(06 Ottobre 2001)My second day in Preugia. Looking back now, I gave Perugia more time than it deserved. By lunch time I'd wandered most of the streets, been inside the basilica, and found my way out to an amazing little botanical garden. Part of it was a cloister, with a real live medieval garden. Way better than The Cloisters in Manhattan, because this is all real, and wasn't uprooted and moved 3000 miles. Fabulous lookout over the vineyards and olive orchards.

One of my major purchases today was a thick book called "Nuovo Orario Palagi," Entirely in Italian, this is a timetable for all Trenitalia trains. I spent part of the afternoon sitting on a piazza trying to figure it out, and planning my journeys for the next few days. I found a really great internet cafe tonight, but they closed long before I was done typing. I also did a load of laundry, I've been out for a week now, and while I have been rinsing clothes each night, things just needed wash. That, and I got mud on my green pants. Internet cafes and laundromats go hand in hand. Another quiet night at the little hostel. I notice that it isn't part of Hostelling International, maybe that has something to do with it being nicer.

(07 Ottobre 2001)Boy did I walk a lot today. Lots of hills. This morning, I got up and got moving relatively early. Remember that the hostels all have a midnight curfew, so that puts you on a much earlier sleep schedule than I'm normally used to. I hiked down the hill from Perugia, to the train station. It was only about 1.5km, but with my pack and down a very steep downhill all the way. I got a chance to see a little bit of the 'real' city, the places where employees live, and where industry happens. I bought my ticket, to Spello. The train ride was relatively short, about 40 minutes.

Spello is a tiny, tiny hill town. So small actually, that the train station didn't have a ticket office or a place to lock your luggage. I had to carry my pack all day. Spello is a hill town in every sense that it could be. A very few tourists were wandering around, and the shops were selling local olive oil and wine. My pack is heavy enough, I just ate samples. After checking out the frescos in a few little churches, I found one of the restaurants that Lonely Planet recommended. It was situated on the side of the hill away from the main part of the valley, with a beautiful terrace looking over the farmland. I had a nice lunch, salad, pasta (huge raviolis, stuffed with mushrooms and meat), and the ubiquitous vino rosso. After lunch I took a brief nap in a hillside park. In the shade of course, it was pretty warm, in the high 70s at least. I was glad to have my pack, for the shorts and my towel. I walked down from the park to the train station, boarded the train without a ticket (no place to buy one) and rode one stop to Assisi.

Assisi is yet another Umbrian hill town, very famous, as San Francesco was born there. I boarded a bus uphill but saw the sign for the Ostello de la Pace before we reached the town. I got off, and still had to walk almost a kilometer over to the place. It is probably a converted farmhouse, with probably 12 rooms, 6 people per room. I obtained a room with little effort, dumped my pack, and walked up the hill to town. By this point is was nearing 6PM, and hundreds of tourists were streaming out of the place and onto their buses. I swear I don't understand how people can stand being herded like cattle. I visited the Upper Basilica of San Francesco, with Giotto's frescos illustrating his life. The lower Basilica is directly underneath the upper one, and below its floor is Francesco's tomb. They had the famous prayer "make me an instrument of your peace...." printed in about 20 languages on the one wall. By the time I got down to the lower church, Vespers was beginning, so I stayed. Hearing the Vespers sung by the Franciscan friars reminded me a lot of Brother Cadfael. I looked, Derek Jacobi was not amongst the brothers there. The mass after was interesting too, lots of people from all over the world. The text was in Italian, of course, but many of the songs chosen were in Latin, so I could sing those for the most part. As always, I'm amazed at the way the mass is the same regardless of where in the world you are. After, I wandered around town a little bit, getting a sense of what the place is like. It felt much like Perugia, although possibly cleaner. Traffic is much more restricted. By the time I headed back down the hill, it was positively dark. I slowly had to make my way back to the hostel. I met some interesting people sitting in the dining room, a couple from New Zealand, and a couple from Australia spending a year in London. I got more tips about places to see and stay. We also traded news, discussing the September 11th attacks and the situation in Afghanistan. Another thing, we traded books. I recently finished both the paperbacks I had with me, and was glad to pass them on. I have new reading material myself now. We stayed up right until the curfew talking and laughing.

(08 Ottobre 2001) Today I got up, joined my friends from down under for breakfast at the hostel, picking up a good tip about the "kilometric ticket" that Trenitalia has. It is a 3000km, or 20 trip, ticket for 226000. A trip can be broken at any point for up to 24 hours. It seems like a good deal, given my train use in the last few days, and my plans for the rest of the trip. I walked up the hill to Assisi with the Australians, wandering around a little bit more. We all rode the bus down to the station around 11:20. I bought my "bigletto chilometrico" and had it stamped for my first trip, to Spoleto. Spoleto is not far, only 20 minutes or so, but back towards Rome. I got off the train at Spoleto, this time the station was big enough to have a luggage room. I checked my train schedule and picked my train this afternoon to Ancona. Spoleto's train station is nearer town, although still definitely downhill. I walked up and around town. It was a bright day, but raining on and off.

Spoleto is a beautiful little town, although not really as overly quaint as some of the other hill towns that I've seen. The Festive dei Due Mondi, (Festival of the Two Worlds) is absolutely huge, and it seems like the town's tourist life revolves around it. I found the piazza that the festival's final concert is held at each year. It doesn't look big enough for much. Interlochen's "Les Preludes" wouldn't fit inside the space. I took lots of pictures today. Particularly memorable is the Pont Del Torre bridge. Named for an ancient Roman tower at one side, the bridge was built on an old aqueduct. It is stunningly white, a horizontal line in a verdant green valley. It must be 100 feet high at the center. The arches remind me of the Met in New York. This is prettier. I had a great hike around the bridge, and a gelato in the shadow of La Rocca, the old castle, once a maximum security prison, now under restoration.

I had to rush to get to my selected train. I retrieved my bag and was able to catch my breath. The train I was on went direct to Ancona. About 2 1/2 hours. Ancona is a port city on the Adriatic, very industrial. On the train in, I was able to see the Adriatic for the first time. It looked flat and grey. The Lonely Planet says that most people come to Ancona just to leave again. The hostel is all of 100 meters from the train station, I found it with ease. I stashed my stuff, and hopped a bus up to town. Downtown (actually, up a hill) is very urban, the most modern I've seen. For some reason that still eludes me, the streets were teeming with high school students, just hanging out. I had a pizza slice sandwich (standard italian fast food fare), and sat in a park where some sort of fair was ending. On the stereo: "Hotel California." After my dinner, I walked down to the harbor, and I was able to see what the book means. There were an amazing number of ferries, headed for destinations that I've barely heard of: Split, Igoumenitsa, Patras, Durres and Zadar. It was a beautiful night, the harbor calm, and I could hear the ferries being loaded. Semi-trucks and backpackers piled onto the ferries, bright lights reflecting on the water. I felt like all I needed was a Lonely Planet guide to Croatia, and I would be aboard too.

(09 Ottobre 2001) I got up early this morning. My laundry from the sink the night before wasn't particularly dry. I walked across the street to the train station, and rode about an hour and a half, up to Pesaro. I got off the train, and hiked on in to town. My destination was a little piazza that functions as the main bus stop. I bought my 4000 lit. ticket for Urbino, and fund myself with about 50 minutes to kill in this small port city. I made the most of my time, I walked to the port, found the town center, and checked out a few churches. Even a small, relatively unremarkable town like this has dozens of churches, all interesting. The bus ride to Urbino was interesting, about an hour long, inland and uphill. I found Urbino to be enchanting in the same way that all of these little hill towns are. Urbino is the birthplace of Raphael, and there is a big statue of him at the top of the hill.

The duomo is under renovation, but I did visit the Palazzo Ducale, which had a nice museum, nothing special except for this tiny room leftover from when the Duke lived there, a study, with walls of wood. The woodwork is all inlaid, with what must be millions of pieces of different colored wood. There are books on shelves, and doors hanging open, and flowers and statues, all in perfectly smooth wood. Amazing. The other interesting thing about the place is the basement. Down a flight of stairs, there was an incredible exhibit on the mechanics of the place. Heat, cooking, water, water heating, sewage, all explained. You were allowed to climb into the cisterns, and see the ingenious ways the used smoke from the chimney to heat water. Fascinating. I had lunch at a place recommended by the LP, a self service place, an Italian equivalent of a Mr. Fables. Everyone else eating there were laborers; construction guys and telephone repairmen. I didn't know what to order, so I had what everyone else was having, the risotto. I was a bit suprised to find it as full of little shellfish as it was rice. I shrugged and dug in, very filling and good. After lunch, I climbed back to the top of the hill, and found my way into the public gardens. I had a brief nap in the shade with a view of the cathedral below. It didn't suck. My alarm eventually went off, and I packed up my towel and hiked down to the bus. After the ride down to Pesaro, I boarded a train to Ravenna. The ride was interesting, a slow train making its way up the coast, stopping at sleepy little Adriatic seaside towns.

In a way it felt like home, I can imagine what the crowds are like here during the summer. I was glad that it wasn't dark when I reached Ravenna, the youth hostel is about a kilometer away from the train station, and not exactly well signed. I checked in around 5, unpacked my stuff, and was preparing to go into town, to get a feel for the place, reading my Lonely Planet. The guy in the bunk below mine asked me, in English, if I was reading the bible. I grinned, and held up the cover of the book. He pulled out his copy, and we started talking. Nicolai is from Denmark, and he was extending a university excursion for a few weeks. We went out for dinner, at some little sidewalk restaurant, eating outdoors. We talked and made plans for tomorrow. He had seen much of the town, but was going to be ready to move on tomorrow. I was going to tour with him a while, seeing the stuff he hadn't, and pick up a few things on my own.

(10 Ottobre 2001) Ravenna was a very important ancient town, once a Byzantine capital city. What remains of the glory of Byzantium is mosaics. The city is littered with churches covered. Most interesting was a mausoleum, Mausoleo di Galla Placida. Also, the ivory throne in the Archeological Museum. Not too many tourists, just a few German and Japanese groups. No Americans, at least not the rude kind :-). After we'd had our fill of mosaics, we made our way to the train station, bound for Padova.

We had to change trains in Ferrara, but I don't count stepping outside the station for a breath of fresh air as a visit. Nic says that trains are cheap here, I am beginning to wonder if my kilometric ticket will be worth it. At the Padova statzione, we boarded a bus, without tickets, and made our way to the hostel. We weren't greeted with a very warm welcome, but the did have beds for us. I think I'm getting used to the Italian idea of customer service. We arrived early enough to get a feel for the town, really pretty interesting. Modern and seemed to have a lot of young people. There was some kind of protest or rally in Piazza del Capitaniato, but it seemed to be mostly people standing around drinking beer. We found a sit-down pizza place to eat, we just ordered the specialties of the house. Nic likes mushrooms as well, so that works out. One of the pizzas came with a spicy sausage topping. We drank our fast-becoming-a-habit litre of vino rosso della casa. After wandering around town a bit more, we stumbled into a tavern that was allegedly Danish, "Taverna Danese." Of course we had to go in and verify. Nic determined that the only Danish bit was the name. Still, we had an Italian beer and took in the scene. We did look for the trailer park with Leonardo DiCaprio exiled, but this seemed to be an entirely different Padua.

(11 Ottobre 2001)This morning, we got up, ate another amazing hostel breakfast, dry rolls and one pat of butter, and were off. This place didn't rank up there with the best places I've stayed. 8 bunk beds in a room. They did let us leave our stuff in the luggage room while we were off to see the town. Much of the town, we had seen last night. One of the star attractions, this little chapel with amazing frescos by Giotto, was closed for a long-term renovation. We visited a different church, and had one of the best gelati I've ever had. We walked south, to the enormous Prato della Valle, where some sort of Fiat sales event was happening. Off that piazza is the other reason that Padua is famous; The Basilica del Santo Antonio, Saint Anthony of Padua. It is an astonishing place, even after seeing St. Peter's last week. The place is enormous, filled with pilgrims looking for healing. Apparently touching the outside of his crypt will bring you health. The candles are beautiful, and the side altars are bigger than many churches I've been inside. The treasury contains, in the grand old Catholic style, a reliquary containing Antonio's jawbone, and another with his tongue. He was apparently an amazing orator. Fascinating place.

Shortly after that, we made our way back to the hostel, collected our luggage, and hopped a bus to the Statzione. We boarded a train to Trento. Arriving at Trento, we found the hostel as indicated on the map. Unfortunately it was closed, and had moved to another location. Sighing, we hiked onward, arriving at a brand new building. The hostel here is very nice, it just opened this building in June. We were given a code to unlock the front door after midnight, a refreshing change from the sometime socialism of the Italian hostel system. We unpacked and head off to check out the town. There was a chill in the air, we are distinctly further north, and definitely higher in altitude. It was dark when we arrived, so we really can't see the surroundings much. The piazza has a beautiful Gothic church and a stunning uplit fountain. We had dinner at a German beer hall, this far north in Italy, the heritage is more German than Italian, and people are speaking Deutsch around us. We found another Danish Tavern, this one even less Danish than last night. We made our way back to the hostel, and were pleased to open the door ourselves.

(12 Ottobre 2001)This morning we got up, had the hostel breakfast, which wasn't particularly anything. We caught a train to Bolzano, a town further north, only an hour from Trento, and if you keep going north, only two hours from Innsbruck. Bolzano is the Italian name for the place, but it is called Bozen in Deutsch. Trento is basically bi-lingual (Italiano-Deutsch), this place is almost entirely Deutsch. The only thing Italian is the money. After getting our bearings a bit, we popped into a place for some lunch. It was full of German speaking people eating German food and drinking German beer. I had "Hauswurst mit Sauerkraut" and of course beer. It was 11 AM. We had gotten a map of some walks around town from the tourist office, and we headed off, uphill toward a church. Like most towns, traffic isn't allowed on downtown streets in the daytime, but the streets were filled with pedestrians, tourists, window shopping the fancy furs, leather and high tech stuff. I think there are more places selling cell phones here than is reasonable. The food stores are also beautiful. We found our way up to the little church, and the switchbacking trail made its way up the hill, passing a fetching little waterfall. It ended on kind of a shelf, which we followed much of the way around the town, admiring the view all the way. The only tactical error we made was our food preparations. We could have used cold beers and chocolate cookies once we reached the top.

The trail led us down a different way, and we ended up near a big grassy park by the river. We then obtained the aforementioned beers and lounged in the park awhile. As we slowly made our way back to the train station, we paused at the beautiful grocery stores. I bought more smoked sausages (landjagers) than was strictly necessary, and Nic bought a bottle of Chianti. Laden with dinner this way, we boarded the local train back to Trento. Only then did we recognize the fatal flaw: no corkscrew. Remembering a bad past experience, I insisted we wait until a proper tool could be found. No sense spraying good Chianti all over the second class train car. Thirsty from eating only bread and salty sausages, we entered the Trento Hostel, and opened the bottle. We met another American, and attempted to help him get rid of a bottle of cognac that had been weighing his pack down since France. Jet fuel.