Mission Possible: 5-Star Pool Crashing

There comes a time in every backpackers' journey when we need a little luxury. A little reminder of la dolce vita. For me and fellow 'packer, Stephanie, the time was this weekend.

Don't get me wrong, I love being on the road, sleeping in hostel bunk beds, wearing t-shits with holes in them and living off free breakfast croissants. But on my final weekend in Treviso it was 5-star service we were after. Our sights were set on the most luxurious hotel in Venice, San Clemente Palace, a converted monastery on a private island which boasts a modest 800 Euro/night price tag and can only be reached by the hotel's personal water taxi.

Unfortunately our desire to be pampered didn't really jive with the collective 20 Euro we had in our wallets so any chance of living the high life would require creativity, charm and maybe a few white lies.

Which takes me to midday Saturday--Piazza San Marco, Venice. Our plan was clear: Find the dock where San Clemente's guests board their exclusive water taxi and hop on. Once we arrive at the private island, follow signs to the pool. Change into bathing suits in the cabana and assume tanning position in pool-side lounge chairs. Our mantra was simple, "If you believe it, they will too."

The photos tell the rest of the story...

Waiting patiently on the dock for the complimentary water taxi

Enjoying the ride

Trying to hunt down the pool without looking suspicious

A quick change into our bathing suits

Pool-side tennis courts

Total relaxation (and really soft frette towels) Heading back to San Marco after three hours of sunning. We drove the boat back. Thanks Signoro Papas!

BCNcredible: Getting There

I can't say I made any strides to balance out my sleep patterns over the past week...I mean, does anyone sleep in a hostel, let alone a hostel in Barcelona? Yes, my insomnia in BCN was entirely voluntary and actually had the opposite effect...I've been revved up and giddy ever since I got home. Here's the rewind:

The Arrival: Travelling alone has never given me reason to be afraid, so arriving at 2am in Las Ramblas after a delayed flight from Venice didn't really rattle me. It wasn't until I turned down Carrer Sant Pau, the street where my hostel is located, that I my internal radar went off.

ABORT, ABORT!

Spilling out of each door, balcony and alley were prostitutes and their creepy admirers with paper-bagged liquor and beady eyes. But there was no turning back.

"It's too late now" I thought. "If I do a 180 I'm an obvious target."

So I went forward, rolling my suitcase down the center of the narrow street looking as hard-ass as possible, which mustn't have been too convincing given my flowing bohemian skirt and wooden bangles.

After 5 harrowing minutes, there it was...#80 Barcelona Mar. I never thought I'd be so happy to arrive at a youth hostel...you'd think I just entered The Ritz. No wonder the hostel's website advises you to arrive from the other direction.

At the front desk there was a mellow French guy, Julien who gave me the lay of the land, key to my locker and sheets for my bunk bed. He told me about a cool party that was happening the next night - I heard "French DJ" and "Salsa" and agreed on the spot to join him.

Il Mondo Reale: Treviso

When I was 21, I was one of thousands of hopefuls who auditioned for MTV's The Real World (ok you can stop laughing now). I drove all the way up to Buffalo alone, filled out a 30-page application where I divulged way too many personal details, cried on camera about ex-boyfriends and made it to Round 3 before getting axed.

Thank God I was cut because the careers of our beloved Real World alums haven't proved too fruitful. Let's face it, shacking up in secluded tropical paradises with the likes of Tonya and Eric Neis, and competing season after season in the Battle of the Sexes Challenges isn't exactly the Hollywood Dream.

Though, little did I know I'd be living my very own version of Il Mondo Reale in Italy. Except we weren't picked to live in a house...we weren't type-casted by one of MTV's mastermind producers...we were just throw together by a stroke luck and in my case, a click of a mouse.

We're 5 strangers (not 7) with the potential to be 6 if this new German guys moves in, but we all hope he doesn't because, frankly, there's no more room in either of our two refrigerators for more food.

We don't have a confessional room in our house, but sit around the dining room table for an hour and you'll get enough juicy goss to fill a 30-minute episode.

Our pad isn't pimped out, but we do have 7 bedrooms, a fireplace that screams, "come cuddle next to me in a rocking chair," a sweet terrace, jacuzzi tub, loads of Italian Grandma knicknacks and sometimes we have heating.

So who are the other 4 characters?

We'll start with the only other girl in the house, Erica. She's super sweet but I think I've seen her for all of 20 minutes in the last two weeks. She works extremely long hours and we're kind of like two gondolas passing in the night. She went to Milan (her home town) last week to hear the Dali Lama speak and said it was incredibly inspiring. She likes minestrone soup and meditation.

Then there's Daniele, a 25-years-old graphic designer from Torino. He sometimes rocks cool wire-framed glasses (a very Italian fashion statement) and has a meticulously groomed goatee. He's a solid cook and has already whipped up a marvelous tiramisu, torta salata with pumpkin, and helped me prepare a risotto for my friend Stephanie's (pictured above) birthday last week. He has a killer playlist on his computer of Sigur Rós and Daft Punk, which I'm dying to download onto my IPOD. He also likes System of a Down, which I won't be downloading.


Next is Gianni, 27-years-old. He's very curious and takes the prize for best English speaker in the house (or most eager). He has strong political views and this weekend he participated in a 50,000 person protest against Bush's desired expansion of a U.S. military base in Vicenza. Despite his current anti-american sentiments we're in great accord when it comes to music, in fact, just yesterday I noticed a pre-birthday gift from Gianni sitting on my dresser...two Gotan Project cds!

And finally, Santi. He's from a small town in Spain but he's here in Treviso studying opera. He's got the face of a baby bear, but his voice packs enough power to knock you out with one blow. He didn't intend to become a tenor, but won a contest a few years back and is now on the fast track to stardom. He enjoys singing in the shower and has an infectious laugh. Here's Santi at our apartment seranading Stephanie with his rendition of Tanti Auguri:

And here's Stephanie. She's a vicina (neighbor), not a roommate but is a dear friend to me. She's 24, from Florida, and has signed on for a 2-year contract teaching at the International School in Treviso. Her boundless positivity and free spirit are refreshing, as is the fact that she's AMERICAN. She gets me...without any need for translation.

So that's it. That's my true story for the next 6 months...now let the drama unfold.

Upgrade?

If you haven't already heard about my change in accommodations, I took some before and after photos of my bedroom! This is the old one, with the striped bed cover and turquoise walls.

UPGRADE? You be the judge. In my new bedroom, the door next to my bed leads into a private bathroom with a toilet, bidet, shower that actually has a curtain, and a large vanity chest with two mirrors! Above my bed hangs a large cast iron chandelier that creates a romantic glow in the room.

I love it!