lost in transition

so after my fantastic week in tunisia and less than 18 hours back in lyon i switched gears completely for a week in northern italy. instead of traveling with a great group of friends i was flying solo and instead of sometimes questionable lodging situations i was staying comfortably in real apartments with real italians (thanks to couchsurfing).

my vacation got out to a shaky start. let me share with you the story of my first night in italy and preface it by saying that i never claimed not to be an idiot.

i left lyon and arrived at the airport without a problem (the shuttle wasn't striking this time, thankfully). i went terminal three, a very temporary looking circus tent type of apparatus that's used for easyjet flights. the flight itself was very short and uneventful, as easyjet requires you to pay for any and all snacks. there was a really lovely view over venice at dusk when we were landing which, unfortunately, i did not have a great view of from my aisle seat.

i landed, retrieved my bags and determined which bus i needed to take to get to vicenza, my first destination. the woman was rather short with me and told me to get off at the train station at the "second stop". as the bus pulled away i was feeling pretty confident. hungry, but confident. we drove a bit on land and then across what i suppose was the lagoon until we reached venice. here all i could see was a parking lot full of buses and tourists as it seemed like everyone got off the bus. i got nervous and thought maybe the woman had meant the second stop including the airport as the first. i tried to ask the driver how to get to the 'mestre' station and he directed me towards the parking lot. i assumed the station was the big building behind it so i took my bag and walked on. first mistake.

i had an uneasy feeling as i continued towards the large building and after crossing several streets (with difficulty) it became clear to me that this was not the train station at all. i started to feel panic a bit but instead joined the tourists smushed together in a line for one of the buses. when it arrived i confirmed (once again in broken italian) that the bus went to the mestre station. i crammed myself and my suitcase onto the bus and hoped there was no sort of ticket involved. though i don't think a controller could have fit on the bus anyway.

we drove back over the lagoon (hmm..) and at one of the stops the nice old italian man directed me to get off and walk back towards the train station just after the overpass. i clumsily thanked him and got off in search of the train station. i had thought i knew where it was but upon doubling back i found myself stuck in a parking garage and then walking down a seedy-looking street. i gave up and turned back around and crossed the overpass back to where i had started. at this point i thought it best to try to ask someone, which i probably should have done in the first place (second mistake.) i was directed to follow the street i was on, which was parallel to the street i had been on before except that it was in a 'not so good area'. whoops.

eventually i did find the train station and even after all that i still just missed the train by about 2 minutes. the next train? not for another hour and a half. ouch. luckily there was a waiting room where i was able to sit and watch all the colorful italians. i really think they might have more crazies per capita than any other country.

i was worried about being late for my couchsurfer but it wasn't a problem and as it turned out he picked me up at the same time as another girl (from peru) and we were taken to a group dinner at a local restaurant. most people were just ordering so i wasn't even late. i comforted myself with a delicious, authentic italian pizza and good conversation. benvenuto indeed.