Hi. I really, really wanted to write about happy things like Venice and Florence with my sister, spending my last week in Rome, or traveling to Budapest with Michelle. But no. Instead I am going to try and recreate my evening in SWITZERLAND on this lovely, cathartic blog of mine.
To start, I began the day in Rome, went to Milan, and then I was supposed to end my evening in Lake Como with Eryn. But since this is me we all know that would have been too easy.
I’ll fast forward to the part where Eryn and I were parting ways in Milan to get on our respective coaches on the train to Lake Como. I will never forget my time on Coach 7. It’s where all my troubles began.
To clarify – this was a regional train. This may mean absolutely nothing to you, but to me it meant the difference between success and failure. Success being the ability to get off the damn train, and failure resulting in me remaining on the train after it passed Lake Como. You see a regional train doesn’t open the door unless you press a button. Ladies and gentlemen, HOW IS ONE SUPPOSED TO KNOW THIS IF YOU AREN’T ITALIAN? You aren’t. So I failed. Meaning I kept going.
I was literally (read: not figuratively) standing at that stupid train door for 3 whole minutes waiting for someone to wave the wand and the door to open. Right as the train began to move I turn to a woman working there and say “Como. San. Giovanni?” Which translates into: Why the hell are we moving right now?
There is nothing more humiliating than the italian train stewardess lady looking at you in complete disgust. She dismissed me and advised I seek additional aid from her coworker at the end of coach 7. Screw coach 7.
I followed her sympathetic and heartfelt advice and ran to the nearest man who looked professional. He clucked his tongue at me and disappointment, sighed, and just kind of said “No :/” …. No? No as in I’m never going home? No as in there’s no solution? No as in I am going to live on this train for the rest of my life?
I think it’s clear that my emotions were running high. Luckily the man could recognize a lost soul when he saw one (also indicative by my escalated pitch and watery eyes) and told me he would graciously help me press the button to exit that God forsaken coach 7.
I got off on the next stop. He (the nice man who helped me press a button) kindly advised I take a taxi. I run outside to find the taxi.. there is none in sight. Right as I turn back in and flag him down, I look down at my 5% battery phone and see a text message “Welcome to Switzerland.”
Men and women of wordpress and the internet. I was not supposed to be in Switzerland. Before I can start crying out of sheer frustration, the man tsk’s at me and says “But.. actually I think you cannot get a taxi across the border.”
No really, it’s fine. Switzerland was on my bucket list anyways.
So. Let me recap. Eryn had called me from an Australian stranger’s phone and left a voicemail saying she was going to the hostel. My phone was on its last leg. I didn’t have a return train ticket. The man and woman from the train left. There was nobody in sight.
I was really wishing I brought my rosary with me at that point. So I kind of just gave myself the same pep talk I had to give myself when I was flying down a blue slope 3 hours after learning how to strap on skis.. “Just don’t look down. Baby it’s going to be fine. Honestly this will be funny tomorrow. You deserve a coke.” Things like that.
I buy an 18 Euro train ticket back to Milan (not realizing there was a 3 Euro train ticket just to San Giovanni. That would be too easy) and tap on the shoulder of these two teenage Italian boys and ask for directions.. who promptly start gesturing and saying “destra, destra”. I should mention I barely passed my Italian class this summer.
I head toward the general direction and find myself at the police station. Okay, I can work with this. The police are kind hearted and warm, right?
He stares at me. Points behind himself which I take to mean it could be LITERALLY ANY STATION IN THE WHOLE BUILDING. And that was that. So I race out to the tracks only to find an attendant who informs me that it will be another hour before I can catch a train. Okaaaayyy, I think. No big deal. I will get back eventually.. right?
But it was at that point I realized my phone was dead and I didn’t have the instructions on how to get to the hostel. Eryn did. So I run back into the police station and in a tone of absolute hysteria I beg the policeman (a different one) to charge my phone using any outlet. He looks at me with sympathy and nods once. I think YES! This is it! By the grace of God something has gone right.
Lol. My converter doesn’t fit. Because I’m in SWITZERLAND. It was at that point I was ready to call it quits and just get my citizenship in Switzerland and spend the rest of my life in this place. But the policeman clearly didn’t want me to earn my residency in his country because he offered me his partner’s computer to plug my phone into.
I get my phone up and running and in response to my hysterical messages I had been sending Eryn I just get one message that says “Rachel”.
From there I think Eryn was able to talk me down a couple of ledges. Right up until I look to the left and see 4 policemen hovering around the door and staring at me like I’m a risk to society. I’m not joking. They waved at me as if I was going to crack at any moment. It was not my finest hour.
Right as I’m getting comfortable I decided to triple check that my train is in an hour.. So I turn to my new friend and I say “San Giovanni is in an hour?” And his partner goes.. “Ahhh no, San Giovanni leaves now.”
OKAY UNIVERSE. SERIOUSLY?
So I’m hypervenilating. I AM NOT GOING TO MISS MY ONE OPPORTUNITY. So I race out there with the policemen at my heels and my friend says “We will get you on”.. Because obviously I bought the wrong ticket.
So he tells me to get on, waves me on my way, and says he will take care of it. Bless your sweet, sweet soul you Swiss man.
I arrive at the station and wouldn’t you know it – the doors open automatically.
I run outside to catch a taxi because my phone is barely alive.. only to find that I can’t see any. Are you recognizing the patterns in my life?
I tap on the nearest girl and ask about the taxi. I don’t know if everyone just recognized panic when they saw it but this girl grabbed my hand and dragged me to the taxi and made sure the taxi driver knew exactly where I was going.
30 Euro later I was exhausted, near tears, and emotional, when I called for the shuttle to come pick me up from a piazza pick up point.
I am sure that tomorrow I will laugh. But people, I was really scared today. I know it was irrational but with the language barriers, confusion, and feelings of uselessness, I was hopeless.
Anyways.. I’m alive and back in Italy. That was my experience with getting stuck in Switzerland.. but in more uplifting news I got to write 2 blog posts in a day. That’s something, right?
Running in Rome 