Highlights-Florence to Valencia
Today’s highlight was relocating from Florence to Valencia without major issues (there are always issues). I took the train from Florence to Bologna, the dedicated rail line to Bologna airport (the Marconi Express, not really), a Ryanair flight to Valencia, and the Metro to the apartment. I was in transit from noon (late checkout) until 10pm.
This store wasn’t grabbing me
Perhaps it was the fluorescent heads
Notable Items
I was gazing into a pastry display case (I do that frequently) when I heard several buongiorno’s. Was this the unseen narrator again? No one was on the opposite side of the case, expecting me to choose something. Pastry contemplation takes most of my available brain power (at least in Italy) so it took me a few moments (maybe longer, I’m an old guy) to realize it wasn’t the narrator or voices in my head (spooky). It was coming from behind me. A woman was trying to serve me from back there! Concealing my shock the best I could, I pointed to the pastry I wanted.
The first transportation challenge of the day arose before I even got to the train station. Even with late apartment checkout, I still have two and a half hours from my exit to train departure. What to do? I’ve had this issue before, so the outline of a solution was clear. Find a place where I could sit for several hours, preferably out of the sun with air conditioning.
The train station was a long shot. They’re designed for standing, quick bites, and scurrying to and from trains. Waiting in most of them is an endurance test. Still, I plodded toward the train station, optimistic that something would turn up. It did, a Starbucks: somewhere to sit with Wi-Fi and air conditioning (the coffee was incidental).
The high-speed train from Florence deposited me in Bologna, and I schlepped my way from the lowest level (underground) to the highest level to catch the Marconi Express to the airport. It’s an “express” only after you board. Before that, it is a “wait in long lines with no air-conditioning” experience. There were two fifty-passenger fill-up cycles ahead of me.
Hours early for the flight to Valencia (it’s part of air travel in the modern age), I noted that the Bologna airport wasn’t any more passenger wait friendly than a train station. Waiting area seating was limited. Food court seating wasn’t abundant, either. Where’s the design team responsible for that? They need to get sent back to bathroom design.
I chose to sit at the only restaurant in the terminal, Amore. It was nearly empty, but access was blocked by those thick velvet ropes that used to be common in theaters. The staff was nowhere in sight at first, but eventually, someone came. I positioned myself so I could see how other people dealt with the barrier when staff members were out of sight. One couple blew off the barrier, walked to a table, and were promptly escorted back to the barrier. “I call you,” she admonished. A second couple tried to take seats at a four-person table. They were refused. The woman tried to argue, “Nobody’s there.” The manager wasn’t having any of it.