No plan is a good plan when backpacking — especially if you don’t feel the need to hit up all the important sightseeing spots. Instead, I prefer to let my feet carry me around a town or city, and usually I stumble upon most sights anyways. This is especially true, when you consider the contained space of a fortified, ancient town.
Interesting Tidbits about Bergamo
- Name originated from proto-Germanic “berg” and “heim”, translated: “mountain home”
- Settlement of the Celtic tribe Cenomani
- 5th century: Destroyed by Attila the Hun
- UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2017: surrounding Venetian defensive system of the città alta (“upper town”) from the 16th century
- Invention of the gelato flavor stracciatella
After arriving by train, I of course decided to walk from the station to my hostel. I strolled through the polished streets of the città bassa, past bustling gelato parlors, and people enjoying the sunshine. In the Parco Suardi I took a break, laying down in the soft grass, watching the clouds, and surrounded by the joyful screeching of children playing soccer. It was a break I dearly needed, and my headphones helped with the higher frequencies, though I in turn missed out on the twitter of the birds.
I checked into the hostel around 6 pm, with a bad headache from too much sun and too little water. Tired as I was, the day didn’t include much more sightseeing. For dinner I had some snacks, as the hostel was rather far off from any restaurants, and relaxed in my bunk bed which wasn’t even tall enough to sit upright. At some point in the evening (while watching a YouTube True Crime documentary), I met two of the girls staying in my room. One of them from Paraguay, the other from Canada, both doing work and travel at the hostel. We chatted a bit, and I feel my theory is right: you make friends easier while traveling alone.
At night we had an amazing thunderstorm pass right overhead the hostel, and it continued raining until noon the next day. Finally, I slept well and for long enough, waking up refreshed. The hostel offered free breakfast (how cool is that, included, no extra costs), and I had some croissants and coffee that made me all jittery and hyperactive. I ate with the girl from Canada, and a friend of hers who studies in Bergamo, and lives at the hostel.
After finishing work on the blog, I took a bus to the città bassa, where I stumbled upon a cute little park: Rain dripping from palm leaves, pitter-pattering on the gravel and into the small pond. With the first rays of sun breaking through the clouds, and the smell of wet earth in my nose I was exhilarated by the burst of nature, and rainforest-vibes (I adore rainforest-vibes).
Candy bars and an aloe vera drink in hand, I took on the stairs to the città alta. If you ever visit Bergamo, I highly recommend taking the small walkway up to the Old Town (cable car is cool too). Now, the highlight, the best part about Bergamo in my humble opinion: the view from the Porta San Giacomo and the walkway along the city wall. You can see down into the plains — plains? — and along the alps, where clouds love to catch on peaks and forests stretch in wonderful spring green.
After ambling through the città alta for a while I crossed over the Piazza Vecchia where I bought myself some amazing gelato: cinnamon and salted caramel. Perfection. I enjoyed my ice cream in the shade — still haven’t bought sunscreen, should really get to that — and then entered the Cattedrale di Sant’Alessandro Martire, also known as the Duomo di Bergamo. It’s all white and gold, with a pretty ceiling, and the seat of a bishop.
The Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore is right next door, and here I had to pay an entrance fee. In my case, 1€ because of a discount for younger people. Again, the ceiling was extremely detailed, and I spent a good half hour sitting in the pews with my head craned back. I’m not religious but some of these enormous, old churches have an impressive atmosphere.
While continuing my stroll through the città alta, I found a nice, quiet piazza away from the touristic hotspots: the Antico Lavatoio. A place where women used to wash dishes and laundry, chat, and make friends in a time before running water. Soon after, I had a late lunch/afternoon snack, focaccia — greasy goodness — and the yellow dessert called polenta e uccelli, which was a bit sweet for my taste but what an experience.
On the way down, I got lost and ended up on the highest hill of the città alta, in a park around the Rocca di Bergamo, a museum in the old stronghold. Again the views had me speechless.
I left the città alta through the Porta S. Lorenzo, breathing in the warm spring air, and feasting my eyes on blooming chestnut trees. With a spring in my step, I skipped down the hill into the newer residential district and back towards the hostel. On the way I bought ingredients for a salad, which I prepared in the hostel kitchen (they didn’t have a sharp knife? I had to cut my veggies with a butter knife). I ate on the rooftop of the hostel, shuddering a bit in the cold wind, and watching the sun set.
After writing the blog post about Milano until 11 pm I trudged back to my room, where I met a new traveler. A cute violinist from Turino, originally Genova, who is currently working in Cairo and was in Bergamo to performance in the theater. We got along great, one creative with big dreams to the other.
Once midnight rolled around, my anxiety levels spiked. Early morning flights without public transport suck. I was scared I would oversleep, the taxi wouldn’t arrive on time, I’d get held up at the gate because something wasn’t right with my boarding pass or because I forgot something, where is my ID card, what if I sleep through my alarm, what if the taxi driver got the wrong time, what if.
Everything turned out fine.
Two out of the three girls in my dorm offered to set an alarm as well, to make sure I wouldn’t oversleep, and isn’t that just the sweetest. In the end I woke up at 4 am sharp, and the taxi was only three minutes late. The driver was very sweet, and spoke fluent English. I arrived at the airport with enough time to pee but not really anytime to spare, as they opened the gate five minutes after I walked up. Most of the flight I spent in a doze, slipping through the cracks of reality while we crossed over half of Europe. Once we touched down in Lisbon my eyes were blurry and burned. But I had arrived, mostly ready for the next stop of my journey.
Bergamo was a breath of fresh air after Milano. Dad, if you’re reading this, I think you would really like it.
Thank you for reading!
Love from Lisbon,
Mila
Nachdem ich nun deinen Text gelesen habe, möchte ich auf der Stelle nach Bergamo 😊