A Nice Adventure
Last weekend, I went to Nice, France along the Côte d’Azur on the Mediterranean. I visited Nice once when I was a child, and had for the longest time wanted to return and relive the few memories that still survive. A friend I met in Munich, whom I’ll call “V” because she loves it so much, was planning on traveling to Nice for a weekend. Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to join her in her travels. What ended up happening was one of the most eventful long-weekends of my life, both incredibly unlucky and amazingly fun. It all started about a week ago when we were making reservations for the trip.
Making the Reservations
It’s Wednesday night before our planned trip to Nice. It really isn’t easy to get from München to Nice via train, since there isn’t a direct route. A quick check on the Deutsche Bahn website routes us through a 4-transfer, 15-hour marathon through Austria and Italy. We were smarter than that, and found a quick 6-hour hop to Paris, transferring to another 6-hour TGV ride to Nice. Unfortunately, we needed to make reservations since the TGV requires that you do so, even when traveling on a European Rail Pass.
So we head over to the lovely Reisezentrum in the München Hauptbahnhof to purchase our seats. They’re full. Not only are the trains we wanted full, but every other way to Nice other than the 15-hour marathon ride through Italy is full. The itinerary is rough. We are to leave Munich at around 7AM, and arrive in Nice about 10PM, with a few transfers in small towns in Italy. We could have saved so much time and money if we had just gone to make the train reservations a bit earlier. Oh well, we have our tickets now, we’ll just have a long day of travel… or so we thought.
Track Problems in Italy
The simple long day of travel got interesting quickly. Our first train takes us from München to Bolzano, Italy. We have an hour transfer there, so we get off the train, and head into town for some food. The main languages spoken here are Italian and German, probably because we were still close to the Austrian border. We eat a happy lunch (while observing someone stealing back a stolen jacket), and head back to the train station. At the station, after about 20 minutes of standing on the platform, we realize that our train is late, or something is wrong. We ask someone where the train to Verona is, and he simply replies,
“No trains to Verona today, track is closed.”
Umm, excuse me…? Yes, they closed the track, due to “problems with the rocks.” Crap. We’re stuck in a tiny town in the Italian Alps, barely any English is spoken, and there are no trains to where we want to go today. We frantically try to work out a plan with some service agents to get us to Verona in time to make our 3:00 train to Milano. There is a bus that is supposed to come and transport passengers around the track closure, but in the street all we find is a horde of confused people and no bus. The service people out there are getting annoyed as well, claiming they don’t speak English, even though we just heard them speak it (luckily, our German got us some info). The bus arrives about a half-hour after it was supposed to, and we finally arrive at a different station that has trains to Verona departing. We quickly hop on one, and wait forever. The train is so crowded since everyone and their brother is trying to get to Verona, very unhygienic since it’s a regional train in rural Italy, and I am the most uncomfortable person ever for about 2 hours, really needing to use the WC, but not wanting to catch a disease. “V” is passed out as usual for the entire ride, and said the ride was “very comforting.” We arrive in Verona two hours behind schedule, and catch the next train to Milano. We’re back on track, just two hours behind.
The Bottle Breaks
After arriving in Milano, we need to find the next train to Ventimiglia, a small town on the border of Italy and France at the Mediterranean. We stand in line at the ticket counter, trying to find out when and where the next train is. During the wait in line, I leave my bag with “V” so she can wait in line while I try to find a faster way of getting the information. As I’m finding out that we had just missed the 7:00 train, and the next one is not until 9:00, she calls me over and asks me if I had beer in my bag. I did, of course, and sure enough the bottle had broken as the bag fell over.
Update: My netbook is all better after a thorough inside and out cleaning of all the electronics and plastics.
Could the day get any worse? I pull my bag aside and assess the damage. I pull the broken glass out of my beer-soaked bag. My netbook is completely soaked, and so are all of my clothes. Luckily, my camera was in a second bag, so it did not get wet whatsoever. I casually take the battery out of my netbook (I’ve gotten a few electronics wet before), and pull the glass out of my bag. It smells rank. I cut myself on the glass as I’m pulling it out, and manage to get blood on a few of my good shirts. At this point, I’m rather stressed, and am really trying hard to maintain my composure. I put everything back into my bag after deciding there wasn’t much I could do about it until I got to the hostel.
At the ticket counter (where the representative only speaks Italian and French), I can barely understand the French through which he is telling us he cannot change our reservations, and we have to go to the customer service center. Really…? We stood in line for a half-hour and broke the bottle for nothing? At the customer service center (another half-hour wait) we talk to a man with a really bad case of ADD, and find out that we missed the last possible connection to Nice of the night. He manages to pay attention to us long enough to suggest that we get to Ventimiglia tonight, spend the night, and take the first train in the morning. We decide to follow his advice, and perhaps we can even take a cab to Nice, since it’s only 50km away from Ventimiglia. I need a hug, and “V” comes to the rescue. Things start to look up as we buy some wine and pasta for our next ride.
A Train Ride from a Horror Movie
The subtitle makes it sound bad, but it was really fun. We were the only people in the entire carriage, and all of the lights were out. We were probably ninety percent sure that we were on the correct train, but there was still some doubt in our minds. The lights were out in our carriage, so everything was completely dark. We were speeding alone through pitch blackness (many times through tunnels), to a destination we weren’t totally sure about. Every now and then a tunnel would have lights periodically situated next to the track. This would produce a rather psychedelic effect of light flickering through the carriage, and it was rather spooky and fun. Thank goodness “V” didn’t fall asleep for this ride. The conversation was lively, the food was good, and the wine was soothing. We arrive at Ventimiglia at 1 AM, and immediately look for a cab to Nice.
A Night in the Train Station
Yes, it happened. We very quickly found several people stranded in the station, sleeping on the floor and even on the ticket counters. A policeman was there to greet us, and we asked if there were any trains or buses to Nice at this hour. Nope, first one is at 5:00 in the morning. A cab driver is called over, and offers us a ride to Nice for ninety Euro. Whew, that’s rather steep, but I almost wouldn’t mind paying 45 Euro to get to my hostel at this point. Wait… is the reception going to be open? Check the Book! (Yes, capital letter… like Bible) Alas, the reception closes at midnight, and doesn’t open until 7:30. A cab ride would do us no good unless we could actually get into our hostel. Our phones aren’t working, we can’t call the hostel, so we find a nice corner in the station to sleep for the night. There are many other people, some walking around, some sleeping, and even a few police officers watching over everything. It’s a bit comforting to see the officers there, so “V” and I lay down on the floor to try to get some sleep. “V” dozes off, but I cannot sleep. I don’t trust anyone there, and I don’t want to lose anything. The most interesting thing the entire night was the bit of conversation “V” managed to have with me during her sleep. It made very little sense.
The French Riviera was much more tropical than I had remembered
Arriving at the Hostel
We catch a train to Nice at 5:30 in the morning. Again, “V” passes out on the seats in a very uncomfortable looking position, but I remain awake to view the sunrise over the Mediterranean. It was gorgeous. We were arriving in paradise. I’d never pictured any part of France to be like this. There were palm trees, mountains, and water that was blue as blue could be. I felt like I could easily have been in the Caribbean. We arrive in Nice at 6:40 AM, and wander over to our hostel. Sure enough, the reception isn’t open, but we see someone cleaning who can check us in.
“We were wondering what had happened to you.”
Haha, us too. We are let into the room, and quickly fall asleep. We wake up at 9 AM to eat breakfast, and off we go.
A Very Happy Ending
Nice was amazing. The beaches were beautiful and relaxing. The sun was hot, but sunscreen kept me safe, and I didn’t get burned. The food was great, and wine on the beach in the evenings was especially soothing. I didn’t think about a single stressful thing the entire time after that trip, and the relaxation was very welcome. As I write this, I’m back in my home country of Germany on the comfortable, classy, high-speed trains that always run on-time. I’ll remember last weekend forever (especially with the help of this blog entry), as it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.