It just sounds better than Travel Day of Ay-Chee-Ell-Ell.
(You have to tell me if you get that. I think I'm hilarious.)
Early the next morning we got up and exited the ship, saying goodbye to our new friends and cruise group. The PTB (Powers That Be) wanted all the baggage outside the rooms at midnight the previous night, so they could take all of it over and have it waiting for us at the dock. Since we were continuing on in a different direction, had two big black bags (like everyone else on board), and I didn't trust the cruise line anymore, I opted out of that idea. Dave doesn't like making waves, but this was my vacation and I was putting my foot down. Hard. There was NO WAY I was going to let them take my luggage and lose it somewhere when I wanted to catch a train first thing in the morning. So, begrudgingly, Dave acquiesced. And, begrudgingly, I let someone touch my bag to put it on the boat with me in the morning. It was actually nice of them because my bag was pretty dang heavy. (Not because I packed too much, I actually didn't pack enough of some items, but it was heavy because I had the little suitcase in there too! Pretty impressive for someone who only brought three pairs of . . . well, never mind.)
So off we went to Nice, a very nice cabbie, and a train clerk who thought we couldn't make it to Florence by the end of the day. Five stops, she says, and in broken English (which was way better than my French), here is where you go, get off at this stop and buy another pass, then get on another train here and get to Florence at some point. To say I was a little nervous about this aspect of the journey would be an understatement. Turned out to be unfounded nervousness because the train stopped in Villefranche (hello old friend!), Eze (my mom would LOVE it here!), then Monaco. Got off in Monaco and purchased tickets to Florence. No biggie. Got back on our train after affirming that it was, indeed, the correct train. Next stop was Ventimille. A little fishing town (smaller than Villefranche) on the border of France and Italy--finally! Some Italian signs! A language I (used to) know well!
We had a three-hour layover here and decided to NOT spend it in the disgusting train station. (Let's just say three toilets, one that flushes, two sinks, one with faucets, no operable soap. Grateful for hand sanitizer in the purse. And weird old men who stayed out of my bathroom stall, but not the women's bathroom. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say he's the janitor . . . ) Down the sidewalk we go, toting our super-luggage. Ventimille is a charming little town--park in the middle, complete with carousel. Boardwalk down the beach (no sand again). We took a little bridge over the inlet and sat on a bench on the beach, watched local fishermen with their 20-ft poles stuck in the sand, wild swans swim in the inlet, HUGE trout next to the bridge (why aren't they fishing there?), and had a great time just wandering around! (If it weren't for these blasted suitcases . . . )
We had lunch at a little cafe--my first Italian gnocchi, and sadly enough, it was the pasta-roni variety. Oh well, better meals ahead, right? : ) Then stopping at a little market (have I mentioned how much I love the local markets? Such awesome grocery shopping and the perfect way to get a feel of the city!) we got some bananas and oranges--THE BEST produce ever! Seriously, if you want a good banana, go to Ventimille! They were so so good, and not just because I'd had bad gnocchi for lunch--we actually didn't eat them until on the bus later, . . . but I'm jumping ahead of myself. Back to the story . . .
Finally it was time for the train to leave Ventimille. Since we had so many stops ahead of us, we decided to document them by taking a picture of us in front of the bus sign with the number of stops--Nice was #1, Ventimille was #2, and so on until we got to Florence. About 20 minutes into our train ride out of Ventimille, we heard a loud crash, squealing brakes, smoke and sparks coming from the front of the engine (we were in the first passenger car directly behind the engine), and the train coming to a rapid stop. Yes folks, the train broke too. Cursed, you say? Possibly. My theory is that the Fates decided we needed to stop in one more city than we had planned. After an hour wait on the bus, and seriously broken Italian on my part (why had I not studied more before we left? Oh yeah, "broken train" wasn't in the plan!), we figured out that part of the track had malfunctioned, the engine had run over it, and we were incredibly lucky to not have jumped the track and crashed. Thanks to the expert driving of the conductor, we didn't tip over or jump tracks as usually happens in this kind of scenario. Lesson 1: Be thankful for small miracles! No Titanic events on the ship, no train tipping over = life is good! Finally they disconnected the passenger cars (there were seven of them) and towed us back to the nearest station, which was the marina of Ventimille. At the marina, we hung out at the train station and waited for the busses they said would come get us. It started raining, then pouring, and we all squished into the tiny station. We met a couple from Portland who were doing the same thing we were--hoofing it around Italy--except that's what they planned to do from the get-go. As the downpour commenced, they both opened their tiny little suitcases and pulled out raincoats. "Never thought we would use these!" I was wishing for tiny little suitcases, advance knowledge of a travel plan, and the ability to pack appropriately. Oh well! One of the things I did pack was a tiny little umbrella, just in case we had days like this. But it was somewhere deep inside my complex packing, and there was no way I was going to open it up and dig. Nope. I'll just get wet.
After a couple hours (we did eventually go back inside and squish with the other rain-coat-less few), the first of three busses came. This one was going straight to Milan, which was the one we wanted. The crowd that immediately rushed the bus door made the driver hesitate to open . . . not that I blamed him, but we were getting really wet here! Dave told me to be a rude American and shove my way to the front, then save him a seat. He took our luggage around to the other side while the crowd started chanting, "Allora! Allora!" Which, roughly translated, means "Now! Now!" I totally elbowed my way past many nicer people, including two men, one of whom lifted me onto the bus, then tried to sit next to me. Well, Italians are friendly, and it made me feel like my vanity had not all been lost in the rain. ; ) Two hours later we made it to the Milan train station. Let's just say that although it was stuffy and recycled air for the entire ride, and although we were still wet and smelled lovely, we were so dang happy to have a mode of transportation NOT break down, that nothing else mattered! We got to Milan around 10:00 PM, met a very nice lady at the Customer Service office who got us a hotel for the night, re-booked us on a train of our choice to Florence, and directed us to the correct exit so we could actually find the hotel. We found it without any difficulty, laughed at the extraordinarily sparse room, and immediately crashed. We were so tired! The disappointment at not actually being in Florence (two hours prior) was washed in relief of actually being somewhere along the way, with means to get there in the morning. Hopefully the bad luck of broken transportation was over, and we were together, in a free hotel, with tickets for the next day.
NOW the adventure begins, right? Or should we stop hoping for an adventure? Stay tuned!
(You have to tell me if you get that. I think I'm hilarious.)
Early the next morning we got up and exited the ship, saying goodbye to our new friends and cruise group. The PTB (Powers That Be) wanted all the baggage outside the rooms at midnight the previous night, so they could take all of it over and have it waiting for us at the dock. Since we were continuing on in a different direction, had two big black bags (like everyone else on board), and I didn't trust the cruise line anymore, I opted out of that idea. Dave doesn't like making waves, but this was my vacation and I was putting my foot down. Hard. There was NO WAY I was going to let them take my luggage and lose it somewhere when I wanted to catch a train first thing in the morning. So, begrudgingly, Dave acquiesced. And, begrudgingly, I let someone touch my bag to put it on the boat with me in the morning. It was actually nice of them because my bag was pretty dang heavy. (Not because I packed too much, I actually didn't pack enough of some items, but it was heavy because I had the little suitcase in there too! Pretty impressive for someone who only brought three pairs of . . . well, never mind.)
So off we went to Nice, a very nice cabbie, and a train clerk who thought we couldn't make it to Florence by the end of the day. Five stops, she says, and in broken English (which was way better than my French), here is where you go, get off at this stop and buy another pass, then get on another train here and get to Florence at some point. To say I was a little nervous about this aspect of the journey would be an understatement. Turned out to be unfounded nervousness because the train stopped in Villefranche (hello old friend!), Eze (my mom would LOVE it here!), then Monaco. Got off in Monaco and purchased tickets to Florence. No biggie. Got back on our train after affirming that it was, indeed, the correct train. Next stop was Ventimille. A little fishing town (smaller than Villefranche) on the border of France and Italy--finally! Some Italian signs! A language I (used to) know well!
We had a three-hour layover here and decided to NOT spend it in the disgusting train station. (Let's just say three toilets, one that flushes, two sinks, one with faucets, no operable soap. Grateful for hand sanitizer in the purse. And weird old men who stayed out of my bathroom stall, but not the women's bathroom. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say he's the janitor . . . ) Down the sidewalk we go, toting our super-luggage. Ventimille is a charming little town--park in the middle, complete with carousel. Boardwalk down the beach (no sand again). We took a little bridge over the inlet and sat on a bench on the beach, watched local fishermen with their 20-ft poles stuck in the sand, wild swans swim in the inlet, HUGE trout next to the bridge (why aren't they fishing there?), and had a great time just wandering around! (If it weren't for these blasted suitcases . . . )
We had lunch at a little cafe--my first Italian gnocchi, and sadly enough, it was the pasta-roni variety. Oh well, better meals ahead, right? : ) Then stopping at a little market (have I mentioned how much I love the local markets? Such awesome grocery shopping and the perfect way to get a feel of the city!) we got some bananas and oranges--THE BEST produce ever! Seriously, if you want a good banana, go to Ventimille! They were so so good, and not just because I'd had bad gnocchi for lunch--we actually didn't eat them until on the bus later, . . . but I'm jumping ahead of myself. Back to the story . . .
Finally it was time for the train to leave Ventimille. Since we had so many stops ahead of us, we decided to document them by taking a picture of us in front of the bus sign with the number of stops--Nice was #1, Ventimille was #2, and so on until we got to Florence. About 20 minutes into our train ride out of Ventimille, we heard a loud crash, squealing brakes, smoke and sparks coming from the front of the engine (we were in the first passenger car directly behind the engine), and the train coming to a rapid stop. Yes folks, the train broke too. Cursed, you say? Possibly. My theory is that the Fates decided we needed to stop in one more city than we had planned. After an hour wait on the bus, and seriously broken Italian on my part (why had I not studied more before we left? Oh yeah, "broken train" wasn't in the plan!), we figured out that part of the track had malfunctioned, the engine had run over it, and we were incredibly lucky to not have jumped the track and crashed. Thanks to the expert driving of the conductor, we didn't tip over or jump tracks as usually happens in this kind of scenario. Lesson 1: Be thankful for small miracles! No Titanic events on the ship, no train tipping over = life is good! Finally they disconnected the passenger cars (there were seven of them) and towed us back to the nearest station, which was the marina of Ventimille. At the marina, we hung out at the train station and waited for the busses they said would come get us. It started raining, then pouring, and we all squished into the tiny station. We met a couple from Portland who were doing the same thing we were--hoofing it around Italy--except that's what they planned to do from the get-go. As the downpour commenced, they both opened their tiny little suitcases and pulled out raincoats. "Never thought we would use these!" I was wishing for tiny little suitcases, advance knowledge of a travel plan, and the ability to pack appropriately. Oh well! One of the things I did pack was a tiny little umbrella, just in case we had days like this. But it was somewhere deep inside my complex packing, and there was no way I was going to open it up and dig. Nope. I'll just get wet.
After a couple hours (we did eventually go back inside and squish with the other rain-coat-less few), the first of three busses came. This one was going straight to Milan, which was the one we wanted. The crowd that immediately rushed the bus door made the driver hesitate to open . . . not that I blamed him, but we were getting really wet here! Dave told me to be a rude American and shove my way to the front, then save him a seat. He took our luggage around to the other side while the crowd started chanting, "Allora! Allora!" Which, roughly translated, means "Now! Now!" I totally elbowed my way past many nicer people, including two men, one of whom lifted me onto the bus, then tried to sit next to me. Well, Italians are friendly, and it made me feel like my vanity had not all been lost in the rain. ; ) Two hours later we made it to the Milan train station. Let's just say that although it was stuffy and recycled air for the entire ride, and although we were still wet and smelled lovely, we were so dang happy to have a mode of transportation NOT break down, that nothing else mattered! We got to Milan around 10:00 PM, met a very nice lady at the Customer Service office who got us a hotel for the night, re-booked us on a train of our choice to Florence, and directed us to the correct exit so we could actually find the hotel. We found it without any difficulty, laughed at the extraordinarily sparse room, and immediately crashed. We were so tired! The disappointment at not actually being in Florence (two hours prior) was washed in relief of actually being somewhere along the way, with means to get there in the morning. Hopefully the bad luck of broken transportation was over, and we were together, in a free hotel, with tickets for the next day.
NOW the adventure begins, right? Or should we stop hoping for an adventure? Stay tuned!
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