Milan Centrale (26th July 1997)
26 Jul 1997
Made a few half-hearted attempts to find a hotel or hostel, but at 12:45 in the night, believe me, it is difficult. I went after a few rucksack-carrying chaps but they were going to the airport. Taxis offered to take me to an ostello; I decided it was safer to stay in the station than to venture into an unknown city with unknown touts at 1am. Found an English-understanding policeman, obtained permission to spend the night, and settled in.
I was sitting in a waiting room with two chaps from Chile – cement factory workers. They started asking me how old I was. I thought, “Oh no, not this again!”. So I scouted around and found a Dutch backpacking couple. To my relief, they spoke English – when they were awake, that is! The three of us hung around together till their train at 4:40am. There were about 15–20 people all in a similar situation; we were all moved to a large, comfortable waiting room. A policeman came around checking tickets and was satisfied we were genuine travellers.
At 4:20am the Dutch couple left for their train. I slept for a couple of hours, then they were closing the waiting room and the remaining few of us were kicked out gently onto the station.
From 6–7am I sat in a corner of the station and nodded off. Then freshened up, went out food hunting, found lemon tea. Had two cups. Tasted wonderful! There was still more time on hand, so I walked out into a chirpy blue day. In front of the station is a great big square; at 8am it was fairly empty and cool and lovely.
Back inside I found the train destination boards interesting: Platform 14, Wien 8:25. Platform 3, Zürich 7:03. Just like that. From Milan, Florence, Naples, Rome, Venice – all reachable. The formalities of checking non-existent. It feels good to just walk into a station, get on a train and go abroad.
The TGV left at 9:05am. I sat in my seat and tried not to think paranoid thoughts – whether this was really my train, whether the TT would come and tell me I was in the wrong one. I was hungry but didn’t feel like eating. The Italian countryside meanwhile slipped by, bathed in the morning light.
From Turin, the Alps had been towering on both sides. Now they were very close, their green tops hidden in clouds. Next station: Modane. The snowy peaks were still far but visible. I was so glad to be doing this trip in daylight and actually awake.
Mountain streams the colour of emerald. Truly, no exaggeration. I’d surely love to return to this part of the world – maybe on a walking holiday. Someday.
