I guess it is pretty much a given that living far away from home is never easy. And living in a different country is equally challenging. So at my three-year anniversary of living both of these realities, I’ve been feeling a bit tired. And ready to go home. But after the night before last, thanks to Bologna’s annual Notte Bianca, a.k.a. Art City White Night, I am comforted knowing I can leave Italy on a happy note. The infatuation for Italy that I arrived here with has been substituted with a real, sincere love based on a foundation of its awesomeness: the tangible, ever-present appreciation for enjoying the best things in life – food, people, traveling, and culture.
Similar events in the US (on a smaller scale) include Ray at Night in San Diego and the monthly Pittsburgh gallery crawl, but due to the infrequency of Art City White Night and the given respect for its sister event, Arte Fiera, Notte Bianca is truly an opportunity to see the beautiful nooks and crannies of Bologna’s heritage that are rarely open to the public. Really, it is kind of tourist’s dream.
My first year in Bologna, Art City White Night was struck by bitter cold and it was all I could do to make it out of the house. Subsequent years I have made the fatal mistake of taking Art City White Night as an opportunity to eat and drink in good company. But I was overwhelmingly mistaken, because bars and restaurants are open every night, and during Art City White Night, they are an overcrowded nightmare.
So, third time’s a charm. This year, my final year, I happened to be on photo assignment for a local contemporary art magazine, Droste Effect Magazine, and I was determined to visit as many participating locations as possible. Alone, and lugging a lot of equipment, I was not anticipating a great evening. But, as what you expect always seems to end up completely opposite, the evening was absolutely marvelous. I was continually floored by what I discovered…a constant grab bag of delights and possibly my best night ever in Bologna. I am no expert on visual art. But I love these events because you don’t have to know anything about art. The city was bursting with people discovering their city and having fun. Not bad.
And, I tell ya, I will not soon forget the beauty I witnessed on Saturday. I stumbled into places I’ve been countless times, like the historic grocery market, that I will never see the same way after following the beautiful sound of an accordion only to discover a man passionately playing amongst the quiet stalls of vegetable merchants.
Or the main piazza, Piazza Maggiore, which I walked through on my way to another gallery, only to find myself surrounded by people flying kites at midnight. I was dumfounded for a moment…kites? Midnight? Winter? Only in Italy… 🙂 It will be forever burned into my memory.
But really, the opportunity to go behind closed doors was the most memorable, from a famously transformed historical church boasting a contemporary art installation on the altar, which was an amazing juxtaposition of contemporary and historical art,
to skipping an art exhibit in favor of just enjoying the staircase leading to the show, which was hidden within city’s administration buildings. This is the most dramatic staircase I have ever encountered, and unfortunately, my photo doesn’t do it justice.
Another highlight was being invited into the city’s more exclusive locations, like The Grand Hotel Majestic, where the likes of Elton John and Princess Diana have stayed while visiting Bologna,
and marveling at the frescos on the ceilings of the beautiful buildings in the city center.
I am trying to compare this evening to a similar evening in my life, but I really can’t think of anything that can compare. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, wandering through Bologna with no idea what marvel or magical character I would find next. And in the end, a powerful reminder of what a gift it has been to live in this beautiful place.
And why oh why didn’t I take more advantage of it? I guess every regret is just a lesson learned, and hopefully a lesson passed on. Put yourself out there and…you will be rewarded. 🙂
Editor’s note: In my humble opinion, traveling solo is truly the best way to travel, whether you are joining a tour or setting out on your own. But when the thought of traveling alone becomes too overwhelmingly intimidating, turn to an organized tour. They aren’t as bad as you think.
But I think you’ve heard enough from me lately, so I asked an expert on the subject – one of my favorite people and a great friend from high school – to explain how she’s used organized tours to satiate her traveling appetite as a young, single woman. Giovanna has gone from slight isolation in our small town in the southwest corner of the US, to pursuing international adventures on her own through the help of a great tour agency. And she even managed to meet me for dinner in Florence.
Here we are, recently reunited in Florence (I’m having a hard time concealing my excitement). The tour company was nice enough to offer me a ride to dinner with Giovanna on their tour bus.
I’m from a small town in southern California where most people only travel to another country because we live in a border town 20 minutes from Mexico. So when I took my first trip across the country to Syracuse, NY I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack (I’m joking because I’ve never had an anxiety attack, but I’m sure that what I felt might have been a borderline attack). That first trip was for a continued education course just for a few days, but it encouraged me to be adventurous and explore other countries – countries on different continents, not just the one 20 minutes from my house.
Giovanna with friends from the tour at the Trevi Fountain in Rome.
My friend found a trip to Italy with a tour company named Contiki, which specializes in tours for young adults, and I thought it was perfect! I would be traveling to another country with a group of people my age (safety in numbers), hotel and transportation would be taken care of, I didn’t have to learn a new language to get around (although leading up to the trip I did listen to an Italian CD over and over for months to learn common phrases), and I would get to see all the tourist attractions. That first trip was absolutely amazing and the only thing that was disappointing was how quickly we ran out of time in such a beautiful place. Since then I have traveled with the same company several times, including several other land tours and a cruise. I’ve felt so safe on those trips that last year I decided to take a tour of Europe and this time I went alone – eeek (I was nervous and excited at the same time)! I made some wonderful friends while on the trip and learned a lot about myself and finally began to realize all that my traveling has taught me about culture, religion, art, music, FOOD, and respect for people.
Giovanna enjoying her food. 🙂
Although I have enjoyed traveling with tours, it certainly isn’t for everyone. If your idea of traveling is to have freedom with sites you visit especially in respect to how long you will be there, or you prefer to travel without an itinerary, or to travel alone or with a few friends, then tours may not be for you. The tours I have been on tend to be fast paced and you may not spend much time in any one city or town but you will find that you spend enough time to know if it is somewhere you would like to come back to and visit again. The tour guide will also inform you of the tourist attractions and interesting facts and any relevant history related to the area along with tips and suggestions for meals and exploration. You will be given some free time to roam and explore but the tour is on a time frame and will not wait for those who wander too far. If you are unable to make it to the pick-up point at the appointed time you will get left behind and it is your responsibility to catch up with the tour group at your expense and I am a witness people DO get left behind! Tours seem to come in all shapes and sizes, so it is never impossible to find one suited to your interests. Here are a few resources for choosing a tour that’s right for you:
Since I started this blog I’ve known that the missing ingredient was a dash of charm and a whole lotta honesty. It isn’t easy being totally honest with a bunch of strangers (no offense) and not-so-strangers. So finally, here is a true story – a huge steaming plate of reality from my life as a traveler – and a stellar example of why I am in love with traveling. I hope you enjoy.
Even rain is charming in Venice.
A few weeks ago I was on a commuter train headed to Venice on a cold, quiet Saturday evening in Italy. Despite the rain and my exhaustion from a long week of teaching English and a late night the night before in Bologna, I decided to follow through with my plan to catch the last day of the Venice Biennale exhibition that weekend. My English student appeared on the train from out of nowhere, jumping on seconds before the departure. He’s a captain with the Italian military police and was on his way home from work to his hometown of Ferrara, a short train ride from Bologna.
He sat down next to me. “Teacher! Where are you going?”
Caught in the middle of a daydream, I had to think a moment about my answer. “To Venice!”
He gives me a knowing look. “Alone? And looking so tired?”
These were legitimate questions. But I had a good answer. “I love to travel alone. I always make new friends.”
He thought a moment about my answer. “It could be.”
“But,” I continued, “tonight is going to be a quiet night at my hotel. I am exhausted.”
Famous. Last. Words.
I was finally in my room two and a half hours later, after a long and beautiful – albeit wet – stroll to Venice’s Dorsoduro district to my hotel near the Peggy Guggenheim museum. Too tired to put effort into my outfit, I stuck with my jeans (normally an absolute no-no for me on a Saturday night), grabbed my iPad, and set out immediately to begin the daunting task of finding a not-too-touristy restaurant for dinner.
The Peggy Guggenheim, one of my favorite museums on earth.
Long ago a student friend of mine took me to a piazza in the Accademia area of Venice that was full of bars and restaurants. Pretty far from Piazza San Marco, I thought this was a good bet for finding a less touristy restaurant. Problem was, I had no idea how to get there. And direction is not so easy in Venice. Details! No biggie. I burst out of my hotel and walked in the general direction of the Accademia area.
After some helpful signs and some strategic following of the crowds around Venice’s infamous small and windy streets, I found the piazza. Campo Santa Margherita it was called. I was proud of myself for getting myself there. It was buzzing with people having drinks and aperitivo and preparing for the Saturday night festivities. Perfect. I had an excellent 4 euro glass of wine and examined the Google map of the area on my iPad. This is my shortcut for finding a decent restaurant on-the-go: I check out the restaurants that are actually on the Google map because they are usually good.
Google showed me three options around the Campo Santa Margherita area. En route to the first Google option, a restaurant called Osteria alla Bifora caught my eye. The windows were steamy, and it was packed. The atmosphere was great…not too elegant, not too straightforward. The menu was short and specialized. Good. But, no vegetarian option. I sighed and kept walking to the Google recommendation around the corner. A no-go: boring menu. The next restaurant was also a no-go: bad ambiance. I found myself walking in circles…what should I do? I was tired, and it was getting late.
I decided to trust my gut. I went back to the steamy restaurant with no vegetarian options. But as soon as I walked in, my heart sank. The seating was communal. There was no place for a single traveler.
But, I was hungry. I flagged down the hostess and explained my predicament in Italian. “I have two issues: I’m a vegetarian. And I’m alone.” She responded, “We’ll make a vegetarian plate for you. And…wait here.” She approached a full table near the door and said something to a man at the table, and then returned to me. “You can sit with them.” She pointed to the table she had just visited. I was mortified. “No, no, that’s ok. I just was hoping to take a chair at a table, I don’t need to join anyone.” Her expression didn’t change. “You can sit with them,” she repeated. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I looked back at the table. They were all looking at me. The guy she had spoken to stood up and offered me his chair. My feet carried me to the table but in my mind I was running away. I paused for a moment at the head of the table. I was trying to understand the situation. Four guys and two girls. Their girlfriends perhaps? Are these girls going to hate me for butting in on their date night? No time for thinking, they were waiting for me to sit down. So I sat down. I don’t even remember the introductions, except that they loved my name and started calling me Peggy Guggenheim. It was all a blur.
The women were on my left. They were Germans and also in town for the Biennale. They didn’t know the guys either, and they didn’t speak Italian.
The guy across from me asks in Italian, “Do you like white or red?”
“Oh, whatever you are having is fine with me.”
“White?”
“Sure. I’ll pay you back after.”
He gave me a little wave of disagreement and shouted to the waitress, “A bottle of prosecco!”
And that is when my vision of a quiet night officially came to a screeching halt.
The guys were very Northern Italian looking. Their light complexions and elegant dress were a welcome change from Bologna, a university town full of casually dressed students from across Italy. They told me they were from Venice. Wow. Awesome.
And what commenced can only be described as a feast. We enjoyed a cross-continental multi-lingual dinner over platters of one of everything on the menu and never-ending prosecco. And no one would touch my veggie plate, so I had it all to myself.
A platter at Osteria alla Bifora.
“You’re fun!” says the German girl next to me. “Come with us to the Biennale tomorrow!” “But tonight, you guys are going dancing with us!” said the guy across from me. “It depends where,” I responded. Venice is not known for its night life. The guy at the end of the table who had given me his chair chimed in. “It is a beautiful place. You will love it.” “Maybe,” I said. Then came the after dinner drinks. We played a bit of musical chairs, put the new Daft Punk album on my iPad, and the party was on. Even the restaurant owner’s dog came over to join us. The hostess was watching me from across the room. She seemed surprised things had worked out so well. Somehow, I wasn’t. My gut had known it.
After dinner drinks come with a cookie.
Finally, the moment arrived. To dance, or not to dance. Did I really have a choice?
I left this restaurant that I had entered alone just hours earlier, now accompanied by six new friends. We walked back across the piazza, through the windy Venetian streets, across the Grand Canal, and then I lost track. At the end of a small, dark street, a handsomely dressed man beckoned us into a beautiful, unmarked building. I found myself in a sea of wealthy Venetians in a gorgeous room I can only liken to a lounge at the Four Seasons Hotel. And there I was, just a normal girl from El Centro, California. In my jeans.
But I only worried about my state of being under dressed for a few seconds before other priorities took over: having fun. Music, dancing, new friends, mingling. But eventually the reality of life began to dawn on me and I realized my carriage was about to turn into a pumpkin. Problem was, my carriage didn’t know how to get home. Details. Again. I remembered hearing that the guy that had given me his seat at the restaurant, Adrian, lived near my hotel. And, as my luck that night would have it, he was incredibly crushable. Well, let’s just be honest. I already had a crush on him.
And then, as if he had read my mind, Adrian appeared out of nowhere. “Peggy!!”
“You’re walking me home, right?” I responded.
“Of course!”
My new friends and I left the club together, and then as quickly as they had come into my life, they disappeared. It was just Adrian and I crossing back over the Grand Canal. And I can now say, with certainty, that the romance of Venice is not just a myth. Whatever it is, whatever it was, we took the long way home.
And then, the knocking and shouting of the hotel maid asking if I needed a clean towel. The sun was up, everything was as I had left it. No sign at all of of my beautiful night in Venice.
I got up. I went to the Biennale. It was amazing. And as I was walking back to my hotel, I got a text. It was Adrian. So I guess it wasn’t a dream. But I haven’t seen any of my new friends again. I’ve had nights like these before…Dublin, Brooklyn, Denver, Rimini, Paris, Stockholm…but somehow Venice has been the most unforgettable.
The next day, a quiet Sunday in Venice.
The hardest thing about these incredible experiences and finding these wonderful people in their own environments is accepting that these experiences are unique, like a gift from the heavens. And trying to recreate them is like playing with fate.
But that doesn’t mean a girl can’t have a little hope.
I think the next one will be sooner than later. And if so, you’ll be the first to know…
Most of my friends and family thought I was crazy when I told them I was going to Stockholm for Christmas and New Years. Generally speaking, they are correct. I am crazy. But in terms of my decision to spend the holidays in Stockholm, I beg to differ.
Spending my days basked in moonlight surrounded by lakes and bridges, bay views and gorgeous people, I think Stockholm is seeping with charm and an excellent choice for the winter holidays. An admittedly difficult place to meet new love interests (rumor has it the gals have to make the first move), I recommend bringing your own and you’ll be all set with a built-in cuddler to help fend off those winter winds. Also make sure to bring some extra cash – the dollar is very weak here.
But never fear – you don’t need to spend a lot of money. Without my own built-in cuddler, I was content to spend my afternoons wandering the streets alone, enjoying the stupendous views and the diverse neighborhoods in easy walking distance from each other, and fending off the winter winds with my very large camera. My favorite neighborhood is the vibrant Södermalm, which boasts an amazing bar/restaurant called Himlen, situated at the top of a skyscraper with nearly 360 degree views.
Whenever I started to get too cold as I was exploring the city, I would just duck into a café for some delicious hot tea (which they were often happy to refill for free with more hot water) and great ambience. My favorite was Melqvist Kaffebar, very near Södermalm. Or I would relax a bit and grab a beer from one of Stockholm’s many bars with excellent beer choices (they love Brooklyn Brewery here – you’ll find it everywhere!).
For some serious de-thawing I would spend the afternoon in one of Stockholm’s world-class museums. My favorite, of course, was the insanely popular Fotografiska photo museum complete with a bay-view café on their top floor. But as much as I loved Fotografiska, I will never forget the wonderfully curated collection in the beautiful Moderna Museet, which taught me so much about Swedish history.
I’ve put together a collection of my favorite snaps on one of my afternoon strolls in a special google map, which you can access by clicking below. Or, if you prefer, you can enjoy a slide-show. After just a few photos I think you’ll understand…there’s a lot more to Stockholm than Vikings and cold. Happy cuddling.
Click on this map for an interactive walking tour of Stockholm
