Part 7. The trains ……..
(I) Aachen – Frankfurt – Munich – Bolzano
From the start of this trip, my biggest concern all along has been managing the trains and the luggage. This was one of those red flag days. As was Reykjavik to Brussels followed by three trains to Osnabruck. However – I’m pretty good now at getting people to help me. Looking helpless at the top or bottom of stairs or entry/exit to the carriage has worked well.
Monday, the 17th of August – and an early check out of my fabulous Airbnb, Anastrasse #2. An attempt to book a taxi the night before to Bahnhof for the 7:38 train to Frankfurt had not been confirmed . So on a rainy Monday morning in Aachen ,the extra money for Leo ((another night I hadn’t accounted for) left on the table, I managed to forget to leave him the key. My apology messaged – his response- keep the key – come back again. Excellent. Minutes tick by and still no taxi – time to tackle the phone numbers . A couple of failed attempts later, an English speaking receptionist had a taxi at my pedestrian only precinct within seven minutes.
So to the train – all went without a hitch to Frankfurt where it was easy enough to find the platform for the train to Munich. This train was delayed by 10 minutes . Things started to go somewhat pear-shaped from there – with the Frankfurt-Munich service already late, the delay extended as the train stopped and started crawling at snail pace into the enormous Munich Hauptbahnhof.
According to my ticket information, I was to head to platform 12 to connect with the train to Bolzano . By the time the doors of the train actually opened the transition time was a minute. I was not the only one in this predicament – there were several anxious travellers also likely to miss connections . Another hurdle – platform 12 was now platform 5 – presenting a whole new set of challenges . It was clear that I wasn’t going to make it.
So to a place where people were arguing with other people behind counters, presumably over problems with their tickets. I showed mine to a nice young woman who said, “No, you need to go to xyz” I was able to change the now-defunct ticket to the next service, in about an hour. Time to chill out with the luggage so over the road to a nice-looking, typical German restaurant which was very busy, for some soup, wine and a chat with the guy opposite while he polished off a huge plate of delicious looking Goulash.. He informed me this place has four and a half-star reviews, and he he always checks reviews. Armed with this essential information – I showed off my worldly knowledge to my affable waiter. His response – not 4.5, 4.6! The business was certainly brisk.
Back to the station and to the platform # 5 again. It seemed trains crossing country borders were assigned to these other platforms at Munich. Trains are crisscrossing Europe at breakneck speed 24/7 and things change in the blink of an eye. My reassigned platform hadn’t been communicated to the documentation that I had.
This blog is all about train travel and it’ssuper important to use whatever means you have to stay up to date. Use the Train number as a starting point – that is what comes up on the electronic display. Also, handy to check the direction of travel if your destination is before the train’s terminus, unless your geography and local knowledge is a whole heap better than mine.
Already far too late for the last bus from Bolzano to Santa Cristina, a taxi was my only option. Once outside, taxis were continually going past with no response despite my frantic attempts to flag one down .
A significantly nervous moment . This is where travelling solo can get hairy. With no idea where to go and night falling fast, thoughts of finding a hotel to spend the night, then catch the bus up in the morning became the plan. Grappling the luggage , I set off around a corner only to find all the taxis waiting in a taxi rank. Which of course was where they were headed when they sailed past me.
Somewhat desperate by this time, and having checked the likely cost, it would still be a lot cheaper than staying a night in Bolzano. The taxis in Italy and no doubt most European countries, are generally ethical and I was directed the fellow first in the queue. Showing him where I needed to go, out came a little book revealing the cost. It was €119 all up in the dark.
(2) Bolzano to Verona
With my train to depart from Bolzano at 11:38 Matteo and I discussed the bus options, The bus, for which I didn’t have to pay, departs from down the bottom in the central part of Santa Cristina. I was quite happy to catch the 358, which is the Inter-St Cristina bus, but Matteo insisted that he drive me down the hill in his car, which was just amazing. He’s got a hotel full of guests for whom he is making his amazing breakfasts yet and he is happy to drive me down.
Anyway, farewell and hugs later, to waiting with a lot of other people and ridiculous amounts of luggage for the next service down the mountain to Bolzano. I played my ‘old lady helpless card ‘ to a lovely young ‘strong’ Brit. who manhandled the suitcase into the luggage compartment .
With both sides of the compartments packed full of suitcases, We funnelled onto the bus and headed off – I was feeling satisfied that the Santa Cristina hill had been conquered with minimal stress . Down the mountain we went, seemingly with no problem, until we had one…Hastings Street Noosa like traffic . Being Saturday, an hour trip turned into at least an hour and a half, with many of us looking at our watches and counting down the kilometres to Bolzano.
There should have been plenty of time theoretically to make the connection. My train was due at 11:38. Pouring off the bus into the station, time evaporating. The train station a good 200 metres from the bus stop and the initial encounter with a railway station requires orientation not to mention some skills at bolting with a large suitcase.Most things are now in English, as well as Italian, German, French, and every other language along the way. Thank goodness for modern technology, with English being the recognised global language. Along with the EU big differences to communication and transport communication services are so welcome.
I had approximately a minute to make it to some random platform- a direct service to Verona -a first class ticket, but no time to find the first-class carriage. The suitcase went down the stairs pretty much by itself and up the stairs with some assistance. There was a lift -I made a dive for the first open door, hauled the suitcase in, plonked it down, drew breath, and then thought, “Right, well, I’m in second class. I was supposed to be in first class.” The suitcase had a spot, which was a bonus. Despite this journey being only an hour, I decided to avail myself of my first-class privileges which account for little in reality.
One of the conductors I encountered asked me about the business of my suitcase being located in a second-class carriage and my ticket being in a first-class carriage. I thought he was concerned that there might be valuables in my suitcase but now thinking back , I think he was warning me to be aware of possible problems accessing it.
I continued to wonder why no one checks tickets. Having made my way to first class, in a seat with my two heavy carry-on bags, time to check on the suitcase . On the way back -I ran into the same conductor and inquired “Should I get off the train at the next stop and move my suitcase?”
He basically said, “Well, no, no, no, don’t do that because it only stops for a minute or something,” the final stop before Verona . So with 10 minutes out from Verona, and I’m three or four carriages from the suitcase. Getting through became an absolute rugby scrum. Seemingly everybody has luggage or babies in prams so the aisles are virtually impassable .I think I managed to bullock my way through one or two carriages before a fellow passenger said, “The train actually stops in Verona for 10 or 15 minutes.” Time for some deep breathing , and once at Verona Station, with the train disgorging people dogs babies and suitcases , I had the freedom to reunite with my case.
Bongiorno Verona .
(3) Verona to Como
The next instalment covers Verona to Milan and then Como on Tuesday, the 24th of August. It’s a 10:02 departure on a 9718 – fast train service from Verona to Milan. Taking what had happened with Munich and also Bolzano into consideration, I decided to be early, ridiculously early as it happened, given the station was a five minute drive from Palazzo Negri . €10 later, only to find the train has been delayed by about 55 minutes.
Off to the cafeteria for a coffee and a croissant, before a message from the team at Palazzo . “We have found some things in the cupboard.” Leaving something behind usually happens at least once to me . With the delay , I still had half an hour so a taxi was summoned, more euro handed over , and the items turned up – and were stuffed where I could find space .
My service departed from platform 6. At the big stations, an electronic board displays where your carriage will stop. An observation – many of the very fast trains have really easy on-and-off access , great for those in wheel chairs, prams and me, while other trains have two steps . Why?
So I’m on the train, on the right carriage, with limited luggage storage space. With the case manhandled towards the cafeteria in search of a spot, I found another case and parked mine beside it . Back to my seat, actually across the way from my seat – the young girl in it already looked comfortable. She offered to move but I told her to stay put.
Anyway, this train, already delayed by an hour, was running very speedily from Verona to Milan, with only one stop at a town I whose can’t remember. I’m there with my two big bags andmy laptop using the time to developing stories like this one.
This is where it gets really awful. At some point, I think it was probably in the minutes either before or during the train’s only stop out of Verona (the name of the town escapes me), I noticed and caught a glimpse of a man walking swiftly through the carriage, as though he was looking for something. As he walked straight past me, I saw him put his hand up and take a black carry bag from the overhead locker across from me and keep walking.
At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought maybe he was in the wrong place or needed to change carriages. I did see him. I could answer questions like:
• Was he Caucasian? Yes.
• Was he male? Yes.
• How old was he? Roughly 35.
• What colour hair did he have? I think it was sort of light brown to red.
• Was he wearing a cap? Maybe. I can’t remember that.
• Had a bit of stubble.
• Pretty normal-looking person, definitely Caucasian
Nearing Milan, the young girl asks me “Did you happen to see anybody take a black bag from here?” (pointing to the luggage rack).
My response – “Oh my God, yes, I did. I did see him. I saw the person do it.”
That was the start of that. Only 20 minutes to go before Milan. The woman behind me with no English had also lost items I understood to be documentation her about to be interrupted holiday . The young girl and her boyfriend had a few clothes in his bag nothing special but still infuriatingly inconvenient.
Anyway, there’s a lot of kerfuffle, a lot of Italian being spoken very loudly. I described what he looked like. It was only a passing glimpse but I could definitely say he was Caucasian, male, and roughly 35-ish, Maybe wearing a black cap and moving quickly. Ginger-brown hair and a bit of stubble. Nothing particularly distinctive about him. That much I could recall.
I thought at the time that maybe he was still on the train, although a search by the officials who also spoke to me certainly indicated that he probably wasn’t. Nearing Milan, and the necessary retrieval of my suitcase – the first time that I was really conscious of the dangers associated with travelling. The suitcase had been having a nice time in the buffet car. Getting to the exit involved negotiating a young family: Mum and Dad and two little kids. My luggage caravan made slow progress towards the exit.
The mum in pretty good English informs me they’d had their suitcase taken. Me – “Well, I know. I saw the person take somebody’s bag.”The officials took notes, but I don’t know what they can do . Disembarking the train in Milan and a quick chat with the father of the family, “Did you lose anything valuable?” He replied “No, just really clothes, because we were going on holiday with clothes.” They were headed off somewhere in Switzerland on holiday, so considerable inconvenience. “ We’re going to have to find a store to buy new clothes.” There were a lot of people affected. I felt bad for the woman behind me who had lost valuable documents for her holiday . I assume there are cameras so maybe he will be tracked down . A salient lesson for me.
I have to say that I have only really seen people be super casual on these trains, particularly young people. They just sort of sprawl over the seats with their phones and their earphones in. In another world altogether. For this guy to do what he did so quickly in a carriage that really wasn’t crowded just shows how easy it is for them to, if that’s their intent, be on that train and, the minute it lands somewhere, fly through carriages, (especially first class) grab whatever they think looks easy, and get off and go. Whether or not they actually pinch anything is worth doing anything with, like, who wants young babies’ clothes and undies for a holiday?
My final note on train travel concerns the monstrous metropolis that is Milano Centrale. Transiting in Milan twice – from Verona to Como then Milan to Milan Airport was somewhat stressful , although again , people are usually happy to help . There are lifts but they take some finding . There are also 2 lots of ticket counters .
Trenitalia is the local state owned company , and Italo, the private high speed only company . Seeking clarification on your service may involve checking in with one or both of them and they are not side by side – two floors seperate them . Lifts may or may not be working – platform 16 with my Como to Milan service wasn’t. I had no choice but to use the stairs . A couple of times where there is no threat to anyone or anything, I have simply let the suitcase go ….. it works particularly well. I had to resort to this tactic from platform 16 at Milano Centrale. And finally, received wonderful help from a lovely young guy on two occasions as I sorted the transfer to the airport. Definitely a place in heaven for him.
