Tuesday, March 30th, 2010
18:30 – I exit the main gates of Europa Park. I am officially on my way home to Rome. First I must walk back to the ferienwohnung to pick up my backpack and get a ride to the Ringsheim train station. I try not to get lost this time like I did last time. Trying is not good enough. I loop around the block a couple times, but finally locate the street on my own. They’re waiting with my belongings and the car ready to go. A short drive later I’m dropped off at Ringsheim Bahnhof. He insists on getting my backpack for me out of the truck, and after an awkward, multi-lingual goodbye and handshake, we part ways.
20:00 – I’m waiting on the single sheltered bench on the train platform. Remove the platforms along either side of the track and it would just be an empty stretch of railway in the middle of nowhere, Germany. It’s getting darker and I’m getting bored. When’s my ticket for? 23:04. Occasionally an extremely loud freight train rushes past. The timetables indicate there are at least two other trains heading towards my intermediate destination before eleven. I don’t know what to do.
21:00 – I scout out a nearby hotel, the place looks empty, but there’s a receptionist on duty. He speaks English, and I ask if he can translate my ticket to figure out if I can take one of the earlier trains (no) and if I can use the restroom (yes). I contemplate exploring further but it’s getting dark out and there are no streetlamps or anything so I return to the train platform.
23:04 – After four hours of waiting on some desolate platform bench my train finally arrives.
23:42 – I have to make my transfer at Freiburg. It’s supposed to be a quick transfer but when I get to the platform the board says the train is running 45 minutes late. More waiting. I dine on vending machine snacks.
Wednesday, March 31st, 2010
00:25 – The train finally arrives. We have an hour-long journey to Basel, Switzerland where I was supposed to catch another train to Bern that night. I’ve obviously missed it. I fall asleep on the ride. I’m going to need it.
01:15 – We arrive in Basel. It’s at least a big station with many terminals, but everything is silent. The few passengers get off, there are no representatives from the train station present but I find a few Swiss police officers talking to some other tourists in the main lobby. I ask one of them if there’s any way I can get to my destination tonight. “All trains have stopped for the night.” But he indicates that at 6:07 there is a train directly to Bergamo, which is very close to my destination of Milan, and he thinks my ticket should be valid for that given the circumstances. I guess that’s my new plan. Now, what does one do with themselves when they’re trapped in Purgatory, Switzerland?
01:45 – The restrooms are locked at this hour (thanks for nothing, pay toilets). I wander around the block trying to find anyplace that might be open, warm, and have toilets, but every building is silent and dark. I seriously contemplate peeing in the bushes next to the train station, the juice I had at Freiburg has gone through me fast. Thankfully another traveler and I find a janitor who lets us into the employee restroom for free.
02:15 – I try to find an insulated waiting room with benches I can lay down on. There are none. The only benches are in the main platform area where the open-air design has left it rather cold. This will have to do. I don an extra layer of pants, my Expedition GeForce sweater zipped under my jacket, and make a bed and blanket of sorts out of the rest of the dirty laundry in my backpack, which also serves as my pillow. I eventually fall asleep.
04:00 – I wake up. It’s fucking freezing! I repack my stuff, I need to find someplace warmer in this train station. The lower level has no benches or waiting areas, but at least it’s partly sheltered and heated. I prop myself up on the floor next to a vending machine in the corner and try to get another hour or two of rest. Just as I’m starting to drift off, my cellphone rudely awakens me. It’s my mom.
“Hello?” I croak.
“Hi honey. I haven’t heard from you in a couple days and I needed to make sure you’re all right.”
I’m stranded in a train station I’m not supposed to be in trying to sleep on a pile of dirty clothes to keep warm while next to a vending machine.
“I’m fine, I’m in Switzerland” is my answer. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry, I probably woke you, didn’t I?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
“Oh, okay. Well it’s good to hear from you. So… how was Europa Park?”
“It was good.” (long pause)
“I guess this isn’t the best time to talk, call me tomorrow when you get back into Italy, okay?”
“Okay, bye mom.”
05:30 – I once again wake up, as a few random travelers are now showing up in the train station. The first trains of the morning are starting to depart. I go back upstairs and hang around for awhile until the 6:07 to Bergamo is close to leaving. I find the train and catch the conductor. Showing him my ticket and explaining the late train the night prior, I ask if I can get a ride on this train. “No, there’s a 7:35 direct to Milano Centrale, that’s the train you want, not this one.” I check the board. Actually that might be the train I was going to catch in Bern anyway because it’s due to arrive at the same time. Now more waiting.
07:35 – The train to Milan departs. I’ve opted for the cheaper option of no seat reservation, since they’re all the same anyway and you’re inevitably going to be put across from the lady with the ten screaming children. The problem is they don’t tell you which other seats people have reserved. After resting comfortably in one of the rows, I’m told to move by people that have a reservation for that aisle. I’m forced to move again from my new seat. I soon find that the train has filled to capacity and there are no remaining seats available. When I buy a ticket for an unreserved seat, I at least expect a seat to be present. I sit in the pit of steps in the car connector. It’s much more comfortable than last night’s sleeping arrangements. I enjoy the Swiss scenery between
nodding off to sleep again, occasionally moving to let passengers in or out.
10:35 – The train arrives in Milano Centrale. I know I have to hurry because I have a bus that leaves at 10:40 to take me to Milano Malpensa Airport for the final leg of the journey back to Rome. It’s not made explicit where the buses depart from, and just as I find it, the bus is shutting its doors. I run up to it to see if he can stop for one more passenger, but he waves me away to catch the next one in fifteen minutes. The problem is that I had booked a cheap flight to depart at 12:10, of which an hour and thirty-five minutes seemed like plenty of time between train station arrival and flight departure, but forgot that the gates would close 45 minutes prior to the stated departure time, and the bus ride was scheduled 
to last another 45 minutes. I was cutting it too close if I got the right bus, and would definitely be late if I caught the wrong one. There goes the €30 on my flight and the €7 for the pre-paid bus ticket. (Lesson: never buy advanced tickets for regularly scheduled busses which require no reservation anyway.)
I phone one of my roommates and explain the situation.
“Now first of all I need you to stop freaking out and calm down.”
“I’m not freaking out. I know that I’ve definitely missed my flight and need to figure out if I should take the bus to the airport or stay at the train station.”
“One minute, let me check the fares online.”
I wait.
“Okay man, listen, the cheapest flight you can still buy for today is €400, so stay at the train station. I’ll look up the fares for you.”
A moment.
“All the trains to Rome today are at least €80, I think because it’s Easter this weekend. There’s one that leaves at three which is €40, but it’s going to take more than twice as long.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll do that one. Thanks so much for your help with this.”
“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll see you later buddy, stay safe.”
11:15 – After buying my train ticket and exploring the few hideously overpriced food options in the Milano Centrale, I’m stuck with 3 ½ hours of time to kill. I was partly planning on seeing Milan during a trip to northern Italy later to visit Venice and the two amusement parks, so I figure maybe I can quickly cover my sightseeing now and actually save money from having to return later. The problem is I have no map, no guidebook, or even any inkling of what there is to see or do in Milan besides attend a fashion runway.
I hope there’s some interesting cultural sights around Milano Centrale, but after spending a couple hours walking around kind of dirty, bland, New York style city blocks I conclude there’s nothing of interest me in Milan besides a quick lunch. I was quite disappointed with the city, as I expected something very cosmopolitan and modern, or at least have a bit more history behind it like every other major European city I’ve visited, but honestly it was just kind of run down with the most glamorous parts being the peeling Armani posters depicting vain, privileged ennui, and a few faceless skyscrapers. Regardless I took a few photos before waiting the last hour out back in Milano Centrale (Random cultural note, the “c” in Italian is always pronounced like a hard “ch”, so as you read these words in your brain you should be hearing “Milano Chentrale”).
14:50 – My train departs Milano, and I’m off on a nearly seven hour train ride around the Italian countryside, eventually terminating in Rome. I find a seat, and then sit and wait.
21:35 – The train arrives at Roma Termini. I disembark, find my way to the central concourse, walk the endless series of stairs and hallways to get to the Roma Metro system. I scan my monthly pass (due to expire in a few hours) and board the next subway.
22:00 – It feels good to be back someplace familiar where there’s a language I can (almost) understand. “Prossima fermata: Cipro. Uscita lato destro.” That’s my stop. I walk the couple blocks to the apartment, squeeze my backpack into the tiny elevator, ride up to the fifth floor (which is actually the sixth floor), say ‘hi’ to the guys, ask them how Greece was and tell a few quick stories of my own, and then crash on my bed, finally, after 28 hours of travel since I left Europa Park.
I need a hot shower. I need a hot meal. Most of all, I need to sleep.
My mother’s intuition was flaring up and I guess I had a valid reason to be worried. And though you’ve proven yourself more than capable of dealing with the unexpected while travelling, I’ll keep worrying about you till the day I die. Sorry, it is a mother’s instinct. But I suppose it is a son’s instinct to make their mother suffer for their overprotectionism!