I love traveling. Getting to see new places and getting to experience new cultures (especially the food and shopping) are some of my favorite activities.
Typically, I never have a bad experience where ever I end up. The biggest problem I've had? Getting to the place I'm supposed to be.
Layovers? Not that bad. The worst I've had is being stuck in the Denver airport all day because of thunderstorms in Dallas/Ft. Worth and then having to stay overnight losing a in Dallas/Ft. Worth en route to Costa Rica.
Traffic? Worst experience was driving back to Boston from Philly after a Blackhawks/Flyers game. I don't remember exactly how many hours it took but it was somewhere around nine. Never in my life had I parked a car on a freeway but I did on the Jersey Turnpike. And it felt like driving in a hurricane because of the wind and pouring rain. Also east coast drivers struggle in the rain... which isn't a big deal to me, when it rains all the time back home.
The weekend of Oct. 13th-16th (and eventually the 17th) though takes the cake in all of my traveling experiences. In an effort to travel cost efficiently I flew Ryanair which is essentially the European equivalent of Southwest Airlines. In exchange for cheap airfare though, they fly from airports far away from the actual city you want to get to.
This is how I got to Stockholm: Walked to the train station, took an hour and forty five minute train to Milan, took an hour bus from the train station to Bergamo airport, took a Ryanair flight from Bergamo to Skavsta airport in Sweden, then an hour and a half bus to the Stockholm's central terminal.
Then we we finally were in Sweden and were going to take the Metro one stop to Gamla Stan but the station we went to was closed.Given that it was late in a strange city, we weren't about to wander around so we took a cab to the hostel.
We left around noon for the airport and didn't get to our hostel until around eleven that night.
Final tally: 1 train, 1 cab, 2 buses and 1 plane to get there.
Maybe it was just poor on my part for not knowing just how far away Bergamo was from Milan but it all worked out fine because we took an early enough train. The trip was long but I could deal with it.
Coming home was a different story though.
After doing one last walk around of Gamla Stan, we began the journey back home.
First the metro from Gamla Stan to Central Station in Stockholm. Then walking to find the hour and a half long bus to take us from Stockholm to the Skavsta airport. A plane from Skavsta back to Bergamo.
We just managed to catch the 7 o'clock shuttle back to the train station which was key to making the 8:15 pm train back home.
What we didn't plan for though was Sunday night traffic to get back to Milan, which meant we got to the train station at 8:30 pm and missing our train.
No matter though, at worst I'd have to swallow the 42 euro ticket and buy another one, but I'd still get home that night.
Wrong. One trip to the ticket desk later, only to find out that not only would there be no refund, but also the next train wasn't until 5:45 the next morning. What was I supposed to do in a city I knew nothing about until then? Where was I going to stay?
If there wasn't a train leaving, maybe there was a bus. Thankfully we found some sort of ticket agent who were confused when we told him we wanted to leave that night but nonetheless found us a bus to get back home... at 1 am. But not from the location we were at, we'd have to take the metro (subway) to get where we'd be leaving from.
It was only around 9 or 10, but at this point anything was better than nothing. So we paid another 32 euro for a bus ticket and then all there was left was to do was wait.
And panic because we didn't have cell phones, phone numbers to any one at school (terrible I know) or really anyway to contact anyone. This led to finding pay phones and for some bright panicked idea, attempted and failed collect calls home.
When we finally gave up trying to contact anyone for the time being, we ventured back to the train station to find our way to the metro, buy tickets and get to where they bus would pick us up in about 4 hours or so.
Thankfully after having taken public transportation in this being now the fourth different country, we didn't get on the wrong train or go the wrong direction. Which was a small victory until we realized that we were in the general vicinity but had no idea of the specifics of the area and no map.
After once again finding pay phones, we again tried to call home for what I now realize was out of nothing other than pure panic. We failed yet again and then found a regional train station, then proceeded to ask various Italians if they knew where the bus stop was.
First was someone at a restaurant at the train station, then a cabbie (who knew no English) and finally an older woman walking her dog, who knew a little English, as we walked a couple blocks unsuccessfully. Thankfully the woman found us the correct street and where the stop was. She did sound a little concerned when we told her we weren't leaving until 1 am and told us to wait at the train station where she thought a restaurant was open late. Personally I was hoping that she would take us in and feed us until we had to leave. But that would have been too lucky.
We headed to the train station only to find this restaurant closed at 10 but the girls closing it were nice enough to let us use the bathroom before they closed up. Now that we finally knew exactly where we had to go, I was ready to stay put and wait it out but my friend was hungry so we went in search of food.
This also failed as the only places that were open this late on a Sunday, when most everything is shut down in Italy anyways were bars and gelateria's. Not helpful when you haven't had anything to eat since before you got on a plane at around 4.
My friend then wanted to search for a church so we had somewhere safe to wait but given that we were in Italy, most churches are just tourist attractions. The one we were headed to we were told by a woman and her daughter that it was closed until morning.
Once again it was back to the train station.
The highlights of waiting in a regional train station for two and half to three hours:
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| This is what gets constructed at night in an Italian train station |
- More attempted and failed collect calls home which were a good thing because it probably would have ended in tears
- Seeing an anti-vandalism display be erected which was started and finished before we left.
- Having a random Filipino lady ask me in Tagalog if I had change for 50 euro.
- Trying to keep warm as the temperature continuously fell.
- Seeing many lucky people catch trains to home or wherever they were going.
- Eating a Daim chocolate bar because it was the only sort of food I had. I hadn't planned on needing snacks for this trip.
Around 12:45 we walked over to the bus stop, of course the bus was late, and hit the point of exhaustion where everything was funny. We considered the possibility of how much taking a cab back home would cost. The bus finally showed up and we started the five hour long bus ride home. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I didn't even leave the bus for food when we made our stop halfway through.
After one stop before home, we finally arrived at our assigned stop around 6 am. But wherever we were was not any place that looked familiar but the bus driver assured us this was the stop we were supposed to get off at.
Except we were on the side of the road by a roundabout near a toll. How would we actually get home? We were so close yet so far!
There were two other people who also got off at our stop, a mother (in her 60s or 70s) and her son (in his 30s). Thankfully the son spoke English and told us he called a cab. However the mother went up the darken street which had a basically nonexistent shoulder.
Either a cab or bus was our next option and at this point I didn't care how much it cost as long as I could get home. The mother finally came back and had apparently found someone to take us into Florence. So we followed her up the darkened street to the car, on the way I saw a bus that said it went to the train station which was in the city.
Well at least that's what we thought until we saw the tiny typical Italian car which would fit her son and her but not us. Which was only emphasized by her wagging her finger at us and telling us firmly, "No."
That sent us off in search of the bus stop for the bus we had seen headed the the train station. Thankfully it wasn't far in the opposite direction of where the bus from Milan had dropped us off. Again the shoulder was nonexistent by the bus stop as cars whizzed by, but finally around 6:25 am the bus finally came and another 4 euro and we were on our way into the city.
When we finally reached the train station we were at another level of exhaustion, so we went in search of the bus that went by both places in which we were staying, but with no luck.
Instead we walked together until it was time to split off, since she lived closer to the train station than I did, and I continued to finish the half hour long walk to where I live.
Finally at around 7 am I arrived back home. I just about cried in relief. I had never been happier to be back.
In all that the summary of getting home from Sweden: subway, bus, plane, bus, (missed train which really would have been the end of the traveling), subway, bus, bus, half hour walk.
2 subways, 4 buses, 1 plane and a walk to get home. A journey started at 12 pm and ended at 7 am.
Initially these plans were supposed to save us money from flying direct but I think that clearly fail. Next time I'll pony up the cash to fly directly to and from. Life is so much easier when someone else plans things for you ;)
That ladies and gentlemen is the story of my most ridiculous travel experience.
