I am writing
from the train that is taking Billie and me to Milan, with a quick change there
we’ll be off to Venice. We are passing through mountainous territory, so very
beautiful is our view from the valleys that we traverse! Our passports are
being inspected by police for the second time – different police, so I believe
that we have just passed over into Italy.
Yesterday
was brief as both of us managed to sleep quite late into the day after little overnight
rest. I bedded down after my early breakfast and happily snoozed until noon.
When we headed out it was to the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe on another lovely, sunny day with cool breezes. I have been in Paris in October
before and had only steady rain to accompany my walk-abouts. So we have been ever-so fortunate. The Champs E was
crowded with the usual suspects, parading by expensive shops and restaurants,
enjoying the sense of just being there, one of the earth’s truly “hot spots.”
We purchased some lunch at a Brioche Dore shop – eat in or take out. Later, on
our way to the Metro I realized that my small pocket wallet was missing. I don’t
believe that it was stolen. I think that I likely put it down or dropped it in
the restaurant and simply didn’t notice its loss. We retraced our steps and
enquired at the Brioche Dore but to no avail. Luckily it did not contain our
passports or the envelope in which I carry most of our euros. It did,
however, have my Visa and bank cards – the sources of further cash and charging
capabilities. A complicated series of manoeuvers by my Toronto financial
colleague ensued. If all goes well, I will receive a temporary card and some
euros after we arrive in Venice. The happiness of the global systems.
After this
kafuffle Billie and I went one last time to the area of St Michel. I wanted to
buy another book to tide me over for reading while we are in Italy. Second-hand
English book stores are considerably more difficult to come across there. My
friend, Jan had recommended Joanna Trollope, the grand-niece of my hero,
Anthony, as a writer of smaller, human stories that sit right in the reading.
Anthony’s terrain was considerably broader, taking in the social, political,
and ecclesiastical spheres of 19th century middle and upper classes.
So I will settle down to see what Joanna has to offer, endeavouring not to
unfavourably compare her to her forebear.
Though we
managed so little yesterday, we came back to the hotel every bit as tired as
each of the other days. Getting organized for the quick get-away today, eating,
and showering took us well into the evening. It’s strange how one can be so
entirely pooped and yet lay down one’s head to sleep without the satisfaction
of truly letting go.
Nonetheless we, that is, I, was ready to spring up at 5 AM
when my cell phone alarm rang. Billie was considerably slower, but we did get
to the train and on board in time – just! I had a little chat with her earlier
about her habit of frustrating people by resisting their entreaties to get
ready to be off. Of course she laughed it off, saying that she didn’t always do
that, but sometimes it just happened. No, I explained, when people act that way
to frustrate another, it’s because they want to. They may not understand why
they want to, but they want to nonetheless. It’s a great way of getting your
own back. I gave her a couple of instructive examples of the ways in which I
used to do that. Will she learn from my tutelage? Mmm.
It is now
Friday and we are somewhat settled into our new, extremely difficult to locate especially
in the dark, digs. So many conundrums yesterday! Mid-way to Milan the friendly
barista in the bar car told me that our train did not stop at the station from
which one went to Venice. A conductor standing there looked at the tickets that
had been e-sent to me and concurred. We had been given only 15 minutes to make
the station switch!!!! Besides, the Milan ride was 30 minutes late arriving. Once
in Milan we raced to the Trentalia office to be sent elsewhere. We were
rerouted to another slightly later departure and given vague instructions how
to get to the new station – a 10-minute trip the nice lady assured me. Perhaps
for her who understood the vagaries of Metro travel and the locations of each
by-way. We arrived just as our train pulled out of the station. No matter,
another nice lady routed us to the next train – another hour later. Billie who
had been resisting eating or drinking all day was understandably tired and less
appealingly grouchy, convinced that all of our difficulties were likely my
fault. Also she objected to my groaning about all of the stairs – and there
were many – that I had to climb a la mare’s shank, with my suitcase and etc in
tow. Nonetheless, we were managing. During our wait I got us both some yummy
gelato – Billie demurred but happily ate hers. On the Venice train we sat tight with two gentlemen, one of whom spoke on the phone doing his business for
much of the way. Billie and I, I am sure seemed odd to them as we were so
clearly disorganized with our stuff and had only grabbed those two empty seats
because we had not been assigned any. The sac containing all of our food stuffs
had fallen apart just as we got on the train, spreading our biscuits, bananas,
etc onto the track-side walkway. We gathered most of it despite the press of
others attempting to board, but suffered the loss of our peanut butter (sob)
and Nutella. I’m certain we looked most comical to those around us. But still
we were on our way, still snoozing a lot but OK.
Once in
Venice we made several forays to find our residence – few instructions had been
given as to its location. I counted five different people who generously tried
to assist us. The last one finally got us there. Up three long flights of
stairs with all of our stuff. I thank the lords above that I went to Curves for
ten years developing some upper-body strength. Our landlady showed us to our
room – one of just three that she lets out of her apartment. A double bed for
the two of us. OK, we’ll make it work. And now, c.450 euros cash please. Oops,
no money. OK, she’ll wait until I can get some this morning – fingers crossed.
We dropped our stuff and went out into the Venetian evening looking for a
connecting plug to allow my computer access to the wall unit – I had left the
one I had in Paris – a new city, a new item left behind! Luckily we were
directed to a tiny electrical shop not too far away and arrived there just as
the fellow was about to close. Success – without which I would not now be
addressing you. We got Billie a sandwich of indeterminate substance. The man
said chicken but Billie said no – but ate it anyway as by then the return of
hunger had hit her. We found a cafeteria that I had frequented before where I
had a salad. We picked up a few staples and headed back to our new, yet unpaid
for, home, working our way through the four sets of keys to get there –
the garden gate; the building door; the apartment door; and, our room.
En route we
had another little chat about being miserable with another – passive aggressive
I labelled it. Billie had heard the term but didn’t understand it. I tried to
enlighten her. More conversations to ensue. We are doing well, despite this
kind of commentary, however. She can be a most loving child, just a bit
hormonal (since the age of about three) around the edges.
So enough
for now. Soon I’ll be off through my four security levels to the Western Union
to see if they can put me back on proverbial easy street. Then we can really
enjoy the loveliness of Venice. And how about those Jays!!! When I went to
sleep last night they were up 5-0. I woke up to the happy news of their win.
All the
best, and, keep the faith.
In 2006 I took Catherine, then 14, to France with me, a reward for finishing grade 8 in French Immersion. She stressed me out so much about getting ready, as if a trip to Europe was like taking the bus to the nearest mall. I was on a study trip honing my French teaching skills. She would have 10 days on her own. With much effort I found (through a good friend), a girl her age who was willing and interested to show her around and keep her company through the day. It worked. On the weekends we had the same getting up problems as you describe. On the whole, it was a great trip. She remembers it fondly, though immediately upon our return, she reverted to her sullen, disengaged teenage attitude. I think that trip was very important. She was a great help to me with the luggage up the stairs etc. I can see it all as you describe it so vividly. Enjoy!
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