Our first mistake of the weekend was waiting until the night before we left to try to book a hostel in Venice. Not that I hadn't pushed to do it since the beginning of the week, we just hadn't actually done it. Being carnival weekend, we were unable to find a single place to lay our heads under $300/night, $100/night if we wanted to stay an hour away by train and hike 2.5 miles to a B&B in the middle of nowhere. No thanks. So we appealed to some of Shane's smart classmates--who were going and had booked hotels back in December--to allow us to sleep on their floor. By the time we left on Friday for our jaunt across Italy, we still hadn't received a reply. But hey, we're young and adventurous, so we'll just make decisions as things play out, right? Haha...
So with this mindset, we hopped the 9am train for our first pit stop in Bergamo, Italy. We weren't staying here, just looking around, so we still had to juggle our backpacks all over the place. I packed light (Shane will disagree because my bag was so huge--however, it was an entire sleeping bag in there, how can you say I packed too much if I could fit that?!) but as the day wore on my pack demonstrated a progressive brick-like heaviness that gave me muscle aches like none other.
First impressions of Bergamo: lots of dog poop, quiet & peaceful, fog completely covering the mountains we had come to see, and absolutely no idea where to go. Thankfully, the weather decided to grace us with sunshine at least. We found an information booth which housed a map and a very nice lady. We used this map to find out how to get over the great stone wall on the hill, which held all and any sights of importance. In between wandering around getting lost and actually making it to the top, we stopped to check our email, hoping.... And we got the exciting reply: Sure, no problem, you can stay on our floor! by Milan, a really nice Canadian guy in Shane's class. YES! We had a place to stay in Venice that night! What a relief! Now we could enjoy the rest of our trip without having to worry about it.
This being done, we took a cool little train/pulley car up the side of the mountain and over the wall.
Unfortunately after puttering around the top side of Bergamo for only an hour or so, we already had to start back down to catch the train. But Verona was mormportant, as it's the pace of Romeo and Juliet.
By the time we got to Verona, it was mid-afternoon, and our tourism time was fading fast. We bought 2 bus tickets each, one for the trip to the hostel and one for the trip back in the morning, but the bus was so packed we couldn't get to the validation machine even if we wanted to. We also had no way of knowing which bus stops we were stopping at. We had directions to our B&B, but without knowledge of where to get off, it did us no good. We finally hopped off around the area we thought we should be and decided to do the rest on foot.
I was surprised and delighted when we stumbled upon a huge party! Crowds of costumed people flooded the street throwing around confetti and dancing to the loud bands in the middle of the street. Sweet! We'd stumbled upon their carnival! We decided to hurry to our hostel, drop off our stuff, go back to the train station to buy reservations for a train to Venice (which we had forgotten to do when there), go back to the carnival for a while, then see some Verona sights before dark.
Easier said than done. Because we didn't get off at the right bus stop, our directions were nearly useless. We finally found the street we thought we were supposed to be on, only there was no B&B at #10. I finally asked in a kebab shop directions, and he pointed me down the street, saying that he knew but didn't speak English, and to ask some English speaking people down there. Riight. So we walked a bit further and I asked a guy who ran a clothing shop. He was Chinese; of course he didn't speak English, that would make it his 3rd language. But he pointed us back the way we came. The kebab owner saw us walking by again and motioned for us to come over. He had gotten another guy to help him. Unfortunately this guy didn't speak English either. So they asked an older man hanging out in a doorway. He in turn went in and got a map to look at. In the meantime, they flagged down a girl driving by in her car to ask her if she spoke English. She did, and parallel parked there to get out and help us. Then there they stood, 4 Italians pouring over a map and my scribbled directions, all trying to figure out where Shane and I should go. I found it funny and sweet that the guy would go to so much trouble to help two strangers. Finally, decision made, the girl was able to explain to us in English that there were two different "Settembre" streets, and the other one was farther down the street, around a corner, and so on. We thanked them and moved on, hoping she was right. She was, and we found the correct street. Man, we never would have found it on our own!
It took us a while to find the right building, but when we did and buzzed in, no one answered. We buzzed a second time, then a third. No one was home. Great!! We had put on the reservation that we would get there at 6pm, but had emailed the host that morning to tell her it would be more like 3:45-4:00. It was now around 4:30. Our only stroke of luck was that we did actually have internet and Shane was able to call the woman via Skype. They got cut off mid-conversation, but we thought she got the idea that we were in front of her house. Sure enough, a few minutes later Paola--a smiley, talkative, bubbly lady--came walking down the street, waving and shouting out her apologies from several feet away. She had never gotten the email about us arriving at 4, therefore wasn't expecting us until 6. She let us in, showed us the place, and gave us the keys. We quickly got settled, then left to go see the carnival.
It became apparent to us that the carnival was nearly over by the time we got there. Most of the people were gone, but they did still have a parade of several floats and people throwing confetti all over the place. I marched right up to the front of the crowd to where a float was rolling by, smiled at the man who was strolling by dressed in the float’s themed attire, and promptly got a faceful of confetti. I was a bit shocked, but then saw that he was doing it to everyone. As the evening went on, we were showered more than our share of confetti, which we were still finding in our clothes the next morning. We stayed out until it was dark, realizing that we had really made a trip to Verona for nothing because we weren't going to be able to see any of the sights. The carnival was fun though.
The next morning we ate breakfast around 8. Breakfast consisted of hard-boiled eggs, rolls and croissants, coffee, yogurt, juice, a granola bar, and cereal. I was excited about the egg, but when I broke into it, raw egg yoke ran out onto my plate. Nasty! I cannot stand undercooked eggs. I tried to eat the white part, but even it was kind of mushy and wet. I didn't want her to feel bad about it if it was a mistake (I've never seen hard-boiled eggs this way so I didn't figure it was a preference issue), so I covered the gooey mess with my egg shells and napkin. In the end, I stuffed it all in my yogurt container and discreetly threw it away. Shane later said that the cereal was stale too. Poor lady, she was so sweet, I feel bad for saying her breakfast sucked, but it kinda did.
We didn't end up using our other bus tickets either because Paola told us about a train station close to her house. We made our way there, but the fog was so thick we couldn't see where it was! We ended up following another girl who was also trying to find it, doing loopty-loops all over the highway. When we made it there, we saw that our train was delayed 15 minutes. Ok, no biggie. But progressively as time went on, the delay rose... 15.... 20.... 25.... 30... 35... back to 30... In the end, a huge crowd had gathered in the station, some of which were wearing full costume and already carrying half-empty beer bottles at 9am. The few older patrons sat in the corner looking quietly disgruntled at the younger generation.
By and by, the train arrived. We could tell that it was packed to full capacity, to the point that people were standing in the aisles. Shane and I went a ways down the train to try to find a less-crowded car. The door we finally stopped at had so many people pressed against it inside that no one could open it. A man on the outside helped them, and the door finally popped open to reveal numerous partygoers hopelessly squished sardine-style against each other, two of whom were men dressed in full king costumes. It was the funniest sight I've seen! The second the door was opened they nearly fell out due to lack of standing support. Shane and I decided amongst our humored laughter that we would just catch the next train for Venice that should be coming through in just a few minutes. Apparently nearly everyone else decided the same thing, and we all watched, laughing, as the faces squished against the windows rolled on by. (We later learned that Ryan was on that train, and had seen us as he went by!)
The second train, while full, was much less packed, and Shane and I were able to both get seats in the same car. By the end of the 2-ish hour trip though, there were people standing in the aisles, and I felt stifled from lack of fresh air.
Upon arriving in Venice, we got train reservations back to Milan for the next day at 1:50pm. We also bit the bullet and bought 24-hour boat passes (nearly the only mode of transportation here) for 18 Euros each. Ouch. Once that was taken care of, we looked at the directions for our friend’s hotel and jumped on the boat heading that way. Well, we jumped on the wrong boat apparently. Instead of meandering through the grand canal to our stop, we meandered in much more open waters, and by the last stop we hadn’t yet seen Rialto. Since that ride alone had taken a good hour or so, we opted to walk the rest of the way to the hotel, since it was on that same side of the river. Bad idea. We didn’t have a map, and we got lost.
Easier said than done. Because we didn't get off at the right bus stop, our directions were nearly useless. We finally found the street we thought we were supposed to be on, only there was no B&B at #10. I finally asked in a kebab shop directions, and he pointed me down the street, saying that he knew but didn't speak English, and to ask some English speaking people down there. Riight. So we walked a bit further and I asked a guy who ran a clothing shop. He was Chinese; of course he didn't speak English, that would make it his 3rd language. But he pointed us back the way we came. The kebab owner saw us walking by again and motioned for us to come over. He had gotten another guy to help him. Unfortunately this guy didn't speak English either. So they asked an older man hanging out in a doorway. He in turn went in and got a map to look at. In the meantime, they flagged down a girl driving by in her car to ask her if she spoke English. She did, and parallel parked there to get out and help us. Then there they stood, 4 Italians pouring over a map and my scribbled directions, all trying to figure out where Shane and I should go. I found it funny and sweet that the guy would go to so much trouble to help two strangers. Finally, decision made, the girl was able to explain to us in English that there were two different "Settembre" streets, and the other one was farther down the street, around a corner, and so on. We thanked them and moved on, hoping she was right. She was, and we found the correct street. Man, we never would have found it on our own!
It took us a while to find the right building, but when we did and buzzed in, no one answered. We buzzed a second time, then a third. No one was home. Great!! We had put on the reservation that we would get there at 6pm, but had emailed the host that morning to tell her it would be more like 3:45-4:00. It was now around 4:30. Our only stroke of luck was that we did actually have internet and Shane was able to call the woman via Skype. They got cut off mid-conversation, but we thought she got the idea that we were in front of her house. Sure enough, a few minutes later Paola--a smiley, talkative, bubbly lady--came walking down the street, waving and shouting out her apologies from several feet away. She had never gotten the email about us arriving at 4, therefore wasn't expecting us until 6. She let us in, showed us the place, and gave us the keys. We quickly got settled, then left to go see the carnival.
It became apparent to us that the carnival was nearly over by the time we got there. Most of the people were gone, but they did still have a parade of several floats and people throwing confetti all over the place. I marched right up to the front of the crowd to where a float was rolling by, smiled at the man who was strolling by dressed in the float’s themed attire, and promptly got a faceful of confetti. I was a bit shocked, but then saw that he was doing it to everyone. As the evening went on, we were showered more than our share of confetti, which we were still finding in our clothes the next morning. We stayed out until it was dark, realizing that we had really made a trip to Verona for nothing because we weren't going to be able to see any of the sights. The carnival was fun though.
The next morning we ate breakfast around 8. Breakfast consisted of hard-boiled eggs, rolls and croissants, coffee, yogurt, juice, a granola bar, and cereal. I was excited about the egg, but when I broke into it, raw egg yoke ran out onto my plate. Nasty! I cannot stand undercooked eggs. I tried to eat the white part, but even it was kind of mushy and wet. I didn't want her to feel bad about it if it was a mistake (I've never seen hard-boiled eggs this way so I didn't figure it was a preference issue), so I covered the gooey mess with my egg shells and napkin. In the end, I stuffed it all in my yogurt container and discreetly threw it away. Shane later said that the cereal was stale too. Poor lady, she was so sweet, I feel bad for saying her breakfast sucked, but it kinda did.
We didn't end up using our other bus tickets either because Paola told us about a train station close to her house. We made our way there, but the fog was so thick we couldn't see where it was! We ended up following another girl who was also trying to find it, doing loopty-loops all over the highway. When we made it there, we saw that our train was delayed 15 minutes. Ok, no biggie. But progressively as time went on, the delay rose... 15.... 20.... 25.... 30... 35... back to 30... In the end, a huge crowd had gathered in the station, some of which were wearing full costume and already carrying half-empty beer bottles at 9am. The few older patrons sat in the corner looking quietly disgruntled at the younger generation.
By and by, the train arrived. We could tell that it was packed to full capacity, to the point that people were standing in the aisles. Shane and I went a ways down the train to try to find a less-crowded car. The door we finally stopped at had so many people pressed against it inside that no one could open it. A man on the outside helped them, and the door finally popped open to reveal numerous partygoers hopelessly squished sardine-style against each other, two of whom were men dressed in full king costumes. It was the funniest sight I've seen! The second the door was opened they nearly fell out due to lack of standing support. Shane and I decided amongst our humored laughter that we would just catch the next train for Venice that should be coming through in just a few minutes. Apparently nearly everyone else decided the same thing, and we all watched, laughing, as the faces squished against the windows rolled on by. (We later learned that Ryan was on that train, and had seen us as he went by!)
The second train, while full, was much less packed, and Shane and I were able to both get seats in the same car. By the end of the 2-ish hour trip though, there were people standing in the aisles, and I felt stifled from lack of fresh air.
Upon arriving in Venice, we got train reservations back to Milan for the next day at 1:50pm. We also bit the bullet and bought 24-hour boat passes (nearly the only mode of transportation here) for 18 Euros each. Ouch. Once that was taken care of, we looked at the directions for our friend’s hotel and jumped on the boat heading that way. Well, we jumped on the wrong boat apparently. Instead of meandering through the grand canal to our stop, we meandered in much more open waters, and by the last stop we hadn’t yet seen Rialto. Since that ride alone had taken a good hour or so, we opted to walk the rest of the way to the hotel, since it was on that same side of the river. Bad idea. We didn’t have a map, and we got lost.
We were hopelessly wandering around, asking people for directions, grimacing at the aches in our backs (or was that just me?), and inwardly grumbling as we watched the hordes of people enjoying their carnival. Then, out of the blue, we passed our friends!! Wow! In a place like Venice, which was currently wall-to-wall people, we found our group of friends. Finally some luck thrown our way! But it didn’t last for long. They weren’t even staying at the hotel we were trying to find, they were staying at one right next to the train station! Which meant we had to go all the way back by boat…another hour wasted. Not only that, they had gotten there too early to check in, so had just left their bags and were planning to go back to check in “in a few hours”. Well our backs hurt!! We finally were able to get the name of the hotel, their receipt of payment just in case the hotel gave us problems, and Milan’s cell phone to use when trying to find them again. Milan had said that the hotel had told them if they wanted “extra beds” they needed to pay for them. Perfect! We would just pay for extra beds to be put in the room. And if not, we would beg them to let us at least store our bags there so we didn’t have to carry them around Venice. We didn’t want to have to sneak into their hotel room, but if it meant not spending the night on the train station floor, we would do it.
Next mistake: we got on the wrong boat…again. By the time we got on the right boat and got back to the train station, it was close to sunset. We found the hotel after a while, situated in a tiny alley. Shane agreed that I would do the talking, and we went into the tiny reception area. The desk clerk was a woman wearing a bright purple shirt and bright purple eyeshadow. But she did speak English. I began my spiel about how our friends were staying there and had been told that they could pay for extra beds to be put in the room to accommodate extra people. When I was done, she shook her head. “There is no extra beds and no space in the rooms for any extra beds.” My heart sank. Shane asked her if we could sleep on the floor. No. Of course not…what did we expect? We then asked her if we could store our luggage with our friend’s luggage since that had been the plan had they been checked in. She said yes, there was a patio outside that we could put our stuff in, but it wasn’t secure, they took no responsibility for our luggage, and we shouldn’t leave any valuables in it.
We said thank you and went to the back where the patio door was. It literally was just a pile of luggage sitting out there for anyone to go and grab. We stood there debating for a minute. Shane called Milan to tell him the bad news, and I got out my brush to brush my hair. Shane then put some of his stuff in my bag and kept the valuables in his bag to take with us. Then we went out and put my bag in the farthest corner where we thought no one would bother it. On our way out we said thank you.
And that is where we ceased to know what happened. After I said thank you as I was opening the front door, the woman started talking. I can’t even relate to you what all she said because she was talking so fast and making almost no sense. She was rambling about “no thank you” or something like that, and finished with “you can go get your stuff and leave”. What! I thought maybe she had thought we were ungrateful to her for letting us leave our stuff, so I reiterated. “I just said ‘thank you’…” She answered that by saying yes she knew and this was her hotel and they weren’t going to be responsible for our stuff and she didn’t trust us and we could just take our bags and leave and blah blah blah. That being said, she waddled her way around the desk and opened the patio door for us to do just that, still rattling in a combination of English and Italian. I have never been so utterly shocked and confused in my life! How can she just suddenly turn on us like that for no reason? She rambled on about how she didn’t know which bag was ours but we could just get it and get out of her hotel (yes, you’ve said that before). As we bewilderedly got my bag, giving each other shocked looks of confusion and moving in slow motion for the door as she talked to herself in Italian like a crazy person, Shane asked her, “Can you please just tell us what we did wrong?” She answered by opening the hotel door and going on and on some more about how this was her house and she would tell our friends when they came and we just needed to get out, thank you. She said somewhere in there about how we could go stay in any other hotel, and at this point I told her bluntly, “Ma’am, they’re all FULL.” She answered again with her typical nonsensical ramble, nearly a shout now, until we finally passed her and walked out, still in shock. Did she think we were trying to steal things?? That was our only clue…
We stopped a few feet from the hotel in the alleyway while Shane called Milan to tell him what happened. I was so overwhelmed by the thought of having to carry my luggage for the rest of the day, not having a place to sleep, not being able to fully enjoy Venice with our friends, and being talked to that way that I started silently bawling like a little girl. I just couldn’t make sense of how she could switch her attitude like a light bulb and then be so utterly rude to us! Never in my life has anything like this happened to me and I was absolutely bewildered.
Milan said that he would call us when they got ready to go back to the hotel to check in, which would be within the next hour or two. By now it was pretty dark outside, and we hadn’t done a single thing but get lost, ride boats, get yelled at, and get aching muscles. I hadn’t even gotten a single picture of the coolest parts of Venice…the tiny water canals snaking in between buildings and under arched bridges, sporting fancy gondolas. I painted a picture of it once….
….but the one time I was actually there I didn’t even get a real-life picture of it.
We decided it would be best to just head home that night, so we checked train schedules and saw that the last train left for Milan at 9pm. It was already nearly 6. We sat in a partially dead city square then, morosely watching people walk by laughing and having fun, wearing masks and face paint. I was so depressed. Nothing on this trip had gone well. We hadn’t seen anything really, in any of the towns we’d stopped in. And this weekend was supposed to be so much fun, because we were in a happy atmosphere with lots of happy people, and best of all, with friends…something I haven’t had for months now. But so far we hadn’t spent any time with them and probably wouldn’t.
By and by, Milan called and said that they had checked into the hotel and we could come by. We were skeptical about going inside, but were willing to give it a try. Milan said that the woman had told him that his friends had been very rude. What! No way. But we took deep breaths and walked into the hotel. The second she saw us, she started yelling. “NO! NO! This is MY house! This is MY house and you need to leave, thank you!” She immediately jumped up and raced over to the door to open it. We tried to tell her that we were just going to go up to see our friends, but she wouldn’t let us get a word in edgewise.
So we left. And stood right outside the door while we called Milan. He was in disbelief that she wouldn’t even let us in the hotel, and promised to come down. As we waited for him, I listened to the woman cheerily saying hello and goodbye to guests coming and going, and couldn’t help but think, If they only knew…
I saw Milan heading for the front door, and also saw the woman glance up at him, then do a double take. He hadn’t even said a word to her but she immediately started babbling at him too. I stood there and watched as they argued for a good 4-5 minutes. She was treating him just like she’d treated us—not even letting him speak or explain. When he finally came out, he said that she had said we’d asked for the room key earlier. Not true! She also said we’d been “uneducated”. I think she meant badly mannered. In either case, I felt like telling her to go learn proper English before she tried to insult people with it.
Overall, we decided that the only explanation for earlier was that as we were arranging our stuff, she thought better of her decision and decided that we were going to try to sneak in and spend the night, so she got rid of us while she could. Well, she didn’t have to be so rude!
Milan, being the sweet guy that he is, tried his best to figure out a way for us to stay, or at least have a later ride out so we could stay and hang out with them for a while. I was kind of annoyed because I just wanted to leave and not inconvenience anyone else. My happy spirit was completely gone anyhow. Milan ended up securing two seats on a bus that some other classmates were taking out at 3am, but it would have cost Shane and I over 30 Euros, and our train ride was “free” because of our Eurail passes (we did waste 20 Euros for that reservation the next morning though). We opted to just count our losses and take the 9pm train.
This being said, we left them and went souvenir shopping, ate some supper, and made our way to the train station a little early to find out if we could change our reservation to that night’s train. Once it was our turn in the long line at the ticket counter, the man unexcitedly informed us that there were no trains leaving for Milan that night. Huh?! We whirled around to look at the train schedule. Sure that he was mistaken, since there were at least 2 trains going to Milan on the schedule, I asked if there were any commuter trains going. He blandly and annoyedly repeated his earlier statement, enunciating each word. “THERE ARE NO TRAINS LEAVING FOR MILANO TONIGHT.” He might as well have been saying, “You stupid blonde Americans.” We half smiled patronizingly, said thank you, and left to check the schedule again. That’s when we saw it. “Arrivals—Milano Centrale” NOOOOOO!!! We had been looking at arrivals the whole time, not departures!!! We looked at each other and laughed the humored laugh that only two people who have been completely and utterly unlucky can laugh. What made it worse, was that the next train for Milan left at….5:15am. Uuuugghhhh!!!! Not another “Paris” night!! But what could we do? We had sealed our own fate.
Then we saw that there was a train to Padova, the town about an hour out where we could have spent the night in the $100 B&B. Maybe they had a train to Milan tonight! We thought, why not, we’re screwed anyways, this can’t hurt. So we hopped on this train to Padova. We were entertained on this train by about 5 guys dressed as women, as apparently there had been a drag queen contest at the carnival. These guys, though we couldn’t understand what they were saying, were hilarious. Even the elderly people in the seats across the aisle were cracking up.
On the way, Shane had a bright thought. It was the weekend--no wonder the train schedules weren’t the same! This thought was followed closely by the next one: probably there will be no trains going to Milan from an even smaller station, either. Sure enough. Once we got there, there were no trains going anywhere remotely close to Milan. What now? Well, the only reasonable option—if we’re going to be stuck in a train station all night, better to be stuck at the one with all the action and fun! So we hopped back on the train to Venice.
I actually felt happier now, knowing what to expect: my heavy backpack burdening me all night, freezing to the bone, no place to sleep, and probably no sleep even if I wanted it. We decided that since we had all night and had a 24-hour boat pass, we would take a nice ride over to the square where they were supposedly having a big carnival ordeal. Maybe, just maybe, we would see our friends there too. At least the boat kept us a bit warmer, since they have seating inside. When we got to our stop, we walked to the square and saw a huge crowd of….nothing. Everyone was gone. There were a few groups here and there, and there was a big center stage full of lighted-up things that told the story of what used to be going on there, but obviously it was over now. Great. How much more unlucky can we get? Plus, it wasn’t even midnight yet! What was wrong with everyone? Had they started drinking too early and retired early too? That was our only explanation. So since we didn’t know when the boats stopped running and I didn’t care to be stuck walking back for an hour, we got back on and made our way back to the train station.
Shane made an amazing discovery right about when we got back to the station. It was a small room near the tracks full of sleeping people! That meant it must be warm! We rushed inside and felt a blessed heat rush over us!!! Ahhh!!! I could spend the night in a place like this! We were just getting ready to happily spread my towel on the dirty floor to serve as a mat when security walked in...to kick everyone out for the night. Figures, I thought. It’s just not our night. Obviously those guys had a warm bed to go to!
This is how I felt...
So we staked out a spot in a corner of the freezing cold train station, sitting on newspapers like bums, literally. Gradually more and more people came in and set up camp near us. Thankfully, we were smart enough to have brought our travel sleeping bags, and boy was I happy we had them! Nasty floor or not, we were going to stay as warm as we possibly could. Others were huddled under coats, sheets, and each other in an attempt to escape the frigid air. Our toes were freezing, but I kept thinking that if we were still cold, everyone else must be close to freezing point. I huddled in my sleeping bag, wrapped my feet in my cap, put my scarf over my eyes, and actually half-way slept for about an hour. When I woke up I was miserable again, thinking this had to be the longest night of my life. I don’t know how homeless people can do it! Shane and I huddled together to try to keep warm for a while, watching everyone else and wondering why so many people kept going out towards the trains. Around 4 or a little after, we decided to go see if our train was there to possibly get on and be a little warmer. So we packed up and left, and sure enough! The train was there. Yay!!! We got on to find that nearly every seat was already taken up by sleeping people. What! How long had this train been here!? We walked from car to car, not seeing any free seats, or if they were, people we stretched across them sleeping. Finally I saw a couple stretched out across four seats, and decided they weren’t going to have that luxury anymore. I woke them up and they moved for us, slightly grumbling.
The second we sat down, a horrible odor wafted over us. It smelled like poop, literally! We looked at the guy next to Shane, who looked like he’d been to hell and back. Blue circles surrounded his eyes and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was on drugs…either that or had gotten beaten up. Finally, after several minutes of scrutinizing him I saw a small sparkle and realized it was just the residue from his carnival face paint. Shane perched on the edge of his seat for the longest time just eyeing the guy, wondering if the poop smell was coming from him and if we should move. When more people started crowding into the car, we decided we should take these spots or risk the possibility of having to stand up.
By and by, the train started up and the heat came on. We both slept the whole 3+ hour ride home, as did the rest of the occupants. By the time we got to Milan around 9 or so, I felt terrible and exhausted still. I looked terrible too, I know because I saw myself in the mirror when I got home. We ate a small snack before shutting the blinds, inserting ear plugs, and sleeping the day away until around 4pm.
That night we made One-Dish-Meal; a Troyer tradition of pasta, vegetables, meat, and mushroom soup mixed together and flavored with chicken seasoning. Happy Valentine’s Day to us.
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