Arriving in Italy

Usually when you see a family of 5 wearing cowboy hats, you would assume they were from Texas. But when I heard them talk to each other in Chicago O’Hare, it wasn’t a southern accent that came out, but a German accent. Running from Terminal E to C, because of a broken down shuttle, I got to my gate just in time for boarding after grabbing a $20 snack of sandwich, yogurt pretzels and water. This German family, donning the Stetson hats onto the plane was standing in line just behind me, until I got to the front and was told to go back to the counter to have my boarding pass according to my passport. So back in line it was. Finally got back to the gate and boarded the plane behind a few other Oregon students who happened to be studying in Macerata, which I found out as I talked to them going through security in Munich. International airports in foreign countries can be quite intimidating, but after going through some of the largest airports in the world (Heathrow, Amsterdam, Madrid, and smaller but more chaotic Santiago), I was feeling quite confident until I landed in Munich. I have never been to Germany, and don’t speak more than two words of German. I later realized this to be foreshadowing for what I would experience in Italy.

First, the paper towel dispensers aren’t that at all, in fact they dispense a reel of cloth for you to dry your hands and then it returns into the container to be dried and cleaned, I hope. I think one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time was brushing my teeth after a 9 hour flight of mostly sugary foods. It was a bit intimidating to have to approach someone to get my boarding pass for my next flight to Venice, but the Air Dolomiti people were quite friendly. Their snack boxes on the flight were also quite enjoyable J. What I found interesting about the Munich airport is that none of the gates, from what I could tell were anywhere near your plane. Instead, everyone piled into a double Mercedes bus and then was taken out to the tarmac to wherever your plane was parked. After a short flight to Venice Marco Polo airport, I got my bags and wandered around for quite awhile looking for an atm, so I could buy a bus ticket to the train station. Finally finding some Americans, I knew the atm must be close by. The 7km bus ride to the train station took nearly 45 minutes due to some insane detours (for a bus anyway) and more stops than I could count. I finally got to the train station with the help of 2 girls from Colorado, that were spending time wandering around Europe after graduating from college, due to the lack of a job.

Hotel Trieste, was conveniently about 50 feet from the train station that I would be leaving through the next morning. The only man running the hotel on Sunday hardly spoke any English, but was quite friendly and certainly helped make the stay more enjoyable that it would have been otherwise. The elevator helped tenants get from the 1^st to the 2^nd floor, but of course my room was on the 3^rd in a seemingly empty hotel. The stairs I was forced to take to my room I would equate to those of the top of an old church bell tower. They were wooden, steep and narrow. My bags, which weighed nearly 100 pounds, were almost impossible to squeeze through the railings, but I finally made it. I was definitely ready for a shower. After a shower in the full bathroom tub (apparently Italians throw a shower head on the wall and a drain underneath it and call it good), I spent some time walking around my Mestre neighborhood, which isn’t the best of places in the Venice area, before I decided on some McDonalds, where I could simply hold up a 3 to get some chicken nuggets, and finally went to bed at 5pm to catch up on sleep. I woke up in complete darkness only to realize it was 930pm…