On the move, on to Spannocchia
Saturday, another day of relocation. After another brief Italian breakfast - due cappucini e due pasticciere, Bjorn and I wished each other well and I was on my way. I had to meet up with the rest of the intern group at the Dublin Irish Post pub in Siena's Piazza Gramsci at 5pm, and preferred to have time to spare. So, I rolled my bags to the metro and managed to both buy a ticket and get on the correct train (and not get approached by any Italian-speaking person with a question - it's amazing how unhelpful you can feel when you can't answer someone's questions...). I arrived at Centrale, the main train station in Milan, and followed the rest of the wheely-bag crowd to the biglietti area. I used the automated ticket vending machines (mostly in English) to buy a bullet train ticket to Florence, and a Regionale train ticket on to Siena.
Sleeping while traveling continued to elude me. I nodded along to the beats of my EECpod, lamenting my inability to converse with anyone. Especially in such a social society, I lamented my inability to converse - I just wanted to talk, people! :-) A dark-skinned couple to my right talked animatedly through the entire trip. The man's voice was perhaps one of the most pleasant I have ever heard, and I noted that the woman - dressed in stylish clothes and topped with a gorgeous, natty afro - asked questions often, with a lovely lilt to her voice. This was the way I wanted to speak Italian! I wonder what it will be like to lose Italian as I know it - beautiful but meaningless sound - and gain it as verbal communication.
While I had the choice of several times/trains to Florence, this was not the case in Siena. The ticket issued me for that second leg was more or less a receipt, so that when I arrived in Florence, I was scrambling to figure out which train went to Siena and what time it departed. I read over the Departures board, realizing that Siena wasn't a final destination, so wasn't listed there. I dragged my bags and myself over to the tiny-print train schedule and scanned each listing for the word "Siena." I found it within a list of 10 stops on a train bound for (surprise) a place I had never heard of. Platform 3, it said. Hmmmm. This seemed a logical start, and the only option I had at this point. The train station seemed to have every platform in clear view, except for the 1st three... I mentally scanned my brain, trying to locate the phrases, "Which train to Siena?" and "Which platform for the Siena-bound train?"I wandered past the Informazione area, which had a line of at least 20 people - more than I could wait on if my train, in fact, left in 15 mins. I continued to wander with my convoy of baggage, eventually finding the #3 platform behind a small mass of buildings.
My search turned to finding an employee of the train, and the courage to ask something that would help me determine if this was the correct train. "Per Siena?" I asked the first employee-ish looking person I came across. "Si," was his reply. Whew, went my brain. He helped me heave my bags up the steps and I settled in with the EECpod. The train windows were open on this leg of the trip, and the weather was gorgeous. Hello, Tuscany!
The complexity of the day extended when I arrived in Siena. I would now have to purchase a bus ticket in a small Italian town, and the automated machines for this weren't working. Knowing the name of the stop I needed, I was able to get a ticket pretty easily (any word can become a question!); I had more trouble finding the bus stop, as it wasn't just out front.
Piazza Gramsci? I asked the bus driver out front of the station. Not this bus, but he motioned behind him. Piazza Gramsci? I asked a girl walking up the street. She pointed up the hill, where I could see a small crowd gathering. I joined them, squinting at the posted bus schedule, trying to determine which bus I should take. Luckily, the next to arrive was the #10, which seemed to be the best option from the schedule. Piazza Gramsci? I asked the driver. Si.
We rolled into town - literally, I was catching and falling over my bags the whole way. I got off at the first big piazza - knowing it was Gramsci from all the buses parked there. Sweaty and a bit distressed at this point, I plunked down on a curb near the pick-up spot and just sat. Il Campo would have to wait.
Sleeping while traveling continued to elude me. I nodded along to the beats of my EECpod, lamenting my inability to converse with anyone. Especially in such a social society, I lamented my inability to converse - I just wanted to talk, people! :-) A dark-skinned couple to my right talked animatedly through the entire trip. The man's voice was perhaps one of the most pleasant I have ever heard, and I noted that the woman - dressed in stylish clothes and topped with a gorgeous, natty afro - asked questions often, with a lovely lilt to her voice. This was the way I wanted to speak Italian! I wonder what it will be like to lose Italian as I know it - beautiful but meaningless sound - and gain it as verbal communication.
While I had the choice of several times/trains to Florence, this was not the case in Siena. The ticket issued me for that second leg was more or less a receipt, so that when I arrived in Florence, I was scrambling to figure out which train went to Siena and what time it departed. I read over the Departures board, realizing that Siena wasn't a final destination, so wasn't listed there. I dragged my bags and myself over to the tiny-print train schedule and scanned each listing for the word "Siena." I found it within a list of 10 stops on a train bound for (surprise) a place I had never heard of. Platform 3, it said. Hmmmm. This seemed a logical start, and the only option I had at this point. The train station seemed to have every platform in clear view, except for the 1st three... I mentally scanned my brain, trying to locate the phrases, "Which train to Siena?" and "Which platform for the Siena-bound train?"I wandered past the Informazione area, which had a line of at least 20 people - more than I could wait on if my train, in fact, left in 15 mins. I continued to wander with my convoy of baggage, eventually finding the #3 platform behind a small mass of buildings.
My search turned to finding an employee of the train, and the courage to ask something that would help me determine if this was the correct train. "Per Siena?" I asked the first employee-ish looking person I came across. "Si," was his reply. Whew, went my brain. He helped me heave my bags up the steps and I settled in with the EECpod. The train windows were open on this leg of the trip, and the weather was gorgeous. Hello, Tuscany!
The complexity of the day extended when I arrived in Siena. I would now have to purchase a bus ticket in a small Italian town, and the automated machines for this weren't working. Knowing the name of the stop I needed, I was able to get a ticket pretty easily (any word can become a question!); I had more trouble finding the bus stop, as it wasn't just out front.
Piazza Gramsci? I asked the bus driver out front of the station. Not this bus, but he motioned behind him. Piazza Gramsci? I asked a girl walking up the street. She pointed up the hill, where I could see a small crowd gathering. I joined them, squinting at the posted bus schedule, trying to determine which bus I should take. Luckily, the next to arrive was the #10, which seemed to be the best option from the schedule. Piazza Gramsci? I asked the driver. Si.
We rolled into town - literally, I was catching and falling over my bags the whole way. I got off at the first big piazza - knowing it was Gramsci from all the buses parked there. Sweaty and a bit distressed at this point, I plunked down on a curb near the pick-up spot and just sat. Il Campo would have to wait.
posted by Erin at 10:54:00 PM
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