Adventures in Italy 1

The workshop in Trento, Italy, had gone well so far. The schedule of speakers was intense, about 7-8 hours of talks each day, and as the workshop had progressed fewer and fewer people seemed to attend the talks; but there had still been fruitful discussions and helpful constructive criticism. I had given my talk the day before and my professor had given me a thumbs up at the end. A few other people had some positive comments about my talk.

Now it was Saturday, the last day of the workshop, and we had just begun the morning coffee break. I needed to use this time to call Joel Rinn, a contact of a friend of mine in St. Louis. He and his family are missionaries in Verona, a city about an hour south of Trento by train, and I was planning on visiting their church on Sunday. So, I went to the secretary’s office and she let me use one of the office phones ( my cell phone had no service in Italy ).

I asked Joel if he knew of some cheap hotels in Verona, and he said that he did but that he would look online for me to double check the prices. I called him back during my lunch break, and he said all of the cheap hotels were booked, and the hotels that did have available rooms were way too expensive for me. It just so happens that the worlds largest wine festival happens in Verona, and it just so happened that the festival was occurring this weekend. Bummer. Someone at the workshop had lent me a map of Verona, and I had noticed that there was a youth hostel in Verona, so I decided that I would try that, even though it was inconveniently far from the train station.

The next morning I took out 60 Euros from a ‘Bancomat’, the Italian equivalent of an ATM machine, went to the train station, and got on the next train to Verona. The church service didn’t start until 4:00 p.m., so my plan was to drop my stuff off at the hostel and then do some sightseeing. I arrived at around 11:30am and went to the visitors center to find a map, since I had to return the other one. The lady there produced a map for me and showed me how to get to the youth hostel on foot. The route involved going through the city’s main ‘piazza’, walking along ‘Via Mazzini’ and a couple of other streets, and then crossing a bridge ‘Ponte Nuovo.’ After crossing the bridge I would come to ‘Piazza Isolo’, from where I would walk up a hill to the hostel. It seemed easy enough, but I decided to be adventurous and use a bus instead of walking.

I got onto bus 91, which I was told went to Piazza Isolo. We passed a castle on the left, went on for a several more minutes, and then crossed a bridge. Piazza Isolo must be close by, because the route that the lady showed me involved crossing only one bridge. I looked for something that looked like a big plaza, but I didn’t see any such thing. The bus went on for a few more minutes before I decided to go back to the bridge. I walked quickly, pulling along my small stroller suitcase and carrying my backpack. The suitcase made a lot of noise on the cobblestone sidewalk, and I felt like I was attracting too much attention to myself, so I decided to carry the suitcase instead.

I finally arrived at the bridge, but there was no plaza. I stared at the map for about five minutes or more before I realized that I was at the wrong bridge! But, how could this be? Oh, the bus took a different route. Well, now that I was reoriented, I noticed that the other bridge was not too far away, so I decided to walk the rest of the way. I got to the end of a street, but the surrounding streets didn’t seem to match where I was looking on the map. I stared at the map a few more minutes and realized that I had started looking at the wrong bridge on the map. “What is wrong with me?” I thought to myself. I was on the right track again, but I soon got lost in the maze of small alleyways because I had difficulty finding the street names. I had expected big obvious signs telling me which street I was on, but instead they were on small plaques on the buildings themselves, about 1 story up from the ground. I finally made it to a bridge, but it was again the wrong bridge. I located the bridge on my map and noticed that there was a street nearby that went straight up to the hill I needed to get to, so I took it up to the hill, shifting my suitcase from the left hand to the right and then back again. I passed Piazza Isolo and came to a street corner that seemed like the correct place, but I didn’t see any sign for the hostel.

I remained at the corner for a couple of minutes wondering whether I was at the correct alleyway, when a middle-aged woman came up to me and asked me in Italian if I was looking for the hostel. “Si,” I responded in Spanish. She gave me directions in Italian, but the words were close enough to Spanish that I could understand what she was saying. I was at the right place. I went up the hill, and this time there were signs, which guided me to the hostel.

I went in and asked for a bed. The lady assigned me bed #23 in section G, and then gave me a little card with a list of rules and important things to remember. Checkout was from 7-9a.m., and there was breakfast at 7:30a.m. The rooms were closed at 9a.m. and didn’t open until 5:00p.m. There was a 12:00p.m. curfew, and the cost for one night was 18 Euros, breakfast included. Since the rooms were currently closed, the lady told me to put my stuff in a room just outside the entrance to section G. “What? I’m supposed to leave my stuff here unprotected?” I thought to myself.

I went into this room and put my stuff down. There were other backpacks and suitcases laid against the wall, but I felt quite uncomfortable leaving my stuff there. I had been told before that at hostels there are places where you can lock your stuff when you go out, so I decided to check the room where I was staying. Although the rooms were officially ‘closed’ I was still able to go through the door to section G, which opened to a hall way. I walked down the hall way and found the room with bed #23. There were 4 bunks in the room and each bed had an assigned cubicle where one’s luggage could be stored. These cubicles had doors that could be secured with a lock, so I went to the front desk and asked for a lock but was dismayed when the lady said that I had to buy my own lock, which I could get on Via Mazzini at a Tabacchi (  a place that sells tobacco, candies, and other odds and ends ).

I wanted to go sightseeing, but now I did not know what to do with my luggage. After having wandered around town with my luggage I was quite tired and in no mood to do it again. In the end I decided to leave my stuff, since other people had obviously left their belongings as well. However, I transferred my computer from my backpack to my suitcase, reasoning that if someone wanted to snatch a bag they would be more likely to take a backpack than a suitcase. Also, if someone wanted to rummage through, instead of snatch, my luggage, they would have a harder time getting into my suitcase because the zipper was broken. Then I asked God to protect my stuff.

The time was almost two O’clock before I was heading down the hill to go back to the center of town. Before doing any sightseeing, though, I needed to find a place to buy a lock. I walked along Via Mazzini again and found a Tabacchi store, but it was closed. In Trento I had seen many of these stores, so I figured there would be some more further along the way, but I didn’t find any. By this time I had arrived at the central piazza, where there is an old Roman Arena. It is not as big as the Coliseum in Rome, but it is better preserved. In fact, they still have concerts and other shows at the Arena. There were gates all around the Arena, and I noticed that each gate was numbered with a Roman numeral. I walked around the perimeter of the Arena and saw 72 gates in all. After having taken pictures of the outside, I bought a ticket to go see the inside.

As four O’clock approached I made my way to the church, which was close to Ponte Navi, the second bridge I had come to earlier that day. As I crossed the bridge I noticed something unusual. A few yards out from the bridge a number of ropes were stretched across the river parallel to the bridge and at about the same height, and on these ropes were a bunch of locks. I also passed a lightpost on the bridge with a bunch of locks attached to a chain around the lightpost.

I went onto the road that I had taken to get to Piazza Isolo, walked to the third building on my right and walked in. The service was about to begin, but I was able to meet Joel before he went up to the pulpit. The church was in a small room and there were only 11 adults ( including myself ) and four of us were visitors. However, there were 5 countries represented!

Joel began the service, speaking in Italian. We read some Scripture verses and sang some songs. Joel normally preaches, but today a visiting pastor from Ireland was preaching. So after Joel had introduced him, the visiting pastor began preaching in Irish English. There was only one Italian there that did not understand English, so one of the Italians translated for him.

After the service we all stayed around for a couple of hours. I met Joel’s wife, Jessica, Joel’s four children, an exchange student from Louisiana, a student from Germany, three Italians, and, in a word, everybody. The guy from Germany, Philip, had just become a Christian 3 weeks earlier. He said that he hadn’t told his parents yet. He said that if he were gay, he would have an easier time telling his parents that he was gay than that he had become a Christian. He also said that one of the main things that had kept him from becoming a Christian was the apparent discrepancy between the Genesis account of creation and science. He said that this apparent discrepancy still bothered him, but that he had faith in God. I pointed him to some books that I had found helpful in my understanding of how science and faith go together. He told me that I had no idea how much of an encouragement I had been to him.

I had hoped before I came to Verona that I would be able to have dinner with the Rinns, since the main reason I had come to Verona was to see them. I had wondered why in the phone conversations and e-mail exchanges Joel had not invited me over for dinner. At the church service I learned that the visiting pastor and his wife were staying with the Rinns, so I surmised that the reason was due to lack of space. So, at about 7:00, I bade farewell to them and to their children, but before I left I asked Joel about the locks on the ropes. He said that Verona is the place where Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ takes place, so many couples buy locks and put them out over the river as a symbol of undying and secure love. He said that for this reason he said that I should be able to find a store selling locks. I thanked him, bade farewell a second time and wandered back into town to find a lock and some dinner.

I came to place that said ‘Casa di Giulietta’. I found a gift shop here that sold locks, so I picked one up and brought it to the counter. “7 Euros,” the lady said. “7 Euros!” I thought to myself. “This thing isn’t worth 7 Euros!” I didn’t want to spend 7 Euros ( almost $10 ) on a lock, but they were about to close, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to find another place selling locks, since most stores are closed by 7 or 8. So, I ended up buying it, but as soon as I walked out the door I was disgusted that I had allowed myself to be ripped off. I trudged down Via Coppelo and found a place that sold sandwiches; and having bought the sandwich, I walked back to the hostel.

When I arrived, I found to my relief that my bags were still where I had left them and nothing had been stolen. I went to the front desk to get my sheets and a towel. Then I got my stuff and walked to my room, where there was one other guy on his bed listening to music ( the guys and the girls stayed in different sections ). After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I put my stuff in the locker, but I didn’t use the lock because I was still upset for having bought a lock for such a ridiculous price; and anyway, no one else in the room was using a lock. I did, however, get into bed with my jeans on so that I could keep my belt wallet on, and I put my passport under my pillow.

I read my small leather Bible for a while, and then thanked God for taking care of me thus far. I also asked God to provide people to help me with my travels the next day, when I would be going to Venice and then to Milan. My flight left from Milan on Tuesday morning, so I wanted to spend Monday night there to make sure that I would get to the airport on time. I had not yet reserved a hotel room, though, and I needed to do that tomorrow as soon as possible; the only problem was that I did not have internet access. Before going to Verona I didn’t have any doubt that the Rinns would invite me over, so I figured that I could use their internet services; now I didn’t know what to do. I really should have booked a hotel while I had internet access at the workshop. I really should have taken more time to plan this excursion.

While I was pondering these things two of the guys in the room were talking about their travels. I asked them if they knew of any places in Verona that had internet access. They didn’t know of a place in Verona, but one of the guys knew of a place in Venice and he showed me where to find it using a map that he had. So, at least now I had one option for booking a hotel room; but I didn’t want to have to do that while in Venice, so I decided that I would call Joel in the morning to see if he knew of any internet cafes in Verona. With these thoughts, I went to bed and slowly fell asleep, exhausted from all the walking I had done.