"I'M ON VACATION!!!!!!!!!!!" --Billy Crystal in "City Slickers"
The story of Tim & Ted's Excellent adventure begins many years back at Bremerton High School where two young students, Tim & Ted, spent three torturous years studying (er--I mean, taking classes in) Spanish. "We'll never need this stuff in real life!" -- or so we thought. A few short years later, however, those Spanish speaking skills (of which I retained only "Sí" and "taco") would be put to the test.
* * *It started of innocently enough. I had a break between classes at school and my former classmate Ted was also planning a trip around the same time. The plan was for a short trip to London, but what emerged was a high-speed, all-out travel extravaganza encompassing five countries, nine border crossings, and some 13,000 miles in all. Oh yes, and did I mention we did this all in a week?
Here's a brief recap of the adventure:
Upon leaving the airport we hopped the tube (that's a subway for all you "Ugly Americans") and went to the north of the city where we spent the rest of the day. The primary goal for this day was to basically remain conscious for the duration of it. Having lost eight hours to flying and another eight to the difference in time zones, our only hope of beating the jet-lag was to remain awake until a normal bedtime. We stopped off at a pub or two, strolled around Camden market, and wandered through northern London before arriving back a friend's flat for the night.
We arose early Sunday for a day of sightseeing around London. After a brief
look at the the Houses of Parliament & Big Ben, we
stopped off at Westminister Abbey in time to
catch part of the morning service. Before the day was out we had seen
much of the city, including:
the Tower Bridge, St. Paul's
Cathedral, Picadilly Circus,
some important-looking building in Westminister,
Buckingham Palace,
Loyd's of London, Tower of London, and
several highly-armed soldiers.
Having seen so much in such a short time, we quickly became restless. That
night we began to talk about other places we might visit as long as we were
"in the neighborhood." The later it got, however, the crazier our ideas became. Finally,
somewhere around 1:00 AM, we hatched a plan which seemed nearly impossible:
Paris, Venice, Florence, Pisa, Barcelona, and assorted other places along
the way. The trip would be a true test of endurance and stamina, but having
recently overcome our jet-lag, we now felt invincible. There was still a catch, though--the plan hinged on my being able to get an inexpensive flight out of Spain back to London toward the end of the week. Otherwise there just wouldn't be enough time to see it all. We each had to be back in London in time for our flights as our discount tickets had every possible restriction and limitation applied to them. If either of us missed our flight the tickets we were carrying would become basically useless as they carried a 100% cancellation penalty and could not be used on a different flight.
That morning we stopped off at a local student travel agency and found exactly what we needed: a cheap one-way ticket from Barcelona to London on Thursday. Since Ted had a two-week vacation vice my 7 days, he would head south from Barcelona for a week in Seville while I flew north back to London. I'd have one extra day there before catching my flight back home.
And so it was "Barcelona by Thursday or Bust!" We dashed out of the travel agency and made our rush to Waterloo station where we boarded the Eurostar train to take us to Paris via the channel tunnel. Talk about fast! With speeds approaching 200 miles per hour, most of the traffic on the road looked as though it was stopped! Upon arriving in Paris we were able to catch a glimpse of the locomotive which had taken us from London to Paris in just three hours. But enough of that. We had three and a half hours to see as much of Paris as we could. Enough time to see Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, and make it to the train station on the opposite end of the city where we'd be departing from. After a brief bite to eat, it was then time to board the overnight train which would take us through France, Switzerland and into Italy. In the morning we would wake up in Venice.
Ah, Venice. Warm weather, cool breezes, sunny skies, and--wait, what's this
falling from the sky?!? It's snowing!!!! Yes, we
arrived just in time for the first snow of the year. Nevertheless, it didn't
stop us from seeing some of the sights such as St. Mark's
Square along with its many pigeons. Venice
was charming indeed, with its quaint canals and
quiet beauty. However, we were able to capture
a slightly less flattering view of Venice as
we observed a man muddling through a couple feet of sludge down one of the
lesser seen canals. We spent the night in a "pension"
which is Italian for "flop house." But hey, it was cheap--18,000 lire ($12 US) per
night. We had left our bags there prior to touring the city that day so when
we returned to our room that afternoon and found our bags missing,
it did cause us to briefly contemplate the possibility of having to wear the same pair of
underwear for the next five days. Happily though, we were informed by the bellhop
(who also doubled as the front desk clerk, concierge, maid, manager, proprietor,
owner, and hot water monitor) that she had moved us (and our bags) to another room
for some unknown reason. I say "happily," not just because our bags were
safe but also because the room we were moved into had its own
private shower!Ah yes, we were now living in luxury. But before we retired to "champagne wishes and caviar dreams," we were both somewhat in need of a shower. The aforementioned hot water monitor had informed us that "cold showers were free" in her estabishment (of great interest to visiting reptiles), but those warm-blooded creatures who desired hot water would be required to pay-- in advance--the sum of 1,500 lire per 5 minutes of hot water. Having grown somewhat accustomed to hot showers (especially when it's snowing outside), I opted for the ultimate in hedonistic western decadence--a 3,000 lire 10-MINUTE shower! The way it worked was simple--after having paid your money the owner would emerge from her room and sit in her office next to the hot water pump. After the elapsed time had passed on her stopwatch she would flip the switch which I could envision was labeled "ice water/hot water."
As I sat reading a book while Ted was taking his five minute shower, I kept an eye on my watch, noting the time that had elapsed since the shower had started. After 4 minutes 30 seconds the shower was still running. 15 seconds later it was, still going. Another 10 seconds later Ted was still showing no signs of finishing up. As my watch passed over the five minute mark I put down my book and waited. A few seconds later I heard the smallest hint of a "clank" in the pipes followed by a blood-curdling "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" from Ted in the shower. I take it his 1,500 lire had just run out.
After we had showered it was off to bed--we would have to get up early for the next day, which promised to be the busiest of them all!
Wednesday started at around 5:00
AM with an early walk to the train station. Tired and groggy we boarded
our express train for Florence. We had just under two hours to spend there,
which was just enough time to see David,
stop by the Cathederal, and grab a bite to eat.
Then it was back on board another train bound for Pisa, home of the
Leaning Tower. We had exactly one and a half hours,
which we felt would be just enough time to see it. Upon arriving in Pisa we
checked our bags at the train station and began to seek out some kind of
public transportation to get us to the Tower and back. About that time we
bumped into some Canadian tourists who had just returned from the Tower somewhat
dismayed after having made an involuntary $700 donation to a local Pisa
pickpocket. They offered us their unused bus tickets which we gratefully
accepted figuring that the pickpockets at the Tower would probably be taking
an early lunch after their unusually profitable morning.
Our Canadian friends had told us to simply wait at the corner for the #1
bus which would take us to and from the Tower. About that time we saw a bus
marked #1 drive by and drop off passengers but the driver didn't allow
anyone on. This didn't bother us because we had already been told that the
busses ran every 10 minutes. Some 25 minutes later, however, there was still
no bus. This was not good. We had counted on the bus trip saving us the
precious time we needed to get back to the train station at 1:25 PM in time
to catch our train. As we started to discuss
our option we met up with a couple of local girls who looked to be about our age.
They spoke English fairly well and so we told them of our plans to see the
Leaning Tower and about the bus we were trying to catch. "Oh the bus . . . it
twelve o'clock" said one of them. We checked our watches--it was nearing 12:45.
Something had happened at 12:00 but we couldn't figure out what it was.
"What happened at 12:00?" we asked.
"The bus . . . the drivers . . . they stop," came the reply.
"Stop?" "They stop here?"
"No, they stop--they stop all over!"
"What--you don't mean . . . a strike???"
"Yes, yes!" they exclaimed, "A strike!! They strike at 12:00!!"
The girls' excitement over having found the right English word to communicate
what was transpiring was dampened only by our dismay over the situation we
now found ourselves in. At this point, we basically had two options:
forget the Tower and stay around the train station until 1:25 or attempt to
see the Tower and almost certainly miss our train. Having long since abandoned
common sense on our trip, we decided "Ah what the heck--we can make it!"
We asked the girls we had met how to get to the Tower. They gave us a look which seemed to betray the complexity of quickly getting from the train station to the Tower and back. Finally, pointing toward one of the streets opposite the station told us to "go down, down, down--then ask!" We did so, and about halfway to the tower we asked another person who was walking down the street. The woman pointed us down another street, telling us to go down it for a bit, "and ask!" (I gather this must be the standard line they give all the tourists.) The third person we asked was a little old man who graciously offered to show us the way. Unfortunately, he moved at about half our pace and time was passing quickly. Finally the old man told us to turn left at the corner and at the end of the street we would find the Leaning Tower. We quickly thanked him and started to run for it. As we were running around the side of the Tower, Ted managed to snap this picture of me reenacting my former days of running cross-country in high school as we dashed down the sidewalk surrounding the Tower.
The old man who had given us directions warned us not to go back the way we came, telling us we could save time by going down a different road. We debated whether or not to follow his advice as we knew the way we had come and our attempt to take a shortcut might easily cost us more time if we lost our way. But, once again we threw caution to the wind and decided to take the shortcut.
Our dash to the train station consisted of alternately sprinting and then jogging to catch our breath. As we darted through the busy city streets, we each wondered aloud what had happened to the two girls we had met earlier. No sooner had we said the words when we saw them, now eating lunch by the bridge. We stopped off and talked to them for a minute or two before continuing our run for the train. Finally, we saw the station. According to Ted's watch, we were already too late, but we kept running just in case. As we approached the place where we had checked our bags, the attendant saw us coming and quickly brought both of our bags to the counter. We grabbed them and made an all-out sprint for the platform. Of course, we weren't quite sure which platform our train was on, but this didn't slow us down. Ahead of us were a couple of people who were also running for a train. We followed them, and we rounded the corner we saw a sign for the train we were after. As we barrelled up the stairs to the platform, it was clear this was going to be closer than even we had thought. As we crested the top of the stairs, the we saw an open door and dashed in. I exaggerate not when I say that within 10 seconds the doors were closed and the train pulled out. (I hate waiting around in train stations.)
Sweating profusely as we walked through the train looking for a seat, the amazement of what was our closest call yet began to sink in. Had we altered our pace of sprinting and walking, spoke another 30 seconds to the girls we had met, not been noticed by the attendant in the station who brought both of our bags to us, not found the right platform, or encountered any one of a hundred other delays, we would have missed the train. We later found out that had this happened, we would have missed the overnight train to Barcelona and would have had to travel for two solid days to make up for the lost time. Even then, I might have still missed my flight. Fortunately, though we were on our way to Genoa, where we'd pick up another train to Milan, and then an overnight train to Barcelona!
Of course, as luck would have it, we arrived in Milan only to find that the overnight train to Barcelona was sold-out. There were a couple spots left in one of the sleeping cars we discovered--for a small outlay of 220,000 lire ($143 US!) Hmmmm . . . can you say, "American Express" in Italian?
Christopher Columbus was on hand to greet us
as we arrived, his hand still pointing toward the New World.
Though the city was overcast and rainy, we did manage to see several
interesting sights before I had to dash off for the airport. One of the
major highlights of the city was the Temple
de la Sagrada Familia which affords an impressive view of the city
and itself from atop its towers.
Barcelona is also the home of bullfights. I
enjoyed my first authentic bullfight in Barcelona--on the TV set at the
Barcelona Airport while waiting for my
plane. The flight took me back to London in a mere hour and a half--
considerably faster than the same trip by train.
Friday found me back in London, with just enough time to see some of the other sights
I missed earlier, such as Harrod's,
Number 10 Downing Street, and the Cabinet War Rooms.
No trip to London is complete without a trip to Greenwich.
Just through Greenwich Park is the path to the
Old Royal Observatory, where the
Prime Meridian of the World is located. That night I stopped off
for a play and then headed back to the B&B where I was staying.
There was only one thing I had missed throughout my time in London--the
changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. During the winter, the ceremony
occurs every other day, and I had missed it the
first time around. On Saturday my flight was scheduled to depart at 1:40 PM--
the changing of the guard was at 11:30. I recall thinking at the time:
"Let's see . . . 45 minutes to see the changing of the
guard, 15 minutes to run like crazy to the nearest tube station,
a half-hour to get to Heathrow, through late check-in, past security and
passport lines--ah, what the heck--I can make it!!" Well as it turned out I was right, but at some point during my all-out sprint through the crowded airport terminal it became clear that my trip to Buck House was probably one of the more foolish things I had attempted during this trip. (As luck would have it, my flight was departing from one of the farthest gates from the check-in counters.) The moral of the story: while it is possible to get on an international flight at the world's busiest airport in less than 30 minutes, it's generally best to show up two hours early like you're supposed to.
I'm still not quite sure how I made that flight, but I did, and some nine hours later the plane touched down back in the good 'ol USA. Whew!! What an adventure!