17 °C Venice
I first visited Venice in 1997, after an overnight train journey from Vienna. We were absolutely shattered upon arrival and, spent our paltry one day, roaming about like zombies, with time to do very little aside from visit the Guggenheim gallery, check out Basilica di San Marco, climb the Campanile, take a mandatory outrageously overpriced gondolier ride, and chase pigeons about Piazza di San Marco. December in Venice, is, well, pretty quiet, as it can be chilly and tends to see a lot of rain.
So it was quite a shock to arrive in April 2006 to find that Venice's relatively modest population of around 60,000, had swelled to around 200,000 or more - half seemed to be American college students on spring break, and the rest were fat-walleted-bum-bag-wearing-phallic-lensed-camera-toting-Gucci-sunglass-clad-flag-following-name-tag-wearing-tourists (Gotta love stereotypes!).
After a late arrival into Venice, I hopped on a Vaporetto (water-bus) along the Grand canal to my hostel, on the island of Giudecca. The next morning, I headed to the Sestiere San Marco, where after crossing the Bridge of Sighs, I headed straight to the Palazzo Ducale. This Palazzo was once the residence of the Doge (Venetian Ruler) and seat of government, but now houses a museum with some impressive Renaissance paintings, and a wonderful map room, which details the journeys of Marco Polo (who was born in Venice) to the Far East. From there, I headed to La Fenice Opera House, and visited Peggy Guggenheim's fantastically eclectic gallery, before spending the evening aimlessly wandering the city's labyrinthine passages.
After being kicked out of bed by the grumpy hostel staff at 9.30am the next day, I sauntered outside, rather bleary-eyed, and caught a vaporetto across to San Marco, where I grabbed myself an espresso and climbed up the Campanile, to get a magnificent view over the lagoon and its hundreds of islands. From there I wound my way through the streets and Piazzi of San Marco - San Stefano, Campo Maurizio, Campo San Angelo - visited the splendid (but tiny) Musical Instruments Museum and headed towards Sestiere San Polo.
San Marco is linked to San Polo by the Ponte di Rialto, the oldest and most famous bridge in Venice, and consequently, the area is aflutter with fat-walletted foreigners, expensive Venetian masks and salivating gondoliers. I crossed the Ponte di Rialto, to find myself in San Polo, the oldest part of Venice, and home to the (smelly) fish market, and hundreds of shops selling designer handbags, Venetian masks, Murano glass etc. After my second (or perhaps third) gelato of the day, I hit the wonderful Ca' Pesaro, in nearby San Croce. Ca' Pesaro is an 18th Century Venetian palace that has been converted into a glorious gallery filled with works by Chagall, Matisse, Miro, Kandinsky, and some wonderful Klimt. Then, I finished up the day with an evening of Vivaldi at Chiesa San Vidal.
2 days of trying to push my way through the crowd and I was in need of a break, so caught a vaporetto out to quaint Torcello (pop. 17) with its 11th Century church, before heading onto Burano, home to fine Venetian lace and the world's fattest cat, and then to Murano, home to Murano glass, of course! Back in town, I hit the Museo Correr with its collection of Venetian paintings and sculptures.
The next day, I set out early to have one last roam about the canals, before visiting the splendid Basilica di San Marco, with its Russian-esque onion-domes, golden frescoes and resident spiked pigeons - in an attempt to ward of pigeons (and their poo), spikes have been placed around the eaves. Sure, it stops the pigeons from resting too long upon the eaves, but it's a bit cruel isn't it?
Emilia-Romagna
After racing to the train station, I made my way South to Rimini, Italy's answer to the Gold Coast, without the high-rise and golden meter-maids. A quick stroll along the manky grey sand was enough for me...
I got a cracking start the next day so I could hit San Marino, the world's smallest republic (61 sq km), and (apparently) the oldest constitutional republic in the world still in existence today (first independent in AD301). It was founded by a stonemason from Dalmatia (present day southern Croatia) who was hiding from the anti-Christian emperor Diocletian. San Marino is famous for its Grand Prix, which, would you believe, is held in the nearby Italian countryside!? Its other main annual event is Independence Day, where they celebrate by playing bingo (honest! Google it!).
Upon arrival in mountainous San Marino, I clambered up the winding streets to the vantage points of La Guiata, Cesta and Montale, with their sweeping views across to the coast. I was getting blown away by the tremendously powerful and chilly winds atop the peaks, so headed back into town, to check out the kitsch souvenir shops, and visit the (very boring) national museum, before racing back to Rimini to catch my train onwards to Modena.
Modena is famous foremost for being the home of Ferrari (and also Maserati). It is also the birthplace of the wonderfully sublime balsamic vinegar. So of course, upon arrival there, I treated myself to a lovely meal at a restaurant on the regal Piazza Grande - tempura of artichoke and aubergine with pecorino cheese, hand-made spinach and ricotta ravioli topped with Parmigiano Reggiano (fair dinkum Parmesan cheese, and yeah, even I can't believe I said "fair dinkum") and a side of rocket drizzled with balsamic vinegar. And some fresh sanguinella on the side! Can't afford to eat like that everyday, but it's certainly nice to spoil myself occasionally 
My stomach well satisfied, I had a quick wander about town, passing by the 12th century Duomo and the Torre Ghirlandia, before I retired to my spartan hostel. The only other guest, it seemed, was my elderly Italian roommate; a nun who spent 3-4 hours frantically counting her rosary beads!? I guess, as it was a couple of days before Easter, it was to be expected...
In the morning I moved on to Parma, home to Parmigiano Reggiano (aka Parmesan Cheese)! In Parma, I wandered the grand streets - past the Palazzo della Pilotta, into the baptistery and down to the Teatro Regio, the elegant opera house. Then it was time for lunch - a gargantuan serve of risotto with a side of Parmigano...crumbly and delectable...cheese heaven! From there I took a long walk along the riverside (need to work off all that cheese!), before heading to the heavenly Duomo with its sublime frescoes. I had planned to get back to visit the Ferrari factory in Modena, but kinda got stuck looking at the amazing frescoes, and let's be fair here - incredible 11th century frescoes, or an overpriced vehicle that will lose value if you even breathe on it (Sorry motorphiles!).
Next up was Bologna, which is, home to Ragu, aka "Spaghetti Bolognese"! Of course being a vegetarian, Spag Bol in Italy doesn't quite work, so I settled for a rather mediocre pizza. Bologna is lovely with its earthy red buildings, vaulted arcades and elegant piazzi. It is home to the world's oldest university (Dante studied here!) and is home to a massive population of students, as well as being one of the most socialist areas of Italy (hence the red).
I first hit Piazza Maggiore, where I was not only met by huge renaissance buildings and the ubiquitous pooing pigeon, but also the Peruvian pan-pipe band churning out Simon and Garfunkel numbers (if I'm not getting followed by Hare Krishnas, it's those bloody Peruvian Simon and Garfunkel impersonators). After a quick peep inside the massive San Petronia Basilica, I moved on to wander about the ancient university, before checking out the "twin towers" of Bologna, Torre degli Asinelli and Torre della Garisenda and climbing the 500 (!) steps to the top of Asinelli for the red-rooved view.
After sprinting to the station, I hopped on a train to Florence, then onwards to Pisa, where I was to meet up with my friend Anita. She was arriving on a late Ryan Air flight, so I had a few hours to kill when I got there, so I did the unexpected, and head straight to the Campo dei Miracoli (Field of Dreams), the beautiful field that is home to the Leaning Tower, as well as the Baptistery and Duomo. It was just as I had remembered - the tower was positively miniscule, but the Campo dei Miracoli was as sublime as ever, with the solitude of the early evening, adding to the atmosphere.
Liguria
The next day, Anita and I wandered back up there to climb up the tower, and visit the elegant Duomo. Of course, everyone who visits Pisa wants to go up the tower (in spite of the ludicrous €15 they charge!), and we could only get tix for later that night, or visit when we got back from the Cinque Terre.
So we boarded the coast-hugging train to Riomaggiore, the first of the 5 (Cinque) lands (Terre). We spent the next couple of days here, walking between the five towns, sipping espresso, sampling every possible gelati (Straciatella and Sanguinella are perhaps my faves), and generally relaxing along the way. The Cinque Terre is certainly lovely and well worth the visit, though, because it was Easter Weekend, the place was seriously manic!
We were so much enjoying our lunch (ravioli with chocolate swirls - seriously!!) in Vernazza, and sunbaking on the rocks (no beach!) in Riomaggiore, that we were a little slow in leaving the Cinque Terre for Pisa. And we really did have to get back there as we had pre-booked our Pisa climb. So we caught the latest train that would get us there on time.....except, silly us (or, in this case, me), thought the train was direct through to Pisa, and when the train started going backwards in La Spezia, we were thinking, "Uh-oh"......
So we wound up back in Riomaggiore, and had to resign ourselves to the likelihood that we just weren't going to get to climb the tower. The train we were now on, would only get us into the station at 1908, and our tix were for 7pm! Even if we taxied our way there from the station, what were we to do with our backpacks!!?!
So we did all that we could do. After our 1908 (on time!) arrival, we hailed a taxi to our hotel, practically threw our bags across the front desk (thankfully they remembered us!), and jumped back in the taxi to get to the tower. We ran across the field to the tower, and gave the ticket man our tix.
"No, your tickets for 7pm" (by now it was pushing 7.30). "You're too late!".
"Signore, per favore", said I, smiling hopefully, "Il tren, molto lentissimo", rapidly exhausting my rubbish Italian lexicon.
"Ok, ok, but take your bags there", he said, pointing over to the left luggage room.
So, yeah, we made it up the tower! Not really terribly exciting, though we did enjoy tumbling down the stairs afterwards - literally - without getting busted by the guards!
Belinda xo
