Misadventures of Missing trains

April 23rd, 2005.
The action begins…

The next morning we were to catch a train to Milan and from there on to Paris. At Paris the next morning we were to board the Air France plane to Mumbai. We happily took the shuttle service from the campsite to the railway station. We were scheduled to take a train from Rome to Milan and then to Paris. All trains on this route had to be reserved before hand even though we had a Eurail pass. After braving through a long queue at Rome we were told that all trains to Milan were full. We had to at any cost board a train now since the entire leg of the journey was nearly 13 hours. So we simply boarded a train to Florence since that was one stop ahead of Milan. Here we went unreserved sitting at the entrance in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge Style and managed to sweet talk the ticket collector to let us stay on the train till Florence.

It was half past twelve. The last train from Milan to Paris was at four. We had to catch that train at any cost. As we alighted at Florence and were planning our journey further we were informed that all trains from Milan to Paris were also booked. So we toyed with the option of taking some other train other than Eurail but they simply did not fit our plan. It was then we stepped out of the railway station to see if there were buses plying. To our dismay there were no buses whatsoever. So we ran back to the station and decided to get to Milan some how since it is far better connected. We trudged our way to Milan. Amidst all this I remember that Florence looked like a beautiful city and regret that we could not make it to there in spite of an Italian friend’s good advice.

It was half past four. We made it to Milan. Again we looked at the rail option. No luck. Then we looked at the bus option. Still no luck. The tension was mounting up. We enquired about the taxi option. Since we were six of us we had to make it two cabs and that would cost us a whopping two thousand euros! Our hearts sank and we simply looked the other way. Then we split ourselves up. While one group tried to speak to some travel agents the other was trying to research the net at an Internet café. Both did not find any luck.

It was half past six. The only option in front of us was to take any low cost air ticket and reach Paris, for we had a flight to catch the next day. We hurriedly took a bus from Milano Centrale to Malpensa Air port. The ride was by far the longest rides in my life. Very few words were exchanged. All fingers were crossed. There was tension in the air. It was on this ride that my opinions of Milan changed and I learnt never to form opinions in such a hurry. The bus ride took us a good one-hour. Milan was a beautiful city. The wide roads and flyovers coupled with the well-planned green spaces gave it a very contemporary look. We even passed by San Siro, the famous soccer ground. We really did not notice much since the temperature was rising even though the air outside was frigid.

It was half past eight. The only option left with us was to take a cheap air ticket to Paris. We were trying to board a no frills airline like Ryan Air. After knocking on the doors of many airlines at the Milan Airport, which were just closing their shutters for the day, we were still quite luckless. Then there was one kind lady from Al Italia who told us that the cheapest flight we could take would cost us 275 euros. Some of us were really tempted. However there was a trap. That flight would reach Paris only at 8.45 in the morning. Our flight to India was at 10.30. This was a really close call. The buffer was too short. We were far too nervous to take any kind of risk now.

It was hopeless. All options were closing down on us. It felt like being trapped in a labyrinth and simply not being able to get out of it. In fact it was really like one. We had visas that would expire in two days more. The prospect of being deported back to India did not amuse us at all. It was however the cheapest way to come back.

It was half past nine. The only option that lay in front of us now was to defer our tickets to India by a day. The Air France office was just waiting to close down. So we took to our heals and looked hopefully at the lady at the counter. She quickly punched a few keys on her computer and gave us an affirmative reply. We were so relieved. There was a way out of the maze after all. All of us submitted our tickets and passports right away. The 50 euros fine did not seem to hurt that much. All the documentation was done.

It was half past ten. We were exhausted. We had to spend the night somewhere. We had to look for a roof over our heads. Looking for a place that would suit our budget at that time of the night in such freezing temperatures was unthinkable. But as we looked up to God we found there was a roof above our heads – the airport! We simply settled ourselves down and pretended we had an early morning flight to catch and made ourselves comfortable.

It was half past eleven. All of us suddenly heard the rumbling of our stomachs. We had ignored it the whole day. We had a solution at hand and had to celebrate. We treated ourselves to a large pizza at an airport pizzeria. Then after the sumptuous meal we settled down to get some good sleep. We managed to while away seven hours in between trying to improve sitting positions and trying to keep an eagle eye on the suitcases.

It was half past five the next morning. All of us freshened up quickly and took the first bus from the airport to the railway station. We had to catch the first train at 6.45 to Paris. Again the trains were reserved. Our jaws dropped. To our utmost relief we were told that since it was an early train we could board the train and take a reservation there. We did just that. The journey was to be a long one. Eight hours to kill. This time however we did not feel like vagabonds as we managed to find ourselves a place to sit. After a couple of hours everyone felt revived and managed to appreciate the snow-clad mountains through the train window. It was back to gossip and PJs.


It was half past four. We were back in Paris. It was raining and we were tired. Having an extra day in Paris did not excite us any more. We had never waited so much to get back home. We hunted around for some food and managed to get some kebabs in an uninspiring Iranian restaurant.

It was half past six. We headed straight for Charles De Gaulle Airport. Our flight was scheduled for 10.30 the next day. We were probably the only people who had arrived a good 17 hours prior take off. We simply could not care though. It was our shelter for the night again. So we finished some formalities at the ticketing office; got hold of our luggage that we had left at the airport and found a cozy corner which would be our home for a few hours.

We had a good 16 hours to kill. We made quick calls home to inform them of our misadventure who were under the impression that we were safely on our flight home. We informed our bosses as well asking an extra day of leave. Then there was some general chatter but some how it would all end at talking about how and why all this happened. There was no use however. Then suddenly it donned on us that it had been more than 48 hours since we bathed or had a change of clothes. We spent the night in all odd positions trying to sleep but never did. All through this episode it was commendable that not a single one of us threw tantrums or reproached each other.

The next morning we boarded our flight back to Mumbai. We had never ever waited this eagerly to get back home. It had been over 3 weeks in Europe. When we did land at midnight we were relieved. It was back to the heat, filth and stench of Mumbai. All said and done this was home and home is where the heart is.