Mickeypoos and Maggoty's Excellent Adventure travel blog











So we jumped onto a train from venice and headed to the city of Verona, stated as the source of inspiration for shakespeare' s Romeo and Juliet.

A nice town but a shit hostel that locked you out from 9am to 5pm, was freezing, full of wierdo's, made you drink coffee out of a cereal bowl and had showers just like a prison.

So we went around the town and ran into the Italian pheneomena of Mondayitis.

Everything is shut on a Monday. This would not be so bad if it was not for the fact that every other day they all shut early or for three hours at a time. Usually the time when you are going to visit the sites.

So after a wander around, a technically challenging toilet trip for Kirsty and a grope of Juliets breast we said arriverdiecche to Verona and headed to catch up with Stefano and co in a tiny town called Bergamo.

Situated about 60klms from the Switzerland border, this town boasts yet another city on a hill and one of the most stunning churches I have seen. We took a trip to the top of the mountain and took heaps of shots which we will put on soon.

We had a quiet night and the next day Kirst went with Maria to a male review with the Italian equivalent of Guido Hatsis.

Apparently this guy was so ugly the security guard had to physically manhandle girls onto the stage to dance with him.

Quality stuff.

I ended up drinking beer at the hostel with Stefano and catching the bus into town. Or so we thought.

The bus driver stopped about three k's from the city and politely informed us he was not going any further.

So trudging through the night we finally ran into some Italian guys who by chance were going to the same club as us. Yippee.

The most entertaining car ride I have had in a long while was followed by more slap stick comedy than you can imagine. These guys were so funny that I was laughing my ass off without being able to understand them.

After being slugged ten euros for entry I walked into the worst version of liquids you will see this side of Metroplois.

Full of italians listening to cheesy love ballads and songs my mum would rock out to including the all time favourite "the jitterbug".

Going off.

So after being hit for another fifteen euros for just two drinks, Kirsty and I accepted a lift from a crazy italian who thought the streets of Bergamo were the latest version of Gran Turismo. If I was not so pissed I would have been scared.

As it was it was like going on a roller coaster after a dodogy nicks kebab and all my hard earned alcohol ended up in the gutter and Kirsty left me to struggle to the top of the 1000 stairs the hostel so kindly put in the way.

Nothing like walking up them with what feels like a dead body on your back after a days travelling.

WQe said our goodbyes to Stefan and co the next day and had one more night at the groovy hostel which was unfortunately full of fifteen year old french dickheads.

We left Bergamo the next day headed for the city of Bologna, home apparently of the legendary "Spagghetti Bolognaise".

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