Travel is a Harsh but Fair Teacher

Note: A special thanks to our friends at Eurocheapo.Com, the pioneers of budget traveling in Europe, and a great one-stop shop for all your info and accommodation needs. Tom, Pete, Meredith, and the rest of the Eurocheapo gang are the best in the business at finding tucked away places and ferreting out the best deals for the European traveler. Our little blog that could was featured a little while back on the Eurocheapo site, and for that we are grateful. Cheapos of the world unite!!

Bodies beaten? Check. Spirits dampered? Check. Pockets empty? Definitely check. Florence had come out with guns akimbo and a rowdy sneer on its face. This city had defeated greater foes than the likes of us with its ultra-mercantile ways, and we were as helpless as bunny rabbits facing down a steamroller. So as our bodies gained the rest that they needed, our thoughts turned to one thing: let's get the f— out of here.

This was our original exit strategy: after Florence, we were to catch a ride northward to Bologna, famous for its food (spaghetti Bolognese anyone?) and the uniformly red brick buildings in the city center. Then eastward from there to Venice, city of gondolas and bridges, in order to see the annual Carnival in all its splendor. Sounds fun, right? Well, we thought we had some kick-ass accommodations lined up for both these places. But the night before we were to go, it all went to pot.

The spots we were to crash in both places were suddenly unavailable. This was kind of a problem. But then, we're the Pork Chop Express, kings of 'no plan,' for better or for worse. So on the morning of the day we were to leave Florence, we sat down in the hostel's breakfast room with computers out strategizing alternatives. First we looked at alternate accommodations. No go—Carnival had wiped out any vacancies in Venice. And the alternatives for Bologna were expensive and far away from the city center.

We eventually settled on a new plan (we at the Pork Chop like to refer to this as 'plan B-ing it'). We'd spend the rest of the day exploring more distant parts of Florence before catching a night train through the Alps to eventually get into Munich, Germany. Better to cut our losses and take the hint that perhaps Italy had had enough of our antics. A good plan, right? It made sense. But if you think that, then remember who you're dealing with.

We spent that last day in the far off hills around Florence, walking straight out of the city limits and into a village made up of lavish vineyards and mansions. It was peaceful and relaxing to walk where there were no stores, no American accents, no places where you had to deposit money to get into. Long story short, we got back to our hostel in the early evening, picked up our stuff in storage, and set out for the Santa Maria Novella train station. The only thing left to do was to validate the Eurail pass so that we could hop on the train to freedom. Florence, though, had other ideas.

We queued up for fifteen minutes at the ticket window at around 8:12 pm, which was long before the last train was scheduled to leave the station that night. Right as we got up to the window, however, the attendant on the other side smiled smarmily and slid a sign in front of him that read 'chiuso.' We'll give you three guesses on what that means (hint: it means the opposite of 'open'). We begged. We pleaded. We demanded justice. But none of these things had any effect on the overlords of the biglietti (Italian for 'tickets'). We were stuck in Florence for another night.

So we hoofed it back to the hostel (again), stole internet, and procured accommodations at a questionable hostel across town. It was cheaper, and the experience had to be better than the one we had at this hostel. So we hoofed it over there. This new hostel, the David Inn Hostel, was actually located in a great and central location in the shadow of the Duomo. And it wasn't as shady as the hostel website described it. It actually was nice and homey, if a bit cramped. And the travelers we met there were top rate—they were all adventurers like us, and it was quite refreshing to feel that kinship once more. We had a great time talking into the wee hours of the night about our travels thus far and where we should eventually go in each country. Remember this point. We may refer to some of these travelers in more detail later.

Plan C could be summed up in four words: get to Munich, dammit. We got up early, got to the train station, and queued up again. And again, it could have been a simple affair. But it wasn't. At least this time, the lady at the ticket window was on our side. She explained that our pass was good for travel anywhere in Italy and anywhere in Germany. But there were a couple of problems with our plan: Switzerland and Austria. Our Eurail pass didn't cover travel in these countries. So there we were, biting our nails about what we might do about this, while the ticket lady feverishly tried to find alternatives for us to take. It ended up that we could take the train to Munich, provided that we pay out of pocket for the travel through Austria, which was about 30 Euros each. We took the deal, said 'grazie' way too many times, and made the train. Finally.

We're writing this blog with the benefit of hindsight. What we couldn't tell then, but what we can readily see now, is that that colossal mistake in Florence that night set loose a chain of events that has really defined this whole trip and that has taught us lessons about how the universe seems to work, how timing is all-important, and how resilience is the number one thing that travelers must have.

Let's explain. Had we made that night train, we would have ridden with different people and passed through the countryside at a different time of day. We would have reached Munich many hours earlier, changing out actions and reactions to events. Everything would have been different. And knowing what we know now, we wouldn't change one thing that has happened so far. That's the adventure—the not knowing and the constant learning about the world and ourselves. We feel that this is what travel is all about. After you strip away the sightseeing and the touristy stuff, it is about getting past all the garbage that fills up 'normal living' and seeing that the most important things to be aware of are timing, action, faith in what you do at any moment, and the willingness to accept the consequences of any choice you make.

That long-winded statement now given, the first sign of our luck turning around was meeting another traveler on the train. Her name was Octavia, and she was an American graduate student studying in Florence. We got to talking about the wine industry that she had worked in prior to school, her experiences in Florence, our experiences in Florence, and where she was going. It just so happened (timing!!) that she was getting off at Verona (yes, the town where Romeo and Juliet took place), where we had a two hour layover for a train transfer. She was stopping there to meet a friend and to witness Carnival in Verona. So we invited ourselves along.

We walked through the busy streets of Verona amongst people in costume—mostly wearing faux Renaissance gear to emulate the Montagues and the Capulets of Shakespeare's play. We had our own costumes on: backpackers. Let us say that it was so nice to walk and talk with Octavia, and it was so nice to have this unexpected treat happen to us on this day when we really needed it.

After two hours, we said our goodbyes, raced back to the train station, and made the train for the long trip through the Alps to Munich. Now remember that Plan B had included a night train to Munich in which we were supposed to be sleeping. Plan C's train ride was during the afternoon into early evening. And boy did we luck out again. We would have been very disappointed if we had taken that night train, because the vistas of the Alps were nothing short of mind-numbingly spectacular. Coming from the American Midwest, where 'flat' was invented, we were struck with awe at the tiny villages on the slopes of the Alps, the vast expanses of vineyards and pastures, the snowcapped peaks where people would ski without need for snow machines.

We enjoyed this train ride from our own posh first class couchette. It was nice. Very, very nice, and another sign that our luck was turning around.

We got into Munich at around 8:00 PM, found our hostel, and decided to treat ourselves to the first sit down dinner we had had since the farm. We found a restaurant close to our hostel that was completely non-touristy. In fact, no one spoke English, including the waitstaff. This was kind of funny, because we had been immersed in Italian for about a month, and considered ourselves prepared for very minor interactions such as buying things at stores. But hearing German all around us was both exciting in that we had an opportunity to learn a new language, and jarring in that we weren't hearing the flowing, vowel-intensive Italian any longer. However, we were lucky. The waitstaff seemed to like us enough, or at least like the idea that two American shlubs would wander into their establishment. So without us really saying anything other than 'beer!', they brought out food that they thought we might like. Which were full roasted chickens, dill salads, and French fries. All for a very reasonable price. Hot dog.

Yes, our luck had turned around. Munich had welcomed us with open arms. And as we slept that night with full bellies, we thought about what the next day would bring. And though the previous day's activities taught us that we were resilient, open-minded, and mentally prepared for any challenge, we could never have predicted what would happen to us the next day. Stay tuned.