Ahhhh, Hvar

As I mentioned, I caught a ferry to Hvar to explore the island. For future reference, there are two places your ferry may arrive, Hvar City or Stari Grad. The ferry my sister and I took happened to arrive in Stari Grad. While the goal destination was Hvar City, the ferry ticketing office assured us there were multiple busses which would transport everyone across the island to get to Hvar City. The cost of the bus transfer was included in the ferry ticket, so off we went.
There are a couple different options as far as ferries are concerned, and I think we ended up taking the "slow" ferry, arriving at about 2 hours after our departure. I didn't mind the slower route, as the entire journey was beautiful. The Adriatic Sea is such a beautiful deep blue, it dares you not to fall in love.

We arrived to find ourselves the very last two people to board our bus (don't worry, there are several), and sat in the jump seats sprawled in front of the windshield. Our bus driver was hysterical, and clearly enamored with having not one, but TWO sisters from California on his bus. He kept asking about Schwarzenegger, and I'm pretty sure he was driving a little crazier than normal for our benefit. It really felt like an amusement park ride more than a bus transfer. It also provided the added benefit of an unofficial tour of the island. Driving straight across to the other side, we were afforded a look at various towns on the island as well as ancient ruins of long worn down walls dividing the island. After about half an hour of accidental exploration, we were in Hvar City.

Seriously?! Again with the crazy beautiful sea. We walked through the edge of town to come gobsmacked facing the yacht harbor. Let it be known that when I become filthy rich, one of my yachts will live in this very harbor, and I will live like a queen. My sister and I walked along the edge of the sea, set out to explore the beaches.

At this point, we started noticing a trend. As it turns out, true beaches are not really all that present in Hvar City. The edge of the sea more crashes into a rocky ledge, or rolling mound of pebbles that appear suspiciously like a manmade beach. Because of this, there are swimming-pool type ladders secured into the rock for entry to the sea. This helps to avoid carrying a sea urchin in your foot, as they happen to be quite fond of such rocky seashores. Additionally, all along the rocky edge, there are lounge chairs set up, apparently for rent throughout the day.
Having grown up in Hawaii, my sister and I cannot fathom PAYING to sit near the ocean, so we kept walking until the crowds were a bit more scarce. Here, we decided we would post up on a few chairs, and hold out until questioned. We went for a swim, sat down to relax, and like clockwork a gentleman showed up requesting payment for "chair rental." Playing dumb, we both gathered up our belongings, and moved along, giggling to ourselves.

We walked to another "beach" where we decided to up our legitimacy by ordering a cocktail from the beachside bar. As it turns out, this tactic worked marvelously, as we were never questioned. I think it helped that this beach was also part of a nearby resort, and we could have easily passed for hotel guests. Here we stayed undisturbed until we became hungry enough to leave.
Walking back to Hvar City toward our bus transfer, we stopped at a restaurant near the yacht harbor. Quite honestly, it was the sign reading "mixed shells" that drew me in. I happen to love shellfish. My poor sister saw both how hungry I was, and how much I love shellfish, as the platter began disappearing at what to her was an alarming rate. (Sorry!)

Ahhh, full bellied and relaxed, we began our trek back to Stari Grad to catch our return ferry. In hindsight, I would absolutely get a room and stay a few days. It would be so luxuriously wonderful to just lounge in Hvar, and I can't wait to do it again!

Lucca!

As it turns out, I was drawn to Lucca after a few people mentioned being pulled to it, but never having made it there. I went online to book my train ticket, found an awesome B&B, and set out for adventure.
The train to Lucca was quite short, and my first view of Lucca left me feeling warm, excited, wild and free. Maybe it was because I had no idea what I was stepping into, and was completely open-minded, but I loved little walled Lucca from first sight.

I walked a short distance from the train station to the B&B, and remember being a little offput by the entrance on the back side of a building, off the edge of waht appeared to be an alley. My reaction was unfounded, because once I set foot into Le Violette, I was home. This small, independently run B&B was so charming, clean, welcoming and cozy, I could easily work out a monthly rate and stay. I got settled in, and decided to do my usual "wander and get lost" throughout the city.
Lucca was far more welcoming, open, and community centered than Florence felt, and I was so grateful to experience this. I walked throughout the narrow streets, and saw children running across courtyards and families enjoying the beautiful weather. Walking a bit further through the city's center, I came across the San Michele in Foro.

It's a good thing I was the one holding the camera, or there would be a photo of me standing there with my mouth wide open. The San Michele in Foro is beautiful. It is so grande and bold in such a quaint town. I don't know how a person could walk by without taking a long, floor to ceiling gaze at it's entirety.
I kept walking, turning whenever it felt right, and stumbled upon the Basilica of San Frediano, which was also magnificently beautiful. The gold mosaic mural was beautiful in the afternoon sun. So much so, that I sat down to eat what would turn out to be an awful meal. Hey, you can't win them all! And to be fair, this was right before Ferragosto, so the business may have counted on only having tourist company, or was preparing to close for the holiday and didn't have the normal assortment of produce. Or, they were simply unconcerned with serving anything worth eating, who knows. I had a very, very stale panino that was described as a caprese, yet contained mayonaise, tomato, and iceberg lettuce. - Clearly an italian food fail. Fortunately for the establishment I purchased said panino from, I don't recall their name, or I'd share it.

 After eating, I continued walking through downtown Lucca, and figured I may as well walk all the way to the other side of the wall. I found a canal or waterway of some sort, weaving it's way through residence, and continued up to the top of the wall.

On top of Lucca's perimeter wall, I had a clear, shaded, elevated view of the City. The more I walked, the more I realized that THIS is how you do Lucca. Watching people climb the wall with a bottle of wine and some snacks, and then nap under the shade of the trees. Lucca, for me, epitomized the lush, indulgent and welcoming tuscany I've so often seen romanticized.

Less about a place

Traveling is getting to the point where I feel myself opening up, past the discomfort of a stretch, and into the realm of flexibility. I feel insecurities lift, and hopes waft into the sky. Ten days ago, as I was slated to leave Italy and land in Croatia, I found myself discussing coming "home" with another traveler. She had been traveling about the same length of time, and we both were experiencing the feeling of simultaneous comfort and discomfort at a longing to be in the familiar.  The difference, I guess, is that she had to return to get back to work, and I do not.
I explained to her then, and still feel that although part of me feels "ready" to return, I am also equally curious as to what lies for me on the other side of this feeling. If I continue on through this phase of slight discomfort, what will I feel on the other side? Will there been an even bigger opening in my heart that allows life to move through me? I feel kinder, more relaxed and more open these days than I have in months, maybe years. I feel like little details of my travels are what signal to me that I am on the right path - whatever that may be.
Details like traveling through Barcelona, I heard the Moonlight Sonata blasting through the metro tunnel. I love that song, in it's heavy, moody soulful repetition. Hearing the violinists playing outside of the leaning tower of Pisa a quartet variation of La Vien Rose. Also a song I love. Even tonight, walking to dinner at a restaurant I felt compelled to enter, no sooner do I step inside than the clouds release a FLOOD of rain. My umbrella was in my hotel room... and no sooner do I pay the bill and the rain dwindles long enough for me to walk back to my hotel.
An inspirational person in my life once mentioned that everything happens FOR you, not TO you, and I feel this every day. As long as I feel it, I see it, and I keep being pulled into the direction which keeps me on track to my goal.

Cologne

This has got to be the shortest country stop ever, as I've only been in Germany for two days. Poor planning on my part, as I enjoyed what little bit I was able to experience only to leave today for London.
When I left California to travel, I intended on spending most of my time in the Mediterranean, and possibly Indonesia and Hawaii. Yes, that's a beachy sunshine trend you're noticing. What is actually happening, is that I am traveling to places I feel inclined to visit, or places that are easy and affordable to get to.  What I am finding in traveling this way, is that clearly I don't know best, because so far every place I've been that I didn't intend to see has been wonderful. Cologne being top of the list.

I had no intentions on visiting Germany, but am completely floored by how beautiful and friendly it has been to me, in my two days here. The Dom is breathtaking, and haunting when clouds loom nearby. The city seems to be a very intentional design of mass transit webs and the intermingling of old and new architecture. Nothing about this place seems to be haphazard.

When I first went inside the Dom, I remember feeling a haunting weight of presence. I couldn't wait to take photos of the architecture because it fascinates me. It always strikes me that when cathedrals are being built, perhaps they are most detailed because the architects and builders are so impassioned with purpose? "Regular" buildings almost never seem to evoke the same feeling of passionate building.

Taking photos inside of churches and cathedrals always feels awkward to me, and I try very hard not to disrupt or photograph people who are there to worship. This is their very private, intimate space, and I am a wandering tourist. I pulled out my camera to snap a photo of the ceiling, and ended up capturing the man you see in the very bottom of the picture. He started talking German to me, and I instantly felt small and intrusive.  Apologetically, I tried to explain that I wouldn't use the flash anymore, he went on again in German. So I asked if maybe photos were not allowed? (Which seemed odd as MANY people were taking them) He said no, that the flash would not matter, he had ruined my photo and recommended I take another. Embarrassed, I showed him the photo,

and that I was only trying to get the ceiling. Then the conversation steered into where I am from, and where I have been in my adventure. He asked me if California is still mostly filled with Spanish speaking immigrants, I said not completely, but partially. He asked if we still have a "border problem," I said we did, and he laughed. He explained to me that Europe is no longer for Europeans, and that Europe has a very big border problem, but that you will never hear Europe speak of it. At this point he had a look on his face like he was afraid of getting busted gossiping. He said you will never hear Europe speak of it because we like to think that is a US problem, and we are unlike you. Then he cracked himself up at the hypocrisy of this mindset. He said, you know, if your family is European, we would be better off having young people like you move here, at least it would be Europeans returning to Europe and some day I won't be the only true European left. Our conversation steered into politics, and politicians, how corruption is everywhere, as is the divine. I apologized for interrupting his prayer, and he thanked me, with a tear in his eye. He took my hand and kissed the back of it, telling me I am a treasure, apologized for taking my time and went about his day.

People are a gift. The elderly, people who have lived a thousand stories are a gift. I hope we never forget that.

Croatia - skipping ahead

I've been in Croatia now for three days, and have been outside for less than 5 hours total.  My flight from Florence was canceled, and then re-routed via bus to Genoa where we were flown out just after midnight, to arrive in Split in the middle of the night. My adventure started ok, I found a taxi and meandered my way to a hotel room by 4AM.  My taxi driver was very kind, giving me a quick historical tour of Split while I found a place to stay.  After finally collapsing into a bed, I woke up the next day with a horrendous migraine. My body ached, waves of nausea washed over me, and I had slept roughly 4 hours before it was time to check out.
I vaguely remember getting contact information from my AirBNB host to check into my apartment.  I shuffled to the bus station, sat down and put my face in my hands, waiting.  I boarded the bus and remember being told I was going three stops.  I sat down and closed my eyes. One, two, three, and I was off, looking for my host.  She found me, and I tried very hard to say hello while holding myself together and ignoring the urge to curl up and die under a bush.
I feel like the walk back to the apartment is a blurry slideshow of sweats, pain and nausea intermingled with images of cars parked so tightly there is no sidewalk.  Slideshows of feeling like I might actually get run over by a passing car that truly has no where else to go.  But we made it.  I checked in, she went over basic details I don't remember, she left, and I peeled off my clothes and collapsed trembling onto the couch.

Sweaty and shaking, I fell asleep for the next 4 hours.  The following day I woke up feeling slightly less like death, and managed to rummage through my backpack and locate some electrolyte tabs and ginger candies.  That'll have to do.  I tried repeatedly to get up and get showered to go get food, but each time I stood I got dizzy and my head threatened to explode.  Back to bed.

Yesterday I started to feel a little better and the pounding in my head was a little less, so I decided to venture out to get some food.  Walking down to Diocletian's Palace and the port was so beautiful. It was such a heavenly contrast to where I'd been spending my time thus far.

Croatia was blowing my mind. Everywhere I turned there was a smiling face, eager to make certain I felt welcome.

Then my sister arrived, and we planned our excursion to Hvar by ferry. That adventure will be coming next, so hang on to your curiosity, because it was wonderful.

Florence, Part II

I am exhausted, thanks in part to a late night card game with friends I made at the hostel, and standing in line at the Uffizi. I arrived around 8:40, which is less than an hour after opening. Certainly I'd get in, right? Hours go by... and the silly sign indicates the wait may be 30-60 minutes. Ha! How about 120 my friend?! I am wishing I drank more espresso, ate more breakfast, and brought a bottle of water because now it's getting hot, I am already tired of standing, and there is no chance of getting out of line to fulfill needs without sacrificing HOURS more of my day. Suck it up, and welcome to a last minute plan to visit Florence in peak tourist season. Eh, we live and we learn, right?
It's about noon, and I am FINALLY getting in.... Or so I thought. As it turns out, you wait in line to buy a ticket, and then you wait in another line to get your ticket scanned. The ticket scanning line is more chaotic, and about a third of the intensity as the first line, but by now I may be dying and am growing significantly less interested in Renaissance art.... yeah, right

Ahhh, how all of it changes once you're inside and immersed in the art, though. I walked straight up tot he cafe, bought two bottles of water, plugged in my headphones with classical music and started walking and admiring.

The Uffizi is HUGE. So huge, in fact, that by the time I got close to the end I was absolutely spent, and not very interested anymore. Some people say an audio guide would have changed that, but I think we all have our limits audio guide or not. The next photo gives an idea of the size, as the gallery is shaped like a U, I am on the top level in the middle of the U, and both the right and left sides are shown.

After the Uffizi, I went over to the Gucci museum to grab lunch. Partially because they had outdoor seating, but also because their outdoor seating was enclosed with plexi-glass and by this time the piazza had quite a few shady characters eyeballing handbags. I knew I could sit and relax in peace, and that's exactly what I did.

Things I would recommend in Florence:
 - Stay just outside of the madness, but within walking distance like I did. At night the main areas get pretty noisy, and it was nice to be able to leave it all.
 - Eat off the main walkway streets.  There are TONS of itty bitty side streets with fantastic food, don't be tempted into the main eating holes.  The side streets are almost always fresher and cheaper.
 - Be mindful, but not paranoid of your belongings.  I received a LOT of warnings about pickpockets in Florence, and saw very little to back it up.  Yes, there were some, but not enough to warrant paranoia by any means.
 - Explore the Ponte Vecchio at night, as the streets get crowded with performers, and the bridge recently had LED lights donated making it quite the sight once the sun goes down.

Florence, Part I

On my flight from Paris to Florence, I had some very romantic notions in my head. I was going to rent a scooter, and speed through Tuscany inhaling delicious scents of pesto, olive oil and eggplant. Ha! My first reality check came when I hopped into a cab from the airport to the hostel and watched my life flash before my eyes.
Now, I realize that just beause something works for me, does not make it the best or right way to do something. But, what I saw in that short drive was unbelievable.  Apparently the unofficial rules of the road go a bit like this: speed limit signs should always be half of the actual traveling speed, vehicles in front of you which fail to double the posted speed will subsequently be "encouraged" off the road until a makeshift passing lane has been made, at which point we will pass - into the flow of oncoming and CLOSE traffic - and swerve just in time to be honked and yelled at, similarly, stop signs are for suggestion only as are any lane markings, and one way signs are simply an indicator that if you enter you had better be very confident in your reverse driving abilities. Ultimately it seems the main goal is to come as close as possible to hitting something only to swerve once the other pedestrian or driver has sufficiently lost control of their bodily functions.
In short, no freaking way was I boarding a motorized bicycle!! Illusion number one- dashed.
So now I check into my hostel, Ostello Gallo D'Oro, and was pleasantly surprised. The facilities were clean, mostly quiet (in terms of street noise), and the beds were comfortable.  While I was there I ended up making friends with a few Australians and a Brazilian, and the age spread was more diverse than other hostels I had stayed in.  I set in for bed and signed on to research my game plan for the following day.

For starters, this hostel makes fresh breakfast sandwiches every morning, and has delicious espresso available any time which is priceless. I ate, and walked straight into the heart of Florence only to be slack-jawed, standing in front of the Duomo.

This, along with several other sights I've seen is absolutely nothing like you see in the photos. To see it in person is breathtaking. The colors are much more vibrant and remind me of holiday ribbon candies, and the size of these things are unbelievable! Not to mention the mindblowing architectural feat that IS the Duomo. It blows the mind. Well, mine at least.

Any way, I explored Florence, took in the Duomo and the masterpieces of art that are scattered throughout the piazzas, the Ponte Vecchio, and the night performers. The next day I was dead set on getting into Uffizzi if I had to wait hours. Which, spoiler alert - I did.