We stopped in Malaga, Spain, for a day to check out the town after hearing from other travelers that it was a “not-to-be-missed” destination. While this may be true for the more wealthy of travelers, it is not a hot-spot, so to speak, for backpackers. With prices in Euros, and the Euro-dollar conversion not in the our favor, we found Malaga to be an exorbitantly expensive town full of cafés, corny souvenir shops and an excess of establishments that catered directly to those disembarking of luxury yachts and cruise ships. On the main drag, several men and women painted their bodies the color of silver or bronze and stood still in various positions, pretending to be monuments. It was interesting to see so many talented people, several musicians, dancers and people in costume. We watched the chaos on main street for a while before heading towards the Picasso museum and exhibit, which we found swamped with tour groups and costing $10 a person for entrance, so we continued to walk around town, simply enjoying the unparalleled architecture of the coastal area.

We happened upon old town by accident and in the heart of the back alleys, churches and pubs we found Malaga Citadel and castle, which we paid a few Euro to enter. The castle rests atop a hill overlooking the harbor, and offered astonishing views of the town’s center as well. It was built by the invading and conquering Muslims, whose architecture varies from that of the rest of the town, making it a striking piece of architecture. The interior of the castle was recently renovated and looked as if the entire thing has been built only last year. With pools of fresh water cascading down into tiny gutters that ran the length of the walkways, it was as if we were walking inside the Prince of Persia video game, which was set in a Persian castle.

In the harbor we could see a galley ship made of wood and hammered metal and ventured down after our climb through the citadel to have a closer look. It was indeed a very old wooden ship, complete with sails, lockable window hatches and tones of rope. It could have been right out of a pirate movie.

The town was pleasant enough, but expensive and ridiculously clean and organized. After having traveled through Central Asia and the Caucus, the cleanliness and costs of the city were shocking!

Since I was a little girl I always dreamed of going to Africa. When we arrived I could not stop repeating in my head, “I can’t believe I’m in Africa!” I was so excited I literally ran through customs and in my rush didn’t even get my passport stamped! No one seemed to care, a small band of three men in red suits played drums and had a hawk sitting on a stick which people were paying to hold or pet. Further down several men in traditional garb were offering camel rides while past that two men blowing into exotic animal skins were making strange and peaceful music. Another man and his companion ran around passing out flowers on the other side of customs while yet more stood around offering cab rides or taxi tours of the city.

We arrived in Tunisia at 7am and quickly walked into town. There was not a lot to see in Tunis itself, but Carthage and the Old Town were several kilometers outside Tunis and transportation costs were extremely outrageous. The taxi drivers by the border were a bit on the untrustworthy side, and they charged in Euro (with a small print 20 Euro per hour sign taped discreetly to the back window). We decided not to take a cab (and buses were not available) to any of the big tourist sites, and opted instead to just enjoy the capital for what it was.

Tunis rests on the Mediterranean, not far from Italy and thus in a prime spot for warm, clean air. The weather was hot and dry by 9am as we strolled through the city’s colorful streets snapping pictures and waving at friendly locals. The number of cats in the city was beyond startling, and rivaled Bulgaria, which also had a preponderance of felines. We walked along the coast watching the early morning fishermen bring in their catch. Many were fishing with nets only, and their return for the morning looked meek. We passed several homes with BMWs parked in the front while along the shore we spotted several women brushing their teeth in the tide.
We walked deeper into town and, although I was feeling a bit ill with a mild case of the flu, decided to just park ourselves on a bench for a while and watch the street activity. A white paneled truck pulled up in front of our spot and began unloading. From our angle it was a ghastly and horrifying sight! The truck had roughly 12 dead cows hanging from hooks drilled into the ceiling, the floor was literally a pool of blood. There were more flies than I have seen in any one place in my life, and when the doors to the truck opened they flew out as if choreographed. The driver got out and grabbed a saw from under his seat, and when he pulled on a leg to begin sawing I felt my stomach do a few cartwheels. This could have been because of the flu, or because I was watching a leg be sawed in half. The passenger nudged a cow’s head (complete with fur, horns and eyeballs and all!) further into the pool of blood and helped the man hold the led as he sawed. While I was watching all this I didn’t notice that a small group of men unloading frozen French-fries out of another truck had stopped to laugh at my horrified expression. When I finally noticed them they were having a hilarious time laughing at me, which was all in good fun.

The smells in Tunis were enough to add to the flu symptoms and the cart wheeling from the massacre in the truck, so after not long at all I decided to call it a day and head back to the room. By 11am it was nearing 90 degrees, and although Mike was insisting it was hot out, I felt extremely cold, which was also a bad sign for my flu being on the rise instead of the fall. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a nice long walk back to the room while Mike hummed various oldies and I snapped pictures of the wonderful blue and white buildings dotting the coast.

We arrived in Bari, on Italy’s southern coast, early in the morning and decided to just walk around the city and absorb as much as possible on foot. It was Sunday, so the town seemed deserted with the exception of the churches. We walked around the old cobblestone alleys snapping pictures of people drying their clothes on lines stretched between the buildings, and waving at friendly people in cafes.

I think of Bari, my first image is of an Italian kingpin gangster in a pinstriped suit complete with a red carnation and a classy black hat. Wherever we turned that Sunday we saw Italian men in this outfit eyeing us skeptically. Every church we went into had a row in the back of the church were several men in these outfits sat whispering to each other while several rows of overdressed women sat before them praying or gazing around the church’s beautiful interior. I couldn’t help but imagine they were all in an international mafia, but perhaps they all just have the same tailor and an affinity for Godfather like clothing.

The churches in Bari are unbelievably beautiful. With ceilings that stretch into the sky, held up by marble pillars and cherubs, beautiful chandeliers, bright paintings and thousands of candles, they are much more awe inspiring than anything I have ever seen.

Bari Castle, on the coast, was a delightful but small structure. The interior was partially under construction so we did not pay to go inside, but enjoyed the exterior. A man with an accordion walked up and down the street playing Italian songs and singing along as people walked in and out of the castle. The structure has withstood a great deal, and although the moat is empty except for a few industrious cats and some litter, looks like it was built yesterday.

We did not have long to spend in Bari, but were delighted with the town, the churches, and the mysteriously suited gentlemen hovering in the churches.

Not at all impressed with Euro-rail as it was the most expensive train, without private cabins, and the lights remained on all night, the fog slowly lifted in the early morning to reveal our slow roll towards the Venetian Islands. As we stepped off the train, a welcome humid breeze met us on the platform, which was in large contrast to the weather we had experienced in the Balkans. Weighed down with our packs, we semi-aimlessly wandered up and over the bridges of Venice and down narrow alleys through which our bags barely fit. When we arrived at the first hotel option we had picked out, we were a little surprised to discover that it was fully booked for the next week.

After receiving a recommendation from the owner, we retraced our exact route back to the train station and headed East. We stopped and asked for a room at every single hotel to find they were either full or wanted 150 Euros ($225) per night. Luckily, we found a place for 60 Euro ($90) – which is by no means, what I consider a bargain and settled in. After unpacking and getting ready to shower for the first time in a few days, I pulled the money I had exchanged at the train station to discover that, unbeknownst to me, we had been charged a 20% service charge for changing $150 to Euros. We should have ended up with 100 Euro, but I only had about 75 in my hand. Furious that Italy would be the first country out of the 19 we had visited to charge a service fee for changing money and losing over 30 USD changing money, I marched all the way back to the train station and demanded that the transaction be voided.
After some arguing she agreed but warned that it would be that way everywhere in Venice – she was right. After all of this, we were free of difficulties for the remainder of our time in Venice. Although Lauren had already been to Venice several years earlier, I had not and found that it lived up to its reputation. It was enjoyable to walk around the streets of the Venetian islands and get lost. In fact, I would wager that it is practically impossible not to get lost in Venice. Even with a map, we got turned around several times. I saw a funny T-shirt that depicted two signs pointing in opposite directions to San Marco Square. It was quite the experience to see all of the old architecture, St. Mark’s Basillica and square – which was mostly under water when we were there, and the gondola owners sing to their customers as they rowed down the hundreds of small waterways going through the city. We sat in cafes, drank coffee and tea, as well as enjoyed a late night Venetian meal – all the things you are supposed to do when in Venice.

We highly recommend going to Venice, but be warned to change your money to Euro before you arrive in Italy. The emergence of the Euro has made the city nearly unaffordable to non-Europeans and we saw very few Americans while we were there. Moreover, we could only really afford to stay there 2 days – which was enough to do and see the main attractions.