacky gift shops. At the time it was pretty as a medieval house, a nice testamony to the play, and of course a statue where we could all grab at Juliet's boob. I was perplexed by the large star emanting from Verona's amphitheatre. Some of my associates *cough* thought it was a fantastic idea to dig a cobblestone out of the ground as a souvenir. Ah Australians... rolling in the snow like hyperactive children and digging cobblestones out of the main square.

At the time that I was in Venice the snow, proximity to water, and blistering winds made it the coldest I had ever been in my life. Layers of thermal underwear felt like nothing. We took in all the main sights, hunted for gloves and cheap glass souvenirs, were taken on a trip to Murano (glass) and Burano (lace) islands. I preferred those islands for their cute and colourful houses.

We had an exciting day trip to Padova. We were waiting to view Giotto's Chapel. The chapel was apparently so precious and sensitive that it was kept permanently dim and climate-controlled. Visitors had to wait in a glass box outside the chapel to maintain certain numbers. As we were waiting what appeared to be a group of Italian male students filed out of the chapel... as they went by, almost like an assembly line, each and every one of them gave us all a look up and down, a flirty smile and a head nod. It could not have been choreographed better if you tried.

After all our traipsing up north, it was time for a daylong trip back down south to Rome, where we would begin our almost 2-week homestay with an Italian family.

Italia 2003: Firenze

* Tower in Firenze

* View of Ponte Vecchio from Uffizi Gallery

* Friends along the Arno

* Nicola with pigeons

* Pisa

Firenze

After leaving Sorrento the bus hurtled us north. It seemed a short way into the trip we noticed some signs of urban area next to the highway. We asked what city it is. ROME? Already?! But we've only been driving like 2 hours?! Everyone tripped out quite considerably. We had a few hours to potter Siena, of which I really don't remember too much. This was made even more obvious to me when I visited recently, 6 years on, and everything had taken on a completely different light. All I remembered was the zebra-striped tower of the duomo, an extremely tiny truck, and an arty upside-down Christmas Tree. I purchased a festive flag which continues to adorn my bedroom. During our time in Florence we went around the Uffizi Gallery. I was quite underwhelmed by it all, not being much of an art conoisseur. I appreciated the famous works but other than that I was happy to skim over the miles of religious and/or naked artwork. My most treasured memory of the trip was a beautiful view of the river and Ponte Vecchio from the gallery windows. I seem to recall the largest, most expensive, and most fantastic icecream I had ever had up to that point from a Florentine gelateria. (This was only to be outdone by Gelateria Gianni in Bologna many years later). Indulging in our new freedom once more my friends and I went on various walks along the Arno, around the Ponte Vecchio, and found our way to Piazzale Michelangelo for the postcard views.

I think it may be pertinent to quote my initial raw first impressions of the trip out to Pisa:

I have to say my first impression was “How pathetic.” The lean in the tower wasn’t graceful or magnificent – it just looked like some idiot had seriously screwed up and that dodgy tower should have fallen centuries ago.

The pouring rain left us huddling under the (oh so shiny) souvenir stalls. We were overwhelmed with African guys trying to sell us umbrellas. Luke cracked and started hurling abuse at the city and all who dwell within it. It was a good day.

Italia 2003: Sorrento

When it came to the end of Year 8, and elective subjects were vying for our favour, various (sometimes unfulfilled) promises were thrown about. I can't say I regret being bought by Italian's promise of a trip to Italy, no matter how many delicious cakes Home Ec baked. I rate that little decision on an elective sheet as one of, if not THE best decisions I have ever made.

After much anticipation, with me running around delivering newspapers and accumulating finances for a good 2 years in advance, on New Years Eve 2002 I set off for Italy with a group that included several of my good friends. After a somewhat lengthy stopover in Seoul, where much time was spent curled up on the carpet, we landed in Rome before being whisked off in a coach down south to Sorrento. And here begins the recount:

* Sunburst over Pompeii * Scooter in Positano * Cliffs along Amalfi Coast * Sorrento * Me & friends on Isle of Capri

Sorrento My first impressions of Italy were of a tiny little girl calling out Eccola! (here she is!) when meeting her mother at the airport. Oh wow, they really do speak Italian here. I then noticed, as we headed down the coast, that the Italians had a passion for decorating their mountainsides with glowing Christmas stars. According to my diary at the time, we stopped at an Autogrill, but despite being quite hungry I avoided buying anything as I was too confused by their system of cashiers and receipts. The fourth impression was that, upon arriving in Sorrento at around 11pm.... we still had an audience of passersby watching our busload of suitcase wheels clunking along the cobblestones in a rather attention-drawing manner down to our hotel. Why is everyone walking around at 11 at night?! Our following few days were taken up with a rather jetlagged trip to the Isle of Capri (Quote from diary entry - "We caught a train-like thing up the mountain and looked around at extremely expensive crap") however I was impressed with the brilliant greenery which at the time was a welcome change from the drought-ravaged savannah of home. We went on a bus trip along the Amalfi Coast to Positano where we were wowed by views of the town built along the cliff, the basketball-sized citrus fruits, and were invariably amused by the hoardes of sleazy Italian men wiggling their eyebrows at us. Why was it that I got the most public male attention in Italy when I was 15? That is just not cool. I have just located a story from my diary which had been forgotten but was extremely amusing at the time. I can only hope that it translates to written form. Another amusing Chloe story from Positano is when we were in a little shop looking at postcards, and Chloe decides that she’s going to be very clever and ask how much they cost in Italian. So she goes up to the man at the counter and says “Ah, quanto costa la cartolina per favore?” And the man replies “Cinquanta centesimi” Chloe, confused by the sudden dose of a foreign language can only reply “Whaat..?” The man speaks again, this time more slowly and clearly, “CIN-quanta cent-esimi” Young Chloe is still at a loss, “Whaaat…?” Taking pity upon the poor English-speaking child, the man says “Fifty cents” “Whaaat..?” says Chloe “FIF…TY CENTS” he spells out emphatically. At this point Clancy, Luke and myself are cracking up at the situation, when it seems Chloe finally realises what’s happening. “Ohh!” she replies, laughing. “Fifteen cents! Ok!” She wasn't allowed to forget that one for a couple of years. The next day we had a few hours in Pompeii, which was quite impressive. I didn't quite realise how it literally was a functional city that had been uncovered. Didn't get to see the whole thing, nor Vesuvius, which is testament to how overcast it was that day. Later that day was perhaps the first time that we, or at least I, had been completely unsupervised in our lives. We were informed of the time that dinner was on at the hotel, and otherwise left to our own devices in Sorrento for the rest of the day. This was quite an amazing level of freedom at the time. We wandered around the town, taking in various piazzas and churches, and perusing a little religous paraphernalia shop which I long to find again and purchase its very tasteful Crucified-Jesus-in-a-Snow-Dome. I found the abundance of stray dogs disconcerting. There was a statue near the road to our hotel with a man with a severed dolphin's head under his foot. There was a pharmacy called Farmacia Farfalla. There was an enormous sparkly Christmas Tree in the middle of town. After just a few days we were back on the bus and carted up north towards Florence, stopping briefly in Siena. I thought I would quote my diary entry from the bus: They’re playing 500 yet again on the seats next to me. I’m not quite sure where we are but it’s an autostrada past Napoli somewhere. The place is so green. There are rocky grass covered mountains everywhere. The country is completely overtaken by humans and houses. Only the high mountains have no people living on them. There are spindly trees on the side of the road and these SOS things every few hundred metres. There are lots of old cottages around as well. Everyone can sit there playing 500 as long as they like, but they miss out on seeing the best parts. I knew I typed my entire travel diary out into a Word doc for a reason :) More stories to follow.

International Girl Guide Camp, January 2000

*My travel friends on the beach at Mooloolaba *The tent - I would not recommend staying in a stuffy tent in the middle of summer in Brisbane, for the record *Travel friends walking around Camp *Me at Dreamworld

Seeing as I have afforded myself a day of sleep and laziness, I thought I should delve into some more travel stories. I would write about another age-12 adventure - the week-long International Girl Guide Camp in Brisbane... but I actually can't remember too many details, thanks to a lack of proper diary-keeping skills, however I will try to piece together what I can. It was January 2000. They refused to let us fly to Brisbane because the Girl Guide Leaders, in their wisdom, didn't like the possibility of all their sweet little girls crashing and burning when all the planes fell out of the sky Y2K-style. Nevermind that we were leaving on January 2nd. Don't even get me started on the debate that happened with them in the lead-up. Basically we were all put on overnight coaches up to Brisbane. Not exactly the most pleasant journey that I have undertaken. I seem to recall being miffed by all the other fresh-faced arrivees from Melbourne, Perth... even Sydney... who laughed at our being forced to get the bus. We were set up in tent groups. I was the only representative from my city, let alone group, on my side of the massive series of fields that held all the participants. Perhaps that solidified my preference for solo-travelling, as I thought I got far more out of the experience than the girls from my group who were all put together. As for daily activities... I really have no idea what we were doing. I recall a trip to Dreamworld, an overnight trip to Mooloolaba and sleeping under the shark tank in the Aquarium, various activities such as abseiling, being driven around on motorbikes, and no doubt participating in Girl Guide-esque ritualistic songs and dances. I seem to recall being herded into huge tents for our daily meals, and that by and large the food was awful. Consequently I barely ate anything, but still spent all day out and about. As a result I returned almost unrecognisably skinny after just a week. I ended up making lots of nice friends and added to my penpal collection. It's a shame I can't find any of them on facebook, I always enjoy seeing what people look like later on. I wish I could remember more about it. A few photos will have to suffice.

This one time... at band camp...

1999: Music Camp roommates. Mostly singers and brass players.

I think the girl on the right is actually a famous singer now.

Today I am quite aware that I should be organising study for Commercial Law, so of course right now I am feeling compelled to create new blog entries.

I have a feeling I kept a journal during my week-long music camp in 1999, though I have no idea where it went. Perhaps it doesn't really exist.

I remember our primary school music teacher coming around to class encouraging everyone to apply for the state Music Camp, something which every other friend of mine thought sounded like the most amazing experience and were just itching to be accepted. It's actually quite competitive it would seem, and they will only accept a certain number of people. I applied mostly because everyone else told me that I should apply for it, despite me really not having a huge passion for music. Of course, I was the only one who actually got in.

Consequently I spent a week at Stanwell Tops spending most of my waking hours practising in an orchestra. At audition they were apparently impressed with my violin skillz and put me into "First Violin" however they did not quite take account of the fact that I could not read music. Thus in fact most of the week was spent with me alternating between staring at the dotted piece of paper in front of me, trying to follow the bow movements of everyone else around me, and reflecting on how much I really don't like orchestra.

We also had the privilege of picking a secondary activity for the week, which I think I had put in as wind instruments - given my actual interest in playing clarinet and recorder. However the wind instrument group was too full, so I was assigned to the next available activity - CHOIR. I can never get the vision out of my head of our overly militaristic choir instructor doing some kind of interpretive dance to "Waaaaade in the waaaaater, waaaaade in the waaater chiiildren (God's-a gonna trouble the waaaaateeeeeeeer)" I was also alongside actual singers and I don't think musicians can properly understand that being able to handle a string instrument does not denote any such skills with vocal chords.

However the benefit was that I met a lot of new people from all over the state, and we had daily "fun" activities such as ropes courses and other such wholesome things. I also believe I fell off the abseiling wall. I cried on a couple of occasions.

I remember sitting in the main hall at night as they led us through our nightly ritualistic chanting (or they probably call it singing) and thinking.... You are probably going to remember this in the future and think.... oh yeah Music Camp, that was fun.... but I am telling my future self now - do NOT do it again, you hate it.

It turns out I know myself pretty well... reflecting on Music Camp now I do assume that I had fun. Though then there is this niggling memory of a message to my future self.

However the good thing to come out of Music Camp was that they ended up inviting the orchestra to perform at the Opera House in conjunction with the NSW Choral Concerts later in the year. This was actually achievable music-wise because I had already been practising the same songs with our own school choir all year so already knew the music - thank you Suzuki method this time. Thus I got yet another week off school to spend playing fun music, making new friends, potterng around the Opera House and Botanical Gardens in our spare time, and generally impressing my other school friends who were left in the numerous choir stalls while the orchestra took centre stage.

I suppose my mental message to myself now is... never turn down an opportunity.

Wow. That was 10 years ago.

Commerical Law is really not my thing.

Prima Edizione

2008: Bologna

2008: Switzerland

2005: Italian buddies on trip to Pompeii & Naples

2003: Pigeons in Venice

Summary of 1999: School Camps, Music Camp, Guide Camps, International Guide Camp

Greetings.

I hereby give birth to my official travel blog. The day is Thursday 26th March, 2009. I have just returned from a day of Dispute Resolution and Civil Procedure and lunch of Buffet Yum Cha in the hub of excitement that is Greater Western Sydney.

I currently speak: English (last I checked), Italian fluently, Spanish to decent tourist standard, German to the extent of pointing to things and ordering a hot chocolate, and Japanese to primary school songs-about-tulips standard.

I feel the need to summarise my travels to date, so that I can begin fresh from here on in. Only ones involving some level of independence count.

1999: Perhaps the year that started the ball rolling - the Year of Camps. If I recall correctly, there was your average smattering of Girl Guide Camps around the bushland of Sydney, a Girl Guide Ski Trip (the most recent time I had been skiing until earlier this year), Year 6 onslaught of Camps - Canberra/Snowy Mountains & Lake Narrabeen, NSW Music Camp (where my inability to read music caught up with me - damn the Suzuki method) and International Girl Guide Camp in Brisbane which was quite the highlight at that particular point in my 12 years of life. I also acquired an excellent collection of penpals.

2002: After a bit of a lull thanks to the inability of my high school to organise any social bonding amongst the student body the Duke of Edinburgh sagas began. First stops: hiking about the then-ashy Wiseman's Ferry and later Royal National Park. I think this may have been the year that a school camp to Yarramundi was organised, but let us never speak of it again. I cannot believe that European school students can go to the likes of France, Italy or Iceland and we went to YARRAMUNDI oh god. I digress.

2003: On the final day of 2002 I set off upon the next stage of the slide into travel addiction - 3 weeks in Italy. Two-ish weeks were spent hopping around Sorrento, Isle of Capri, Florence, Siena, Pisa, Padova and Venice, while the remaining time was spent living with a slightly deranged Italian family in the outskirts of Rome. Despite the psychological trauma and over-feeding, I seem to keep going back...

Domestically I believe more Duke of Edinburgh adventures ensued, namely Glenbrook and Wild Dog Mountains. There was another school camp, going to the exotic shores of... Lake Narrabeen. Again.

2005: On the final day of 2004 I headed off to Italy. Again. This time our route took us to half a day of scurrying around London on New Year's Day, getting crushed in the parade and having the loudspeaker announce to the gathering "Would Stephen Screech's tour group meet under the clock tower in 15 minutes!!" I almost fainted from jetlag. Best day of my life. We then spent a few days in Paris doing the usul tourist scene. Then flew to Rome to be joined with a new Italian family for 3 weeks where I remained over-fed, however was much more coherent in Italian by this time. The school took us on a day trip to Pompeii and Naples where more time was spent in the cafe than in the ruins. Just for the record.

At the end of 2005 I embarked upon a version of Schoolies at Port Macquarie which involved a 7 hour train trip and, if I recall, a lot of cockroaches. The beach was nice though, save for the mass beaching of sea slugs.

2006: Bit of a lull in my first year of university. My collection of photos indicates that a road trip to Canberra took place. However half way through the year things looked up as the Italian Consulate announced that they were sending me to Italy again. For free. Much squeeing ensued. Thus...

2007: Spent 6 weeks in Italy! Arrived with family in Rome on Christmas Day. Indulged in proper Rome sight-seeing (the local families weren't too great at it and spent much of their time in "Mec" aka McDonald's) and trips to Tivoli and Hadrian's Villa for a week. Then down south to Pompeii, Sorrento, Capri & my volcano fetish-inducing trip to Vesuvius. The family then dropped me in Perugia where I stayed for a month at the University for Foreigners, mingling with a variety of Swedes, Mexicans, Peruvians, Chinese.... Went on a group trip to Naples. I also took myself to Lago di Trasimeno and Florence before visiting the Romans and heading on back to normal life. This still would not suffice for Italy it would seem.

Domestically, several days in winter were spent on the Gold Coast drinking far too much Malibu and fulfilling childhood theme park dreams. Summer saw a week at Nelson Bay which, amongst a lot of beaching, saw a 4 hour drunken karaoke session. Good times.

2008: Get ready. Started with a "I have spent my whole summer working for WHAT" crisis which saw a spontaneous week-long trip to New Zealand - first ever trip entirely on my own. Spent a few days wandering Auckland and concluded that was about as much as I need to see in the fine city of Auckland, and spent 3 days on a Contiki tour of Bay of Islands which was great fun. Came back sunburnt for the first time in years - turns out the UV rays are even stronger in NZ.

This was immediately followed by a road trip to Canberra to engage in the cultural phenomenon that is a "Toga Party". I don't know why togas are not donned more often.

Then... along came the Eurotrip Extravaganza.

Starting in July: one week in London spent wandering around the various sights, attractions and parks in unusually beautiful summer weather, took a day trip to Stonehenge and Bath, and stalked the local squirrels.

Flew on to Spain and Barcelona from which I escaped WITH all my belongings in tact oh yes, then Valencia, Madrid and a day trip to the medieval Toledo, San Sebastian with the best beaches seen in Europe to date (yet have nothing on the most uninspiring of Australian beaches) as well as a fetching hill-top Jesus statue.

Bussed up to Paris where I took myself on several speed walking tours of the major attractions, avoiding paying for anything except to see Monet's waterlillies.

Bus continued on to Lauterbrunnen where I spent an extended 5 days doing nothing but wander around marvelling at the alpine goodness. Went paragliding, whitewater rafting and went walking through the snow to a lake in sneakers.

Bus then went to Nice where I was forced to spend a night and was generally unimpressed by the streetscape and self-appointed prestige of it all. Had a nice pub night with travel friends though.

Bus took me back to Barcelona where I took in Gaudi's park and then promptly headed on to...

Fly to Dubrovnik where I spent an entire afternoon hauling my suitcase through the staircase-laden 'burbs to my private apartment where I spent 3 days. Went sea-kayaking and snorkelling, took a day trip to the Elafiti Islands and did lots of walking. Joined up with my first tour group of the trip and went over Dubrovnik again, then on to the island of Korcula with sea-canoeing and then on to Split and Trogir. Following this I joined another tour to retrace my steps via sailing in an unbelievably small cabin for 8 days. Visited Omis, Markaska, Hvar, Bol, Mljet and then Dubrovnik again. Excellent, excellent trip.

Proceeded to stick myself on a ferry from Dubrovnik to Bari, spent the night in Bari, then stuck myself on another ferry the next day to Patras in Greece. I saved $500 by not flying but the process took 29 hours or some such. I was also feverishly ill. Another awesome time in my life.

Got bus to Athens, and could do nothing else for the rest of my day there other than drag myself to the pharmacy and then go to sleep. The next day dragged myself down to the port to embark upon the Greek Islands Tour. Note to self: pick own Greek Islands next time. Went to Mykonos and Paros which I did not find particularly inspirational, then Santorini where I climbed the volcano and went swimming in the hot springs, then Ios which did at least have quality soft sand.

I then spent several days in Athens taking in the ancient historical joy, as well as a day trip to Delphi. I saw ostraka. Don't act like you're not impressed.

Two months after having left the homeland I then flew directly to Bologna where I commenced my semester of exchange, and thus a new age of travel plans. They include the group trip to Bolsena, Lazio & Orvieto, hiking the Cinque Terre and wandering Bolzano, home of the mummy Otzi (so many high school interests satisfied on this trip). I then took off to Cologne, Germany and Wales thanks to the wonder that is Ryanair flying to and from Bologna for 5 euro. Back in Italy I re-visited Florence and Venice, as well as San Marino.

Over Christmas I visited the Italian homestay family again and was stuffed to the point that I do not think I will ever truly need to eat again. I then went to Cologne again for New Years. 2009: Upon arriving back in Italy I promptly went about visiting Verona, Siena & San Gimignano, and Milan. A last-minute change saw a group ski weekend in Maribor in Slovenia which formed my first ski experience this millennium. A little study out of the way and then it was off for a spontaneously-chosen trip to Sicily, taking in Palermo, Siracusa and Catania, and marking off my fourth volcano experience with Etna.

Several days later I made the perhaps poorly-informed decision of returning to the homeland. This brings us to the present day where I am sitting here twiddling my thumbs wondering what the next adventure should be and how it will be funded. The hitlist includes more travel around Australia such as visiting the capital cities which I either never have got around to visiting or have visited only as a child, and especially seeing the Great Barrier Reef.

The next set of planning focuses on 2010 and perhaps another exchange (let's go crazy and go somewhere other than Italy... oh but I'd love to pay for another permesso di soggiorno...), another summer spent trotting around the continent (North this time), as well as possibly fulfilling the original travel dream of Egypt which I have harboured since about age 9.

Though don't get me started on South America.

Thus ends the great summary of May 1987 - March 2009, I hope to add more tales of travel adventure to the blog in the near future.