Day Twenty Two (TR)
Wow, what a crazy day this was. An entire day spent on trains.
About 11:00 am the ticket check guy came into our chamber and sort of angrily told me to get off (I gathered) because there was an unscheduled transfer (you will recall from yesterday that I was still on the train from the night before. Dang Italian transportation; aparently it is not just Rome.
So I transfered and soon we were in France. eventually we stopped in Nice, and I mailed a letter and sent Cate an email.It was two o'clock by now, and I was supposed to have arrived in Nice an hour or so earlier. Another late Italian train. Talked to a info guy and he told me not to worry, I could transfer in Marseille and be in Montpellier in plenty of time for my train to Barcelona.
It seemed to go well until I got to Montpellier and the jerk on the train told me I could not get on because my reservation only got me as far as Nice, and that the train to Barcelona was already completely booked. I showed him my itinerary and my reservation. Unfortunately the latter said very clearly in huge letters: Roma Termini--->Nice. D'oh! Somehow Trenitalia was still hosing me after I had left Italy. Curses!
Went to try and buy a reservation and saw a frustrated-looking Canadian already in line (his shirt said "Canada.....EH!"). He was in the same boat as me, so we conspired to try and sneak onto the train, which left in seven minutes. Hey, come on now, it wasn't our fault the reservations were messed up.
Down to the platform. Bottom-rung ticket check employee looks at our rail passes, begins saying something in French, sees that we don't understand, and then waves us through, looking very annoyed. Stage one completed. Same Jerk From Before is still on platform. We walk right past and get on the train. Stage two completed. So the next few minutes were spent sitting in seats, having people tell me that I am in their seats (reservations), and finally me sitting on the floor in that little space between cars with the Canadian. Anyway we discussed all manner of things, including how we hoped that Same Jerk From Before wouldn't come give us fines for riding without reservations. He walked right past us several times and never even checked our tickets. Stage Three completed. Woohoo!
Alright, now I am in Barcelona. I wander my way down to the Gothic quarter, experiencing a strange new sensation: I can understqnd the signs and, for the most part, the directions people are giving me, huzzah! I was afraid everything would be closed and dead, but as I got onto Las Ramblas, a street near the gothic quarter, the streets were packed, and it was eleven pm. Crazy.
Anyway thus began another night of wandering from hostel to hostel, since plan A was full (plus the guy running it was SCUM) and plan B, well, there was no plan B. FINALLY I found one and it was time for bed. The gothic quarter was kind of dirty, but cool.
About 11:00 am the ticket check guy came into our chamber and sort of angrily told me to get off (I gathered) because there was an unscheduled transfer (you will recall from yesterday that I was still on the train from the night before. Dang Italian transportation; aparently it is not just Rome.
So I transfered and soon we were in France. eventually we stopped in Nice, and I mailed a letter and sent Cate an email.It was two o'clock by now, and I was supposed to have arrived in Nice an hour or so earlier. Another late Italian train. Talked to a info guy and he told me not to worry, I could transfer in Marseille and be in Montpellier in plenty of time for my train to Barcelona.
It seemed to go well until I got to Montpellier and the jerk on the train told me I could not get on because my reservation only got me as far as Nice, and that the train to Barcelona was already completely booked. I showed him my itinerary and my reservation. Unfortunately the latter said very clearly in huge letters: Roma Termini--->Nice. D'oh! Somehow Trenitalia was still hosing me after I had left Italy. Curses!
Went to try and buy a reservation and saw a frustrated-looking Canadian already in line (his shirt said "Canada.....EH!"). He was in the same boat as me, so we conspired to try and sneak onto the train, which left in seven minutes. Hey, come on now, it wasn't our fault the reservations were messed up.
Down to the platform. Bottom-rung ticket check employee looks at our rail passes, begins saying something in French, sees that we don't understand, and then waves us through, looking very annoyed. Stage one completed. Same Jerk From Before is still on platform. We walk right past and get on the train. Stage two completed. So the next few minutes were spent sitting in seats, having people tell me that I am in their seats (reservations), and finally me sitting on the floor in that little space between cars with the Canadian. Anyway we discussed all manner of things, including how we hoped that Same Jerk From Before wouldn't come give us fines for riding without reservations. He walked right past us several times and never even checked our tickets. Stage Three completed. Woohoo!
Alright, now I am in Barcelona. I wander my way down to the Gothic quarter, experiencing a strange new sensation: I can understqnd the signs and, for the most part, the directions people are giving me, huzzah! I was afraid everything would be closed and dead, but as I got onto Las Ramblas, a street near the gothic quarter, the streets were packed, and it was eleven pm. Crazy.
Anyway thus began another night of wandering from hostel to hostel, since plan A was full (plus the guy running it was SCUM) and plan B, well, there was no plan B. FINALLY I found one and it was time for bed. The gothic quarter was kind of dirty, but cool.
posted by T.R. at 11:41 AM
2 Comments:
Late Italian trains....Never happened when Mussolini was running things. I'm incredibly jealous of your chaco tan.
-Stefeni
Yes, we all miss Mussolini, or "Ben" as we used to call him. But those days are over. And not being tortured and killed all the time has its prices which include, sadly, late trains.
Post a Comment
<< Home