Ways to Travel: Random thoughts from a random mind

Have I told you how much I LOVE travel days (NOT!)? There is no easy way to reach Europe from California – and with all the experience I’ve had traveling over the years, I should have learned a few lessons about what to do and what not to do. But no – I think my brain had stepped out for a break when we decided on our itinerary for this trip.

Tuesday morning I was up at 7:30 am to give my housesitter a final debriefing, check emails for the last time, pack the final bits and pieces, and be ready for a ride to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station for a 10:15 am train to the airport. We were checked in, through security and headed for a final cup of coffee an hour and a half later, and ready for our 1:45 flight. The 747 was completely full – the middle seat in our row of three seats, which had showed as empty when I checked Monday night was taken just before the doors closed on the aircraft by a very pleasant young man who was delighted to take my window seat so I wouldn’t have to climb over him en route.

What to say about the 10 ½ hr. flight? Well – it didn’t break up mysteriously over the Atlantic Ocean, and touched down in Frankfurt 15 minutes early, which meant we had to wait 20 minutes for a debarkation slot at one of Frankfurt’s remote deplaning areas! The food was even worse than usual; service was pleasant, but perfunctory – in short, a typical long distance flight. Our seat companion hunkered down and fell asleep about 2 hours into the flight (oh, how I envy the young!). And even though I had set my watch to Italy time when we got on the plane, my body was NOT ready to go to sleep at what was 4, or even 6 pm California time, and neither Bill nor I got more than an hour or so of sleep en route.

I will spare you the details of transiting through Frankfurt – except that whoever it was at Slow Travel who said they had improved signage and it wasn’t bad was living in a different universe from mine. Luckily we had a 3 ½ hr. layover – enough time to deplane down the metal stairways, cram into the shuttle bus and get the scenic tour of the tarmac on the way to the terminal. After going through passport control, we got some great excersie walking from one end of the cavernous facility to the other to stand in a security line set up to rival an A ride at Disneyland, with uniformed staff making sure no one took a short cut through the many switchbacks in an almost empty queue. Progress was brought to a halt at security by an angry young woman who refused to let the authorities confiscate two bottles of water she had purchased IN the airport between the passport control and security (after a manager was called, they gave her the option of giving up the water or drinking it in the security area), and after walking back through the upper level of the terminal to about the point where we had entered, we found that ours was one of two boarding gates DOWNSTAIRS. We had time to grab a quick Panini and drink, and returned to our gate just in time to board a shuttle to yet another remote area where our 18 row puddle jumper was being readied for the flight – gas was being pumped, and we could watch the luggage handlers throwing (and I use that word advisedly) the bags into the hold with throwing arms that would be the envy of an NFL coach, all from our prime viewing spot in the crammed shuttle bus. They eventually got the ladder set up and we boarded, only to find out winds had forced the closing of one of the runways, and our departure was delayed 20 minutes while we waited for our turn to take off.

Finally, we arrived in Italy – only about half an hour late – and were delighted to be reunited with our luggage. We considered taking the airport bus to the train station (oh yes – our day’s travels were not yet over), but looked at one another and headed for the taxi stand instead, and had a lovely conversation with a very pleasant and competent driver as we wove our way through Florence traffic. At the station we had great fun using the automatic ticket machines to purchase our tickets to Ravenna and felt ever so pleased when the machine actually spewed out the right tickets! By this time (about 3:30 pm, Florence time) we were both a little tired and ready for a gelato, but could not see one in view of the station, and realized wandering around with (dare I say it) too much luggage) was not an enticing prospect, so we stood with the crowd under the departures board waiting for a sign to tell us which binario to go to to board the Eurostar to Bologna, for transfer to the Ravenna train. Oh yes – it had been a while since we travelled by train, and my mind had blanked out the supreme joy of navigating with luggage. But we managed to get 2 wheeled bags, a wheeled carry-on, a back pack and a bag carrying my CPAP (breathing aid) machine on to the train, and then got those same bags OFF the train in Bologna, and DOWN the stairs to find out which binario would get us to the Ravenna train, and then UP the stairs to that platform, and then ON to the Ravenna train where we took turns falling asleep despite the group of college age students enjoying a laughter filled trip home at the end of the day. And then, only, 27 hrs after arising in Berkeley we arrived in Ravenna, and after one more OFF the train, DOWN the stairs and UP the stairs, we were in this delightful Italian town!

View of St. Vitale from our B&B terrace

After a short taxi ride delivered us to the Galla Placidia B&B, I knew all the effort had been worth it. It was on a quiet street that backs on the walls of San Vitale, just a short stroll from one of the main pedestrian streets. Our hostess was delightful and welcoming. Our 2nd floor room opened on a large plant filled terrace (where I sit listening to the birds and writing this entry). We chatted for a few minutes, she offered us a cold drink, gave us a brochure about the town and an overview of where everything was, suggested a few restaurants we might enjoy, and left us to wash up, change and wander out for a light supper.

And as we wandered down the Corso Cavour past shop windows full of antiques, young fashion, jewelry and optical shops, watching the local residents bike by, and the young people out enjoying the soft warm late evening light I realized once again what draws us back to Italy.

We had decided to eat at a small trattoria that our hostess had suggested – we were too tired to want anything fancy – and were delighted by the Ristorante Ravenna di Mario, where we sat at an outside table enjoying the play of the setting sun’s light on the yellow buildings, basking in the soft, warm evening air, and trying to stay awake long enough to replenish our bodies. We shared an appetizer of Squaquerone con fighi, a soft white cheese with a hint of tang, served with a bowl of rich, sweet fig preserves on warm wedges of homemade flatbread and slices of a delicious local bread. A shared serving of tagliarini con lepre followed – the deep yellow homemade pasta coated in a rich sauce of tomato and a tang of game from the wild hare. I was delighted to find verdure al ferri as one of the options for a secondi – I craved vegetables, and was not disappointed by my abundant serving of grilled red pepper, eggplant, tomato, potatoes, arugula, zucchini, and sweet yellow onion flavored with thyme and served with a cruet of olive oil to add an extra layer of flavor. Bill chose grilled bacala – rich and tasty salted cod. We shared both dishes, but could not finish either. We enjoyed chatting with our young waitress, and visiting with others enjoying their meals – a couple from Germany on one side, and two French couples on the other. It was a polyglot conversation, and in my tired stupor, I found myself responding to our waitress in French instead of Italian – she laughed, and replied in French. I do enjoy being in Europe!

We had passed a gelateria on our walk to the restaurant, and had thought we would stop there on our way home, but we were way too full to even consider it, and concentrated on getting back to the B&B and falling into bed by about 10 pm, totally exhausted, but oh, so happy to be here.

Thursday morning found me awake at 5:15 – after tossing about for a few minutes, I decided to get up and take advantage of the laptop to record our busy travel day – sitting barefoot on our private terrace in the quiet of the morning while Bill sleeps on.