I tried to go to Munich today. Yeah, in Germany. Okay, that’s not *exactly* true. More accurate would be to say I didn’t try hard enough to NOT go to Germany today. Alright, the whole truth is that I got on the wrong train like I knew *exactly* what I was doing, and I was well on my way to the land of kraut and wieners before I saved myself and jumped back off. I’m talking Austrian border.

Aaaahhh yes. The joys of travel. 🙃

It was an innocent mistake. I was waiting in Bolzano for the train to get to Sirmione, an ancient village on the southern tip of Lake Garda in northern Italy. The platform was crowded and I was standing next to a lovely elderly Italian woman with twinkly eyes while we waited for the very behind-schedule train that would bring us to Verona. We waited and waited – and the platform continued to fill with people, which, in hindsight, should have been a clue something was up.

But, as we all know, I’m not sleeping enough and I’ve destroyed millions of brain cells with Italian wine at this point, so I just stood there mostly with a blank stare waiting for the sound of wheels on the track to roll up. The woman and I didn’t really try to chat because I think we understood our language differences, though I did comment that the people next to me had a dog that look like a rat and she chuckled and seemed to agree. Probably because it really did look like a rat. Anyway…

A train came into that platform 30 minutes late and I was like, “Thank God, finally!” A whole bunch of people poured off of that train and then I grabbed my bag and, turning to the woman, extended my arm to offer to let her go before me onto the train stairs. She said something to me in Italian that I didn’t understand any part of. But these trains make me so nervous because sometimes they stop for a really short amount of time, as you remember from the story about the woman who lost her shit at me because she couldn’t get off the train in time because I was in her way. LOL. Anyway, I said to the woman with a shrug, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” and then I turned and hustled off towards the stairs. I figured maybe she was waiting for the crowd to thin a little or waiting to go onto a different car of the train or, I didn’t really know what. But I turned on the steps and gave her a friendly wave goodbye and got onto the train.

But there was a tiny niggling red flag that popped up as the train pulled away from the station and I looked out the window and she was still standing in the same spot. The other red flag – people were coming in and through the train car looking for their assigned seats, but my ticket did not have an assigned seat on it. That was weird, I thought. And then the scenery started to change a little bit. It started to get more mountainous – like going through mountain tunnels and stuff and I thought, “Huh. I don’t remember those.” It was a high-speed train and as we sped along, it was starting to look a lot more like I would think that – oh, I don’t know – Austria would look like. That’s funny. At least my geographic markers are on point.

Fear started to well in my throat and I finally asked a pleasant woman behind me, “Is this train going to Verona?” Her eyes got really big and she said in a thick German accent, “Nooooo! Munich.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

But I was stuck unless I was going to James Bond it off the train dragging a 41 pound bag.

It reminded me very much of something that happened 21 years ago when I was traveling with Craig Porter in the United Kingdom. We’d been there for just a couple of days and had no real lay of the land at all. Our phones didn’t work internationally at that time and he had all of our money and the address of our lodging and everything in a fanny pack that he wore. In the very complex tube station in London’s underground, a subway train rolled into the station and we were unsure if we should get on or not. It was like yes, no, yes, no, maybe we shouldn’t. Then we decided yes, so I stepped onto the train but then Craig said “No wait, I don’t think it’s the right one.” As I turned around to answer him, the doors shut behind me and I futilely pressed my hand against the glass as I watched him fade from sight while the train sped away into the tunnels. With pure horror on my face, I spun around and looked at all of the people on the subway car around me, most of whom were staring at me curiously. No money, no idea where I was, and no way to find Craig as I sped off through the belly of London – I was so incredibly screwed.

As a child in Minnesota, they tell you that if you get lost in the woods, you should sit down and wait until the people you were with or who know where you went find you. So I did the most ridiculous, grownup, international version of that ever, in which I just got off at the next stop and I sat out on a bench, planning to sit there until Craig found me. Who knew how many trains going how many places would be leaving that train platform after mine, but I didn’t really have a better option. I knew it could be days. Haha.  End of the story, Craig, in his wisdom or at least his understanding of my wisdom, guessed what I would do and somehow he got on a train traveling the same route and he got off at the first stop and there I was. Amazing.

So this situation felt an awful lot like that except that I have a cell phone now that works in Europe, I had my own money on me, and nobody needed to find me. It was going to be fine, just inconvenient as hell.

There were no attendants at this tiny train station where I got off my Munich-bound train, so I just bit the bullet and bought brand new tickets for my final destination which, of course, ended up costing me what I had originally spent for the train route and then some. But whatever. Waiting for me was a thermal spa hotel in Sirmione – the most indulgent thing I would do for myself on this entire trip before heading back to Minnesota.  It didn’t really matter what it was got cost me to get here because I needed to get to those mud baths.

I’m sitting at an open-air drinkerie having some Aperol spritz drinks and soaking in to the relaxation of not needing to move for a few minutes. i’m so tired. Exhausted really. Lack of sleep and too much on my agenda has caused me to stop with my healing momentum and I’ve still had a sore throat every day, all day for the last week. If we are going to be travelers, we must take better care of ourselves, right? I know that and now I just need to practice that. It’s only 10 PM here but I’m going to walk back to my beautiful, beautiful hotel and go to sleep.

Tomorrow is a work day, but for the first time on this journey, I will be sitting with my laptop next to a pool working rather than crammed into some tiny desk area of a hotel room or an apartment or whatever. Can’t hate that. 

Then it will be time to explore this place, which sincerely took my breath away as the taxi rounded a corner and I could see Lake Garda stretching out in front of me. It is magnificently pretty with its high bluffs going along the shoreline and all of the little villages and resorts carved into that space. The region I’m in right now reminds me a little bit of the Mississippi river valley in that the bluffs are sometimes so sheer and high. And I think about how beautiful it is here, and I am reminded with that of how lucky we are in Winona with its towering bluffs. People by the tens of thousands have crowded here to see this beautiful place. Winona can do that. 

Okay friends – I’m looking forward to being home very soon and seeing you and your smiling faces in person. But for now, ciao and buena sera from Italy ❤️💃😘