When I was much younger, in travel, I never worried much about anything. I planned overnights in advance (I wasn't as free spirited as some of you are!) and assumed I would somehow get to them. Without the internet, I could not look at local train departure times, though I did become friends with a travel agent who had the train bible: the German edition of European train schedules, updated every half year. Still, there was only so much I could hound him. Typically I made decisions as I moved along. Rarely did I get stuck somewhere without a way to get to my final destinations. Well, except famously twice, with my sister, on the same trip: in the middle of the night in Turkey and in the middle of nowhere in Sicily. I was the one who had planned the trip and she was a good sport about my oversights. We begged rides and we got them.
These days, there is a heck of a lot of information online and so I coordinate travel in advance. It does save time and worry. Except when it doesn't. It turns out that you can still make mistakes, delays are always possible (and in some countries probable), strikes can wipe out needed connections.
So what are you gonna do, stay home? You roll with it. Despite it all, I have never had to sleep in the gutter overnight. (Ed has done it, but in his case it was by choice.)
* * *
Today is a half day of travel. It should be fairly easy. I wake up after a good night's sleep. Yes, really! A full seven hours of it! It's a beautiful day again. I look outside and see... Whiskers?? They have Maine Coons here, in Italy??
I go down to breakfast. I start in on the sidekick plate of Italian goodies, including their ubiquitous croissant with creme patisserie.
Do I want an avocado toast with bread again? Well, okay, though I have to leave in twenty minutes.
Okay, no problem.
You should always exaggerate time for the Italians. Unfortunately, I only exaggerated by five minutes. I love the staff of this B&B, but they are not ones to be rushed. After a nearly twenty minute wait, I excuse myself.
Oh, but here it is!
I take a bite, confirm the credit card payment and once again ask for assurance that the station on my train ticket is the same she points to on the map. (I move through a travel day confirming this, confirming that...)
But the name is different!
Don't worry, it's the same.
I leave, with no time to spare.
(In case you ever want to find the incredibly beautiful, hospitable, artsy-funky and totally hidden Palazzo Albricci Pelegrini in Como -- this is the entrance. No sign, no indication of what lies within.)
I walk very very briskly (there's always time for a photo, no?)...
Admiring the primroses once more, though these are potted.
And I turn to the station and it is the correct one! Though unfortunately, it's up a long flight of stairs.
All this to say I get on the train with only one minute to spare.
I exhale and watch the typical Italian countryside whizz by outside the window.
It's true that I still may have made my flight had I missed the train. But it would have required combining, spinning around other connections, possibly spending money. It's a reminder that in travel, you really cannot count on a smooth transition from point A to point B. I remember when my son-in-law wondered why we got to the Paris airport so very, very early on our last trip there together. Because! With kids, you have to put up with boring waits in order to avoid to the best of your ability anxious runs.
* * *
If I imagined myself to be a mountain goat last time we flew over the Alps, this time I felt like a proper chamois -- we were that close to the rocky summits. (I would guess this is because the Alps come so quickly after take off from Milan.)
I'm sure that's the Matterhorn, with it's pronounced peak. Italy to the south, Switzerland to the north.
It was one of those highly uneventful flights. The tricky part was the ever unpredictable Paris airport. We were, upon arrival, redirected to passport control, where we waited a good half hour. Perhaps longer. This was especially irritating to people who hop back and forth between Paris and Milan with some frequency. Both Italy and France are Schengen countries and so people are used to having had these protocols be a thing of the past. Still, immigration issues and terrorism concerns occasionally close some borders between some countries within the EU. It's as if someone threw a fence right in front of a herd of sheep used to moving at a trot through the fields.
The populace was not happy.
The airport staff did not exactly pull off a smooth process and tempers were thus inflamed on both sides. "Take it up with the Minister of the Interior!" "Just wait until Brexit, if you want to see real delays!" "France does not like Italy!" -- all were heard, all were expressed with some passion.
Followed by laughter. You have to hand it to the French -- oftentimes, after the hiss of steam comes the laughter.
* * *
I cannot recall a time when, upon alighting from the commuter train station in Paris, right there in front of the gate to the Luxembourg Gardens, I would not sport a smile! In March, there are always some signs of spring in this city, but this year, after an especially mild winter, spring has really sprung. I am just delighted!
I cut through the park, suitcase and all.
It's thrilling to see this burst of rhapsodic color! Green grasses, sprouted buds, flowers -- this is what awaits us all! And I have this preview, and the weather is just fine. It's a good time to be in Paris.
At my beloved little hotel, I am offered a room with a balcony. I doubt that one can do much of anything there right now (hence the room's availability, I'm sure), but still, the possibility is enchanting.
(View from balcony)
(View from bed)
In the evening, I'd booked a dinner at Cucina Mutualite. Yes, it's a funny choice, coming as I am from Italy. But, when I made the booking I was looking for something close (its a 13 minute walk), reliably good, and not too fussy. Cucina gets a check mark on all counts. Yes, it's a repeat for me, but I will try a new place tomorrow. I promise!
In the mean time, I love my pasta, my fish, and I admit it -- my negroni cocktail to start the whole meal.
I walk back with a bounce. No one loves the season that begins today more than I do. No one.
Happy, happy spring! (And to friends from down under -- just six more months to go! It's worth waiting for.)
These days, there is a heck of a lot of information online and so I coordinate travel in advance. It does save time and worry. Except when it doesn't. It turns out that you can still make mistakes, delays are always possible (and in some countries probable), strikes can wipe out needed connections.
So what are you gonna do, stay home? You roll with it. Despite it all, I have never had to sleep in the gutter overnight. (Ed has done it, but in his case it was by choice.)
* * *
Today is a half day of travel. It should be fairly easy. I wake up after a good night's sleep. Yes, really! A full seven hours of it! It's a beautiful day again. I look outside and see... Whiskers?? They have Maine Coons here, in Italy??
I go down to breakfast. I start in on the sidekick plate of Italian goodies, including their ubiquitous croissant with creme patisserie.
Do I want an avocado toast with bread again? Well, okay, though I have to leave in twenty minutes.
Okay, no problem.
You should always exaggerate time for the Italians. Unfortunately, I only exaggerated by five minutes. I love the staff of this B&B, but they are not ones to be rushed. After a nearly twenty minute wait, I excuse myself.
Oh, but here it is!
I take a bite, confirm the credit card payment and once again ask for assurance that the station on my train ticket is the same she points to on the map. (I move through a travel day confirming this, confirming that...)
But the name is different!
Don't worry, it's the same.
I leave, with no time to spare.
(In case you ever want to find the incredibly beautiful, hospitable, artsy-funky and totally hidden Palazzo Albricci Pelegrini in Como -- this is the entrance. No sign, no indication of what lies within.)
I walk very very briskly (there's always time for a photo, no?)...
Admiring the primroses once more, though these are potted.
And I turn to the station and it is the correct one! Though unfortunately, it's up a long flight of stairs.
All this to say I get on the train with only one minute to spare.
I exhale and watch the typical Italian countryside whizz by outside the window.
It's true that I still may have made my flight had I missed the train. But it would have required combining, spinning around other connections, possibly spending money. It's a reminder that in travel, you really cannot count on a smooth transition from point A to point B. I remember when my son-in-law wondered why we got to the Paris airport so very, very early on our last trip there together. Because! With kids, you have to put up with boring waits in order to avoid to the best of your ability anxious runs.
* * *
If I imagined myself to be a mountain goat last time we flew over the Alps, this time I felt like a proper chamois -- we were that close to the rocky summits. (I would guess this is because the Alps come so quickly after take off from Milan.)
I'm sure that's the Matterhorn, with it's pronounced peak. Italy to the south, Switzerland to the north.
It was one of those highly uneventful flights. The tricky part was the ever unpredictable Paris airport. We were, upon arrival, redirected to passport control, where we waited a good half hour. Perhaps longer. This was especially irritating to people who hop back and forth between Paris and Milan with some frequency. Both Italy and France are Schengen countries and so people are used to having had these protocols be a thing of the past. Still, immigration issues and terrorism concerns occasionally close some borders between some countries within the EU. It's as if someone threw a fence right in front of a herd of sheep used to moving at a trot through the fields.
The populace was not happy.
The airport staff did not exactly pull off a smooth process and tempers were thus inflamed on both sides. "Take it up with the Minister of the Interior!" "Just wait until Brexit, if you want to see real delays!" "France does not like Italy!" -- all were heard, all were expressed with some passion.
Followed by laughter. You have to hand it to the French -- oftentimes, after the hiss of steam comes the laughter.
* * *
I cannot recall a time when, upon alighting from the commuter train station in Paris, right there in front of the gate to the Luxembourg Gardens, I would not sport a smile! In March, there are always some signs of spring in this city, but this year, after an especially mild winter, spring has really sprung. I am just delighted!
I cut through the park, suitcase and all.
It's thrilling to see this burst of rhapsodic color! Green grasses, sprouted buds, flowers -- this is what awaits us all! And I have this preview, and the weather is just fine. It's a good time to be in Paris.
At my beloved little hotel, I am offered a room with a balcony. I doubt that one can do much of anything there right now (hence the room's availability, I'm sure), but still, the possibility is enchanting.
(View from balcony)
(View from bed)
In the evening, I'd booked a dinner at Cucina Mutualite. Yes, it's a funny choice, coming as I am from Italy. But, when I made the booking I was looking for something close (its a 13 minute walk), reliably good, and not too fussy. Cucina gets a check mark on all counts. Yes, it's a repeat for me, but I will try a new place tomorrow. I promise!
In the mean time, I love my pasta, my fish, and I admit it -- my negroni cocktail to start the whole meal.
I walk back with a bounce. No one loves the season that begins today more than I do. No one.
Happy, happy spring! (And to friends from down under -- just six more months to go! It's worth waiting for.)
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