I get off the plane in Frankfurt and take the tram to the airport. There are so many ground vehicles that they have an entire road system that criss-crosses the runways.
I enter the building and look around. I see a sign that reads "Special Services" and see a lot of foreigners in line. Sounds like what I need. I get in one of the lines since I need to know where my connecting flight is and to get a boarding pass. After a while, I look around and notice another sign that reads "Transfer Center" with an arrow that points up. Sounds closer to what I'm looking for. I go up the escalator and stand in a different line. A very German-looking woman looks at my ticket and tells me to check in at the gate and writes "A36" on it.
At the passport checkpoint, I'm a bit confused by the options. I walk up to a random clerk, and he asks me "nationality?" I have to pause while I think about this. People have frequently asked my nationality throughout my life, and the answer has always been "Korean". I'm guessing he's not interested in that, so I answer "American", which gives me a very strange feeling. He points at an adjacent line, and I scurry along. I notice the signs that read "EU" and "NON-EU". If my brain had been running on all cylinders, I'd have been able to figure out those signs before asking someone, but I've been traveling for what seems like an eternity.
I track down gate A36, which involves going down several flights of stairs, walking through a long underground passage, going back up, then walking down a long concourse. I think I walked about a mile. When I finally get there, there's not a soul in sight, nor is there any mention of a flight to Bologna on the display board. In fact, the video monitor shows my flight as leaving from B concourse without a specific gate number. I decide to wait until it's closer to my flight when they will (hopefully) update the monitor with the gate number.
It's 1 hour until my flight leaves, and the video monitor still doesn't show the gate number. I get nervous and find a public computer terminal. I use the terminal (auf Englisch, bitte!) and find a gate number for my flight: B16. Back to B concourse.
I get to my departure gate and find a line at the counter. A frazzled-looking woman is checking people in and periodically announces, "if you already have a boarding pass, please have a seat and wait." I definitely do not have a boarding pass and stay in line. When I get to the counter and hand her my ticket, she tells me that she can't give me a seat assignment because they don't know the weight for the flight and hands me back my ticket. The weight? The WEIGHT?! I hadn't realized that I was heavy enough to upset the delicate balance of a 737 and affect its flight characteristics. Maybe something got lost in the translation from German.
A few minutes later a pretty blonde woman calls my name and gives me a boarding pass with seat assignment.
Danke.
At baggage claim, my bag is the first to come around. I'd always wondered about that first bag (usually not claimed). Maybe it's based on whichever came the furthest.
I see the sign for international customs and walk toward it. A uniformed guy grabs his German Shepherd by its leash. The dog stands up, and the guy waves me through. He didn't even look at my passport. I'm so disappointed. I wanted an entry stamp from Italy.
I walk up to the information desk and ask the pretty woman, "parla Inglese?" She answers, "si." I ask if there is a bus to the train station. She hands me a schedule, circles the price (8,000 Lira), and tells me where it stops. "Grazie," I say and walk away.
The train station is a bit overwhelming. Bravely, I stand in a ticket line. When I get to a window, I ask, "parla inglese?" I get nervous when the clerk answers, "un poco."
I ask, "Poggibonsi?" he gets a puzzled look on his face. I say it again, only this time with a soft "G". He understands and prints me a ticket. I pay the amount shown on the register: 14,500. Next time, find out the proper pronunciation of your destination before you try to get there
He says some more things that I don't understand. I realize what it must have been when I try to find my train on the departure list. The ticket shows that I have to change trains in Florence (Firenze), but I don't see Firenze written anywhere on the departure board. Nervous, I look around and find a posted schedule of all trains routes and manage to find Firenze listed in small print on a route. I note the destination of that train and find the track number. I hurry to the track head toward the awaiting train. I hope my logic was correct.
I see a girl that looks to be local and ask, "Firenze?", pointing to the train. "Si," she nods. I get on after she does.
At the station in Florence, I find the same situation with Poggibonsi: it's not listed on the board. I look at the schedule and decide that the Siena train goes there. The only problem is that the Siena train leaves from track 3, and I can't find track 3. Signs point to tracks 1 and 2 to the left. Other signs point to tracks 4-15 to the right. I feel like Harry Potter looking for platform nine and three-quarters. After a bit of walking around, I decide there must be a track I don't see between tracks 2 and 4. I walk out a little ways along track 2 and see a sign for track 3 ahead.
Leaving Firenze station aboard a train bound for Poggibonsi (I hope), I finally feel excitement. Tomorrow morning, I'll be pedaling up a Tuscan hill. I only hope I'm in good enough shape for this. Part of my excitement might be from Lance's book that I finished on the flight. A big part of it is that I'm finally confident of reaching my destination.
I'm also thirsty. I couldn't get nearly enough water out of those flight attendants. Next time, pack a big bottle of water.
Looking out the train window, I see laundry hung up to dry outside of a house. I start grinning like an idiot. I'm filled with joy right now. I'm in a quaint and beautiful land that I've only seen in movies.
A young woman is sitting across the aisle from me. She's looking at scribbled notes like I'm doing. I wonder if she's on the bike trip with me. I look at her calves and decide she isn't.
| Last journal page - September 1: What happened to Friday? | Next journal page - September 2 (part 2): Arrival! |
Send complaints/comments to web weenie.
