milano centrale - my nemesis.

We made it from the airport to the main train station after what seemed like an eternity sitting on this train being winked at by these two extremely creepy guys sitting nearby. I will state from the get-go that this will be mildly exaggerated. But understand that it really felt this bad at the time. This is the story of our primo giorno [first day, pronounced PREE-moh jee-OHR-noh]

Imagine this:
You have been awake and travelling for nearly 40 hours and have slept for only three hours in that time. Due to the end of  semester, last-minute errands, and frantic packing, you also haven't slept much in the weeks leading up to this event. You are exhausted and carrying a quarter of your own weight on your back in a huge backpack. You are in a maze of twisty passages, surrounded by thousands of people who don't speak English but are chattering away a thousand miles a minute in a language you don't understand. Almost everybody but you is smoking.

You don't know where you need to be. There are signs pointing in three different directions for "Informazione" but all of them are lying. There is even a map with a labelled point that is the information desk. You go there. It does not exist. Many people are staring at you because you are clearly a foreigner. You are thirsty, hungry, and in search of help. In English, if at all possible. You also have to pee. Badly. It costs one euro to use the toilet and that pisses you off. Finally, you find a policeman. He manages to keep a mostly straight face and points you in the direction of the ticket office while a group of his fellow police friends stare at you and crack up. That is the first time you talk to him. You find two huge lineups in the ticket office and don't know which is the right one. Crap.

A worker validates your Eurail passes [most likely because you look like you are about to cry] but does not tell you where to get in line, how to get a ticket, or who to ask about those questions. You now also need a payphone because you are now 1.5 hours later than you told your friends [who will be picking you up at your final destination] you would be. You finally make it to the front of the line only to be told that you don't need to be there, even though you were told you must always get a reservation. You just need to catch the train to Turino, then switch to the train going to Cuneo [COO-nee-oh]. You will get there at 2255. He tells you which platform to go to. You go to ask another policeman where the payphone is. It is the same guy. He does not keep a straight face this time. It takes you fifteen minutes to figure out how the damn phone works. This is because not only are the phones nothing like those at home, but the one you fiddle with for about ten minutes turns out to have been broken.You manage to reach your friends to let them know your new arrival time and then you get on the train. This was our experience of Milano Centrale train station. It is also officially the worst part of our trip. Who cares that it JUST started.

Everything is fine until you get to Turino. The ticket man failed to mention which of the three stations in Turino to get off at. Crap. The man sitting across from you kindly tells you you want "Porta ...." You missed the second word. You get off at the wrong stop, although the first word IS Porta. Word stronger than crap. The station you DO want is one further. Only one. The next train going to the next station is coming in 12 minutes. You catch it, get to the right station and have missed your train to Cuneo by one minute. More foul language. On the bright side, the station is full of men of all ages, wearing Robin Hood style hats [complete with feathers] who are drinking, playing the accordion, and singing. Loudly. You manage to laugh. You find another pay phone [and know how to use it without feeling like an idiot] and reach your friends. You will be one more hour late. You feel very guilty because they are driving to the station to get you, putting you up for the whole weekend and now have to drive to the station at midnight to get you. More language not appropriate for children. You are so exhausted, you end up giggling uncontrollably and checking the next train approximately 50 times to ensure its the right one. You make it to Cuneo. Your friends are on the platform to pick you up, and very excited to see you. All is well that ends well.

So, admittedly, that was a bit melodramatic. But it was honestly overwhelming at the time. I do have to add that we did have some time on the train to enjoy the Northern Italian countryside and it is lovely. Think of all the photos you've ever seen of Italy - it was better than that.

The friends we were staying with in Boves [BOH-vehz] were people who had stayed at my parents' bed and breakfast many years ago. There have been a couple visits between the families since then, but not a ton. I did made the mistake of telling Bruna [Nona - gramma] on the drive from the station that we were a bit hungry. Keep in mind that it was midnight when our train arrived.  We arrived at their house and were fed. It started with tortollini soup, followed by meat and potatoes, followed by cheese, followed by fruit, followed by ice cream. I'm not kidding.

We were exhausted, happy, and getting fat. Oooof.

Oh, and a word to the wise. If you're ever taking the train in Italy - the main stations are usually called Porta Nuova, Santa Maria Novella, or Centrale. Those are most often the ones at which you can catch connecting trains.