Bit from Travels (My Work In Progress)

It hit me like someone puling a sweater over my head, you know, one of those nasty woolen ones that itch like the devil. Any how, it hit me that I should go on a voyage of self discovery. Which is how I ended up here, armed with nothing but a backpack and a two-way ticket.

Here, by the way, is a train station in Milan, Italy on a Monday in July.

Now, I have a perfectly good excuse for having not gone to see some Buddhist monks about the whole self discovery thing. Firstly, if that's even a word, I'm not at all religious. Secondly, I figured a good way to start would be by finding out why I love Italy so much. And thirdly, Italy, unlike the home of buddhist monks, is filled with lovely chocolate shops and sunny beaches.

So I stuffed my two-way ticket in my pocket and left the station. The moment my foot hit the ground I was nearly thrown over by the most amazing sent ever. Chocolate. I stood there dumbfounded while my brain feverently attempted to tell my nose to follow the scent. My nose complied, and I absentmindedly followed it.

After winding my way down the tiny side streets for a few minutes, my nose told my brain, to tell my eyes, to look to the left. They did, and I was met by a sight that got me giggling like a schoolgirl. I was in a small cobblestoned courtyard, lined by the typical Italian wall-of-houses. They were all made of large slabs of pinkish-brown stone with white windows sporting lovely lace curtains. But one house stood out from all the rest. It was a chocolatier's shop and a beautiful sign above the door declared "Benvenuto!" The front door was made of a shiny, honey coloured wood with a heart carved into the centre. The lace-curtain framed window was showing off a little chocolate mixing fountain. I smiled like a three year old being given a truckload of cotton candy. The door swung open with the soft ringing of a little bell and an old man stepped out. He was much shorter than me, about five feet tall in fact, and his head was completely hairless except for the meticulously trimmed white mustache and goatee. He was wearing dark brown pants, sandals, a black tee-shirt, and a crisp white apron.

"Buonna matina signora!", he called to me as he swept his front porch.
I smiled "Grazie. Buonna matina a voi anche."
He smiled back "Your Italian is good, signora. But mine is better!" He laughed and beckoned for me to follow him inside.

I did and couldn't help gasping as my eyes met several shelves of chocolates of all types imaginable to the human mind. He laughed again.
"You like Giovanni's shop, yes? I am doing this all my life. Making chocolates for all the bambinos and bambinas. So much that now they are calling me nonno." He chuckled and handed me a chocolate. "Abbia, you look tired. The chocolate helps."
I thanked him and ate it. It was wonderful. Clearly he put a lot of effort and affection into his work.
The bell at the door rang again and two little children ran into the shop.
"Nonno!" they cried, "Chi è la signora con voi?" He smiled and ruffled their hair. "They would like to know your name signora. I would also like to know."
"Il mio nome è Eliza. Vengo dal Canada." I said.
The boys smiled and the older looking one stepped forward and shook my hand, "Sono Paulo. Ciò è il mio fratello, Antony."
I shook his hand. Giovanni gave the boys some chocolate and they left, calling "grazie."
"So, Eliza, what brings you to Italy." he asked.
I stopped for a moment and thought. A brilliant idea had just come to me. Why not travel across the whole world, go on a crazy backpacking trip. Visit favourite places and places I really want to go to. But only after a week or two in Italy of course.
"I'm travelling the world. But first I'd like to stay here for a few weeks."
Giovanni seemed to consider this. "My assistant has just taken two weeks to visit her nonna, if you would like to help in my shop, I will let you stay with me. You can travel wherever you like sabato."
I blinked a few times in amazement, then vigorously nodded my head, smiling insanely. I had been worrying about the cost of a hotel room ever since I had arrived.
"What exactly do I need to do." I asked.
He pointed to a list taped to the side of a shelf. I glanced over it, not to much to do. Sweep in the morning, start up the oven, make toast and coffee, run the till until lunch, sweep, make sandwiches, more till work, close shop, and sweep again.
"You will stay?" he asked. I nodded.

So that was how I ended up staying with Giovanni. My first weekend with him I travelled to Tuscany and went scuba diving on the coast with an old friend of mine who ran a diving school. The ocean was amazing, the sun was bright, and nice old ladies kept giving me fresh-picked figs, saying that I looked to thin and needed to eat more. Or at least that’s what I think they said. I wasn't exactly fluent in Italian. My second weekend was when I left Giovanni to begin travelling east. He told me to come visit whenever I was in Italy and gave me a bag full of chocolate to travel with. I thanked him a million times for his hospitality and hit the road.

Now, to get things straight. I wasn't EXACTLY hitchhiking. I had a very nice warm thermo-wrap thing in my backpack so I spent my nights sleeping wherever I could. In the morning I would brush my teeth in public washrooms and get breakfast from street vendors with as little money as possible. I was trying to save as much money as possible because I didn't know how long I'd be travelling. After a few days travelling I ended up in a town named Treviglio in the province of Bergamo. I decided at this point that I needed to indulge a bit. So I rented a room in a cheap hotel and asked the staff if they knew of a nice cozy Italian pizzeria. They circled one on a small map and I set off. The pizza was amazing and so was the wine, so the next day I bought a bottle of the same wine and wrapped it in one of the sweaters in my bag.

[All For Now]