17 Oct Three days in Italy
“I began to feel overwhelmed by all the people and their smartphones and decided that the best way to forget about English literature was to order a large pizza.”
First time I visited Italy I spent 24 hours in Milan, hunting for a new Gucci bag and the right place to eat a carbonara pasta. One of the two missions was complete, the other one – the most important one – a fail. Needless to say that I decided to go back to the “Ciao, Bella” country and this time I was prepared to fill my belly and arteries with comfort food and tasty wine.
I packed my trusty Kipling backpack with comfortable shoes, some makeup (concealer, mascara, blush and one lipstick), one hat in case my hair decided to rebel against me and a couple of large pants which would actually look good in Instagram pictures and provide me with enough space for the amount of food I was planning to swallow.
At 15 pm we arrived at Bologna, the city where the bolognese sauce was born (I’m kidding, I don’t know if that’s a real fact). We got the keys to our hotel room and unpacked very quickly before going out on the streets looking for a late-lunch-almost-dinner meal. The place we found was a charming little hipster restaurant that served fresh pasta and 30 different cocktails on their menu. By the end of the meal, I was a bit drunk on red wine and decided to walk around the city at night, observing the people around me, listening to a different and beautiful language and essentially enjoying being away from my everyday life and decor.
Next day we took a two hours train to Venise, which I can now say that is one of the most exciting cities I’ve visited this year. Although, when I was walking through the claustrophobic alleys and crossing numerous mini-bridges and taking more photos than my memory card can stock, I felt as if I was visiting a movie set or an amusement park rather than a real city. Let me explain: First of all, there were a lot of tourists, sometimes it was truly annoying even to get the camera out of the bag. Plus, the apartments and their charming architecture, residents selling fruits at the floating market, the small shops and notably the lack of vehicles, gave me the impression that the city was so accurately and satisfying to look at that it almost seemed fake in some ways. Overall it was a magical place and the photos turned out to be kind of romantic and colorful.
Oh, and I ate pizza.
The third day we drove to Verona. I wasn’t expecting much from it other than seeing Julieta’s boobs and touching it for good luck in my troubled love life. Like the other places, Julieta’s house was crowded with tourist from all around the globe who, like me, felt the need to restore their belief in modern love visiting a place where an old tragic suicide story started. Anyway, after a while, I began to feel overwhelmed by all the people and their smartphones and decided that the best way to forget about English literature was to order a large pizza. So that’s what I did.
That night we got back to Geneva after a 5 hours road trip. I was happy, 1,5 kilos heavier and feeling creative enough to write my first blog post. I hope you enjoyed.
What I Wore: