Where's Waldo? TREKKING FROM VENICE TO CROATIA!
It is a truth universally acknowledged that every college student studying abroad is in want of a spring break-eurotrip style. Popular destinations include the Paris-London trek, Southern Spain and of course the Italian trimuvante of Rome, Florence & Venice. My partner in crime Hannah and I chose the road less traveled, the slightly more adventerous route of Croatia and Venice.
We flew skyeurope to Venice packed with hoards of NYU students. The superquick flight was well worth its fifty dollars, but no frils realy is code for deprivation. Not even safe tap water on a flight- that's borderline torture! And Ruzyne airport stole my cetaphil and vinegar (vinegar is to me as windex is to the father in my Big Fat Greek wedding). Apparently, airline regulations changed yet again (shock!) Once we arrived and grabbed our necessary backpacks we embarked on our day long journey to the port city of Ancona. We wiated and waited...and waited for the pubilc bus (while making jokes of Shakespeare Loves the Veneto) to Treviso Train Station. From there we took a train to the Mestres, then Bologna, and finally Ancona-all of which were overflowing Italians preparing for the Easter holiday. Long after dark we arrived (late) at the ANcona train station with an hour to find the mysterious ferry somewhere else in the city. We managed to find a public bus to "the port" which drops one off at a random street corner with no ferry, let alone body of water in night.
This was my cue to utilize my overpriced NYU education and attempt, "pardon?," "scusi," and "Um..signora!" to communicate. We discovered our Moses in a young Croatian women, Ines, currently studying in Bologna-who speaks 7 languages fluently! It so happened she was on the same ferry and led two (or one and a half in spirit because of my cheapness) Jewess' through the desert pavement of ANcona to an office buildng, a passport line, and eventually one of many ships. After stowing out bags in our "cabin"-closet was more like it-deep in the steerage section of the ship (BELOW the cars) we headed to the restaurant. Alas, I found no Jack Dawson down below or above, but I did manage to quench my parched throat with painfully overpriced 2euro water while laughing with our newfound friend and savior. She apparently appreciated our caustic brand of humor as she often commented on the fact that "Italians! Ugh! They have no irony!" Within an hour we were lamenting with her plight that "boys and buildings are the same!" for reasons I will leave to your own imagination.
20 hours modes of transport: FIVE! (metro, bus, train, plane, boat)
We flew skyeurope to Venice packed with hoards of NYU students. The superquick flight was well worth its fifty dollars, but no frils realy is code for deprivation. Not even safe tap water on a flight- that's borderline torture! And Ruzyne airport stole my cetaphil and vinegar (vinegar is to me as windex is to the father in my Big Fat Greek wedding). Apparently, airline regulations changed yet again (shock!) Once we arrived and grabbed our necessary backpacks we embarked on our day long journey to the port city of Ancona. We wiated and waited...and waited for the pubilc bus (while making jokes of Shakespeare Loves the Veneto) to Treviso Train Station. From there we took a train to the Mestres, then Bologna, and finally Ancona-all of which were overflowing Italians preparing for the Easter holiday. Long after dark we arrived (late) at the ANcona train station with an hour to find the mysterious ferry somewhere else in the city. We managed to find a public bus to "the port" which drops one off at a random street corner with no ferry, let alone body of water in night.
This was my cue to utilize my overpriced NYU education and attempt, "pardon?," "scusi," and "Um..signora!" to communicate. We discovered our Moses in a young Croatian women, Ines, currently studying in Bologna-who speaks 7 languages fluently! It so happened she was on the same ferry and led two (or one and a half in spirit because of my cheapness) Jewess' through the desert pavement of ANcona to an office buildng, a passport line, and eventually one of many ships. After stowing out bags in our "cabin"-closet was more like it-deep in the steerage section of the ship (BELOW the cars) we headed to the restaurant. Alas, I found no Jack Dawson down below or above, but I did manage to quench my parched throat with painfully overpriced 2euro water while laughing with our newfound friend and savior. She apparently appreciated our caustic brand of humor as she often commented on the fact that "Italians! Ugh! They have no irony!" Within an hour we were lamenting with her plight that "boys and buildings are the same!" for reasons I will leave to your own imagination.
20 hours modes of transport: FIVE! (metro, bus, train, plane, boat)