I began my trip in Berlin, where I took a German language course in the mornings, and explored the city in the afternoons. I was a complete beginner at German, and was frankly intimidated by this famously difficult language. My grandmother, who I sadly never met, was German, but apart from lighting real candles on the Christmas tree, I have always felt separated from this part of my heritage and family, partly as I am unable to communicate with them. The week I spent in Berlin was a wonderful way to start to bridge that gap – not only was I pleasantly surprised at my own ability to grasp the basic concepts of the language, I also organised to meet up with a couple of cousins of my generation who were simply lovely (if hilariously, German-ly blunt). My classmates and teachers too were all very friendly, and the school I attended even organised activities and trips, such as watching shooting stars from the Observatory.
The city itself was beautiful in a stark, urban, manner, and I massively enjoyed exploring the sights – I walked the length of Tiergarten, along the remains of the Berlin wall, as well as all over Museuminsel. I also visited several museums and memorials, expanding my understanding of the city’s and country’s history (I would recommend the many holocaust memorials around the Brandenburg gate, the Jewish Museum, and the GDR museum).
After a wonderful week in Berlin, I travelled through the night to reach Florence at 8am the next morning. I dumped my bags at my hostel, then spent the weekend squeezing every second out of the day to see as much as possible, including many famous pieces of art, from Michelangelo’s David to Boticelli’s Venus, as well as many lesser-known works. Most excitingly for me, I found endless examples of female guitarists in paintings (the topic of my current research project) and even found a ‘piano-guitar’: a guitar with a keyboard attached, so that posh female players would not get unladylike callouses when they played. As may be clear from the attached photo, discovering this instrument remains perhaps the happiest moment of my entire summer.
Staying in hostels also turned out to be a delightful experience. I managed to socialise, not only in English but in Spanish too, and even attempted to practice my brand-new German. This experience was a wonderful reminder of how friendly and eager to help you try most Spanish people are (and how much of Spanish communication relies on the universal language of dramatic hand gestures), which is comforting ahead of my looming year abroad in Spain.
On my roommate’s recommendation, I went to watch the sunset from the Piazzale Michelangelo, which offers panoramic views of the city. Watching the expansive sky flood with pink, purple, and golden hues over the terracotta roofs of Florence was intensely beautiful, and so vibrant that it seemed one of Florence’s many famous artists had splashed paint across the heavens, creating a warm tint that made everything glow. I sat there with my pizza (the best food I ate for the entire trip) and watched the singing and dancing of the crowd in the square.
Next, I headed to Pisa, which served as my base for a few days of cycling along the Tuscan coast to finish my trip. This involved a lot of lugging my hired bike between station platforms (and awkwardly gripping onto the bike for the train ride, since I was too weak to lift it into the bike rack), and was an stark introduction into cycling on the right, looking over the wrong shoulder, anti-clockwise roundabouts, and being overtaken by Italian drivers and cyclists in head-to-toe lycra. However, it also meant riding along coastal paths that wound through forest, tantalisingly close to the sea itself, which remained just out of sight. I eventually gave in to temptation and parked my bike before running through the trees, and clambering over the sand, to reach my first glimpse of the Mediterranean. The water was so gorgeously warm I almost longed for the familiar cold of the North Sea to cool me down. After a paddle and quick nap on the sand, I continued my journey along the coast, on and on and on, passing seaside towns and Nonna’s in sundresses carrying handbags on bikes more rust than metal, and sweating more than I thought humanly possible. I finished my first day in Castiglioncello, where I sat overlooking the most perfect bay, glinting in the sunlight, before heading for my train.
The next day I set off again and made a similar journey along the coast, until I finally made it to my ultimate destination: Livorno. Here I explored the forts and port, and a museum which had so many old maps of the city! Whilst my Italian remains near non-existent, I smugly recognised the areas labelled on these maps and ruminated on their historical purposes. This day was only somewhat (literally) dampened by the thunderstorm that hovered over Livorno. Sudden downpours and too-nearby-for-comfort lightning strikes were almost welcome after cycling in 38 degrees the day before, and added drama and atmosphere to my final day in Italy.
The storm was still visible from Pisa when I returned that evening, and the wet stone streets reflected the streetlights as I reflected on my trip ending. Being alone in a foreign country was both lonely and strangely sociable – I forced myself to speak to more strangers than I ever would at home, but also became so comfortable with my own company. The trip was not without challenges – from train delays to luggage breaking to paths not existing where the map claimed they would, I was forced to deal with issues at every step of the trip, and challenged myself to attempt to manage them alone before asking for help. I surprised myself with my own capability, and returned to the UK with refreshed confidence ahead of my year abroad.
