in Italian captivity
Rialto Bridge in the background
It was a few years ago, on the last day of our holiday in Italy. Rested with his wife in Venice. The hotel was next to the bus station from where we planned to take the bus to Treviso airport. There was no hurry to pack our bags, especially since there were 4 hours left before the departure of our plane. In general, we “checked out” from the hotel, bought bus tickets, there was nothing to do, there was a lot of time, it was hot - the devil pulled me to offer to hit the road on a vaporetto on one of the islands, enjoy Venice on the path in a shady park.
An easy digression for those who have not been to Venice: since the city is on the water, the only public mode of transport is boats (vaporetto) that run strictly on schedule on different routes, and if time is running out and you miss your vaporetto, you will have to take the nearest one, which can take 2-3 times longer to get to the right place.
That's what happened to us. We sat until the last minute, we didn’t make it to our “minibus”, we had to get to the station by vaporetto, which went through the whole city with a bunch of stops.
Saint Helena, where we "overslept" the vaporetto we needed
There was 1.5 hours left before the plane's departure, when we finally got to the bus station. At that moment, we were not particularly worried, since our bus was about to arrive, on which it would take some 40 minutes to go. According to my calculations, upon arrival at the airport, we should have had 50 minutes of "iron" time left for baggage and passport control.
But what was our surprise when neither after 5 minutes nor after 10 our bus did not appear. And suddenly we find out that on Fridays (and it was on Friday) our bus has a short day, and the last one left 20 minutes before our arrival.
There is about 35 euros in my pocket. What to do? We can't take a taxi to Treviso (you need at least 50 euros). We emptied the bank card the day before. We rushed to the railway station, which is nearby, hoping to catch the train to Treviso, and then take a taxi to the airport. It was the only chance.
We bought 2 tickets for 10 euros. We found our train, sat down. Another 15 minutes he stood, an infection. Moved…
40 minutes before the plane's departure. We arrive at the railway station in Treviso. Rushed to the exit, looking for taxi drivers. Found. Agreed for 15 euros. Let's go. About 25 minutes before the plane's departure, we “fly in” to the airport, look for our counter - there is a tumbleweed, and two young ladies chirp cheerfully with each other. We are to them. We explain, they say, this way and that, we were late, we were in a hurry as we could, miss it. One of them, without much enthusiasm, with the phrase “It’s very difficult”, calls somewhere, says something, and then tells us “Sorry. Bye-bye, ”and turning to her friend, she continues to talk about her. We are still sure that if there had been another employee instead of her, she would have persuaded us to accept. The human factor, be it wrong!
We are shocked. 10 euros or so in my pocket. There is no free Wi-Fi in the airport building. I ran around the entire airport in search of an Internet map, but in vain. You can connect to Wi-Fi by paying with a credit card. But you need to have at least 5 euros on your account to have enough for 1 hour of the Internet. And - oh, a miracle! - I remember that on my second card there should be about 5 euros. There is! We connect to the Internet. Knowing that no one is going anywhere today, you need to somehow book tickets for tomorrow and solve the problem of accommodation for the night (the suitcases are full of food that needs a refrigerator, and sitting at the airport for more than a day is not inspiring). I'm booking a hotel in Treviso, which I still need to somehow get to. Free wi-fi was the main search criterion. We photograph a map with the location of the hotel in order to somehow navigate. We read which bus to get on.
It's evening. It's time to get on the road. Looking for a bus stop. Found. Our bus is not there. By and large, it was possible to walk to the hotel on foot, it would take an hour or so to hobble. But the trouble is that the road to it lay across the bridge, where no passage was provided for pedestrians. We were convinced of this personally when we dragged a suitcase with bags along the roadway.
Long way to the hotel
We turned back. Found another bus stop. We decided which bus would come - we would sit on that one, since it was already almost 9 pm, and we practically did not see buses. Settled on a bench, waiting. A man drives by in a jeep, stops, asks if we need to go to the airport. I wanted a friendly ride.
40 minutes passed, and here it is - the bus! We are only on the steps, and the driver immediately reports that the fare is 5 euros from the nose. I give you the last ten. And what to do...
And here we are rushing along the motorway familiar to us in anticipation of a clean bed and free Internet so that we can Skype with friends and family. And then the bus, instead of going straight, turns right behind the bridge. And we are heading in an unknown direction through a strange city.
Nerves give out, at one of the stops we approach the driver and pitifully ask about the street we need, poking a finger at the touch screen of the camera with a map. The driver spoke English, looked carefully, and uttered the killer phrase: "We're not going there. " And at that moment, when his eyes darkened and his legs buckled, he added that even though the bus does not go there, he will drop us off in the area as close as possible to the hotel, and explain how to get there. Phew, saved! The driver kept his word.
Hungry, tired, thirsty, we wandered through the half-empty streets at night for an hour, until we finally reached our hotel. Settled. Washed up. Got drunk. On the clock - the beginning of the first night. It's time to look for money.
There was no point in harassing parents about this. At night they have nowhere to send money. We needed a person who could instantly transfer the required amount electronically. And I did find it! My former colleague, who owes me nothing and with whom I had an exclusively working relationship, after hearing my story, transferred the money that he had without further questions. Respect to you, Dima!
This money was enough to buy tickets for tomorrow, which we printed out in the morning. But there was another problem - how to pay the hotel? No cash, euros on bank cards too.
Digression: the fact is that the card to which my friend transferred the money was not with me, but at home, I remembered its number and code, so paying for services on the Internet was not a problem, no one could physically demand its presence . But what about the hotel?
The next morning, I went to the administrator and explained the situation, warning that the money, they say, seems to be there, but it seems not to be. However, this situation did not surprise him at all, with the words “No problems! ” he took out some kind of form, asking him to sign, after which I gave him the details, he entered them in his terminal, and our accommodation was immediately paid off.
After having breakfast with a calm soul, we remember: well, the tickets are bought, the hotel is paid - but how to get to the airport?
I approach the administrator again. He gives a map, explains where the stop is, and even more - he takes out 2 tickets and, with the words “Friya”, hands me. Apparently, my story had a greater effect than I expected. Fearing that the whole hotel was about to start discounting food and clothes, I dug into my pockets and found three euros in change, which I returned to him (the cost of a bus ticket is 1.5 euros, but if you pay at the entrance to the driver, as we did the day before , then it is already 5 euros). It's nice when there are adequate and understanding people in a difficult situation.
Then everything is trivial and uneventful: we waited for the right bus at the bus stop, arrived with a breeze 15 minutes before the airport, and flew home.
This is the story. Draw your own conclusions, especially since they are obvious : )
