Rollercoaster

The port at Marseille

The beach

We spent the greater part of Thursday wandering the streets of Marseille looking for a hostel. With our backpacks weighing us down and the streets all angled, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience. It turned out the Eurolines office was closed because it was a holiday, which also meant that everywhere we went was already booked. We eventually were sent to a cheap hotel, also booked, before a recently renovated hotel that had no guests yet and wanted 79 euros per night. It turns out we’re crazy. We thought it would be a good idea to spend a possibly uncomfortable night outside or at the train station. At least we’d have the full travelling experience! So we passed the mirror-roofed market armed with Subway sandwiches and made the long walk to the beach. The beach was by far the best part of the day. It was weird to see ladies with their boobs on display, but the sun was glorious when we had no where to be, and the water was practically warm. It certainly wasn’t freezing, like what we are used to at home. We risked leaving all of our belongings on the beach for a few minutes while we passed through the waves for a refreshing swim.

A place to read and nap

The port at night

Sadly, the beach closed at eight. We found a bench at the top of a nearby hill where Dale immediately had a nap and I read my book when I wasn’t staring at the ocean. As the sun went down I started to get cold, so we walked slowly back to the port, then to the train station. We found a spot on the expansive steps on which to settle down, hopefully for the night. I turned back to my book, but soon heard glass flying down the steps behind me. There were drunk African guys way at the top of the steps. Considering I couldn’t hear what they were saying I chose to ignore them, but minutes later another beer bottle came flying down the steps and sent shards pattering onto the backpacks we were resting against. As we were discussing what to do, I heard one of the guys yell, “I kill you! I kill you!” That was the last straw. Even if they were being ridiculous, I’m not dumb enough to hang around grown men who are either drunk or stupid enough to yell or act that way. This lead us into the train station. As we passed them on the steps I sang a Teagan and Sara song out loud and was reminded of the “Whistle a Happy Tune” song from “The King and I.” Drunk idiots don’t get to scare me.

The benches in the station were separated by bars so that we couldn’t lie down and could barely lean on each other. I was freezing cold. When we had our laptop out for just a second, trying to preserve the battery, some Italian kids came over and started harassing us to plug in their iPod. There was a piano nearby that inexperience players kept hammering away on until one teenager sat down and suddenly blew us all away. He ended up having a crown standing around him, including train staff, as he blazed through everything from classical, to jazz, to Coldplay. The Italian kids came back with explicit purpose of making irritating noises to “get back at us” for not letting them plug in their iPods, but we were so wowed by the piano that the kids were thrown for a loop and soon gave up.

Marseille in the morning

Then, at two in the morning, as we were struggling to sleep despite the cold, someone practically shouted, “Bonsoir!” in our faces. It was an arrogant security officer, wanting to see our tickets. When we figured out what he wanted I said, “We have Europasses.” As I reached for my purse he waved me away and said, “Fine.” I realized afterwards that I had accidentally saved us. He thought I meant Eurorail passes, meaning train tickets, rather than our Eurolines bus passes. The trains ran all night, but not the buses. The locked us in, almost the only people in the station apart from an old guy who thought it would be a good idea to sit right beside us. I realized then that the bathrooms had been locked down. We couldn’t leave, and I couldn’t get any relief, which meant I was stuck in horrible discomfort for the rest of the night. When six am rolled around I got Dale up and we left. I couldn’t stand being in the station a second longer.

The mirrored market (with no market today!)

It was just my luck that there was no where to eat that early in the morning. We hung around at the port and whiled away the time until the MacDonald’s in the train station would open. I hated making that walk back. We stopped at the Eurolines office, which turned out to be different from the booth in the station. The girl behind the counter asked us to come back at two pm because she didn’t know how to book our tickets. We decided to return to the recently renovated hotel afterwards, feeling that our night at the train station would make the cost of one night more bearable. The hotel was a little disorganized. We had to find an ATM before we could pay, then when I went for a nap Dale walked in with the hotel owner to show him how to get the hot water running. Otherwise the room was well worth it. We both showered then napped for two solid hours.

Beautiful Marseille from the cathedral

Marseille from the cathedral

Gold inside the cathedral

Since we were able to leave our backpacks behind, we picked up some groceries, got our Eurolines tickets, then spent the afternoon hiking to Notre Dame Cathedral on the mountain. The climb through the city was steep, but the view was spectacular. I kept slipping on the stones because they were so smooth from the hundreds of footsteps before me. The white cathedral itself was a pleasant surprise; the domed ceiling glowed with gold paint. As we walked a different route back down the hill we found a park that looked through some trees over the city and stopped for a baguette dinner. A passing Frenchman with his wife happily wished us, “Bon appetite!”

Notre Dame Cathedral on the mountain

We followed our nice picnic with a “historic walk” on the other side of the port. We had a Kriek Cerise at the local Irish pub, then were back at the hotel and crashing by ten o’clock. In the morning we had tea and biscuits in the hotel room, showered, filled up our giant water bottle at the tap, and checked out at 11. We had pain au chocolat in front of a fountain before going to the grocery store again. To our dismay, the store alarm went off as we were leaving with yesterday’s purchases. The only French word that came to my aid was, “Hier,” meaning, “Yesterday.” Somehow they were able to figure out that we had paid for everything without a receipt and even apologized to us.

The "breakfast" fountain

We went to the beach. Both of us got one swim in, and me one stomach burn, before noisy thunder clouds covered the sky in the late afternoon. We retreated to a Starbucks to try and sort out our bus plan, which has turned out to be very frustrating as not all buses go to the cities we hoped for. We had more sandwiches at the port, then returned to the station. We were unimpressed when a strangling fight broke out by us while we waited for the bus, but were able to board early and get seats to ourselves this time.

The bungalow

Dale couldn’t sleep. A man sat behind him who wanted Dale’s chair to be all the way up, so I was lucky enough to have a bit of a recline while he was stuck sitting upright in the aisle. The driver was rough too, talking on his phone, making wide turns off the road, and grinding the gears. We had a stop at a truck stop in the morning where I cheerfully said, “Bonjourno!” to the lady at the counter, and she seemed surprised for some reason. I guess she usually has to deal with grumpy drivers. When we arrived in Rome I was still wearing jeans, and the Eurolines office was closed. It was Sunday hours, with another holiday the next day. We had only arranged to stay at Plus Camping Village Roma for two nights. We took our metro and bus to the campground, not quite knowing what to expect. It turned out to be lovely. We had our own bungalow with a private washroom. We dropped off our stuff, went to the only place with food nearby, MacDonald’s, then stopped into the campground’s grocery store when it opened. We spent over 25 euros, so we received a free bottle of wine. Then we took the metro back into the city centre for a wander. The first thing I noticed was that the men blatantly stared at my legs. I remembered the staring from the last time I had been in Italy, but knowing about it didn’t make it any more comfortable.

Area Sacra (many stray cats!)

The Coliseum

Enjoying the tourist life

We strolled down small side streets with orange walls and colourful shutters. The street vendors were constantly calling for our attention, but I had eyes only for the ancient ruins scattered randomly through the city, and the restaurants with the little table-clothed bistro tables outside. We made it to the Coliseum as the evening light started turning everything gold. The stadium was immense. The pictures we took only encompassed the narrow curve rather than the longest side. We took a seat on a ledge in front of the building and ate another picnic lunch. Behind us was a couple taking their wedding photos. We got back to the bus stop late. We realized the bus wasn’t coming, and the one we hopped on wouldn’t take us the right direction. We got off on a deserted road and waited to flag down a cab. Luckily, it only cost us ten euros, and the driver understood, “Plus Camping Village Roma.”

Caught with the map

Pompeii

Dale at the baths

Considering Dale’s bad night on the bus, we crashed and had a hard time getting up in the morning. I was bent on going to Pompeii to see the city ruins preserved so well by Vesuvius’ volcanic eruption. We got started late and had to take a later train, which meant we were sitting outside long enough to see planes dropping the Italian colours in the sky, followed by a band performing right outside the train station. I was again unimpressed when random men started making kissing noises at me. I just don’t know how to respond, and it feels disgusting to have strangers eying me like that. The train itself was fine. At least for me; I couldn’t keep my eyes open. A second train and lunch later and I was ready for Pompeii. Dale, on the other hand, started to feel the heat.

Paint still in tact in the baths

Preserved victim

A shop

Stadium

As I was wandering from house to brothel—where there were depictions of services offered still on the walls— altar to shop, re-made vineyard to bath, stadium to theatre, Dale was trailing along behind me miserably. I was fascinated by the people who might have lived there, and tried hard to imagine what their last day must have been like. There were stray dogs willing to walk with us through the ruins, seeming very placid and content, and eventually very few people left. The lack of people gave an even greater sense of the desolation. I made sure we walked all the way to the Village of Mysteries, but even though we stayed until closing, we will still missed many of the buildings. It was far more enormous than I ever imagined. We got lucky on the way home, catching all the last trains and the metro. We had to walk for a good forty minutes without the bus though. This was the point when Dale realized he must have had heat stroke, because he didn’t mind the sketchy night-time, highway stroll. We went to reception as soon as we got in and purchased another night. We needed to organize our next leg still, and we still wanted to see Vatican City before leaving the next day.

Inside the stadium

Giving a performance in the smaller theatre

The large theatre

Looming Vesuvius

Intact paintings in the Village of Mysteries

Gorgeous and spookishly deserted

The next day Dale still woke up miserable because the people in the adjoining bungalow had thrown an excessively loud party all night, even getting yelled at by the staff. The yelling didn’t really help, and the same is happened again the following night. I've never heard more childish, disrespectful, and not to mention racist reactions to the staff member who had to tell the teenagers to go to bed. Luckily Dale decided to do like I did and invest in some earplugs despite not liking them. I dragged Dale to the Vatican even if he was tired, where we sat amid the white pillars and simply in the massive circular courtyard. There was a free exhibit to the side of the chapel, where extremely old bibles were on display, including some of the first recorded letters. We didn’t actually go into the Sistine Chapel because of the heat, the massive line, and the cost, but we could admire the dome from the outside. I marvelled that the courtyard could be filled with people, along with the chapel, which can house 60,000. We had seen plenty of nuns and priests throughout Rome, but especially inside.

The Vatican

The Sistine Chapel

When we were finished we walked to nearby castle by the river, passing plenty of happy-seeming beggars along the way. One who zipped along beside me in a wheelchair yelled, “Bella! Bella! Bella! Bella!” at me about ten times before I realized he was trying to get my attention. It was very awkward to turn him away. Afterwards, we made our way to the campground early enough for a coupon-assisted dinner of lasagna and wine or beer at the restaurant. Then we finally got the laptop plugged in and decided where to go next. With hope, we planned to make a disgustingly long overnight trip to Brussels, stopping for four hours, then overnight it to Prague for only one day. If we were especially lucky we would be able to see Syd there. The rest of the trip looked like we’d spend all our nights on the bus and only one day in each city, with our bags. We wanted to go from Prague we go to Amsterdam, then London, then Dublin. Then after a few days, home!

Well, that did not happen. We trekked to the bus station early the next day to find an extremely unhelpful Eurolines worker who insisted in poor English that there were no buses for us to take out of Rome that day. She barely even looked at her computer. We struggled to find wifi access to look everything up ourselves, but it was an absurdly difficult process and every time we returned to her with a solution, she told us it wasn’t possible. Fighting frustration, we tried to come up with a different plan, as well as find food, which was another difficulty for some reason. At last we decided we had no choice but to shell out the 100 euros to take the train to Venice. Hours later we played games in the air-conditioned station and recovered our moods a little. Although, a random guy tried to help us get our tickets so he could ask for money, and reminded us of the other day when a girl had tried to do the same, but selected “Florence” instead of Venice on the machine. Luckily we were just browsing, so she didn’t get her chance to snatch the tickets.

We went for dinner in a kebab place where the man behind the counter ended up being the friendliest Italian we have met, actually having a conversation with us and asking where we were from and if we like Italy. He even offered to let us eat before paying since we’d need to go find an ATM, but Dale didn’t take him up on the offer and I stayed with our bags and food while he collected everything. Then we got on the train, first class because it only cost four euros more. Sadly the train attendant gave us poor information and we ended up missing our stop by a long shot. We found ourselves in Florence at midnight, having wasted the Venice money. As I tried to search for the right train before it could leave, I actually started to panic. I couldn’t believe we were having so much terrible luck. How could other people “wing it,” and for us it was Hell? Honestly, I thought it would be good for me to travel without set plans. Dale calmed me down with the surprising and obvious remark that Eurolines has departures from Florence, so we weren't just stuck in the middle of nowhere. I don’t trust it at all anymore, but we’ll see if we can recover.

Since we couldn’t find any hostels, we spent the night on some steps outside the train station. We slept in shifts, each of us getting maybe two hours total. At one point I was closing my eyes on and off so I didn’t have to look at the morning passengers going by when I noticed one lone man tiptoeing behind us. I watched him in my periphery until he realized I was blinking, not sleeping. He turned his move into a dump of change into the phone booths, eyeing me now and then. He was forced to collect his unused change and go back into the station. Later, when I was sitting on my backpack out of discomfort, he passed again, and I stared him down so he knew he had failed officially. I’m sure he would have had fun with a backpack of tampons and dirty socks. We don’t keep our valuables that unprotected. We got up at six and headed to the nearest MacDonald's, which we're thoroughly sick of by now, but which are so convenient. Besides, we only have about 200 euros left in our bank account. Things are rough at the moment, and I'm struggling to remain positive. I feel ungrateful, but being so stressed and uncomfortable saps the positive right out of a person.