Updating the Update: it’s a bit of a saga, but I’ll do my best.
Warning! Extremely long! May need to read in instalments!!
Part I of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Tunisia.
It was early one Thursday morning, the 19th May. My blue bag was packed, waiting for worldly travels. I was proud of myself for having only 10kg worth of stuff for two weeks (Tunisia and Italy), but also realised how much I actually brought with me from Oz, despite the 20 kg limit. I also began thinking about how much stuff I have accumulated while being here, and wondered how to get it all back home. But I digress! We awoke, breakfasted, searched for last second bits and pieces, then packed the car and away we went to Switzerland. We went to Switzerland for two rather important reasons: one, Valeska had some Uni stuff she needed to finish before she left, and secondly, we were flying to Africa from Zürich. We made good time, got to the airport and checked in. Ahhh, one day I will go duty free shopping, one day. The only thing that I was really interested in buying were those Flik Flak watches I mentioned a blogs ago. But I didn’t know 22 euro was cheap or not (about $45 AUD), compared to other places and Oz. Anyhoo! Armed with boarding passes and passports we found our seats on the aeroplane (I wanted to spell it ‘airplane’, oh dear). It was a two hour flight to Tunis, the capital of Tunisia (I’m seeing a theme here… Mexico, Mexico city; Australia, ACT; so many examples, so little time). I, unfortunately, decided to try the airline food. Let’s just say, the bread had the texture of a brick, the ‘butter’ and the ‘cheese’, I doubt, were derived from any dairy products whatsoever, and the ‘orange juice’ was orange-coloured sugar water. Got off the plane and it was like stepping into Rockhampton. I never thought I would enjoy that feeling, but I did. The heat, the sun, the attempts of making the place look nice with flowers; though the landscape was definitely lacking a few cow statues. We had to go to the Visa office to see if I actually needed a visa. You might be thinking that we left it a little late, seeing as I was already in the country, but I looked up on the internet a few weeks ago that said I did need a visa, though Germans don’t. I told my host family, who did some searching of their own just to check, and on the web it said I didn’t need one unless I was staying more than 3 mths. Even if I did need one, though, Australians can get them when they arrive. And, yes, I was needed one. I felt bad because Peter had to go get Tunisian money to pay for it, but it needed to be exchanged anyway, and also for taking so long (about 15 mins). But, to my amusement that night, I got a thanks at dinner for saving the Kleidermann’s from the usual way of visa-checking, which can take hours. The longest we had to wait for in the end was a bag at the luggage claim. We haggled 2 taxis from Tunis to Tabarka, which is actually 3 hours away and on the other side of the country, where our hotel was (the direct flight was booked out and Tunis was the next best thing). After a small panic about Valeska’s laptop (no one stole it, Gabi had it), we hit the road, so to speak. And then it really felt like being back home!! The same trees and grass (well, lack of) and flowers…even Eucalyptus trees!! With the window down and the wind through the hair (started to write ‘hair through the wind’), felt like I was in Josie’s car again on the way to a stage band rehearsal in Rocky. Except it took 3 hours. We Arrived. (cue music for stately procession or similar) The Robinson Club chain of hotels are really, really, really nice (and expensive…) and now my new two favourite words are: all inclusive. I shared a room with Hannah, and we had a room looking out over the sea. It was nice hearing it again. It was spookily like standing in Yeppoon and looking over to Cooee Bay. I showed Ellen the photos, and even she agrees with me. There’s not much more I can say about this part of my adventure; I ate, I slept, I ate, I read, I ate, I enjoyed myself immensely being almost at home, but being in Africa, and eating some more. The food and the drinks (they had normal water! Normal!!) was so yummy. I was warned that one can never go to a Robinson club and not put on weight. There was also fitness rooms and classes and stuff, but no way was I going to ruin my holiday! : ) Though I did go to the ‘Stretch and Relax’ and did Tai Chi (almost wrote ‘Chai tee’) on the beach, which was ‘noice’. Damn you, Ellen! I’m quoting Kath & Kim, all the while making had elaborate hand gestures…I can’t stop! I will explain later… One day I went into Tabarka with the Youth Group (not religious in anyway) and bought a few postcards and looked around. I also went on a bike tour with Peter and Hannah (the second day, and hence why I decided not to do any more fitness stuff for the rest of the week). There was only one hill that I thought I might cark it. That was the day, or should I say, the hill, I learnt how to use gears properly. Afterwards at lunch, I did make everyone laugh as I re-enacted my plight: Halfway up the hill I had started to breath like Darth Vader only really, really high pitched. But afterwards I was proud that I didn’t get off and I kept on going, even though I couldn’t change my face from one contorted in pain for a few minutes. I have a couple of photos to show that I did it. I look sufficiently sweaty and exhausted, so you know it’s real. Every night there was a show by the ‘Sportstainment’ people. On the first night, there was ‘Crazy Mix’ where they have snippets of songs all one after the other and 4 men dressing according to each song, and miming. It was really funny. One guy was on stage changing his costumes and the other 3 were behind the cyclorama, but you could see their shadows. They only had a few seconds to change for each song. At the end, for the encore, all four of them were onstage, and let’s just say there a few ‘Kodak moments’… Another night there was a hiphop-ish gangsta dance competition. The ‘5 Cent Freaks’ (yellow) v ‘Tabarka Fun Dancers’ (blue). During the day, the dancers went round in their costumes and divided the guests of the club into the two ‘gangs’ (I was blue) and so that night we all had these pieces of cloth to tie on our wrists and had paint painted onto our cheeks. It was war. My team went down with a fight, though, 2:3. And on the last night there was a proper show, ‘African Heartbeat’, with tap dancing and swing dancing…I was in awe. They had hired a proper choreographer, and for a 4 weeks, 8 hours a day, rehearsed. I couldn’t believe that these same 8 people could remember all those different dances during the different performances.
Part II of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Getting to Italy.
I guess I have to start this from my last night in the club. We had to wake up at 3.30am on Thursday morning, so I decided it was wasn’t worth going to bed. Usually I went to bed about 12.30, so I figured it would be okay. Plus, it was the last night for nearly all the guests so there should have been a party, right? Wrong! By about 2am it was terrible. But then it really wasn’t worth getting to bed, so I had to stick it out. Alas, at 3am I crawled into my bed and stared into the darkness. Got the fright of my life when the telephone rang. Needless to say the trip to the airport was quite and all I can remember is a bit hazy with sleep. Really busting to got to the toilet when we arrived; but check in was ok. Flight back to Zürich was ok. I slept between take off and landing. However, during landing I had the most painful pressure build up in my ears. It was like some one was stabbing a knife into my ears for about 5 minutes. I would have cried but I was too tired (and too proud). Eventually I yawned and the pain stopped. I could have cried out with joy (but I was too tired … and too proud). We collected out luggage, and Peter went with me to buy train ticket to Italy. I was to take the train from the airport (‘airports have trains??’, thought I) to Zürich main station, then a train to Milan (which would arrive at 4.45pm), then a train to Bologna (leaving at 5pm, arriving at 6.50ish pm), and there, Ellen would find me. But, ohhhh no. It didn’t quite work like that, did it?? The train arrived in Milan at 5.15pm. Making sure I was somewhat cool, calm and collected, I went straight to Information to ask for the next train to Bologna, which left at 5.50pm. Arrival in Bologna: 8.10pm. Ok, I thought, call Ellen, tell her the new times, everything’s gonna be ok! I call, Ellen’s host dad answers, he only speaks Italian. Craaaap. Hopefully Ellen will wait for me. Maybe she will look for the times for next train to Bologna. I arrive in Bologna -- it is huge. Ellen not there. I call. Sister is there and can speak English. Can I catch another train to Modena, or wait for the host dad to come in an hour? I take a train to Modena. I make a man help me find the right platform, think the train is about to leave in a matter of seconds (ha! Actually 15 minutes!), find an Australian woman on the train and learn that the whole train system has screwed up that day and no one really knows why (apparently you don’t trust the Italian system in the first place). I arrive at Modena. Call Ellen: Ellen on way, Hallelujah. Wait outside. Get worried that Ellen won’t see me, and that men keep staring at me. Feel very glad that two police officers were a few meters away. I strike a pose and pretend that this is exactly what one is supposed to do when one is in Italy -- and hope I don’t look like an easy target.
Ahhh, big lightening storm heading my way. I can see it out the window…whoop, and there is the thunder. I will have to finish this tomorrow.
Okay, today is now tomorrow, so let’s continue, shall we? I have also learnt (learned??) that in summer, I can expect one or two storms a week. That’s just not normal, think I.
I’m standing under the hazy fluorescent lights of the Bologna Station, fervently hoping that I will somehow find Ellen. I look to my right, to my left. I look ahead and then I see something out of the corner of my eyes. I see a car pull up to a distant park space and two girls get out. I squint, trying to recognise one of them… ‘Ellen???’ ‘ALICIA??!’ ahhhh. We hug; I almost harm her in my rather strangling embrace... I’m saved. Though I did manage to do everything okay by myself. Ohhh, I’m a big girl, now.
Part III of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Being in Italy.
On the way to Ellen’s house, I gave a brief explanation of why I was late to Ellen and Maddy, who, for all those who haven’t Ellen’s blog, was one of the girls that were on the plane to Italy and who also lives really close to Ellen, and is really nice. We got home, ate pizza for dinner and then took Maddy home. I then went to bed and slept until the following midday. That night Ellen and I went to a concert at the Conservatorium and I met a few of Ellen’s Italian friends. On Saturday I went with Ellen and other people from her exchange organisation (including Maddy and Nadia, another Australian girl) to a special agriculture school and then we visited the town Mantova. It was a great day: gelati, singing, shopping, laughing. And the weather! It was hot -- a novelty for me after 6 months in Germany. On Sunday, Ellen and I recovered from the previous day’s exhaustion (I did actually write ‘exhaustedness’ first time). We watched Bruce Almighty and then went and borrowed out Phantom of the Opera. That was the first time I saw it (either as a film or stage production), and heard all the songs (I knew little parts). It blew me away. So we watched it again on Monday after I had my first ‘proper’ Italian pizza and it was sooo good! (‘I love you too, Brett Bretterson…how about some lunchables?’) On Tuesday I went to school with Ellen. It was quite an experience. Ellen warned me that I shouldn’t use any public toilets in Italy, including the ones at school. I didn’t believe that they could be that bad; how wrong I was. I really had to go.It was just this white porcelain hole in the ground, without toilet paper (tissues: always the saving grace). I also couldn’t unlock the door. I emerged vowing never to speak of the experience again (already I have said too much); Ellen was sympathetic, but her face basically said ‘I told you so…’ So I followed Ellen to all her classes and met all these lovely people. They were all a little bit confused that I was an Australian, from Germany, visiting Ellen in Italy. I also went on Wednesday, and I got questioned in an English classes about myself (‘C’mon class! Get some secrets out of her!’) and then one about doing an exchange. Then I got heaps of kisses and hugs and shaking of hands as goodbyes. Really nice people, the Italians. I also picked up a few things: the basics, like ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ (the same word, but it still counts as two!), ‘thankyou’ and ‘you’re welcome’, and the hand gestures! It is quite entertaining to watch the Italians talk, because their whole bodies become means of communications (lot’s of arm waving, facial expressions, ect), and so I have picked up this one gesture that I can’t stop using (well, I don’t want to.) I also learnt about ‘squilos’ (skwilos?? I can’t actually spell the real name – ask Ellen)
Part IIII (hehe, I know…) Part IV of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Coming back Home. On Wednesday afternoon I ate lunch and said goodbye to Ellen’s host family, and then we (Ellen and I) were off to Bologna Bus station. We got on all the right trains (said Ellen, ‘I’ve finally got this train thing down pat.’) and arrived in just enough time to get my last gelati (there’s always time for gelati!). I got my bus ticket, waited a little, found the right bus, waited a little more, hugged Ellen goodbye, and boarded. The bus left at 5pm and arrived in Milan at 8pm. I thought it was a direct connection to Germany, but I was mistaken. So my next bus from Milan to Ulm (where I was to get off, then catch a train to Memmingen, where I would then be picked up) was to leave at 9.30pm. I sat down and waited. At 9.15 they started loading the bus and I boarded, got myself comfortable, and waited. And waited. I wondered why we still hadn’t left, when at about 10pm one of the bus drivers told, in Italian, we would be delayed indefinitely. But I didn’t know that. And I really had to go to the toilet. So, worried that I might miss the bus when it would actually depart, a asked a girl near me what was going on. It turned out that another bus was delayed enroute, and we had to wait for it. We waited until midnight. We arrived in Ulm at 7am, instead of 4.45am. I got off and collected my bag as quickly as possible and basically ran to the train station. I bought a ticket to Memmingen (ha! In German!) and finally, exhausted and hungry, arrived home at 8.45am. At long last, my travels were finished, though I am unable to say how glad I am that I experienced it all, even the Italian toilets.
The End.
Part I of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Tunisia.
It was early one Thursday morning, the 19th May. My blue bag was packed, waiting for worldly travels. I was proud of myself for having only 10kg worth of stuff for two weeks (Tunisia and Italy), but also realised how much I actually brought with me from Oz, despite the 20 kg limit. I also began thinking about how much stuff I have accumulated while being here, and wondered how to get it all back home. But I digress! We awoke, breakfasted, searched for last second bits and pieces, then packed the car and away we went to Switzerland. We went to Switzerland for two rather important reasons: one, Valeska had some Uni stuff she needed to finish before she left, and secondly, we were flying to Africa from Zürich. We made good time, got to the airport and checked in. Ahhh, one day I will go duty free shopping, one day. The only thing that I was really interested in buying were those Flik Flak watches I mentioned a blogs ago. But I didn’t know 22 euro was cheap or not (about $45 AUD), compared to other places and Oz. Anyhoo! Armed with boarding passes and passports we found our seats on the aeroplane (I wanted to spell it ‘airplane’, oh dear). It was a two hour flight to Tunis, the capital of Tunisia (I’m seeing a theme here… Mexico, Mexico city; Australia, ACT; so many examples, so little time). I, unfortunately, decided to try the airline food. Let’s just say, the bread had the texture of a brick, the ‘butter’ and the ‘cheese’, I doubt, were derived from any dairy products whatsoever, and the ‘orange juice’ was orange-coloured sugar water. Got off the plane and it was like stepping into Rockhampton. I never thought I would enjoy that feeling, but I did. The heat, the sun, the attempts of making the place look nice with flowers; though the landscape was definitely lacking a few cow statues. We had to go to the Visa office to see if I actually needed a visa. You might be thinking that we left it a little late, seeing as I was already in the country, but I looked up on the internet a few weeks ago that said I did need a visa, though Germans don’t. I told my host family, who did some searching of their own just to check, and on the web it said I didn’t need one unless I was staying more than 3 mths. Even if I did need one, though, Australians can get them when they arrive. And, yes, I was needed one. I felt bad because Peter had to go get Tunisian money to pay for it, but it needed to be exchanged anyway, and also for taking so long (about 15 mins). But, to my amusement that night, I got a thanks at dinner for saving the Kleidermann’s from the usual way of visa-checking, which can take hours. The longest we had to wait for in the end was a bag at the luggage claim. We haggled 2 taxis from Tunis to Tabarka, which is actually 3 hours away and on the other side of the country, where our hotel was (the direct flight was booked out and Tunis was the next best thing). After a small panic about Valeska’s laptop (no one stole it, Gabi had it), we hit the road, so to speak. And then it really felt like being back home!! The same trees and grass (well, lack of) and flowers…even Eucalyptus trees!! With the window down and the wind through the hair (started to write ‘hair through the wind’), felt like I was in Josie’s car again on the way to a stage band rehearsal in Rocky. Except it took 3 hours. We Arrived. (cue music for stately procession or similar) The Robinson Club chain of hotels are really, really, really nice (and expensive…) and now my new two favourite words are: all inclusive. I shared a room with Hannah, and we had a room looking out over the sea. It was nice hearing it again. It was spookily like standing in Yeppoon and looking over to Cooee Bay. I showed Ellen the photos, and even she agrees with me. There’s not much more I can say about this part of my adventure; I ate, I slept, I ate, I read, I ate, I enjoyed myself immensely being almost at home, but being in Africa, and eating some more. The food and the drinks (they had normal water! Normal!!) was so yummy. I was warned that one can never go to a Robinson club and not put on weight. There was also fitness rooms and classes and stuff, but no way was I going to ruin my holiday! : ) Though I did go to the ‘Stretch and Relax’ and did Tai Chi (almost wrote ‘Chai tee’) on the beach, which was ‘noice’. Damn you, Ellen! I’m quoting Kath & Kim, all the while making had elaborate hand gestures…I can’t stop! I will explain later… One day I went into Tabarka with the Youth Group (not religious in anyway) and bought a few postcards and looked around. I also went on a bike tour with Peter and Hannah (the second day, and hence why I decided not to do any more fitness stuff for the rest of the week). There was only one hill that I thought I might cark it. That was the day, or should I say, the hill, I learnt how to use gears properly. Afterwards at lunch, I did make everyone laugh as I re-enacted my plight: Halfway up the hill I had started to breath like Darth Vader only really, really high pitched. But afterwards I was proud that I didn’t get off and I kept on going, even though I couldn’t change my face from one contorted in pain for a few minutes. I have a couple of photos to show that I did it. I look sufficiently sweaty and exhausted, so you know it’s real. Every night there was a show by the ‘Sportstainment’ people. On the first night, there was ‘Crazy Mix’ where they have snippets of songs all one after the other and 4 men dressing according to each song, and miming. It was really funny. One guy was on stage changing his costumes and the other 3 were behind the cyclorama, but you could see their shadows. They only had a few seconds to change for each song. At the end, for the encore, all four of them were onstage, and let’s just say there a few ‘Kodak moments’… Another night there was a hiphop-ish gangsta dance competition. The ‘5 Cent Freaks’ (yellow) v ‘Tabarka Fun Dancers’ (blue). During the day, the dancers went round in their costumes and divided the guests of the club into the two ‘gangs’ (I was blue) and so that night we all had these pieces of cloth to tie on our wrists and had paint painted onto our cheeks. It was war. My team went down with a fight, though, 2:3. And on the last night there was a proper show, ‘African Heartbeat’, with tap dancing and swing dancing…I was in awe. They had hired a proper choreographer, and for a 4 weeks, 8 hours a day, rehearsed. I couldn’t believe that these same 8 people could remember all those different dances during the different performances.
Part II of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Getting to Italy.
I guess I have to start this from my last night in the club. We had to wake up at 3.30am on Thursday morning, so I decided it was wasn’t worth going to bed. Usually I went to bed about 12.30, so I figured it would be okay. Plus, it was the last night for nearly all the guests so there should have been a party, right? Wrong! By about 2am it was terrible. But then it really wasn’t worth getting to bed, so I had to stick it out. Alas, at 3am I crawled into my bed and stared into the darkness. Got the fright of my life when the telephone rang. Needless to say the trip to the airport was quite and all I can remember is a bit hazy with sleep. Really busting to got to the toilet when we arrived; but check in was ok. Flight back to Zürich was ok. I slept between take off and landing. However, during landing I had the most painful pressure build up in my ears. It was like some one was stabbing a knife into my ears for about 5 minutes. I would have cried but I was too tired (and too proud). Eventually I yawned and the pain stopped. I could have cried out with joy (but I was too tired … and too proud). We collected out luggage, and Peter went with me to buy train ticket to Italy. I was to take the train from the airport (‘airports have trains??’, thought I) to Zürich main station, then a train to Milan (which would arrive at 4.45pm), then a train to Bologna (leaving at 5pm, arriving at 6.50ish pm), and there, Ellen would find me. But, ohhhh no. It didn’t quite work like that, did it?? The train arrived in Milan at 5.15pm. Making sure I was somewhat cool, calm and collected, I went straight to Information to ask for the next train to Bologna, which left at 5.50pm. Arrival in Bologna: 8.10pm. Ok, I thought, call Ellen, tell her the new times, everything’s gonna be ok! I call, Ellen’s host dad answers, he only speaks Italian. Craaaap. Hopefully Ellen will wait for me. Maybe she will look for the times for next train to Bologna. I arrive in Bologna -- it is huge. Ellen not there. I call. Sister is there and can speak English. Can I catch another train to Modena, or wait for the host dad to come in an hour? I take a train to Modena. I make a man help me find the right platform, think the train is about to leave in a matter of seconds (ha! Actually 15 minutes!), find an Australian woman on the train and learn that the whole train system has screwed up that day and no one really knows why (apparently you don’t trust the Italian system in the first place). I arrive at Modena. Call Ellen: Ellen on way, Hallelujah. Wait outside. Get worried that Ellen won’t see me, and that men keep staring at me. Feel very glad that two police officers were a few meters away. I strike a pose and pretend that this is exactly what one is supposed to do when one is in Italy -- and hope I don’t look like an easy target.
Ahhh, big lightening storm heading my way. I can see it out the window…whoop, and there is the thunder. I will have to finish this tomorrow.
Okay, today is now tomorrow, so let’s continue, shall we? I have also learnt (learned??) that in summer, I can expect one or two storms a week. That’s just not normal, think I.
I’m standing under the hazy fluorescent lights of the Bologna Station, fervently hoping that I will somehow find Ellen. I look to my right, to my left. I look ahead and then I see something out of the corner of my eyes. I see a car pull up to a distant park space and two girls get out. I squint, trying to recognise one of them… ‘Ellen???’ ‘ALICIA??!’ ahhhh. We hug; I almost harm her in my rather strangling embrace... I’m saved. Though I did manage to do everything okay by myself. Ohhh, I’m a big girl, now.
Part III of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Being in Italy.
On the way to Ellen’s house, I gave a brief explanation of why I was late to Ellen and Maddy, who, for all those who haven’t Ellen’s blog, was one of the girls that were on the plane to Italy and who also lives really close to Ellen, and is really nice. We got home, ate pizza for dinner and then took Maddy home. I then went to bed and slept until the following midday. That night Ellen and I went to a concert at the Conservatorium and I met a few of Ellen’s Italian friends. On Saturday I went with Ellen and other people from her exchange organisation (including Maddy and Nadia, another Australian girl) to a special agriculture school and then we visited the town Mantova. It was a great day: gelati, singing, shopping, laughing. And the weather! It was hot -- a novelty for me after 6 months in Germany. On Sunday, Ellen and I recovered from the previous day’s exhaustion (I did actually write ‘exhaustedness’ first time). We watched Bruce Almighty and then went and borrowed out Phantom of the Opera. That was the first time I saw it (either as a film or stage production), and heard all the songs (I knew little parts). It blew me away. So we watched it again on Monday after I had my first ‘proper’ Italian pizza and it was sooo good! (‘I love you too, Brett Bretterson…how about some lunchables?’) On Tuesday I went to school with Ellen. It was quite an experience. Ellen warned me that I shouldn’t use any public toilets in Italy, including the ones at school. I didn’t believe that they could be that bad; how wrong I was. I really had to go.It was just this white porcelain hole in the ground, without toilet paper (tissues: always the saving grace). I also couldn’t unlock the door. I emerged vowing never to speak of the experience again (already I have said too much); Ellen was sympathetic, but her face basically said ‘I told you so…’ So I followed Ellen to all her classes and met all these lovely people. They were all a little bit confused that I was an Australian, from Germany, visiting Ellen in Italy. I also went on Wednesday, and I got questioned in an English classes about myself (‘C’mon class! Get some secrets out of her!’) and then one about doing an exchange. Then I got heaps of kisses and hugs and shaking of hands as goodbyes. Really nice people, the Italians. I also picked up a few things: the basics, like ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ (the same word, but it still counts as two!), ‘thankyou’ and ‘you’re welcome’, and the hand gestures! It is quite entertaining to watch the Italians talk, because their whole bodies become means of communications (lot’s of arm waving, facial expressions, ect), and so I have picked up this one gesture that I can’t stop using (well, I don’t want to.) I also learnt about ‘squilos’ (skwilos?? I can’t actually spell the real name – ask Ellen)
Part IIII (hehe, I know…) Part IV of the Travel Trilogy – in Four Parts: Coming back Home. On Wednesday afternoon I ate lunch and said goodbye to Ellen’s host family, and then we (Ellen and I) were off to Bologna Bus station. We got on all the right trains (said Ellen, ‘I’ve finally got this train thing down pat.’) and arrived in just enough time to get my last gelati (there’s always time for gelati!). I got my bus ticket, waited a little, found the right bus, waited a little more, hugged Ellen goodbye, and boarded. The bus left at 5pm and arrived in Milan at 8pm. I thought it was a direct connection to Germany, but I was mistaken. So my next bus from Milan to Ulm (where I was to get off, then catch a train to Memmingen, where I would then be picked up) was to leave at 9.30pm. I sat down and waited. At 9.15 they started loading the bus and I boarded, got myself comfortable, and waited. And waited. I wondered why we still hadn’t left, when at about 10pm one of the bus drivers told, in Italian, we would be delayed indefinitely. But I didn’t know that. And I really had to go to the toilet. So, worried that I might miss the bus when it would actually depart, a asked a girl near me what was going on. It turned out that another bus was delayed enroute, and we had to wait for it. We waited until midnight. We arrived in Ulm at 7am, instead of 4.45am. I got off and collected my bag as quickly as possible and basically ran to the train station. I bought a ticket to Memmingen (ha! In German!) and finally, exhausted and hungry, arrived home at 8.45am. At long last, my travels were finished, though I am unable to say how glad I am that I experienced it all, even the Italian toilets.
The End.
posted by Alicia @ 10:20 AM
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