Life as a "Backpacker"

Our eight day adventure of train-hopping, sight-seeing and back-packing has come to a successful conclusion. The night before St. Patrick's Day we excitedly prepared for a sequence of unimaginable situations we were about to get ourselves into. This will be an overview, a skimming of the surface, of our trip. Eight days of travel into one blog will leave me with little story-telling when I return, which as we know, I fancy very much.
We flew into Barcelona on the 17th, welcoming the Spanish sunshine like rats emerging from a lifetime of scouring dark sewers. When we arrived on Las Ramblas, the main stretch in the city centre, I instantly felt the pulse of Barcelona. I've heard that cities such as New York have a life of their own, and my surroundings proved this statement true. We spent two whole days in this vibrant city, touring its Gothic Quarter, fresh open market, Mediterranean beach and Botanical Gardens, amoung much else. I thought Barcelona as a progressive, breezy city full of every age of culture. Trees with their own camoflauge pattern, flower boxes hanging from every window, mosaics splashed on century-old buildings and an endless supply of fresh coconut slices were on my list of things I enjoyed. I thought of my brother as we walked by the city-issued bicycles and scultptures nearly on every corner.
We regretfully left the city by train (after missing one and having our good luck pay our way for the next one), stocked with baguettes, apples and a kilogram of snapped peas we had bought at the fresh market. Enter: Survival mode.
For the next three days we made our way primarily along the French Riviera to Monaco, sleeping on cramped trains and in our tent after an emergency exit in Perpignon. We got off in Nice eager to stretch our legs, after planning to hike the eight miles to Monaco where we were to make our next train. I had measured the distance online before our departure, but the internet didn't show me actual routes, just a straight shot from Nice to Monaco. So, four hours and about 12 miles through mountains and winding roads later, we arrived in the principality without any daylight left. This is when we truely earned the title of "back-packer"; surviving about three out of the four hours of uphill trekking between a bustling highway and a shallow stone wall on the edge of the cliffs, with our packs. Although I was exhausted, my heart rose when I looked down onto Monaco at night, which is a city built into the mountain right along the coast, the moon illuminating what the colorful display lights couldn't.
After reaching the train station we rewarded ourselves with chocolate from the vending machine, baguette and of course, more snapped peas.
The night train from Monaco was going to take us to Florence, but after an alarm clock malfucntion, we awoke in Tuscany, half way to Rome. After a quick meeting over an apple for breakfast outside of our compartment, we altered the plan to call Maggie's contact in Rome a day early and schedule a day trip to Pompei.
Our quick thinking and the help of an internet cafe had us heading to Naples to get a train from there to Pompei on Saturday morning. I have always been fascinated with the tragic tale of Pompei, but could never have expected what it was in all actuality. We spent the day ingesting the surprisingly expanive ruins of Pompei, complete with preserved ampitheaters, temples, frescos and humans. In the distance loomed Vesuvius, offering a constant reminder of the extinction of the city.
Pleased that we finally seemed to make all of the right trains for once, we returned to Rome and feasted on pizza and gelati. Maggie's friend that we were staying with invited us to come out to the Irish pub he worked at for an evening of free drinks and a killer live band. Brilliant.
We woke on Easter Sunday morning and completed our pilgrimmage when we arrived in the Vatican. We had made it. Taking in the sea of umbrellas and the Vatican in all is rainy glory was so humbling. We left before the two hour mass was over, as so it seemed the rest of the crowd, and headed towards the nearest metro station in one soaking wet, odorous mass. By the time we reached the underground station, returning once again like rats, it was flooded and packed with humans that took the characteristic of sardines. We made it back safely, stripped down to shower, and took a much needed five hour nap.
On Monday we split off, the others intended to do the tourist circuit and myself making my way to the Borghese park and gardens. The sunshine restored itself in the sky and on my face as I ambled through the easy blowing trees and kids on tandum bikes. I got a free pass into the Giulia Villa from the guard named Giuliana after I told her my name was Julia. I explored the remnants of the ancient civilization (as well as more gelati stores) , which took me zig-zagged through the heart of the city. I said nothing during my time alone, letting my mind evaluate the past week and the new limits I had pushed myself to.
Tuesday morning we woke early to make our flight back to Dublin, happy to be back. Vera had gorgeous vegetable soup waiting for us, as well as a hot shower and warm bed.
Our trip exposed me to breath-taking countryside and cityscapes, a cluster of people from every walk of life and a new found perspective for this world. I learned so much from just letting the world in, as though I was a guest in its massive home. My only regret was that I didn't know Spanish, French or Italian, becoming hyper-sensitive of my inability to ever show the level of respect the lands deserved. I must admit, it was a relief to hear English when we made it back to Ireland. I wouldn't change this experience for the world, and will continue to explore the lessons I learned along the way.