Onward and Upward Do Not Panic
Sat next to two taxi drivers from Bermuda who also had a long layover at Heathrow. They travel regularly from the Philippines back to Bermuda. One of the men had lived in New York City for a long time. The most talkative Bermudian told us he left the Big Apple life behind a few years ago.
He moved back to his island home to live and work. The drivers were independent contractors making over one hundred thousand dollars a year. They drive corporate clients and tourists around their beautiful little island. We talked a lot about island living and life. They both said how much they enjoy travel.
Patience and Waiting
It was nerve-racking waiting for British Air to post the gate for our connection to Prague. Janet and I waited for what seemed like a lifetime at Heathrow. Finally, the flight was posted twenty-five minutes before boarding. Sadly, upon arrival at the gate, the agent told us our carryon needed to be checked. It was a full flight. This wasnât very pleasant.
Forced to Check Carryon Bag
Checking bags defeats the whole purpose of taking a carryon. I see this becoming a trend because more people are using carryon bags. Lost luggage, additional costs, and time-restricted schedules have forced travelers to travel with less.
Lost Bags
We met a couple from Louisiana on a train ride in Italy. Their luggage had been lost for three days, and they needed to buy additional clothes while on their trip. The couple owned a high-end Menâs Clothing store.
I do not think they bought T-shirts and shorts to get them started on their journey to Italy. I spoke to Janet; we are rethinking the carryon strategy. I get one free checked bag on American Airlines; letâs start taking advantage of that. Hover over the link below to see the post on river cruising.
River Cruise -Was It Worth It?
Coach from Prague to Passau
The Coach ride from Prague to Passau had a Viking guide that would not shut up for five hours. I turned my headphones up loud enough to block out his incessant droning. At one point, he started singing. I think he was trying to create a sing-along. We were not campers going to summer camp. Iâm not sure why he was not voted off the coach. Unfortunately, we were a captive audience, and he knew it. The guide was a self-absorbed individual. I had never seen so many people so glad to arrive at a destination.
Coach from Budapest, Hungary, to Venice, Italy
Took the metro near our hotel in Budapest. They were traveling on the Green Line. Using the signage in the metro, we determined the direction we needed to go. We were headed to the line termination point at Kelenfold station. Arriving at Kelenfold Station, we had to figure out where the bus terminal was. The way was not marked. Turns out the bus terminal is directly behind the metro station. A long, large walkway in a tunnel connects the stations.
Not a Bad Way To Travel
This is nice if the weather is terrible. Once the bus terminal was located, we found the platform from which the FLIX coach departed. There were many kinds of buses and coaches at the terminal. Upon further investigation, we located the electronic schedule board listing the bus arrival and departure with platform numbers. Like the British Airways gate announcement, our coach information was not posted until it was time to depart.
Using Flix Coach
The FLIX coach to Venice, Italy, was posted only minutes before departure. Again, I found this a little nerve-racking. You may ask why these folks took a ten-hour coach ride from Budapest to Venice. The answer is twofold. The airfare was expensive, and we needed the ten-hour coach trip to rest and recuperate.
It served forced rest. I, for one, was physically exhausted. There was no one representing FLIX at the Kelenfold Station bus terminal. The coach ride to Venice was not an express coach. The coach picked up and dropped off passengers at five different locations along the way. Our stop was the very last in Venice. Some stops were bathroom breaks; others were short stops to drop off or pick up passengers.
Observations as a Passenger
The most extended break was a twenty-minute lunch at a gas station. There was an excellent Hungarian restaurant in it. You had just enough time to use the restroom and buy lunch. The driving team consisted of two Hungarian men, stoic and noncommutative to the passengers. I felt like I was part of a shipment on a long-haul truck. The drivers talked incessantly to each other.
Good!
They kept each other company for the long coach trip. They were a team. The men sat armâs length from each other. The alternating driver sat on a jump seat that folded down at the stairwell by the front door. There was an enclosed toilet on the stairs near the rear door. These guys were eating and drinking sodas the entire trip.
There were multiple cabinet compartments where they stashed all their goodies in the driverâs area. The compartments seemed like a magicianâs magic trunk. Food items just appeared from thin air. We were constantly sharing what they brought with each other. Unwrapping items for each other while the other was driving. One would have a banana, and the other would have a banana.
Chomp, Chomp
One would eat a sandwich; the other would eat a sandwich. I think you get it. They had natural appetites. The driving must have made the Hungarian drivers very hungry. It was wild how much food they consumed. I had a front-seat view of the show. I felt like a spectator on a reality show that would have been called âHungarian Coach Drivers That Eat.â
Train Travel from Venice to Milan
The train ride was in a business-class car, which was nice. This was a far cry from the train trips experienced in Italy thirty years prior. This train was one of the newer high-speed trains. We got to the Train Station with lots of time to board.
Patience Patience
We were enjoying our last hour in a cafĂŠ at the train station in Venice and eating breakfast. There was a nice seating area that overlooked the Grand Canal. We waited patiently for the train platform to be posted. This seemed to be a recurring theme. The train finally posted on the electric board near the platforms by the cafĂŠ on the terminal side.
Discovering loss
Then, Janet discovered she left her new prescription glasses in the rental car. We had returned the car to the airport a couple of hours earlier. It was a panic. We boarded with just minutes to spare, with the train leaving in minutes. We spoke to the woman conductor on the platform, who strongly urged us to enter the first car, and we did. Our seats were at the very last car.
Sorry, Sorry
We rolled our bags through the entire train, which seemed like a mile long. I have no telling how often I said I was sorry to folks already seated as I hit their elbows and shoulders with my bags. The walkways are narrow, like on planes.
I promised my wife I would do what I could to recover her glasses. I called Avis and put in a lost and found report but to no avail. Avis was no help whatsoever. You would think I was trying to contact a top-secret government black site.
Pressing on
There was no way to get to where the car was returned. No one from Avis would give us a phone number for the local car rental office at Marco Polo Airport. This was very frustrating. Luckily, my sweetheart had her dark glasses and could use them during the day. When we arrived in Milan, we ordered the glasses by phone from our local optometrist at Costco. This was a good plan.
Eye Glass Replacement
The call from Costco came in shortly after we got home. On the train, we met a couple from Louisiana. They were going to Verona, Italy. We were sitting in assigned seats. We occupied two of the four seats. The four seats faced each other like in a lounge. As the couple from Louisiana got off at their stop, an older Swiss couple that spoke Italian Joined us.
Passing Through Verona
They had spent the weekend in Verona attending a concert. It seems Europeans do a lot of traveling on the weekends. This is why it is a clever idea to plan your trips to famously crowded places like Venice, avoiding the weekends. Unfortunately, this could not be helped this time. We were in Venice in the off-season and were struck by how crowded it was. The best part about Venice was the excursion from Venice booked to nearby Burano, Murano, and Torcello.
Travel From Milan to Tallahassee
The Final Leg
This final leg of our trip was the most frustrating in some ways. I like to build in lots of time into time-sensitive travel days. My wife calls me âMister Clock.â I know it drives her crazy. Janet is on island time. An island girl from Kingston, Jamaica. On this travel day, we left Italy to go home. I was glad to have built-in extra time for ours. Departure.
Thanks, Sis! Ciao Bella â Ciao Milan
My Sister arranged for a Taxi for us to go to the local train station. The station is part of Milanâs public transportation system. This station has travel restrictions for noncommercial vehicles dropping off riders. It is called an exclusion zone. It starts at 7:30 in the morning. Only taxis and buses can enter without getting a fine.
The Italian Way of Doing Things
My understanding is that it helps control traffic and air quality. I get this, but it makes doing life a little more complicated, which seems to be the Italian way. I jokingly told my wife that it was a confusion strategy holdover from World War Two to beat the Allies down. The travel exclusion zone is why my brother-in-law could not drop us off to get the airport train. It would be costly if we did not do the taxi or train combination. It would have cost around one hundred euros from our front door to the airport. The taxiâtrain option costs the two of us around forty euros.
Sorry Sis
My Sister will be upset at some of the things I share with you. She is proud of Milan, and rightly so. It is a world-class cityâa financial and fashion hub. My Sister and brother-in-law have invested a lot there, financially and emotionally. She has lived longer in Italy than in the States.
Total Respect For My Sister
I give her much credit for doing what she did when she did it. We paid for the taxi and found the airport train. This part of our day went well. It helped that my wife and Sister bought the train tickets the night before. This would have stressed me out having to do this on the morning we were leaving. They encountered problems with the ticket machine the night before. Tickets in hand, as we were sitting down, I tripped.
Oops Water everywhere
My water bottle came uncapped, spilling into the seat across from me and nearly soaking the poor guy across from me. He survived the near soaking and politely moved to another part of the train. It was very awkward and embarrassing. All I could do was watch the puddle floating in the seat. It moved side to side as the train rolled down the track. We needed to exit the train at terminal one. I became very anxious, thinking that terminal two was the first since the Italians are great at complicating things. I know this was a stupid thought.
Get Me Out Of Here
We got off at the right stop, and it was time for the fun to begin. Entering the airport, we proceeded to the Italian version of TSA. They had us zigging and zagging through the terminal. Check documentation here, then go there to go through screening. There are very chaotic lines everywhere. I did not know which line I was supposed to be in. It was clear as mud. I will say one thing: they were good about water bottles and the liquid rules. This includes pistachio butter, which my wife had in her carryon. Talk more about the pistachio butter when we get to New York.
Travel Fun and Games
I travel with a pair of scissors to trim my mustache. This pair of scissors is a legal size. I have traveled extensively with this mustache-trimming weapon of mass destruction. A young woman from the security team put my bag on a stainless table, ready, eager to examine my bag. She looked like she was having a difficult day. A cloud appeared overhead.
I thought I Had a WMD
The woman placed my bag in front of me. It lay on the table between us. She said in an accusing tone you have scissors in your bag. You would think she found WMD. As I started to open the bag, she stopped me, retrieving the scissors herself. She held them up in the air proudly. An aha look on her face. I told her I had traveled the world with those scissors. Her face went from aha to a whatever face, and I put them back in my bagâsilly me.
The Joke was on me.
I did not watch her closely to see if she had zippered the bag. What happened next surprised me as I spun the bag around me. The loose contents from the zip lock bag, including scissors and toiletries, flew out. I was spilling out near the base of the examination table all over the ground. The ground looked like a game of health and beauty pick-up sticks. Looks like she got the last laugh. The trap was sprung.
A humiliating exit to the gates was next on the agenda. Live to fly another day. We flew American Airlines, and I have to say all the flights were on time and pleasant: no surprises or drama. The food on the flight to New York from Milan was delicious; do I sound surprised?
American Airlines Was Great
Every couple of hours before and after mealtime, we were given snacks. The usual biscuit cookies, chips, pretzels, peanuts, and even ice cream. It was my first; I had never had ice cream on a plane. I enjoyed the ice cream even though the cabin temperatures on the trans-Atlantic flights were frigid. A blanket and pillow are provided. Combined with your jacket or sweater, it becomes the winning combination.
Hello America, We Are Back
Upon arrival at JFK airport in New York, going through Customs went well. We do not buy anything on our trips that needs to be declared. TSA was another story. Janet had pistachio butter in her carry-on- a big mistake. Her tired bag with the malfunctioning zipper must be opened one last time. Huge, authoritative TSA security women examined Janetâs bag.
You In Trouble Give it Up.
She found two jars of pistachio butter. I think The TSA officer wanted the pistachio butter for herself. They were considered a liquid and over the limit. My wife would need to check her bag to keep the pistachio butter. Uh-oh. Sorry, Jan-Jan. Janet humbly walked behind this large security woman who was greedily holding the pistachio butter jars in her meaty hands. Janet was escorted out of TSA. The precious pistachio butter was handed over once safely out of TSA. Janet would need to go through TSA again once the bag was checked with the pistachio butter safe inside.
Liquid or a Solid?
Here is the funny thing about this pistachio butter incident. Before we left on this trip, I told Janet about a man I saw on YouTube who wanted to bring peanut butter and jelly in his carry-on with a loaf of bread. I think he was traveling on a tight budget. TSA had the same response, telling the man that peanut butter is a liquid. The man reported that after being escorted out of TSA with his peanut butter, he made ten sandwiches and walked them through TSA. Go figure.
See the below link for the TSA factsheet.
https://www.tsa.gov/news/press/factsheets
Travel Survival of the Fittest
Meanwhile, I sat patiently waiting for Janetâs return. I entertained myself by watching all the passengers stream through the lines. Fortunately, we had adequate time with a layover for our flight to Miami. We were on our way home. After twenty days of travel, we were ready to go home. I felt a little beat up.
I Was Worn Out
Physically, it took a few weeks to recover once home. For me, the extreme amount of walking took its toll. We walked and used public transportation. The trip was like one of the Lords of the Ringâs movies. We walked, and we walked. During the first week, September 17 -23, we walked 41.7 miles. Thatâs an average of six miles per day.
More Walking Than the Lord of the Rings
The second whole week was 44.8 miles for an average of 6.4 miles per day. For twenty days, including travel days, we walked 105.95 miles. I walk on the weekdays before work and thought I would be in shape for the trip. I was wrong, the trip kicked my butt.
My weekly regular walking average is about 2.5 miles a day. The combination of gradients and cobblestones all day wore me down. My wife called me a wimp. She held up a lot better than me. I blame it on turning sixty-five this year. That excuse does not hold up very well. Janet is three years older than me. Yes, she married a younger man.
