By Plane and Train: 24hours of travel

It would be a long twenty-four hours to my destination but well worth the journey. My aunt bid me farewell at the train station near Warwick and I was off to Newark Airport. I thought I was going to die with the weight of my bags while I was moving from train to train to airport and the thought occurred to me that if the bags were heavy now, then six months in Italy would break my back.

As I boarded the Air India plane to Paris, I realized there was no going back now, this was it, my journey was now beginning, and what a long journey it would be.

I got an excellent seat with three times the amount of leg room that I needed, but hey who should complain about that. I slept a few hours and when I awoke the light was just coming over the horizon and lit up the clouds over the ocean. The flight into Paris was cloudy and wet but excitement ran through my veins as we landed.

First Lesson: if you expect to ask for directions in a foreign country, at least learn the bare essentials for communicating.

It took me about an hour and a half to buy my ticket and figure out what train I needed to take into Paris and to the train station. Alas, I was at the train station waiting to board my train to Italia. The signs, the conversations of people all around, the announcements over the speakers, and school children passing me by let me know that ‘I wasn’t in Kansas anymore’.

I boarded my train to start my eight hour journey through the countryside of France and the Alps into Italia. Next stop Torino.

(Here are some excerpts from my diary)….
Traveling should not be about being a tourist and leaving…it should be about being half a tourist and the other half embracing the locals and the culture… How beautiful the countryside is in France. There are cows, rolling hills of green grass as if it has just rained and the colors of fall are showing themselves in the autumn leaves. .. I could sit here for days…just keep going without stopping while the outside world passes me by.
…end

When I got off the train in Torino it was dark and I had no idea which way to go. After twenty minutes of trying to use my Rick Steve’s Phrasebook with an old Italian woman, I was on the subway to the bus station. The old woman took the subway with me, found an English-Italian translator and then left me at the bus stop. I was waiting on the wrong side of the street when a man pointed out that I was going in the wrong direction. I crossed the street again and walked up just as the bus was arriving.

Second Lesson: When booking a hostel or hotel, always ask the receptionist how to get there BEFORE you get into town. Planning is most essential when going to a foreign country.

As I was trying to figure out which stop to get off at (because there are no signs to tell you) the bus got more and more empty, and alas it was me and three other people. As the bus doors opened at the next to last stop a young man advised me that the hostel was at that stop and to follow him, which I cautiously did. He led me up a very dark street, up a hill, and as I dragged myself and all my contents I felt the sweat beading off my tired body.

Eureka…it was 10pm on October 9th and I had finally arrived at my hostel.
Hello Italia!!!!!!!