My Peruvian Mayhem : Adventure #4

Last but not least.  We were visiting the “Museo of Gold” in Lima when an earthquake hit. The ground floor of the museum displays armors and weaponry. The Inca gold and the mummies are stored in the basement. I was in the basement gift shop when the shaking began. I could see the glassware rocking on the shelves, the ground was rumbling, 2 locals took off running away from the gift shop. I stood still, waiting for the shaking to subside. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, but the experience was unforgettable. Nothing broke. No injury. No alarm was sounded. I carried on to finish my shopping. Life goes on as we know it.  After the hostage crisis, it takes a lot more to scare me. Though I am not sure if it is a good thing or not.......

Would I visit Peru again? Absolutely. If I can physically hike up 1,000 steps in 12,600’ above sea level, sure, why not? The Inca Moray and the salt fields in the village Maras were amazing. It is one of those moments unless you experience it first hand, all the readings, postcards, and TV programs would not do it justice. You have to experience it for yourself to truly appreciate the beauty of the earth. I enjoyed this trip as much as I did with my other travel, have no regrets and would encourage others to do the same.  I cannot predict when will I be in the wrong place or in the right place, might as well enjoy myself as much as I could J

My Peruvian Mayhem : Adventure #3

Adventure #3 was kind of my fault and I am embarrassed to say the least but did secretly laughed at myself!!!  We took a flight from Puno to Lima. For goodness sake, NO MORE BUS RIDE!!! Everybody was exhausted from the hostage ordeal. I fell asleep on the plane before it even took off. I awoke to people removing their luggage from the overhead bin, exiting the plane so I jumped up and grabbed my carry-on to follow the crowd, worried I might be left behind. Separation anxiety was kicking in!!! 

As I followed the crowd from the tarmac towards the airport terminal, I asked myself how come the airport marquee on the roof did not have the word “Lima”?  I looked around and saw no familiar faces from my tour group behind me (because I thought they were ahead of me). Thank God, I had my big mouth to ask other passengers on the tarmac “Are we in Lima?” They said “This is Arequipa!!!” I took off running from the tarmac back onto the plane and saw my group chatting among themselves or sleeping at the back of the plane. I then learned that it was NOT a direct flight from Puno to Lima!!! We were told not to disembark after we took our seats. I guess I missed the announcements because I was already asleep. I really did not need any more drama J

My Peruvian Mayhem : Adventure #2

Adventure #2 was BAD!!!.  A major glitch in the tour planning.  Many tourists were angry and contemplated legal actions against the local tour company who knowingly put us in danger. I was sure when everyone calmed down, we’ll let bygones be bygones.

We had an early morning departure to catch the local “Greyhound” for a ride to Lake Titicaca in Puno (southern Peru). It was a 12-hour bus ride so an evening arrival was expected. Our original tour director, Lucero, came down with the flu. Another tourist, Karen took ill after last evening’s seafood dinner at a local museum cafe and had to be hospitalized. The plan was for Lucero to remain in Cuzco with Karen. They were to meet up with our group in Lima and skipped the Puno leg of the tour.

The rest of us went with a new tour director Michael onward to Puno. Michael announced due to a local strike, instead of traveling on the major highway, we would take an alternate route through some mountain passes at 18,000 ft and would see some fantastic scenery instead of the Pan American Highway.

We learned the strike was about the government wanting to build a hydroelectric plant in the area, thus privatizing local water. The local villagers were dirt poor farmers and they have been getting their water free since the beginning of time and didn’t want to have a monthly water bill, hence, the strike.  Thank goodness the villagers had no weapons. Instead, they placed large boulders and rocks all over the highway to block tour buses and stopped traffic. They demanded the Peruvian President to come to their village for a face-to-face talk. That was why we had to take the mountain pass, the alternate route to get to Puno. Except as fate had it the day we traveled was also the day the King and Queen of Spain were to meet with the Peruvian President in Lima (major media coverage). The villagers knew all tour buses would use the alternate route instead of the paved Pan American highway and they were waiting for us to “arrive”. 

As our bus crossed the 1st bridge, we saw police dressed in riot gears (I mean helmets, shields, batons, etc.) gathered by the bridge but they did not stop our bus, we actually waved at them, and they waved back. (Remember, we did not know about the King and Queen of Spain until afterwards.) After we crossed the bridge, our bus drove on for a mile or so and eventually came to a halt because there were huge boulders blocking our way to cross the 2^nd bridge. There were 6 tour buses traveling in the same direction.  The 4^th, 5^th and 6^th bus saw the blockade ahead and they turned around and got the hell out of dodge.  The 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd tour buses (we were bus #1, the tour buses were independent of each other, just happened to be going the same direction) decided to hang around because Michael said the villagers just wanted to make a point, after 20 minutes they would remove the rocks and let us go, at least that was what happened to him in the past. (Wait a minute, it happened before???) Sure, 20 minutes wait was nothing, we got off the bus, stretched and took in some fresh air. We waved at the local villagers as they walked past our bus towards the 1^st bridge we just crossed. The villagers were friendly.  After about an hour, we could see a large crowd had assembled between bus #3 and the bridge and some men were using large poles to roll additional boulders behind our bus. Now, we have boulders in front of our bus and behind our bus. We were officially trapped.

To make a long story slightly shorter, there were multiple villages in the assembly, all but one village voted to free the tourists, they acknowledged tourists were good to them, tourists were good for them. But the bad village said “no” and they stood at a higher terrace by the hillside, about 10’ above ground and threw stones at whoever tried to cross the 2^nd bridge. Michael and the bus driver went from negotiating with the villagers to a shouting match about letting the tourists crossed the 2^nd bridge to no avail. Michael climbed up to the hill top to get a cell phone signal and called the local tour company to send help but was told to wait it out. There were no police, no military on site. Michael even called the US Consulate for help. The phone call was made, the US Consulate registered our complaints and that was their answer on the phone???  At one point, the regional mayor was coming from an hour away to negotiate our release, except the mayor got kidnapped on his way to save us and now he had to be saved.

Next thing I learned was the crowd behind our bus had set the bridge we crossed earlier on fire and did a “good job” gutting it. We could not turn back. Our only option was to persuade the villagers to let us go forward, to cross the bridge ahead of us. One of the 3 tour buses that was trapped carried Russian tourists and among them, 10 huge Russians. In hindsight, we speculated may be they were military or special forces. They were all 6’ tall and weighed 200 lbs. It was getting dark in the evening and the Russians decided to bluff since obviously, no police, no military or any US Consulate personnel were coming to free us. We had to help ourselves. Nobody wanted to spend the night there. The Russians went up the hill and started pushing and kicking the bad villagers who were throwing rocks at whoever, whatever were trying to cross the 2^nd bridge. People got bloody noses. People were injured in the fight. While the Russians were busy fighting the bad guys to prevent further stone throwing events, the men on our bus (the Americans and other men from the other tour bus, I chatted with some of them and they were Brits) took the opportunity to grab those large poles to roll the boulders off the road, others removed stones from the road by hand and cleared enough of a stretch for the bus to get by. Our bus driver, a local Peruvian saw the chance and ran our bus across the bridge with us women on board. The wives on our bus were screaming for the driver to stop, thinking our bus driver was just gonna drove away without their husbands. Once he crossed the bridge, our men ran across the bridge and hopped on the bus and we drove away as fast as we could, the Russian bus and the other bus were right behind us.

It was 2:00am when we finally arrived at the hotel in Puno. What a relief! It was a bad day indeed.  We later learned from the news that the police we saw at the 1^st bridge got into a fight with the villagers when the bridge was set on fire. Some 40 policemen were injured according to BBC World News.  At one point, I asked the bus hostess (she served us hot tea, etc.) if we were safe. She answered “No”.  I asked if she spoke English, wanting to learn more about the villagers dispute. She hand-gestured “a little bit”. I asked her the same question the 2^nd time after awhile if we were safe and again, she said “No”.  As we surfed the internet at the Puno hotel the following day, we learned that the villagers threw stones at an Australian tour bus 2 days ago, some windows on the Aussie tour bus were cracked.  Another group of students (foreigners) were on their high school graduation trip to Peru and unfortunately, the group was detained by local villagers overnight.  I did not find any news articles about their release, only their detainment, so I did not know the outcome. I guess the high school chaperons would not have done the same as the Russians did, wanting to make sure none of their students were physically harmed so they avoid a confrontation.  We tourists had no plans either because we did not anticipate scenarios as such. We certainly did not spend time watching the local news. We were on VACATION.  When it happened to us, we were in a “wait-and-see what happened next” mentality. Until the Russians got mad and started shuffling locals, did we seize the opportunity to move the boulders to clear the road, our bus driver then took the chance to dash across the 2^nd bridge, the men then ran across the bridge to jump on the bus and we drove as fast as we could, zigzagging on the road to avoid the rocks which were already there (but not huge boulders).  Well, that was the worst day on the trip but I truly believe “we were in the wrong place at the wrong time”.  I understood where the villagers’ coming from. They did not intend to harm us.  It was NOT us they were targeting but they just had to use us (tourists) to get the government’s attention.

My Peruvian Mayhem : Adventure #1.......2008

Peru is a very scenic country with high mountains, roaring rivers, good food, affordable shopping and friendly locals.  I have really enjoyed my visit. However, since the Inca and most tribes worshipped the Sun God and wanting to be near the Sun/their God, they built huge stone temples on mountain top to be closer to their God, hence, every archaeological ruins are guaranteed a grueling hike in high altitude. It is a country best suited for physically fit people who can breathe in high altitude and walk up 1,000 stone steps with no physical repercussions.  And if you can tough it out, the rewards is amazing.

My Peruvian adventure was highlighted with 4 major events. Here is the 1st one...

Adventure #1 : We rode the glass dome train from the Urubamba Sacred Valley to the Municipality of Machu Picchu, located by the foot hill of the ancient Inca ruins. A 45 minutes bus ride up the snake path took us to the entrance of the Machu Picchu National Park. We were blessed with sunny weather and learned all about its history through a very knowledgeable local guide, who was part Inca himself.  The down side was we returned to our hotel with no electricity. No power, no plumbing, no water pressure, no lights, no TV, all the modern amenities we city folks were so accustomed to, none were available. A utility tower was toppled over in the nearby valley causing the entire region to lose power. 

Our hotel was 1 of 2 who has its own power generator. I learned later that their power generator was only turned on from 4:30p to 11:00p so that hotel guests returned from the day-long hiking to Machu Picchu could have the basics in their hotel rooms. Some rooms had a drainage problem. Marilyn said Bob was standing in 4 inches of bathtub water to take his shower after she took her shower. It was gross!  In addition to the inconvenience, there were ants and bugs on my bed. I didn’t want to be a whiner and since we were only spending one night in that hotel, I took some toilet paper and just meshed the ants and bugs on my bed. My bed sheets had dark spots all over due to the frequent “bug meshing” event. But the bugs population put up a good fight.

Eventually I called the front desk and asked for 3 large bath towels. I wrapped myself up like a mummy and slept on the bed. Except I did not know the hotel turned off their power generator at 11:00p and suddenly, everything went dark. I groped around the furniture to get to the window, only to realize the whole town went dark…..

It was pouring rain the next morning. Many on the tour returned to Machu Picchu for a 2nd viewing on their own despite of the elements. I just spent the day walking around town, visited every labeled site on the local tourists map way before our 5:00pm evening departure.  Machu Picchu was amazing. I encourage everybody to go visit.

Who’s there? 2007…..Fez, Morocco

Our hotel in Fez was conveniently located within walking distance to the 2 major roads, Mohammed V and Hassan II. The hotel was nicely decorated Moroccan style but it must be old because the elevator could take only 4 people at a time and there were hotel personnel to make sure we didn’t cheat. My room has everything I need, though basic, the air conditioning didn’t work and there were ants on my bed. Peggy (a retired teacher) was assigned to Room 401. Me next door at 403. Jeffrey’s room is directly across from mine.

Dinner was included the night we arrived at Fez at the hotel. I asked Ms. Peggy if she wanted to go downstairs for dinner but she declined stating she brought some food with her and that she did not feel good. I went by myself and sat at an empty table in the dining hall. Jeffrey joined me shortly after. When dinner was finished, Jeffrey asked me “would you fancy one last drink?” He came across as such as nice fellow, so why not, I said yes but then we ran into another group of tourists in the lobby, they invited us to join them to walk to the nearby McDonald. They wanted to try out the menu from a Moroccan McDonald. (Did I mention we just finished dinner?) I was really tired but didn’t want to decline Jeffrey. Now that the group had invited us, he could join the group, and I could go upstairs and retired for the evening.

I could hear footsteps loud and clear in the middle of the night. Thank goodness I turned on the bathroom light with the bathroom door cracked open just to avoid running into furniture. Many times I awoke for no apparent reason; having the feeling someone was going to appear at the foot of my bed. I kept waking up throughout the night and each time, I looked up and thought someone was standing at the foot of my bed. I suspected Ms. Peggy must be up sick all night and walked around her room because I could hear her sandals dragging on the floor through these thin walls.

Jeffrey, Peggy and I shared the breakfast table next morning. I mentioned to them I did not sleep well, kept waking up and expecting someone at the foot of my bed. I asked Peggy how was her sleep because I could hear her walking in the room, suspecting she could not sleep either. Peggy turned and looked at me; puzzled….she said she complained to the hotel front desk about the ants in her room. They moved her to another room. Her room was not occupied. Jeffrey said someone was turning his door knobs all through the night, trying to get into his room. We paused and looked at each other, not wanting to contemplate what could it be………

Moroccan Wedding……….Fez, Morocco 2007

Did I tell you I hated audience participation!!! 

It was an organized dinner for foreign tourists at a local Moroccan residence. The house owner turned his inside courtyard into a restaurant. The themed dinner was titled “A Moroccan Evening” complete with fire eaters, snake charmers, belly dancers, magicians, acrobats, drummers who twirled the tassels on their hats while playing their drums. The food was good, the atmosphere was very Moroccan and everybody was having a good time. The last act for the evening was to invite a man and a woman from the audience and dressed them up like bride and groom and have a traditional Moroccan wedding as the program finale, to complete this festive dining experience. 

When I first arrived for the evening, I dashed for the last table at the far corner by the kitchen and sat next to a column, trying to look as inconspicuous as I possibly could. Knowing with live entertainment, there bound to be audience participation. In fact, many tourists volunteered for Moroccan folk dancing, assisted in magician’s acts, tried out Moroccan musical instruments, etc. 

Of course, my plan of “this audience not participating” backfired and I was picked, forced to play the bride. They grabbed my arm and dragged me to the wardrobe department upstairs. Worse, they picked the guy who sat next to me as the groom, nothing against Corey, he’s a nice guy, except he and his wife (in real life) were on their honeymoon and Michelle was sitting on the other side of Corey at the same table!!! Why couldn’t they pick her instead!!! I even yelled “That’s his wife, pick her…..” With all the loud music, either they could not hear me or they just ignored me. Needless to say, we were the joke for the rest of the tour. 

Good grief!!! They put layers upon layers of colorful robes on me, tied a shield to my chest and hung gold and silver jewelry, gold chains and everything on the shield like I was a display case for a mobile jewelry store. To top that, they tied some rectangular head gear/bridal decorations on top of my head…and when it was all said and done, I looked like a Cleopatra-Flying Nun. I was supposed to be a Moroccan bride! My costume was so bulky and heavy, they had to help me get up from my seat. I told Corey, eloping was out of the question, all these gears they put on me were too heavy to even walk to the washhroom. But then, our eloping would be well financed.

Next, the emcee and the stage hand walked us downstairs and put us on stage.  So I sat there and smiled, and occasionally laughed out loud and let people took pictures. But the story got thicker….the next thing I knew was the emcee asked for my hand, he led me to a round wooden plate and told me to sit down. I hesitated for a second because with all the gears, I was thinking how to position myself to sit on the floor without falling. He suddenly pressed hard on my shoulders and I literally folded my legs and fell onto that wooden plate on the floor.  3 Moroccan men and 2 Moroccan women hoisted the wooden plate with me and all my “belongings” up on their shoulders and started spinning me around.  I screamed “HELP”. But everybody was clapping their hands yelling “Good Job Shirley!!!”  I had a good laugh but still hated audience participation J

Kung Fu Panda in Copenhagen 2010 

Arrived Copenhagen one early Saturday morning and had the rest of the day to myself. I explored the city on foot, watched the guard changing ceremony at Amalienborg Palace, went to the Marble Church, even took a canal cruise to see the city from the water. Well, Scandinavian weather means frequent rain showers. Of course, I chose an open roof tour boat because it was not raining at the time. My rain jacket was no match to the constant showers, it lost the battle and I was left soaked and wet for the hour long cruise and of course, soaked and wet from the long walk back to my hotel. Nice welcome from Denmark I thought. As I approached my hotel, I looked up and locked eyes for 1 second with this guy in a tweed jacket. No, it was not Professor Robert Langdon from “The Da Vinci Code”. The guy kept walking. I turned around and instinctively hollered “Excuse me, do you work for an engineering firm in so-and-so city?” The guy turned around and responded “do I know you?” He did not recognize me at all. I recognized Jacob’s face from company announcements. He worked at 1 of our offices, who was taking a sabbatical to study some green engineering stuff in Stockholm. He had no idea who I was. As a matter of fact, we didn’t know each other; never spoke to each other, though we worked for the same company in the same office. I introduced myself and mentioned some common co-workers we both knew. Jacob reached out and shook my hand. He was kind enough to offer to buy me a cup of coffee. (Did I mention I was so soaked and wet?) I thanked him for his offer but suggested he moved on with his appointment. I desperately needed a change of clothes and re-washed my hair with tap water instead of rain water.

When I looked into the bathroom mirror, I watched in horror that not only my clothes and my hair were soaked, my eye makeup has melted, I looked like a panda, I looked like Alice Cooper, no wonder why he had no clue who I was, perhaps terrified that I even knew his name. I was glad to decline the invitation to coffee (looking the way I looked at that moment), the best decision of the day!!! What are the chances that 2 people worked in the same office, who didn’t know each other, ran into each other across the ocean, in a faraway place???

But it can happen……

I remembered Debbie told me her family took a vacation to Florida. They ran into their next door neighbor in the same Florida hotel, who was taking the same week for a vacation to Florida. Except they did not tell each other ahead of time about their vacation destination to “you guess it”, Florida.

One early morning in 1999.......Cairo, Egypt

It was an early morning pickup for our return flights home from Cairo, Egypt back to the US. I think there were 10 of us packed into this minivan with our luggage tied to the top of the vehicle.

It was sometime between 5:00am to 5:30am so it was still dark outside. The enthusiastic Egyptian driver showed up on time and off we went. Our hotel, the Pyramid Park Hotel was just a mile down from the incredibly amazing and super gigantic Pyramids of Giza.

Seemed like everybody in Egypt drove in the dark, to preserve battery life, nobody turned on their headlights at night while driving. I remembered our convoy of 4 tour buses drove through the Sinai Peninsula in the dark. We were escorted by 3 Egyptian police cars. One in the front, one followed at the back and another police car drove by our side. We all drove in the dark. I was told this was done not only to preserve car battery life but also to avoid being robbed by bandits. Some people were afraid of such implications. I thought it was an adventure and eventually overcame by fatigue. I slept through most of the journey across the Sinai Peninsula.  The only thing I remembered driving across the Sinai Peninsula was a stop we made in the middle of the desert, it was a sandwich shop for tourists to get a bite, to use the washroom, buy snacks, etc. There were men outside the store smoking water pipes. What got my attention was this gigantic color TV at the entrance to the sandwich shop playing MTV in the middle of the Egyptian desert?  What have we done to these people? We broadcasted to these desert folks MTV programming from America, hilarious!!!

Here we were again, driving in the dark through the streets of Cairo with no headlights. To make matters worse, I realized our driver was driving on the wrong side of the traffic. The road was divided by concrete blocks in the center. Our driver would have to drive up to an opening in the concrete median to make a U-turn in order to get into the correct traffic direction. I supposed that was asking too much. Since it was so early in the morning, the street remained abandoned, so he drove in the wrong traffic direction with no headlights.

Nobody said anything to the driver. I guessed we all assumed he would turn into the right traffic direction in the next “opening” in the concrete median but that didn’t happen. As we murmured among ourselves, I could see a jeep parked across the road with 2 Egyptian policemen in their checkered headdress looking over at our “high speed minivan” hurtling down the opposite traffic lane. The police gave chase immediately. At one point, they were paralleled our minivan, separated by the concrete median. The police were yelling at our van, waving for us to stop. Now that they were much closer, I could see the machine gun mounted in the front of their green jeep.

We decided to speak out or some decided to yell at the driver to “stop this car immediately” but to no avail. The driver kept driving or was he evading the police, depended on how you looked at the situation. The police caught up with us at the next concrete opening, they cut in front of us and forced our van to a halt. The angry police confronted our driver. Our driver got out of the van, an argument broke, we thought our driver would be arrested and we would miss our flights home. To our surprise, the driver strike the police with his elbow and knocked 1 of the policemen to the ground. Our driver jumped back into the van and took off with us “IN SHOCK”. I was sitting at the very back of the van. I turned around and saw the policeman got up from the ground, and the chase was intensified and one of the policemen was holding the machine gun, the other one pursuing us.

Some of us got upset and decided to scream at our driver while he was busy concentrating on running through stop signs and red traffic lights. Pearl (another tourist sitting directly in front of me) told me she wanted to throw up. I suggested her to wait til later; it wasn’t a good thing for the present moment. I turned to Dennis (another tourist sitting next to me. Dennis was US Army), who was looking awful calm, and asked if he would kick the back window open in the event if our minivan rolled over or hit the concrete median. If he could get himself out from the back window and then to pull me out. I would pull Pearl out. Once we free ourselves through the back window, we could help the others to get out from the side windows. I thought I should plan ahead since people sitting in front of us were either screaming or getting sick. Quite frankly, it did not look good. Our driver just assaulted the police. A jeep with a mounted machine gun driven by 2 angry policemen was chasing us. We were driving on the wrong side of the road. The minivan could be/may be top heavy with our entire luggage on the top. Slow speed may be do-able. High speed highly NOT recommended under the circumstance. Thank goodness it was still early in the morning and the streets remain deserted even though we were still speeding down the wrong side of the road, it could not get any worse. Until this oil tanker kept honking at us, bearing down the road directly towards our minivan. Suddenly, it seemed like everything came to a slow motion……..I could see the tanker braking hard because its hull started to jackknife. Our minivan also braked hard. Everybody lurched forward screaming, trying to hold onto our seats (Oh I forgot, there were no seat belts!!!) Both vehicles skidded to a complete stop with the oil tanker’s hull diagonally blocking our van.

Some of us became very angry, we passed the screaming phase, and words were shouted at our driver. Instead, our driver backed up and sneaked past the small opening between the back of the tanker and the concrete median. He finally took the next opening in the median and joined the CORRECT traffic flow. I turned around and saw the Egyptian police car stopped by the oil tanker. The police did not pursue us any further. Though I cannot see how they would miss the business name and phone number imprinted on the driver side door of the minivan. It would be more prudent to contact the driver later than to risk innocent lives and unthinkable accident. We were just tourists visiting the Great Pyramids of Giza and all the historical treasures of Egypt. We did not come to get traffic tickets. We could do that back home easily without help.

We arrived at the Cairo International Airport with more policemen patrolling on the airport’s flat roof, their machine guns pointing down. They did not know what had just happened. I was glad nobody radioed in “look for a minivan with screaming American tourists heading towards the airport….” Though we were intact physically, could not say we were mentally or psychologically intact for a brief moment after such intense experience.

Glad it was over and the experience became a story to tell, an adventure to remember but it was not funny at all during the chase. It was truly terrifying.

Oh, 1 more thing......I was the only one from our van to tip the driver when we got off at the airport :)

Thanksgiving evening 2001…Florence, Italy

My long time travel agent told me she would not be disappointed if I chose to cancel the tour, after all, it was just 2 months after 9-11. Just about every customer who had booked foreign travel had already canceled their plans. Her boss told them she did not plan to lay off anybody for as long as she could.

I told Charlotte I do not subscribe to bully mentality. I was going to Italy as planned.

The tour was fine. People were nervous. Italy is the most beautiful country I have visited by far. I was having a great time. I was having such a good time seeing Italy I decided to venture on my own in Florence. After all, it was Thanksgiving Day and I have much to be thankful for.  A few others on the tour wanted to join me for my evening adventure.  I found excuses because I wanted to experience Florence on my own. In hindsight, maybe I should have joined them instead.

Our hotel was 2 train stations outside of Florence’s main station. Riding into Florence was easy; just get off at the last station. Coming back was a bit tricky. Not knowing Italian, I was not able to communicate with the locals or with the train station personnel to inquire about departure schedule but I managed. I were to get off at the 2^nd station from Florence heading to Pisa. I got on the right train, I even double confirmed with another passenger on the train. Though the wrong passenger to get my confirmation from, the guy was too busy on the cell phone, I think he just said yes to whatever question I asked. But then, he was the only other passenger in our compartment.

I got off at the 2^nd station the train stopped like I was supposed to. Once I got off the train, I knew something was wrong. The train took off and I found myself standing on an island in the middle of many railroad tracks. The station was dark, there were nobody but me. I looked up and saw a distant billboard showing 11◦C. The train station looked deserted, and was obviously “not operational”. There was no one else but me. Why did the train stop? It was the 2^nd stop since the Florence main terminal. My fear kicked in and I heard yelling. A shadow was jumping on the platform, waving his arms wildly and hollering at me in a foreign language?

I walked towards the shadow figure on the platform only to be hollered “Why did you get off the train?” I explained to the lone figure of what had just happened. He sighed and explained that was a switching station. Trains do not and were not supposed to stop. He did not know why the train stop and that was why he came out to see what happened and after the train left, he saw me standing in the middle of the railroad tracks carrying 2 large bags and that was when he hollered at me to get off the tracks.

He invited me into his office to get out of the cold. My panic subsided and began my inquiry of alternate means to get back to the hotel. We introduced ourselves. I learned that he has been working at the switching station for the past 10 years and this was the 1^st time anybody had ever got off the train at the switching station. He told me I could go back to the Florence main terminal for another train to restart my journey back to my hotel. But the problem was if no train stops at the switching station, how could I get on another train back to the Florence main terminal. OK, moving onto plan B…how about a taxi cab? He called and the taxi driver said it would cost me about $45 US dollar. I was more than willing to pay that amount to travel 11 miles back to my hotel to put this behind me. Frankly, I was embarrassed and worried at the time. I heard him arguing with the cab driver and then he hung up. Came to find out the cab driver did not want to drive me out of town to my hotel because he most likely would not find another customer to ride his taxi back into town and he would lose money. After all, gas was $5.00 a gallon at the time.  How about plan C…. I could take the public bus but that involved changing buses, plus I would need to walk a mile to get to the bus station. That may not be a good idea. Since it was dark with few pedestrians (shortly after 8:30pm), 11◦C, walking with 2 large shopping bags of Christmas gifts and a purse strapped across my chest may be a target for robbery, so scratch plan C. Well, how about calling my hotel for a pickup.  At least I brought the hotel business card with the address on it, except he called and the hotel did not do pickup, so the “hotel shuttle” option was also scratched or because it never exists to begin with. I was stuck!!!  Meanwhile, I could see trains after trains flying past the switching station, NOT STOPPING!!!

His name was Bloodymire (I guess)? He spoke broken English. I spoke no Italian. After a few repeated introductions, I decided to call him “Bloody Mary”. “Bloody Mary” told me if I would wait until he got off work at midnight, he would drive me back to my hotel. Since he was the only one at the switching station, he would have to wait until the guy from the midnight shift (the next shift) to come in before he could leave. I was just too happy to accept his offer, seeing there were no other viable alternatives. Bloody Mary drove a beat up 2 doors Honda Civic, the heater was not working, there was no defrost, so as we drove, we had to roll down the windows and be the windshield wipper and wiped the wind shield to prevent it from fogging up.  Thank God he found my hotel. I insisted him accepting the would-be taxi cab fare the taxi driver was asking for. He was kind enough to help a stranded tourist and declined the money. I insisted. I was lucky to run into Bloody Mary.

I met the guy who came in for the midnight shift. His shift would last from midnight to 8:00am the following morning. Even if he was willing to drive me, he could not leave the station until his shift was over, not to mention he arrived on a M-O-T-O-R-C-Y-C-L-E. Can you imagine me riding on his motorcycle with 2 large shopping bags hanging from each of my arm for a distance of 11 miles at 11 degrees celsius?