Sleeper

Transportation from Florence, Italy, to Nice, France, was in a sleeper carriage on a train. We arrived at the station, Campo di Maria, with plenty of time to spare, so we popped into the cafe across the road. The train was due to arrive at 23:20 (11:20) and depart 5 minutes later. A quick check on the board at 23:10 set us across the tracks to platform 6. So far everything was going smoothly. I was waiting for EN366 to Ventimiglia to come in, so when CM1233 to Montaciano or Mesopotamia or Montezuma, whatever it was, came in just 2 minutes before our train was due, I was alarmed.

We found another board on platform 6 that said our train had just been moved to platform 5, across the tracks. Now, there are not overpasses or underpasses to cross the tracks, but at one end of the very, very long platform, the ground is leveled off for a safe crossing. As I glanced in that direction, I could see the two lights of an approaching train. We booked it, our wheeled luggage picking up air behind us. We crossed the tracks and continued down to platform 5. I checked my pocket for reassurance...

I should tell you that the tickets we purchased were paper and not replaceable. If lost or stolen, then the loss would be ours. Understanding the risk, I kept them in a very safe place... until we were set to board the train on platform 6. At that point, I transferred them from my backpack, next to my laptop, to my front pocket.

... so I checked my pocket, and I couldn't find the reassurance... or the tickets. I knew immediately that they must have fallen out as we were running to platform 5. I left the bags with Dana, rounded the track crossing, eyeing the approaching lights, and sprinted down platform 6. Luckily the tickets were in plain view in the ground. I nabbed them and turned around. It's the fastest I've ever ran... I felt like Apollo. As the train was a few feet in front of the crossing, I leaped over the rails and onto platform 5. We made the train. The train was a few minutes late. The train that was coming into the station actually went to track 8, so it was behind me as I crossed.

On our Big Trip, we have have overnight excursions on planes and boats, but this was, by far, the most interesting and soothing. Our cabin was understandably snug, but it had its own sink and urinal! At least I think (hope) that was a urinal. We slept in bunk beds, which was perfect for Dana because it made it extremely hard for me to flop my snoring face on her forehead. During the night, however, I somehow I managed to open the curtain repeatedly with my foot, much to the consternation of the lady on the top bunk (Dana). Before nap time we toasted with a really nice eight euro bottle of red. Dana wore half of it, but seeing as how we need to cut back on luggage, this wasn't such a bad thing.

Sleep on the train was wonderful when we were moving. It was silent but for the rumbling over the rails. It gently rocked back and forth, so head to toe we moved. The cabin was cool, but it did get a bit warm during extended stays in some of the towns, such as Genova and Ventimiglia, during which the air-conditioning ceased.

Ventimiglia was also the last name of my Spanish teacher during my first year in high school. On my first day I raised my hand and said that the bookstore had sold out of one of the textbooks, so I didn't have mine. She said she understood, but then told me to sit in the front row, in the middle column, so she could keep an eye on me. She knew immediately that I was "one of those". She was brutal but one of the best teachers I have ever had. If anyone misspelled a word on homework, he had to write the word, in a sentence in Spanish, 100 times. She took a liking to me soon after and didn't even claim to notice that my misspelled punishments were written with five pens taped together (so I only had to write them 20 times).

Apologies for the tangent, but I think it was warranted. Back to the train: we cruised along the Riviera and looked down on waterfront estates with yachts and pools snaking around their propertyt. Essentially, we were looking down on those who normally look down on the rest of us. We even enjoyed a cup of espresso and some fresh bread, sealed in plastic, before our arrival in Nice. If only for the bread and coffee, if you ever have the opportunity to take an overnight train from Italy to France, take it... but don't put your tickets in the front pocket of your pants, just in case you have to run a little.