Adventure two began very uneventfully, as most adventures tend to do. At about 9:30pm, we packed our things in the common room of the hostel (having checked out that morning, we had no place to spread our things out to dry but the common area, which we completely overtook) and headed to the nearest stop of the 105 bus line to Rome Termini station. We began to do our early-to-the-station thing: Michael got two sandwiches and Marc and I kicked around before finding an ATM. Then we checked the departures board. Not seeing anything that matched our credentials, Michael consulted our reservation ticket- the train didn't in fact leave from Rome Termini, but Rome Tiburtina! We had no idea where this was, or how to get there, and we had only about half an hour to figure it out.
Michael immediately booked it for an exit, informing us when I asked that he was looking for a taxi. We first met a man by the station's taxi area who said he'd take us there for 25 Euros, and claimed his legitimacy by quickly showing us a laminated card in his wallet. Michael began to follow him around th ecorner to an unmarked late-model Mercedes station wagon. Marc and I balked at the idea of taking this very questionable cab, and the three of us turned back to the taxi area. A man stepped out of a white Ford with a proper "Taxi" sign and official Rome transit insignia, who said he'd take us there for 40 Euros. More enthused by his legitimacy and guess of 20 minutes' ride to the station than his price, we agreed, loaded our things inot the back and got in, Michael urging speed all the while.
This man made New York City cab drivers look like a flock of grandmothers. He whipped around cars and turns, rolled through stop signs, and made liberal use of the bus/taxi lanes at high speed. At one point, while stuck behind a bus, he attempted to squeeze between it and a parked car, asking, "think I can make it?" To which Michael replied, "not if you like that mirror." Marc and I, safely buckled into the backseat, sat alternately gaping and grinning at was happening to us. Our first car ride in more than a month was awesome!
Eventually, we passed the bus and arrived at Tiburtina station. We paid, expressing our thanks in English and bad Italian to our driver, who had performed admirably. The price of not reading our ticket before we left for the train was apparently 40 Euros.
We headed inside, discovering that this was apparently Rome's forgotten station, run-down and full of homeless making their beds everywhere. When we checked the departure board, we didn't find anything but an Inter City train that matched our departure time. We headed toward its platform, number 17, confirming our choice by a printed time table on the wall. Worried, we began to run toward the platform, only to be deterred by a small sign stating that platforms 17-25 were now in the direction we had just come from. Turning around, we continued our run. We saw more signs, and rounded a corner in accordance with the signs. The passage we were running through was occupied by a man playing the guitar and singing. A harmonica was around his neck, and a few other instruments were nearby. His choice of melody could have been from Little Miss Sunshine, in the midst of our scene that could very well have been from the same film.
As Marc and Michael slowed down, we realized that we still had about 10 minutes to get to the platform, dropping to a more relaxed pace. When we finally arrived at the proper platform, we congratulated ourselves for making it on time, and chastised ourselves for getting into such a situaiton for a second time (the first was Paris, but the correct station was only 10 minutes' walk away). We stood and rested for a few minutes until the train came. As we commented on the condition of the "forgotten station," the train pulled into the platform. We saw that Car 9 (our car) was the first one behind the engine. Not knowing how long of a stop this would be, and seeing others begin to sprint for their cars, we joined in the fray- our third sprint of the day. We gave our ticket to the train man (Michael informed us that it had fallen from his pocket in the cab between the seat and door, nearly to be lost- our most elusive train reservation nearly escaped us once more) and finally boarded the night train to Venice.
It was a stifling night, as the compartment wasn't air conditioned, but here we are- in Venice!
Sounds very similar to when a group of others and I first arrived in Japan. Having no idea how the mass transportation system worked, which platform we needed to be at, not being able to read any of the signs, and having to make about 4 different connections with barely any time in between, there was A LOT of running involved. But, it was a lot of fun in the end though =)
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