It was “officially” my Slovenia Switzerland Train Trip. But to go from Slovenia to Switzerland, I had to pass through Italy. I could have just done a long series of trains through the country, but why would I pass up a chance to visit? This is one of the great advantages of train travel. I can stop wherever I want. A plane just flies overhead.
I had spent two nights in Venice and now had two train rides to take me to my next stop, Varenna, a small town on Lake Como. First up would be two and a half hours on a high-speed train from Venice to Milan followed by an hour on a regional train to Varenna.
I woke up early and glanced at my phone. A quick alert flashed saying that I had no SIM card installed. Then it went away, and since my phone was still working, I did not think too much about it. I would see it again (many times).
It was raining quite hard when I woke up, but it was just a drizzle by the time I exited the building. I had assumed that the café on the corner would be open at 8:00. It was not, and there was no sign showing their hours. As I contemplated whether I should go looking for another café, the lady inside signalled 8:30.
I retreated to my room, finished packing, and returned. I had vowed to skip the croissant today, but of course bought one, along with the same fruit and granola.
The drizzle had stopped by the time I left for the station.
There were lots of tourists pulling their suitcases over the paving stones and climbing the stairs over the canals. Just like when I arrived, I felt sorry for the people navigating with huge suitcases. It is important to pack light for Venice. Not everyone does.
Santa Lucia station does not blend in with all the centuries old buildings of Venice. It is a modernist building that was designed in the 1930’s and was finally finished in 1952.
Not incorporated into the design was seating, or if it had been, it was long gone. Even the coffee shop was standing only. Some people were sitting on the metal bars in front of the shop windows. Are these to keep suitcases from crashing into the windows? I tried for a few minutes. The bars were low and hard. I could not sit for long.
My mood was not helped when I realized that my phone showed no SIM card again. I wondered if it had expired in two weeks rather than the expected month.
At least the train was on time, and this was the starting point for the route, so the train was available for boarding several minutes before the departure.
It was a nice train with a first-class carriage. The seats were in a 2 & 1 configuration. Seat reservations had been required to go along with my Eurail pass, and I was able to choose a seat on the single side.
I quickly composed an email to the technical support of my SIM card provider, SimCorner, but could not log into the train’s Wi-Fi to send it. I asked the two Australian women sitting across from me if they were connected, and one suggested that I turn my phone off and back on. In addition to getting Wi-Fi, it also activated my SIM card. It was quite a relief. I deleted the email since my SIM card issue was fixed (or so I thought).
We were given a snack box that contained a crispy croissant with custard, a cookie, and a tiny coffee.
It was raining, covering the windows in droplets, obscuring what little there was to see. After our brief time passing over the water, it was farms and train stations. I listened to Vivaldi as we rolled along, really missing my computer since I would have been working on my photographs.
The rain was pouring down as we entered Milan, although we exited under cover.
Milano Centrale was first planned in 1906 but was not finished until 1931. There were security gates, so I decided that it was not worth the effort to exit out into the main hall. I did not see much of the station beyond the platform area.
There was no place to sit. I bought a cappuccino, and since the kiosk had only pastries for sale, bought a chocolate one. It was very good.
I kept watching the board to check on my train. It was the only one showing as late. The number kept getting bigger, first ten minutes, then twenty.
The platform number finally appeared, and I joined the rush. The train was mostly full by the time I got on board. There was a first-class area, but there were no empty places, so I just grabbed a seat in second class on the aisle. Some people were standing as we left the station.
It looked like it would have been quite beautiful if not for the rain and fog.
It was raining in Varenna. The train emptied out. Many passengers had a long walk along the tracks.
I was in a line of people walking down the hill. Most were heading to the ferry terminal since they would be staying in one of the other towns on Lake Como.
My hotel was in Varenna, virtually across the road from the station. The entrance was on the street at the bottom of the hill.
I found my hostess waiting outside the gate. She asked "Orange House?"
She showed me how to enter the gate and led me to my room. The walls were orange. Everything was orange.
The Orange House is part of a townhouse complex. Each townhouse has been divided into two rental units. The downstairs has a bedroom and a bath across the common hallway. The upstairs has a bedroom and a bath but shares with the kitchen and dining area. I was initially not thrilled to find out that I shared the unit and had a bathroom across the hall, but eventually decided that it was fine, since, except for an encounter in the evening, never saw the upstairs guests.
My hostess told me that my breakfast would be at 9:00 am the next morning, but when I mentioned my early departure the following day, said that I could eat at 7:30 am that day.
This list of rules was posted in my room. I thought it was funny but still tried hard not to scream, even accidentally. I had read some negative reviews about the male host but found the woman quite sweet.
It was drizzling as I went out to explore the little town. Even in the rain it was beautiful. I really loved the narrow and steep streets, although I was quite nervous at times as the wet cobblestones were rather slippery.
I walked down to the water.
I had read that the town has a laundry and decided that it would be a great change of pace. I could skip my hand washing. I walked in to inquire and after some confusion, the lady thought I was picking up laundry, explained that I just needed to drop it off by 10:00 am to get it back the same day.
I found a restaurant with Google Maps. It was very quiet when I arrived but filled quickly. I chose the secret pasta with bacon, a side of polenta, and a glass of their local wine. I loved the pasta but was not thrilled with the polenta. Perhaps it is an acquired taste.
Later in the evening I heard a key in a door, followed by knocking and ringing of the buzzer. I thought this was all coming from another unit and might be the result of a dispute, that perhaps a couple was having a disagreement. But it continued for several minutes, so I finally decided to check it out.
I opened the door and found a mature old guy (like me). It was a Chinese man named Al. He was soaking wet and had a camera around his neck. Those two things, the old man part and the camera, made him okay in my eyes. He had not been able to get his key to work. I wondered if he was confused and had the wrong room, but I tried his key and it worked, so he was legitimate and in the right place. I did not understand why his key did not work.
He was quite grateful that I had opened the door. I felt guilty for keeping him waiting. We had a brief discussion about the US and cameras. He became an immigrant to the US a couple of years before I left on my odyssey in 1976 and ultimately ended up in Canada. He was not sure that present day US is the same country that he adopted in the 70’s.
I do not know what Al would have done if I had not been there and been willing to open the door as the Orange House had strict hours for checking in, and I don't know if the Orange House even had an after hours phone number.
After rescuing my new friend, I returned to my room and made my plans for the next day. I wanted to do some walking and take the ferry to Bellagio, but the forecast was not promising.
This featured blog entry was written by Bob Brink from the blog Searching for Magical Moments.
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