inter-railing italy: my first solo trip

hazy recollections of my teenage antics 🍝

I went on my first solo trip in 2016, the month before I headed to London to start my university degree.

I knew that before the big move, I wanted to travel a little as I wasn’t going to be jet-setting on a far-flung gap year like some of my other friends.

After failing to persuade a few of my friends to tag along with me somewhere (honestly anywhere, I wasn’t fussy) I decided to go solo. I landed on 3 weeks interrailing through Italy.

So without further ado…

This is a mega one, so if you’d like to read my full guide head over to the substack website or read via the app <3 thanks!

I’m unsure how and why I chose the country, probably because I wanted a mix of culture, sun, and good food which I knew Italy had in swathes. Plus I’d been to France loads and it was just next door.

The plan was to fly to Venice, then get the train down to Florence for a week, then conclude in Rome. Pretty straightforward, even for a naive 18-year-old me.

So I thought I’d reminisce a little. Pull out the highlights (or what I can remember of them) and the millions of things I’d do differently on that trip as a 26-year-old woman.

venice — stop one

First up, you wouldn’t find me visiting Venice again.

This poor, beautiful, sinking city is one of the biggest victims of over-tourism (see my previous post in response to barcelona’s anti-tourism protests here) but young, stupid me, decided to visit during the height of the summer holidays.

shot by moi

It started smoothly — I flew from Amsterdam to the Venice airport. My main concern was that I was going commando beneath my joggers, heavens know why. I panicked that the border control, certain security could tell.

From there I hopped on the public water taxi which, from my estimations, would drop me at the port right next to my hostel. With my massive backpack on, I landed on the floating city enthusiastically ready to start exploring.

I wandered around the square, checking and rechecking the address on my printed Hostelworld reservation while glaring around gormlessly. Before me, family homes and a big white church lined the plaza. ‘It must be a street down then.’ I wandered across a canal checking the neighboring alleyway in both directions. Nothing. I stopped to ask an elderly woman who was hanging out her laundry. Niente. This continued for not one, not two, but FOUR hours.

After walking into the centre of Venice, around the central shopping area, past the Piazza San Marco and down bustling streets. With sweat soaking through my shirt, I admitted defeat and found an air-conditioned cafe to escape the sweltering summer heat.

I asked for an iced coffee. The confused barista served me an espresso shot poured over an ice cube. Things weren’t going to plan.

But panic I did not.

I heard an old American couple chatting away in the corner and plucked up the courage to ask them to google the hostel’s address for me.¹ The very VERY nice couple were incredibly understanding (I didn’t realise how lucky I was to be a white British girl in this situation) and revealed to me that my hostel was in fact, the white church in the first square where I’d originally alighted from the water taxi. Classic.

The hostel was gorgeous and for some reason, really… empty? It was called Combo, the price has gone up since and seems to be about 60 euros per night. My room only had two beds and nobody else claimed the other one. A couple was staying down the hall but besides that, I had the run of the place.

combo venice

I ordered an Aperol spritz from a hole-in-the-wall bar around the corner, found it intensely bitter and didn’t drink another until my twenties (I now love and miss the drink sorely) Walked about the city, getting lost down a twisting maze of canals and cooked pesto pasta for myself.

The primary takeaway was that Venice isn’t the place you visit as a solo teenager. Around every corner was a couple kissing on a gondola or squabbles of children eating melting gelatos, always highlighting that I was alone and would have preferred to share this city with someone I loved.

After seeing the highlights and getting my first taste of Italia, I packed my backpack and headed for the train station.

florence — stop two

Arriving in Florence filled me with excitement. Its cobbled streets lead me to the central courtyard of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore which grandly stood over watching over the city. I stayed at a cosy little hostel where I met a group of backpackers. Somebody had already taken the lead in organising a group booking for traditional Florentine steak that evening which I managed to get involved in.

Before then, I took myself for a walk around the city. The first museum stop was at Museo Leonardo Da Vinci to learn about the famous painter. My cultural knowledge has expanded since then, I wish I’d visited Piazzale degli Uffizi to see the famous Birth of Venus by Botticelli. But alas, I just walked about and thought, ‘This place is pretty’. After which I crossed the Ponte Vecchio before my carnivorous dinner.

snaps from florence

Unfortunately, I have no clue what the steakhouse was called. What I can tell you is that it was small, there was a sign letting us know it was forbidden to order your meat well done and that the Italian family plied us with mad quantities of homemade limoncello. Each steak was so large that it could only be ordered for two people to share. Honest to god, it was the size of a small baby. Sweating from the combination of late summer heat and mountains of rare beef, our party spilt onto the street to watch locals dance in the plaza while sipping beers from the corner shop.

The next day we headed out for a walking tour of the city centre followed by a coffee overlooking the Arno River. I remember watching a pair of rowers glide downstream, almost floating over the shimmering waters. I wish I could recall fun facts from the tour about the city’s long history — the only nugget is that the famous Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge in Florence to survive WWII.

That evening we grabbed beers and snacks to watch the sunset from Piazzale Michelangelo and I remembered thinking, ‘I hope I never forget how beautiful this is’

2016 core

rome — stop three

Inevitably, after adding one another on Facebook (Yes, I’m that old) and committing to meeting up again one day, it was time to leave my new international friends. Once again I lugged my backpack through cobbled streets and hopped on a high-speed train heading for Rome.

It’s here that things get super fuzzy.

I stayed at Yellow Rome - A modern hostel with an underground bar and nightclub. When I say I was drunk 90% of the time I was in this city I am not exaggerating. I remember befriending a lovely Australian guy, dancing all night and running up the Spanish steps and racing to the Trevi Foundation at 4 am which, at that time of night was brilliantly tourist-free. One of the days, ridiculously hungover, I forced myself out of bed to explore the city, visiting the Colosseum on a scorchingly hot afternoon.

On my departure, I was running late to catch the train to the airport so asked a kind-looking elderly nun for help in broken Italian phrases. She pointed towards the far end of the station, feverishly repeating something I couldn’t understand. Once again I found myself confused, staring goremlessly. Before I knew what was happening she grabbed my hand and we were sprinting through the terminal. She all but pushed me into a carriage moments before the doors closed and the train departed. Thankfully, I made my flight in time.

Learnings from my first-ever solo trip?

As an adult, I wish I drank less or learnt more, didn’t lose my mobile and spent more money on guided tours or visiting historic sites. But I’d hasten to add that all this hindsight misses the point.

It’s only a short period of your life in which you are gifted with the freedoms of adulthood while liberated by the naivety of childlike carelessness. For better or worse, once you’ve passed 21, I don’t think you can ever re-capture the same kind of open-minded, easy and optimistic travel.

Needless to say, there are plenty of things I’d still like to do and see in Rome and other regions of Italy. But there’s still plenty of time for that.

By becca mae x

If you liked this then you might also enjoy:

• amsterdam get-away: destination guide

• analogue romance: why i travel with a film camera

• 48 hrs in london: destination guide

1. An extra bit of fun context — My phone had been nicked in the first few days of my trip in Amsterdam and only had a cheap wifi-less one that I’d bought while stoned. As I said, I was 18.