Day 4--Bergamo

Here we go again! I awoke from a deep sleep just like the night before. I had no idea what was going on with me, but here I was, in the same position I was in the night before. We had no clock in the room and Luann's cell phone was in another room being charged and I had no idea what time it was. We set a wake up call for 6:30 AM, so I knew it was earlier than 6:30 because we had not been called yet, but that's all I knew. To make matters a little more complicated, the room arrangement had changed. On our first night, Luann and I had a king size bed, so we thought. They were actually two twin beds, with the bed spread over them, making them look like one big bed. It fooled me. Last night, the beds were separated and I was in my own bed and Luann in hers. How crazy was that? I thought of poor Pat and Sharon who also had twin beds, but Sharon's was stuck in the closet, while Pat's was in the center of the room. Sharon called it a Murphy bed. I had never heard that term before. I had not closed the heavy blinds last night because I didn't want to pull any muscles and I wanted to make sure I could see in case I woke up in the middle of the night. Waking up at this moment, I couldn't understand how wide awake I felt. I made a vow that I would not get up and walk around the room again, but that I would lay there and sleep. I tried real hard and managed to doze off.

The chirping of the phone woke me up. Without my hearing aids in , it was feint, but I could hear it. The phones here don't ring, they chirp. Everything here chirps. I was real sleepy now and cautiously opened my eyes a little. I was laying on my stomach and I had to make sure Luann didn't see that I was even close to being awake. She would have hit me with the line she uses to make me move. "We better get up, because we don't want to be late." I hate that line. Luann didn't even look over to my bed. She mumbled something to who ever called and laid her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She was probably saying a prayer to have me wake up in a positive mood, not the normal negative mood she is so accustomed to seeing in the morning. I chuckled to myself when I thought how I must really make her life challenging. I was drifting back into sleep when that little voice in my head tried to tell me something. I didn't listen to it last night at the reception desk and I didn't listen to it now. I knew Luann was awake and I would be getting the line in a few minutes. We had plenty of time and I was sleepy. I heard the little voice laugh a little as it went back into my subconscious.

I did not have my hearing aids in, but I heard it loud and clear. The knock on the door. It reminded me of the knock on the door when Dorothy, the lion, the scarecrow and the tin man arrived at Oz and they had to use the big knocker on that huge door. The sound resonated all through Oz, just like this knock was resonating all through the room. Luann jumped out of bed and I thought she had reached the door in one giant leap. I, on the other hand, could not understand what had happened. Luann asked who it was and a faint voice on the other side of the door asked, "Are you guys coming?" Luann's frantic look told the whole story as she replied, "We'll be right there." WE HAD OVERSLEPT. That's what the little voice was trying to tell me. The wake up call was too early. Oh man, we were in for it now. Luann brushed her teeth, as she tried to get her pajamas off and a sweater on. I couldn't move because I was frozen with the fear of climbing on that bus and all those people looking at us. Also, my blood in the morning is not much thicker than the frozen fuel lines on diesel trucks and I don't move very fast. Frantically, we both looked at at each other and I had an idea. I did not have any time to test the waters, but I softly, very unusual for me, suggested to Luann that we take the train and meet them in Bergamo. It took two seconds for her to reply. " You want me to go down and tell them we will meet them later?" I replied, "What do you think of that idea?" There was no reply from her as she bolted for the door. This was going to be fun I said to myself, wondering where the train station could be. I was also wondering what the others would think when they learned we had taken a bottle of wine to our rooms before bed. They would never believe we only had one small glass each before bed. I looked at the almost full bottle and pondered the situation when I heard the door open.

Luann had returned, feeling much more at ease and she even mentioned that this was going to be a neat adventure for us. I was agreeing with her, wondering where the train station was. In the whole fracas of the morning, Luann had gotten her cell phone back, which now gave us a clock. After some quick calculations, we determined it was around 8:00AM. We showered, dressed and headed down to breakfast. We arrived to a fairly empty dining room, but once again, we were asked to sit with someone else. I could not figure out why we were never allowed to eat by ourselves. I softly mentioned this to Luann, which brought about the look that told me to knock off the complaining. We were escorted to a round table that could seat eight, but at the present moment, it had one person sitting there. The white table cloth and linen napkins were neatly in place as we sat down and met Bruce.

Bruce was from Michigan and was traveling with his girlfriend Nancy, who was one of the tour hosts for the Michigan group. He was sixty nine years old and had just retired. As we shared pastries, coffee and breakfast, we discussed our kids, careers, retirement and a whole set of worldly issues that did not mean a thing to anyone but us. Bruce had decided to skip today's tour because he was burned out with all the bus travel. Our explanation was that we wanted to travel by train. We didn't quite tell him that we had overslept. Bruce had no plans for the day, as he was just going to hang around Stresa. This was our last day at this location and he had not had a lot of opportunities to see the town. The three of us finished breakfast and parted company in the small lobby. Bruce went up the short flight to the mezzanine to use the Internet and Luann and I went to the front desk to get directions to the train station.

It turned out the train station was a ten minute walk from the hotel, towards the back of the town. I did not get complete directions, but had a general idea of where to go. Hand in hand, Luann and I walked out the front door and headed towards the main street that ran parallel to the lake. We noticed that there were tents across the street that had not been there before. It appeared there was some sort of market going on. We turned left and headed past the hotels and inns. We stopped at a hedged in garden,where there were numerous oil paintings sitting on easels. We walked into the garden and were very impressed with the beauty of the setting and the talent being displayed. It looked like it was one artists personal show and he was busy talking to another on looker. We talked about the talent my daughter Erin has when it comes to art and creativity and I had to remark to Luann that she gets that talent from me. I could trace a stick figure with the best of them. We didn't stay long because it would be futile to figure out how to get a painting home and we had a mission far more important than paintings.

We walked down the busy sidewalk and saw the sign post for the station. We took another left turn and found ourselves walking uphill to the municipal area of the downtown. Small sign posts with directions to various departments were on every corner. They also included a hand drawn picture of the department, in case the visitor could not read. It was a pleasant walk and we knew we were close when we saw the tracks above us. A couple of misdirected steps was all it took to make us decide to ask someone for directions. We saw an old couple walking down the driveway of their home towards us and the street. I asked them for directions to the station in Italian and they were eager to help. The nice lady began giving me lefts and rights in that beautiful language and I was doing fine until the older gentleman decided to get his heroics in. I stood there on a quiet, residential street watching fingers pointing in all different directions, hearing more lefts and rights than in a boxing match and finally walking away. Luann asked me if I knew where we were supposed to go and I replied, "Of course."

To this day, I cannot understand where those old people were telling me to go. The station turned out to be right behind their house, not more than two blocks from where we were at. As we walked up a small inclined street, we could see the station. It was a long brick building, with taxis parked along the narrow street waiting for the inbound passengers. The station was divided into three parts. The center of the station served as the main ticketing area, while one end hosted a small shop for buying newspapers, magazines and tobacco and the other end was a restaurant and bar area. We walked into the main area and immediately noticed that there were no ticket offices open. It was Sunday. There were two monitors detailing the inbound and outbound trains but no one available to help up us.

We knew from our past travel here that Milan was the center hub for train travel. A quick look at the departures showed us there were two trains going to Milan. One was going to Milano Centrale, the largest train station in Europe, while the other was going to Milano Garibaldi. The Garibaldi train was due to depart from here at 10:23 AM, while the Centrale train was departing at 12:30 PM. If we wanted to catch the group, we needed to get to Bergamo by 2:00 PM so we decided to take the earlier train to Milano Garibaldi. There was no one working in the ticket office, however, there were machines that looked like self ticketing kiosks. We tried our luck with the machines, but I had forgotten my reading glasses and could not see the small print. Luann could not read Italian and we didn't have time to have her spell things to me and me trying to translate them. We gave up after a couple of futile attempts. . The train was due in about fifteen minutes so we rushed out the main doors to the tracks, to see if we could get some help.

We immediately caught the attention of very person waiting for trains. It wasn't that we were causing a scene. It was just that we were trying to act real cool and we stuck out like sore thumbs. We would smile, walk real fast and try to open doors, while talking English to each other. The doors we tried were all locked. On Sunday morning, most of the people waiting were locals and they could not help but smile as we continued our futile attempt. I finally saw the group of engineers sitting in the engineer's office. There were four young men, dressed in their tan uniforms with the Trenitalia embroidered above their right pocket. I asked them if any of them could speak English. All four replied in unison that they could not. I had no choice but to get myself into an Italian dialogue with them. I did my typical Italian impersonation (little Italian, some Spanish and a lot of pig Latin). I was in a hurry, so my languages got all messed up, but I was able to find out that the Garibaldi train would work to get to Bergamo and that we could get a ticket inside. We were directed to the newspaper stand, where a machine would let us purchase a ticket. We rushed to the newspaper stand, but found no machine. We ran back into the main lobby and found ourselves looking at the same machines we had seen not more than fifteen minutes ago. We were helpless as the train pulled in. We had to get on, so we did. As people watched, we flew out of the main lobby back to the outside waiting area and headed for the train. I asked the engineer, as the train pulled away, if they sold tickets on board. He smiled and nodded. I don't know if he smiled because they didn't or if he smiled because these two cool, experienced travelers looked like they had never been on a train. We were off and running exactly at 10:23 AM.

We jumped onto the train and sat down in the first seats available. We faced each other sharing a valuable window seat. We had also picked the side of the train that would give us a better view of the scenery as we worked our way towards Milan. I had observed a young man waving a 5 Euro bill to the engineer I had talked to, which gave me a more confident feeling that we would be able to buy a ticket on the train. The young man got into the same car we were in, as we started pulling out of the station. It was a bright, sunny Sunday morning and we were the only ones in the car. The train we were on was considered a regional train, which is much different than the Eurostar or inter country trains. This train would stop at many small towns along the way, picking up and dropping passengers. We sat back and enjoyed the ride, observing the different vegetation Northern Italy has to offer. We saw a number of small towns, winding rivers and streams and even got a good view of the lake as we headed inland. On the third stop, a small town call Argona, the young man that got on with us made his departure. As he walked past us, I asked him how far to Milano. The look he gave us made me think that we may have gotten on the wrong train, however, that thought was quickly replaced when he laughed and told us Milan was a long way away. The way he replied and smiled made me wonder what we had gotten ourselves into. I also noticed that he had never had to give anyone the 5 Euro bill he had shown back at the station. We had not gone very far, but I thought we should have seen a conductor by now.

Our conductor showed his face thirty minutes later. As Luann and I continued to marvel at the scenery, the far door leading into the car slid back, with a gust of air, and our conductor strutted in. He was thin, about 5'9", with a sharp nose and wire rimmed glasses hanging on a chain around his neck. He was dressed in the green uniform of the Trenitalia company, with matching tie, belt and hat. He looked just like the conductor on the Polar Bear Express movie only in green. His route guide was as thick as a New York City phone book and he had his puncher out and ready to punch tickets. He also had a big wallet attached to a chain leading into his pocket. He had his ticket punch out as he stood in front of us, waiting for the ticket. He had a pleasant smile and blue eyes that smiled in sync with his mouth. The poor guy had no idea at that moment that his easy, slow, uneventful Sunday was now going to have its first challenge. He saw me smile up at him and wish him good morning in Italian and then ask him if he spoke English. His head dropped as he said no. I then asked him if he spoke Spanish. His head turned and dropped as he said no. I wanted to ask him if he spoke pig Latin, but Luann wouldn't like that so I didn't. I told him in imitation Italian that we didn't have a ticket and we needed to buy one. He was so soft spoken I could hardly hear him. I could not make out if he was asking me where we were going, where we got on, or if we were having a nice time. I just sat there with a dumb smile on my face nodding. That's what I do when I can't hear someone. I just nod. The poor guy took his New York phone book, ticket punch, put his glasses on, and sat in the seat across the aisle from us. I then mentioned Stresa, thinking he needed to know something about where we got on and then I mentioned Milano and he quickly figured out that we weren't here for a free ride. Licking his fingers, he began paging through the million pages he must have had in that huge route guide. To make matters worse, we had now stopped at a town and were picking up a lot of passengers. He kept looking at the ones getting off and wondering to himself how many he was not able to get tickets punched for, or worse, had gotten a free ride. I could have told him about the young man, but I didn't. At this stop, the train was getting fuller and anyone coming into this car had to get their ticket punched as they walked by our conductor. Luann and I sat there as the conductor got on his cell phone and kept calling. He was getting more animated as he talked, but whatever he was asking was not getting answered. He kept pouring through the book for a rate. He now took another small book out and looked at it, but still could not find a rate. I should have just sat there quietly, but I didn't. I mentioned to Luann that maybe he was going to give us some exorbant rate and rip us off in the process, which resulted in a scolding on my not being able to trust people and always being negative. Another poorly timed comment. The poor guy was still at it when I mentioned to him in imitation Italian that the day before, we had been given a rate of 9 euoros from Cuomo to Stresa. He quickly took the ticket pad that he carried underneath his route guide and wrote us a ticket for 9 euros. I gave him a 10 euro bill and got my change. He said thanks and I apologized the best I could for having screwed up his easy Sunday. We saw him one station later walking off the train heading for the station.

At 12.30 PM we arrived at the Milano Garibaldi train station. It was not as I expected. The station was a nice modern facility, unlike the Milano Centrale station. There were approximately eleven tracks situated in an open area under a large canopy. Though there were people getting off and on trains it was nowhere as busy or congested as Centrale. As we walked off the train and walked along the platform to the terminal, we began our search for the next train that would take us to Bergamo. We saw the monitors identifying cities like: Roma, Genova, Firenza, etc., but no Bergamo. Luann looked at the paper schedules taped to the large posts in the middle of the platforms, but there were so many cities to look at, it was like searching for Waldo.

We had no choice but to find a ticket office and ask for help. I knew they would talk English here. The ticket office was around the corner, just as we walked into the main concourse from the train platforms. We went to the second window because it was available and asked the short chubby man if he spoke English. He said no and pointed to the next window, which was the only other manned window. There were three people in line there and we didn't have time to wait. I had to do my imitation Italian routine with him and to my surprise, he understood. He quickly printed off two tickets and gave them to me. He pointed to the ticket to explain to me that we had to go Luscano and Bergamo would be one of the stops. I just nodded, kind of understanding what I could hear. Departure time was 1:10, so we had forty minutes to kill. A quick look at the departure monitors and posted schedules confirmed that we were on the right track.

The train station had three floors and we had arrived on the ground floor. We could see taxis out the front double pane glass doors. We took the steps down to the lower level because the escalators weren't moving. We acted like we were curious as to what the station looked like, but truthfully, we were looking for the bathrooms. A quick reconasance told us that down here there were vending machines, storage rooms, but no restaurants or bathrooms. We walked back up the stairs and looked around the main floor. There was a convenience store, some shops, the ticket counter and more vending machines. We walked out to the train platforms and still could not find a bathroom on this floor. We found a sign identifying the bathrooms as being downstairs. We went down the stairs again and rewalked the same passageways that we had just walked a few minutes before. We found nothing. We went back up the stairs to the main floor and then up the the top floor, which had nothing but offices. It was not desperate yet, but it was getting close. We stopped and asked a young lady where the bathrooms were and she pointed downstairs and we looked at her in disbelief. We told her we had been there twice to no avail. She bent over the railing and pointed to a section around the corner, opposite of where everything was located. As we headed for the stairs, we walked by the escalator and it turned on. The escalators were on motion sensors and we thought they were broke. We felt pretty stupid then. Down we went, took a right at the bottom of the escalator and then saw the welcome sign for the bathrooms. We had burned more than half of our forty minute layover.

Refreshed, we were now ready to head for the train. We took the escalator back to the main floor and went to find the track, which should have our train sitting on it. No such luck. As we walked the width of the platfrom we kept coming up missing one track, ours. We wondered if they had made a mistake, if we were in the twilight zone or if we had just screwed up. Our track was not there. We ran down the steps looking for the track in the same places we originally looked for the bathrooms; No track. This was ridiculous, a word that I use constantly. We were going to miss our train. Then Luann spotted it on the way back up the stairs, escalators were too slow. There was another set of tracks on the other side of a wall across from where the bathrooms were. The sign was small, hanging from the cement rafter and how she saw it was beyond me. We ran up a small four step set of stairs and there was the train on the track,with the conductor standing on the platform. We approached him and he confirmed that this was our train. He also informed us that we needed to transfer once more, in a small town called belazo, which was five stops away. We would not have know that if we hadn't talked to him. He also said we needed to validate the ticket quickly because we were leaving. He told us to go back down the small stairs and use a yellow machine located at the bottom of the steps. We ran down the stairs and put the ticket in; Nothing. We turned the ticket upside down; Nothing. This was really getting annoying. I left Luann standing there and ran back up to the conductor. I interrupted his conversation with a young man and tried to explain to him that the machine didn't work. The young Italian said he would help us and we took off together. He took our ticket, stuck it in the machine and it worked. We thanked him and back we went to board. Luann and I looked at each other in disbelief wondering if we had gotten this way because of something we had eaten. We boarded the train, wrong car of course. We had second class seats, not first class. I started wondering if the conductor had known what the word junk meant when I used it to describe the yellow validating machine. I do know what idiota means when he was probably describing me. I thought a lot about this as we pulled out of Milano Garibaldi. At least we had not missed the train.

We spent the next ten minutes counting stops. It's amazing that we didn't miscount, but it wasn't long before we stopped at a small Italian town in the middle of nowwhere. We were supposed to catch our train to Bergamo, so we quickly got off the train and headed for the station to check and see how much time we had before departure. It was 1:20PM and we had not eaten. We disembarked across from the station and had to go down a tunnel that crossed underneath the tracks and then went up, similar to the entrances used at stadiums to separate sections. As we walked to the station, Luann noticed a small restaurant/bar right next to it. It looked closed to me, but I didn't say anything for fear of the possible scolding I would get for being negative. We walked in and looked at the monitors, all two of them, and noticed that our train would be leaving in about ten minutes. We would depart from track three, wherever that was. As we walked out of the station to look for the track, the PA system crackled and began making announcements on various inbound and outbound trains. It sounded pretty standard. The little voice I had heard the last couple of days popped up again, but I quickly dismissed it. We needed to find the track because we didn't have much time. It looked like any chance to get a bite to eat was out of the question. We walked back down the entrance of the tunnel and walked underneath to the other end of the platforms to look for track three. The tracks were marked with navy blue metallic signs above the respective sections. Normally the tracks are in pairs, but not here. Tracks one and two were paired up, but the other tracks were by themselves. There were a total of five tracks. It took us a couple of walks up the wrong sections to realize that we were having trouble understanding the track layout. On the second pass, the PA system cracked and the announcements came again. This time I heard three key Italian words imbedded in the announcement; Bergamo, tre, quattro (Bergamo, three, four). I looked at Luann in horror and told her, "I think they changed the track!" We ran up the entrance to track three, amid a group of waiting passenger, in a sweat. A man in his early fortys stood there patiently waiting for a train. I asked him if his train went to Bergamo. He looked at me with a blank face. I mentioned in Italian, "Bergamo, treno". He didn't smile and he didn't talk. He just pointed behind us to a lone track that had a train starting to pull out, smoke coming from the engine. The train had been sitting there since we arrived and was now pulling out of the station. The experienced travelers that we were had now had missed the train to Bergamo and now we didn't know if this was the only train, or worse yet, if there was a way back to Stresa. I was attacked by a myriad of worst case scenarios within two seconds. I confirmed again, with my non-speaking Italian friend, that we had actually missed the train. He confrimed it with a nod of his head and said something I couldn't understand. I did what comes naturally to me. I kicked the platform with my right foot in disgust. Luann quickly accused me of trying to kick a fifty yard field goal, soccer style, at the fleeing train. The devil took over my tongue for a few short seconds and then all was eerily quiet as Luann and I absorbed the moment.

The most optimistic and positive person I have ever met is my mom, Alicia. A very close second is Luann. The most pessimistic person I have ever met was my dad, Ricky. A close second is me. I knew now that it would be impossible to meet up with the tour group. After my missed field goal attempt and the ensuing penalty scolding, Luann cheered up and said, "Don't forget that we are having a new adventure today. We need to stay positive." I couldn't reply to that. As we walked back to the station, she talked about having a beer and a sandwich at the station restaurant/bar. This time I responded that it was closed. I didn't care if it sounded negative. I was screaming at myself for having not paid attention to the intercom. A four year old Italian child would have picked up on the track change. We entered the station and to our relief the next train for Bergamo was due in at 2:15 PM. We had forty five minutes to kill.

We walked back out of the station, past the closed bar and headed out to the street. There were a few cars parked in front of the station, but for the most part, nothing else stirred in this town. Every shop, apartment building, office and garage had large gates over their front entrances. The gates were the ugly, gray, corrugated metal type that served as a graffiti artists favorite canvas. The streets were deserted and every gate was covered with more graffiti than I had ever seen in one place. I felt like I was on the set of the old movie "Escape from New York" starring Kurt Russell. I was a little nervous. We walked down the main street and saw some young people hanging around a store blocks ahead. We stopped and went back to the station. We went in and checked the monitors and walked back out to the street. We decided to go right this time and saw there was nothing open that way either. We were hungry and totally alone here. Other than a few people coming and going from the station, there was no one around. We went back to the station, walked around the small waiting area and then walked back out to the main street. It was time to put our fears behind us and walk towards the only sign of life we had seen. We headed for the place where we had seen the youths.

The walk down the main street was uneventful. Other than a fellow traveler asking me for directions in a language I couldn't understand, we did not see anyone until we arrived at the small store. It was a pizzeria. There were two young Italian men making pizzas. One looked like the owner instructing the younger of the two on how to make a pizza. The place was not very big, but it was very clean. A small cooler sat in the corner and offered a variety of soft drinks and small cans of beer. I immediately got two of the peroni beers and we walked up the counter, which served as the make table and supported the cash register. I told the proprietor that we had about a half hour to catch a train and he assured me that we had plenty of time to eat. Luann and I sat in the two chairs that served as a waiting area for pickup orders in front of the large plate glass window and opened our beers, finally relaxing. Our pizza arrived about ten minutes later. It was delicious. We wondered why American pizza took so long to make and hypothesized that it had to do with the thicker crusts we use here. We ate our pizza and drank our beer as if we hadn't eaten in days. I got two more beers out of the cooler, paid our 9 euro bill and headed back to the station. We arrived ten minutes ahead of our departure and moments before the train. We boarded immediately and watched as a group of youths sparred with each other, danced and smoked cigarettes outside our car window. I wondered if these kids were responsible for any of the graffiti all over this town. I was glad when the train started moving. Finally, after four hours, we were finally heading for our destination. We could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The final leg to Bergamo took less than half an hour. The train stopped at approximately 3:40 PM and we followed the crowd along the platform to the station. The station was packed with people. We followed the crowd into the main concourse area and quickly checked monitors to see how long we could stay here. The monitors did not help us, but the posted paper schedules showed us that we could get back to Stresa, through Milan, on a Eurostar train that went to Geneva Switzerland. We waited in line and found an agent that said he could speak a little English. His English was excellent. We had a choice of leaving at 4:45 PM, which only gave us a little over an hour, or we could leave around 6:00 PM. We chose the later train. We knew the chances of meeting the group here was minimal. We were also scheduled to have a group dinner at the hotel at 7:30PM and we were not sure we would be able to make it. We purchased our tickets and walked out of the station into the beautiful city of Bergamo.

The cloudless blue sky greeted us as we stepped onto the busy sidewalk leading up to the downtown area. This city was by far the biggest city we had been in since we arrived. There were no narrow streets, but wide boulevards and sidewalks. We could see the old city, miles ahead of us on the hill tops. That was where our group was, touring the castle and vineyard. Down here all we could see were modern shops, large banks, insurance companies and restaurants. The buses, cabs, cars, scooters and bicycles made this town very similar to our largest big cities. It was Sunday and this town was busy. It didn't take long to find out why. Five long blocks from the station, we were treated to a street fest. Streets were blocked off and countless tents were set up selling candy, meats, cheeses, crafts, leather and everything imaginable. The tents were identified as being from Holland, Germany, Italy, Switzerland and a host of other countries. It was an international bazaar of some kind. People were elbow to elbow. We had just finished our pizza, so we weren't hungry. It was so crowded that it became uncomfortable so we walked out and headed away from the bazzar. The architecture here is indescribable, mostly gothic. We walked through an indoor mall that looked like an official building and walked righ into an art exhibit. We were handed a manual describing the exhibits and allowed to walk around and view them. I expected to be charged an admission fee, but no one ever approached us. The exhibits were displayed around the courtyard, which was in the middle of this mall. A grassy area in the center gave this courtyard a warm, serene atmoshpere. The stone walls offered us imbedded paintings that had to date back hundreds of years. This had to have been a monsastery or church at some point in time. We marveled at the art and building.

We left that building and walked back into the downtown streets, away from the main bazaar area. There were tents on this side, but nothing like the area we had left. We wanted to sit at one of the many outdoor restaurants, have a glass of wine, enjoy the weather and watch all the people walking by. Every place we stopped at was so busy we could not get any one to wait on us. We had now burned up a lot of our time, so we had to start making our way back to the station. A mistake here could cause us a real problem if we couldn't get back to Stresa tonight. A few blocks from the station we found a place to have a glass of wine. The outdoor seating area was full, so we took a seat by the open door facing the sidewalk. I went up to the bar and got our wine. We watched as people would walk in, belly up to the bar and quickly down an espresso in one swallow and then leave. One small glass of wine was all we had time for before we had to go back to the station to catch our train. As always the train was on time and we boarded immediately, not leaving anything to chance.

The train we were on now was a regional train going to Milano Centrale. In Milan we would board the intercountry train to Geneva, which stopped in Stresa. It took us approximately half an hour to get to Milan from Bergamo, which made me feel even worse about missing the train earlier. As we pulled into the station, the familiarity of the station set in. It is huge. The trains arrive and depart from a cavernous facility covered with a large half-moon metal canopy. The covered canopy area is hundreds of yards long and it is as wide as it is long. There are hundred of birds flying in and around the thousands of passengers reading schedules, watching the overhead electronic train/track schedules and just waiting for trains. Inside the main concourse there are a number of stores, shops, banks and information stations. Ticket counters are downstairs where the numerous subways drop off and pick up passengers. There are more shops and offices. You could probably hear every language in the world as you walk through this station. The inside walls are all composed of yellowish blocks, which remind me of the old high schools gyms, before drywall became the standard. There is a constant whistle of a train and the chime of the bell as announcements come quickly and repeatedly. Eight years ago, we stood in this station and I was always nervous. This evening we stand here and I am thrilled. The bustle, noise, smells and the ambience are energizing and exciting. This is travel at its best.

A quick look at the schedules showed us that we had almost an hour to wait. We found the track and then went to the convenience store located in the platform area. It took us a while, but we purchased a large loaf of bread, they have the best bread over here, and Luann found small containers of wine in boxes. They were identical to the fruit juice boxes that our grandson Brenton drinks back home. We purchased four wine boxes and a small sleeve of plastic glasses at the check out counter and made our way back to the track area. We were curious how the wine would taste, but not overly optimistic that it would be the best we had ever had. We patiently waited for the train, which arrived a short time later and boarded. The best travel experience I ever had was when we were here eight years ago and we would take a bottle of wine, some cheese and bread and travel by train. Looking out the window at the passing scenery, sipping on wine and eating was as relaxing as it could get. We both loved it. As was the case tonight, our train pulled out of Milano Centrale around 7:15 PM. We had already decided that dinner with the group was out, as it would be in full throttle by the time we arrived. The train pulled out on schedule and we opened up one of our wine boxes and the bread. We ate bread and sipped on wine as other passengers read their newspapers, slept or just sat there. Not a soul looked in our direction. Within forty five minutes we arrived back in Stresa under a cover of darkness. The restaurant/bar that had been closed ten hours earlier was now open and busy. The main area was congested with people and Luann and I walled off the train carrying our unopened small boxes of wine, bread we didn't eat and the last of the plastic cups. The evening was warm and we walked down the small hill, hand in hand, to the lakefront for the short ten minute walk to the hotel. The lake front was all lit up and it was a pretty spectacle to look at all the way back.

It was now a little past 8:00 PM as we entered the hotel. We knew the group was in the dining room eating so we went upstairs to put away our things and go out and enjoy our last evening in Stresa. We walked out of the hotel and headed up the street to the plaza, where all the restaurants were. Since their season was winding down, many of the places were closed. We decided on the place called Amiches (friends), which had been our choice last night with the group, but was too busy to seat us last night. Luann and I sat outside, under the radiant heaters and enjoyed a wonderful seafood dinner, with wine bread and great service. We did not see any of our fellow travelers, but knew that everyone would be wondering what had happened to us. We finished our meal and took the long way back to the hotel, getting our last glimpse of the small shops (now closed), the cobblestone streets and the beauty of the lake at night. It is always sad having to leave beauty.

We arrived back at the hotel and saw that dinner was just getting over. We walked into the dining room and were greeted by Pat, Sharon, Doyle, Cindy, Bob and Bonnie, sitting at a round table with two empty wine bottles. Dinner, we were told, had been excellent. Amid the confusion with the waiter about the wine purchases, we started to recant each other's adventures on the last day in Stresa. We decided to head to the bar and continue our discussion because the dining room was closing up. In the hotel bar, we were informed that tomorrow we would leave at 7:30 AM for Cinque Terra , a beautiful resort area. We would spend the day there, then arrive at our final tour city of Cremona late afternoon. Melissa had told everyone on the bus that it would be cold there, so dress warmly. I questioned that because the forecast had been for warm weather in that particular area. The comment dropped as the conversation turned to Luann and I. We had to deftly explain how we had overslept and why. It turned out that when Luann received the wake up call she had not hung up the receiver correctly and all other calls responded with a busy signal to the caller. They feared something had happened, so the knock on the door. We explained to the group there that we did not wear watches so we didn't have any idea what time it was. That comment got some teasing from the group. I kept bringing up the fact that we didn't drink that bottle of wine we bought before bed, but I don't know if they believed me. The conversation turned to the tour. Apparently, it had been an interesting day. The tour was very good. The castle was interesting and learning about the production of balasamic vinegrette was worth the day. Sharon bought a bottle of the high priced commodity. The tour was not without some drama, however. It turned out that we weren't the only ones late. One of the Michigan people, the guy chastised by his wife on the first night, was still in the shower when the bus was getting ready to leave. Also, at one of the restroom stops, one of the Michigan people had somehow ended up on the other side of the interstate after taking care of business. A frantic search found him standing on the other side of the rest stop after the bus had loaded. The driver had to figure out how to go get him. The funniest tour horror of them all was when one of the Michigan ladies tried to eat a sandwich on the bus and got caught. She was forced to eat the sandwich outside the bus, while the bus full of tourists waited. I guess that will teach her to break rule #1. It turned out to be Nancy, Bruces wife and one of the group leaders. I couldn't quit laughing. After a couple of rounds, it was time to go up to our rooms and pack. Our luggage had to be outside our room by 5:30 AM. Doyle and Cindy purchased a bottle of wine from the bar to take to their room. This move was totally encouraged by Luann and I. We made it back to the room where it took a few short minutes to throw our clothes in the bags and set them outside our door. Our bottle of wine still sat on the night stand with its small companion glasses alongside. It had been quite an adventerous day. We had shared very little of our experience with the group. I was glad we had missed the tour today, not because of the company, but because I don't think I could have sat quiet during the tour horror. We even heard that the bus driver had not filled up while the group was on tour while he had an empty bus. He decided to fill up on the way back, shortly after reboarding. They all had to stand outside the bus and wait. Our lights finally went out at 10:30 PM, by our calculations, and we went to sleep with visions of day five dancing in our heads.