Kalimera,
Well we are now in Greece and getting things back on track after one of the most challenging, interesting and somehow mildly amusing days we’ve had. Last Wednesday had it all. The plan for the day seemed simple enough – a bus to Salerno at the tip of Amalfi followed by a train to Rome that connected with a flight to the Greek Islands. All with plenty of gaps if something went wrong – the perfect plan……
Well it all started to come apart from the time we opened our eyes. Our bus trip was in trouble early due to the fact that we woke up to a jammed balcony door – with some of our stuff stranded out on the balcony. It was like the ‘screw you’ balcony fairies floated down in the middle of the night and injected concrete into the lock. I had to do my best McGyver impersonation (minus the partial mullet) armed with nothing more than a pocket knife to take apart the handle and retrieve two old pairs of underwear and a cheap beach towel drying from yesterday’s swim. In hindsight maybe they should have been sacrificed.
But we just managed to make the bus stop in time for our bus to Salerno, which was to hook up with a train to Rome. Only to find that our intended bus was taking today off, and the next bus left us a whole 10mins spare to arrive at the train station, get tickets, find the platform and board the train. As we resigned ourselves to the pending frantic train station run, we watched from the bus stop as the entire Amalfi Coast road ground to a halt due to a car accident. So we are in big trouble and it wasn’t even 9am.
The 10mins we had to work with was down to 2mins by the time our bus wormed its way through the traffic. Then some crazy bus driving on precarious, narrow, cliff top roads got the gap back out to 10mins. It was such a fun ride the lady sitting behind us threw up into a handkerchief. Amazing Race style we jumped off the bus, legged it to the station, grabbed some tickets from the automatic machine and found the train. We had made it with 5 mins to spare.
So we were pretty happy with ourselves as we settled into our seats for the express Eurostar train trip to Rome. These trains are packed, with some people bringing enough luggage to begin a satellite city, and overhead storage only suitable for small purses or pet rats. So it normally means jamming bags into the few available luggage racks or wedging them between seats. We had our bags padlocked up nice and tight – Krys went in the luggage rack and mine was jammed between seats (mine wouldn’t fit in the rack). There is only one stop on the way through; that haven of ambience and safety called Napoli where in typical Italian fashion random people (mainly African men) are allowed to sweep through the train trying to sell lighters, cans of beer and any other garbage that you have no interest in.
The first time we went through Napoli and saw this we were quite surprised; so surprised I stayed near our bags and was ready to growl at anyone who came too close. This time though it seems a mixture of us wallowing in what awesome travellers we were in making the train on time, plus me being focused on writing self indulgent travel emails on my blackberry meant that our focus wasn’t entirely on the bag in the luggage rack. The fact that we were in what was meant to be a secure train, with the luggage racks only 5 metre away and spent most of the stop saying ‘no thank you I do not want to buy a lighter, warm beer, pet iguana or a used shoe innersole’ only added to the distraction.
So about 30mins out of Napoli I go to the bathroom and as I go past the luggage rack there is a big empty space. Initially I think ‘great, I can put my bag there now’ before realising the empty space is where Krys’ bag used to be – her bag is gone. At first we didn’t believe it could have been taken, so the frantic search is on, hoping that the bag has fallen or been moved. But there is no sign of it anywhere. It has been taken.
So step 1 – tell the train guard. The train guard looked like he was about 12yrs old, and gave me a look that said ‘what do you want me to do about it’. With a shrug of his shoulders he said ‘maybe taken in Napoli. Tell Police when you get to Rome’ and went back to his mobile tetris game. Step 2 – call CBA and get Krys’ cards stopped immediately before an African man goes to town buying deodorant and a new set of teeth. Well you have never felt frustration until you have been trying to frantically call a bank to stop cards that you know are in someone else’s hands, only to have to sit through a never ending automated touch menu followed by being placed on hold, only to have your train go into a tunnel and lose reception just as you get to a person. If I could have got hold of the person who owned that automated voice at the time I would have tried my best to pull their rectum out through their nose.
So on getting to Rome we sought out the Police who write out the ‘report’. The report is nothing more than a formalisation of the fact that you have been screwed, they will do nothing, but you have a little form to give your insurance company. But even the Police experience was fun. We were dealing with a nice man who gave us the form and said to come back to him when we were done. So when done I quietly poked through the open door to try to find our man only to be met by a barrage of abusive Italian. The only words I managed to catch were ‘it’s not your house, it’s not your house’. No sh#t Mister. If it was my house I wouldn’t have 5 little balding pitbulls sitting around a coffee table waiting to abuse travellers who are trying to find their stolen belongings.
Anyway, our visit to the police sucked up a lot of time. So much time we were now in danger of missing our flight to the Greek Islands. By the time we popped out of the Police Station with our report, we had 5 minutes to catch our train shuttle to the airport – and of course this shuttle was leaving from platform 28. We were at the far end of platform 1, and the train station is massive. It was honestly a 10min run, but with backpacks (well one backpack anyway) it is even longer. So like little Matt Shirvingtons (less the oversized sausage), off we took.
By about platform 14 I had reverted to making animal-like grunting and wheezing noises. So much so that other travellers were looking at me as if they thought they should bring me down with a tranquilliser dart. Krys was powering along behind, losing a thong every 4th step and running pigeon-toed so she didn’t wet herself. We really did Australia proud on that platform and we made it by about 10 seconds.
So our train shuttle and flight was fine. Came across a couple of interesting people. One old man with lines so deep in his face you thought his face could flake apart like an old tiled roof said he was off to Libya. When we said ‘that should be interesting’ his reply was ‘yeah, 2000kms of desert. Should be really interesting’. Obviously Libyans are comfortable with the art of sarcasm. Then a Greek guy heading back to Athens who we asked to be our Greek language translator. Was amusing to hear in a very heavy Greek accent someone say ‘ahh Australia. I love tv show Kath and Kim. I like when she say Look at moie, look at moie’.
So after quite a day we somehow did make it to Santorini, which is beautiful. The day finished with Krys in my pizza stained gym shorts, and a call to Napoli Police to see if anything had happened with the bag. The Napoli Police response – ‘sorry, I don’t speak English, only Italian’ but said in perfect English. Weird…..
Anyway, we are fine. Didn’t lose passports or money, and what was lost can be bought again – Krys is certainly warming to the prospect. Main disappointment is the gifts that got taken. Krys had been really thoughtful with her gift buying; so much so that I was basically piggy backing off her ideas. So if people get magnets saying ‘I love Sydney airport’ please try and appear happy……
Yasu
Trent and Krystal
smallthoughts 