The Art of Travel Improv

A bit of time has elapsed since our last posting. So, let's begin with highlights.

I began my trek into Italy one week ago, looking forward to a leisurely train ride and an overnight sleeper car taking me straight to Rome. Well, this is where we stop with organized travel, and begin with "Travel Improv". The truth is, you truly have to be willing to be fluid and roll with the punches when traveling. Organization is nice (although it is a bit daunting for me due to ADD), and the benefit to organization is that you have options to choose from, when the poop hits the fan. 

Travel Improv, as defined by yours truly, is the art of taking an "oh, shit!" moment, swallowing hard, coughing up whatever cash is needed to make it through, holding your head up high and proceeding to have an enjoyable trip. Travel Improv has the added benefit of granting you access to people, places and things that you never would have seen had the plan gone through flawlessly.  It's also God's little joke on truly organized people. Allow me to explain with an example.

The train that I was supposed to catch in Bolzano--planned as merely a transit point for me on this journey--was cancelled. Not delayed, but CANCELLED.

I exited my delightful train from Munich in Bolzano, went to the main hallway to check on things, and saw the dreaded Italian word "annullato" [cue element of surprise music here].

When I asked the lady behind the ticket window (who appeared to be dying of ennui brought on by the rigors of a state job), her eyes lit up and she said (in German--this is the capital of Alto Adige/Süd Tirol, after all--and this brings up a tangential point, that wherever in Europe I go, I am CONSTANTLY mistaken for a German), her eyes lit up, as if I were to receive a secret prize! In her glee of Schadenfreude, she confirmed to my horror that the train was, indeed, cancelled, due to a strike. She also enthusiastically said that there were no more trains to Rome scheduled for today. Adding insult to injury, the earliest train to Rome, where I was to meet my wife, was at 5:16am and get me into Fiumicino airport approximately 7 minutes after her scheduled landing. BUT [cue element of surprise music here], and cost me an extra 90 Euros (of course, I could always attempt to get a refund from Deutsche Bahn for the unfortunate Bolzano-Fiumicino stretch that was purchased in ol' Germany, but of course, the Italians didn't bother sending a memo about said strike).

And so, after a brief self-pity party, I set out to check my German cell phone for available hotels and grabbed the two suitcases (because the wife thought it practical that I play pack mule, since I was going to Europe first), and hoofed it, to one hotel (no go) and then to Hotel Regina--my saving grace. They had a one bed room (a little bigger than a closet). And it was wonderful! After securing accommodations, I ventured into the center of the town, and came across a brew pub (go figure--in the German speaking part of Italy). So, out of lemons, lemonade was made. It still required me to get up at the butt-crack of pre-dawn, but that was minor compared with what I could have dealt with had I not had a room to sleep in.

Travel improv: it keeps one's blood pumping.