Firenze, Campeggio Camerata, 1.11am

I am listening to the song “Vincent” as I write this in a camping ground in Firenze. It’s chilly here as I curl up in the tent on my sleeping bag. Above, the sky is lit up by the many stars. Perhaps I should try wishing upon a star for better luck and a miracle to happen.

Murphy’s Law has once again been proven, this time with equal vengeance. We were heading on the bus to Pisa this morning when some officers from ATAF, Italy’s bus company, came up to check on tickets. And of course, both of us were on a saving money scheme by not validating our tickets. We should have won an award for the acting we did, but as the officers used the police to threaten us, we gave in and handed over 45 euros, 22.50 each. That fine sum of money could have meant two nights of camping, a proper dinner for three, souvenirs for friends and family and transport from Barcelona to Paris.

So this time, the gamble was definitely not on our winning side. High risk, high returns, also bigger lost. To think that just the yesterday, I was telling Jessica how much I liked the bus system in Italy, giving advantages to the poor.

Jessica said that the next few days will pass really fast. Somehow I agree and disagree. I know everyone is missing the comforts of home dreadfully. Everything now looks almost similar to us. One duomo looks like the next one. I was just having deep thoughts the other day about backpackers, and what do they actually enjoy and experience, especially those traveling alone. I guess it’s the journey of self discovery that is the most meaningful part. When traveling, amazingly we get to know more about our own country through looking at others, and the same goes for self examination, where we get to know ourselves through others.

Interesting readings found scribbled behind the toilet doors in the hostel...

"I stand up and though the only thing to guide me is a wandering cloud, I will never be lost"

"Say what you feel always, because those that mind will not matter, and those that matter will not mind."

"The blonde guy at the counter is gay!"

For now, I just want to listen to the beautiful melodies and gaze at the stars above.

A night in Venice (Campo Santa Fosca (Small piazza in Venice), 28th June 2005, 2:33am

Summary(to be updated when found the right mood):
Saw the drummer from Verona in one of the alleys, find toilet, drunk bar owner, offered us bread and cheese, touched Jess’s head, winked at her, went back but no free drinks, came back and slept at the foot of XXX, met Audrey and Frankie (who look like Jerry), McToast, Gallupi at Burano, little fishing village with colourful houses, no gelati today but they are cheap, youth hostel close, woke up students to open the door for us, lot’s of people, tiny glass works, especially attracted to the orchestra set, want to come back and buy one every time, Jess found her frog prince, debating whether to buy whole set of froggies for ah khoon, water bus, got gondola offer for 10euro per person, souvenir shops with beautiful masks, Bauto, the most basic and first mask worn in the Carnevale, was the one worn by Casanova, people wear mask traditionally in Venice so that you can’t distinguish between the rich and poor, like creating a Utopia. Beautiful buildings. Pigeons jual mahal, must be females since they flock to Frankie and Kok Hin. Did not want Veronian bread, flew in mid air , sniffed the bread and flew off. Found kicking pigeons fun. Like the way lonely planet said about pigeons, how the only thing that outnumbers the pigeons are the tourists. Lovely music played by jazz and classical bands, took turns playing, missed the sound of clarinet. Someone took picture of us from the second floor.
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Today, we found out a lot of things. That there are practically nothing on wheels in Venice, that Venice is hell hot, gelati in Venice is cheaper, spaghetti in Italy is in fact very good if you order the right one AND the campo santa fosca has quite a nice spot to sleep overnight in.

Yes, I am in fact writing this at the foot of the XXX statue. The night is really quiet now and oddly, we feel somehow safe. To make it simple and clear: We are practically sleeping in the streets of Venice!

We smell, we are dirty, we are sticky with sea air. I’m itching and my stomach is grumbling. The night air is quite cooling and the marble steps as part of the statue gives a good flat laying ground. Occasionally, there are passer-bys, some looks like tourist heading back from the bar, quite a few lone ladies, groups of young guys laughing and chatting…(Some guy living on the top floor of an apartment must have found us to be interesting models for a photo and made a click on his camera)......let’s see what kind of state I will wake up in later this morning! Buona notte!

Magic in Verona (28th June 2005/ Train from Verona to Venezia/ 10:22pm)

So we’re off again, dragging our backpacks on another train ride to another city in Italy. It’s Venice this time, one of my most anticipated cities to visit.

Now to rewind backwards a little about last night…To me, it was one of the most perfect moments in my life. Standing there on the balcony, feeling the night breeze on my face, nice view of the quaint town which is falling asleep, sipping a cup of warm cereal drink (Nestum) and chatting with a Danish woman about cultures, traveling and everything that crossed our mind. Below us in the gardens, small groups of people were gathering around, laughing and chatting. At that moment, I was again touched by the simplicity of life, and how happiness is about living in that moment and being able to seek the beauty around you. The laughter below turned into a singing chorus, enveloping the night and reminding me that I’m in a country which gave birth to the beauty of operas. I felt goose bumps and heaved a sigh of happy content. Which reminds me of Eternal Sunshine, the scene where the couple was lying down on the ice, gazing at the stars, and Jim Carrey dreamily exclaimed something like, “I’m so happy I could just die now” (Jess reading this beside me menyampuks, “You wouldn’t want to die now! You haven’t seen Venice…Firenze…and that was just a rehearsal for crying out loud, it wasn’t even the real thing!”) Well, I guess there are points in your life where you feel will make a good full stop to your life story, and that was one of them.

I was so drawn to the gay singing voices that I excused myself from the Danish woman and stepped down from the balcony, finding my way to the gardens. Whether it was me being too shy to approach the singing people, or was it that their merry making sort of forms a magical shroud around them which I should not disturb…I sat down on the steps leading to the garden and enjoyed it from afar. Someone must have also felt the same drawing effect, as I was soon joined by another guy, an Asian, who stood at a distance enjoying the show.

Thinking that I should get some rest, I went back to bed, thought that perhaps I could squeeze in some Italian words/phrases which I could memorize in my sleep. As the dictionary kept slipping off from my hands, I knew that my Italian lesson will have to be postponed for another time. Soon, the laughing and singing voices were accompanying me into the unconscious world…

2:03am, Genova (train to Verona), 27/06

It is Romania all again as I sit on the night train towards Verona. The same compartments where travellers bunk together, trying to get sleep and rest. The stench of socks and sweat. The smelly toilets where you hold your breath upon entering and do a standing squat as you release fluid. Thank god this time there are no Italian peasants!

Today is also a day of famine and thirst, no "proper" meal of our regular Maggi Mee or hot cup of Milo. Worse even is the fact we can't find suitable drinking water. The tap water in the train is not drinkable. So the only thing I can think of now is a good cup of water form the mineral pot at home. It's funny how little insignificant things matter so much at some point. After the cycling trip, I thought that I would appreciate the comfort of home much more, little things like a good shower, warm food, a good bed, clean clothings….but somehow after a few days, things were taken for granted again. Had a thought that age might really be creeping in on me as I realize I now miss home a lot more often during travels. Most probable reason is how traveling is not something fresh to me anymore.

26th June 2005/Genova, Riviera Di Levante

Today I was greeted with one of the most beautiful sights I've ever saw. This time it was by the sea with waves rushing on the cliffs of Riomaggerio. Again the same thought crept into my mind. Ever since the cycling trip, every time I am flabbergasted by the creations of nature. It was the dream of wanting to have a sort of holiday villa for myself where I could escape from the complications of the world and just be shrouded in the beauty of nature.

The beautiful thing about Cinque Terre is how quaint everything is. Houses in different shades of colors decorate the hills as if they belonged right there from the beginning of time; little alleys that seems to beckon you to get lost in. I had a feel of the Italian Rivera cool sparkling blue waters and it taste salty like any other sea. I admit I did not expect that since it was so clear my mind automatically registered it as fresh water.

As the sun was setting, we strolled along the dell Amore and it was nice imagining how is would be like to promenade with a love one, listening to the waves, enjoying the breeze and just chatting about the future(if I was still young) or past(if I had white hair).

I could imagine myself owning a villa at the place. My parents could retire there and have a peaceful life and welcome backpackers or visitors once in a while. The part-time holiday villa would be popular for giving a homey Asian welcome! I would then be more than obliged to pay a visit my parents a lot more than once in a while. :)

Well, at this point where the future lies with endless possibilities, at least I think I will return one day to Cinque Terre, this time with my pocket a little more loaded with cash. A week to just chill off by the sea, just swimming, diving, enjoying nature, and hopefully with a “someone”.

25th June 2005/ 10:12pm/ Torino/ Campeggio Villa Rey

Once again, we were shown the hospitality and courtesy of the Italians. This time in the form of a Good Samaritan allowing us to use the laptop in his restaurant cum grocery store. Out of courtesy too, we bought ourselves a Fanta, which the shop owner “upgraded” it from the piccolo 2.00euro to the bigger 2.50euro. Till now, I still can’t get over the generosity of the locals here, especially how good it feels when one’s far away from the familiarity and coziness of home. Is it just my lucky charm again or is it in the air this time? I’ll list the experiences here for you to judge…

Day One, 23rd June 2005/ Milan
Nothing much, but Italians were a good change from the French who were less warm

Day Two, 24th June 2005/ Torino
Being totally a stranger to the country with no proper guide book and all (Western Europe edition of Lonely Planet will not introduce you much about buses and small towns), we were not only at a lost for directions but most importantly, at a lost for (Italian) words. Fortunately for us, Good Samaritan #1 came to our rescue in the form of a bus driver. We were dozing away like pigs, still catching up from the jet lag since Paris (which was a week ago…well, I admit I am not so young anymore). Good Samaritan #1 came up to us, woke us up and told us it’ll be better for us to get off at that bus stop and take another bus to Porta Nuova (this is the jeez of what I get since he spoke in Italianglish, perhaps Jess and Kok Hin will give you a different version of it).

We stumbled out of the bus half awake. Well, I am not sure about the rest, but I was working hard to find two things: my orientation out of dreamland AND my eyesight since I was wearing my contact lenses to sleep. In the midst of rolling down the bus steps, I came face to face with Good Samaritan #2, this time in the form of a young Italian lady who spoke in short English sentences that we are supposed to get a tram ticket from the Tabacchi shop to take the tram. We must have looked really blur as she came back to us after 5 minutes to repeat it.

Still recovering from sudden-wakefulness-shock, I spotted the red post box beside the Tabacchi shop and steered my legs into the shop. With the post cards in my hand, I began with the good old “Mi Scusi” and demonstrated in short English sentences that I want to buy postage stamps that will get my nice post cards delivered back to Malaysia. That is when Good Samaritan #3 appeared, in the form of a translator. So the conversation went to and fro smoothly between the Tabacchi owner and me through Good Samaritan #3, who was in fact a smiley old chap who seemed to find his new disposition amusing. I found out that the shop ran out of 0.80euro and the ones left were for 1.40euro, which was too expensive for me. So I excused myself for wasting their time, but Good Samaritan #3 stepped in and paid for the stamps I wanted. Till now, I am not sure whether I thanked him or not, too shocked by the generosity. But I guess he found all this amusing because when we walked out of the shop, he whispered excited to a crooked old man outside, “malaisie…malaisie!”

Good Samaritan #4 came up to us when we were trying to make sense of the map at the bus stop. I went up to this big bubbly Italian man to enquire about the direction to Val Santo Martino (our campsite). He was not really sure where it was but tried hard to help us orientate with the map and the lonely planet. Good Samaritan #5 in the form of a dark hair lady (who looked Filipino and spoke English) was standing aside waiting for the bus, joined in the commotion and soon, three or four of them were jabbering in Italian, where the only words we could catch were Santo Martino, Via Superiore, 52 etc. Good Samaritan #5 got on the bus with us. Here, we got a sneak preview of how snatch thieves work in Italy as our Good Samaritan #5 almost got her hand phone snatched away.

Good Samaritan #5 got off the bus with us (which was two stops away from her original destination) and helped us catch a taxi, explaining to the driver where our destination is. And sure enough, we got to our destination, Campeggio Villa Rey, all in one piece, as if guided by Italian angels.

I gave up.
If there was one thing that usually made me give up, it would be the rashes. Those irritating itchy red spots that had seem to make themselves at home on my body not only cause great uncomfort to the body but most importantly, cause me bad mood. I succumbed to paying the 18.50euro for a nice bed indoors with hot shower and a hearty breakfast tomorrow. This means delaying our plan of sleeping in the park and streets.

For now too, I need to succumb to my heavy eyelids and my tired body beckoning me to sleep. Good night!

Paris awaits…

I have this arguable concept that some aspects of our life are paths we are destined to walk on. To cut a long story short, it was under very clear circumstances that we would eventually land ourselves in Paris. (“We” here represents me and my team members from the L’oreal Brandstorm Team). Even Kok Hin, the most business minded and realistic person in our team agrees on that. But that’s another story…Europe sounds less boring, no?

So after really s***ty hard work, we were on our way to the trip of our lifes. Someone mentioned that for Paris, it’s a place you need to visit three times. Once in your salad days, where you’re carefree, in short, a poor starving student. The second, is when you fall in love and the third, when you’re retired and old. In these three stages, Paris will seem different to you.

So down the plane we stepped and there, I was on Paris soil for the second time in my life. To show as much enthusiasm as my other team mates had would be unreal. My only thought was when will I get to be a part of Paris.

Summer in Paris is freaking hot but everyone was out and about in skimpy tops, singlets and short skirts. The water fountain opposite eiffel tower had people sun bathing and having a dip in the pool of water. Cute little dogs that seemed to groomed more perfectly than any of us skimpered alongside its mistress along the streets. Just like what the internet said about Hotel Mercure, we were exactly at the foot of the famous landmark. (I remember one of the Korean team members even saying very sarcastically that the glaring night lights from the tower made it hard to sleep.) Hence we get to greet her at least three times a day, resulting in plenty of camera clicking to get that perfect picture of yourself and the tower. (Maybe when the mood comes, I shall make a collage of the pics!)

This trip was one of the rare chance where one gets to travel in certain luxury. We were staying right at the foot of Eiffel tower (for crying out loud says Jess!), we had a big buffet breakfast every morning which has unlimited servings of food I dream of eating everyday(salmon, bacon, ham, cereals, cherries, jam jam jam!), 100 euros to spend for the 5 days for food and transport (we took the opportunity to order affordable escargot)....phew! Sadly though, not everything could be enjoyed to the max, as we had something looming behind of mind, BRANDSTORM.

So there I was, on a trip with two other comrades, flinging ourselves with complete vulnerability into Europe. For the first time too, I made no detail research on the destinations, and especially how much everything cost. All I had was my backpack stuffed with maggi, nestum and crackers, my sleeping bag, a tent, 500euros and 30 days to ration all these. Some may call it suicidal, some might applaud for our bravery. At a point when I was lieing on the streets of Venice, I scolded myself an idiot. :) Now sitting comfortably under a roof, I pat myself on the back, feeling glad I did it. I learnt that the more risks you take, the more likely you are to witness things and hence, calling everything a serendipity. It's a testament to the possibilities that arise when you remove yourself from the safety of familiarity and comforts; the benefits of vulnerability. I welcome you to judge it for yourselves...;)