Transportation to, into, around, throughout and back from Italy was the adventure of a lifetime, to say the least.
My first stop in Europe was the Frankfurt International Airport in Germany (above). Moving through security and customs was a breeze, very organized and expeditious. They didn't even make me take off my shoes. Milano Malpensa Airport (below), on the other hand, was confusing and unnerving. Virtually nobody spoke English, so I was left to my devices -- and my Italian phrasebook.
Few things are worse than being lost, having to pee badly and unable to communicate. Like John Candy's character says in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, I would have had "more luck playing pickup sticks with my butt cheeks" than find a restroom in the Milano Malpensa Airport. Eventually, I found one -- before I peed my pants -- and when I did, it cost me half a euro to get inside.
After waiting for over an hour at a bus stop outside the Milan airport for transport to Genoa, a kindly taxi driver informed me that the last bus to Genoa had already left for the day.
He sent me to a money exchange inside the terminal, where a woman with a rudimentary grasp of English pointed me toward a motorcoach bound for the Milano Centrale train station (left).
Once I was on the bus, I felt a little less tense. But arriving at the train station, I was again confused -- and having to pee yet again (it was a 90-minute ride from the airport to the train station) -- while looking for the ticket office for a seat to Genoa.
At this point, it was late: 9 p.m. local time. I had already been traveling for 24 hours. Once I had a ticket in hand, I had five minutes to find my train, which fortunately I did. Catching the last train of the day from Milan to Genoa, I pulled into the city at about midnight.
Late as it was, a couple of taxi cabs were waiting outside the station. Hailing one, the driver had me at the front door of my hotel in less than 10 minutes. Cabs in Italy were quick and expeditious, if somewhat expensive (a ten minute ride was one euro per minute).
In Genoa, I paid 15 euros for the privilege of riding a tour bus, which traveled a route I had already walked. Walking virtually everywhere, both in Old Genoa and around other parts of the city, I learned quickly to keep a wary eye out for the innumerable motorini (motorcycles and scooters, above and below, right) at intersections. Traffic in Genoa was -- there's probably no other way to describe it -- organized chaos.
I can see why Italians drive little cars, motorcycles and scooters.
Aside from the parking issues and the price of petroleum, it's easier to maneuver the narrow streets of Old Genoa.
Nonetheless, people in Italy drive about one inch out of control, yet they somehow manage to avoid hitting anybody from the very large community of senior citizens who are out and about.
The boat ride to Cinque Terre (above) was a good way to see the sights of the ancient settlements along the Italian Riviera. Lots of expensive yachts were on display that day, particularly in Portofino.
My Dutch friend, a retired British Petroleum executive who owns his own boat, noted that the pleasure craft start "at about one million euros." In addition to recreational boaters, large cruise ships (below) and transports to points south (such as Sicily) were in evidence.
Toward the end, I was starting to feel comfortable taking the train to the extent that I could read and understand the schedules and protocols. Coming back from Torino, a young Italian dude joined me in my berth, but he didn't stay long.
After a heated exchange with the conductor, he got the boot for no train ticket (apparently, this is common in Italy, and some get away with it). Two mean lookin' train cops "put the arm on him" as I stuck my nose deeper into my book and slunk lower in my seat.
By the time I returned to Milan for my flight home, I was quite proficient at traveling by train. It's definitely the way to go in Italy, as it is in many other parts of Europe.
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