Late Trains

It is the idea of traveling and missing something or being late that freaks me out. Not to an extreme extent, but where I wake up really early and cannot sleep. When I travel alone, it helps me which is why I think it is easier for me to travel alone. The whole point of that was to tell you that I woke up really early. I went back to sleep. I woke up. I went back to sleep. I dreamt about a train crashing into the place I was sitting (I think due to the fact that the other two roommates came in, but I am not sure). My alarm went off, I covered it but hit the button so it stopped. I had five minutes…I decided to head to the bathroom so that when it went off again, I would be out of the room, let it go off for a minute and then be done with it.

I got up, went to the bathroom, looked at my watch….5:02. I checked my alarm: 6:30. Did it go off? Was I dreaming? Did someone else’s go off? I am confused. I changed my clothes and went back to bed. I woke up again, around 6 and changed my alarm so that it would not go off. I packed my bags and then went into the hall…where I repacked my bags. Why did I do this? Last night my towel was still wet so I could not pack it and it HAS to go on the bottom or I will feel everything through the bag. There was no light in the room for me to really see, since I had my stuff not near the window and so my bag did not close. Anyway 15 minutes later, I was good to go.

I even had time to check my map, put everything in order, and be satisfied with my timing. I got to the train station in less than 10 minutes, with not one problem. I saw a lot of people there and thought a train just got in. I went to go inside and couldn’t. There were people everywhere. I mean sprawled out, sleeping, luggage all over, a line out the door for information, it was nuts. I looked at the board and about 5 trains were delayed. Some for 5 minutes others for over an hour. Mine said “arret tout gare.” I thought it meant “all stopped at stations.” I was not so happy about this delay and waited.

One of the workers posted a sign and all I could get from it is that some dangerous event happened at the Cassis train station last night and they are either checking all trains, stopping them, or I don’t know what. Great, how will I catch my other three trains?! All of a sudden it said platform D for me….ah “stop at all stations,” it is a local train, sweet! I headed to my platform and boarded the train.

I had a funny feeling and asked someone if I was on the right train, they said no. I said okay and got off. I then decided I was and got back on. I found someone else and asked again, she said “no this train is going in the opposite direction.” I got off. What the heck? I looked at the board with the information, this is platform D and that is my train…ohhhhhh my train has not arrived yet. This is for the delayed train. Glad I got off that one!

I was able to catch the earlier train that pulled up right next to me and of course asked again. I was on the right train and overjoyed it was on time and running. I got into Monte Carlo and left the platform; found out there were only two platforms and returned. I caught my originally scheduled train and checked to make sure it was the right one before putting my bags down. It was and before I knew it I was at Ventimiglia.

It is funny to get off of a train and not hear the usual foreign language that you are used to. I have been in France for a month (wow) and wish I had more time to get to know the language. I will work on that when I return though. For now, it is Italian. I know no Italian. I heard “excussi” and smiled. It is like the fake accents we do in school. When I thought about what words I know, really I just know the accent and not the words. The guy in front of me was stopped by a cop and I walked around that. I have been very lucky not being stopped or questioned, but I guess I do not look like the type one would usually question (fools!). Anyway, I found my train (checked it was the right one with another body) and then found my seat.

The cars had seats of six that were a bit more upscale I guess than the French regional trains. I found my spot and took some pictures. Then a gross man walked by, came back, and said a bunch of stuff in Italian that I had no idea and sat down. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders and he basically said, oh you don’t speak my language. He sat, stood, walked, stood, picked his nose, ate it, picked it some more, ate it some more. Cleaned his teeth, tried to sleep, grossed me out, picked the nose again, inspecting it this time. When he decided to leave I was overjoyed to say the least. About ten minutes later a guy in his 30s, tall dark and handsome found his seat in my compartment. He was not so oblivious, so I could not stare the way I did with nose picker. He was reading a newspaper that was pink though. I couldn’t tell if it was that color on purpose or stained (although the whole thing was uniformly pink).