British Crumbs

I'm so going to get yelled at for using "British" instead of "English". I've been informed that the UK is not very united right now. haha.
So some of the things I did this weekend, in no particular order:
1. Bought a bottle of water that was about the equivalent of 8 dollars.
2. Spent three nights at my ex-boyfriend's house in the middle of England.
3. Tried to use Italian with people who speak English.
4. Spent two hours trying to locate the correct bus and the correct ticket to get to the airport.
5. Met a Chinese girl and proceeded to do a blind-leading-the-blind style search for a bus to the airport.
6. Walked about six inches from a swan.
7. Drank several sips of red wine each day.
I think those are the highlights, though as I talk it might become apparent that there are more or that some of those things weren't all that exciting.
So let's see... Thursday, I had art history. But it was a church visit day. We were going to San Marco. We were supposed to meet the professor there. So everyone begins to gather downstairs. And Elizabeth and I are all impatient.. we should have been leaving right then. And so we thought we'd just walk out the door and some people might follow us. But no one did. So we just walked on our own. Somewhere in there, we got talking pretty quickly, and just went on autopilot. We ended up in Campo Santa Margherita, our typical nighttime hangout. And then we realized suddenly that we were supposed to have crossed the Accademia bridge, about a ten minute walk back. It was about ten minutes before we were supposed to be at San Marco, so we definitely didn't have time to get to the bridge and do the ten minute walk from the bridge to San Marco. But we had no choice. So Elizabeth and I took off running. We ran the Accademia stairs (really awkwardly placed and difficult) and ran practically the entire way to San Marco. We got there and everyone was waiting. I ended up dripping in sweat (ew!) as we walked around the church, marveling at the fact that practically the whole ceiling is done in mosaic.
An hour and a half later, I had finally cooled off and it was time to go our own way. I went home as fast as I could because I was starving. And I had to finish packing for my trip to England.
I left ten minutes after the rest of the house (with the exception of David, our professor, and Kelly, my roommate) left for the train station to go to Cinque Terre. I caught the vaporetto (a big boat used for public transportation) to Piazza le Roma (the bus station area where the post office is and whatnot).
When I got to Ple Roma, I looked around and found the bus I thought I was supposed to take. It wasn't there yet, so I waited. When it arrived, I asked the bus driver where I could get a ticket (in really horrible Italian... sigh). He pointed and this Chinese girl and I walked across the gigantic square to the ticket booth. The Chinese girl (I never did get her name) had been trying (and failing) to ask the guy where to get a ticket as well. I helped. Sort of. We waited in line at the ticket booth and when we thought it was our turn, someone butted in front of us and handed the man a ticket. Confused, we tried to go up to the window again. The man inside shooed us away! He vaguely gestured off to the side and we looked and saw some strange machine. It had a few options for what type of ticket you were looking for (public transportation, tickets for events, etc) so we, reluctantly, pressed the public transport button and out popped a ticket. We then saw that it had a big bold number on it... I felt a little dumb. Clearly it's one of those take a number style lines. So we waited and when our numbers were called we went up and asked for "uno biglietto per Marco Polo Aereoporto." And we payed an oddly cheap amount and left, slightly perplexed. Looking at the ticket, it was the size of a business card and looked... like a business card a bit. It was advertising the IMOB (a pass that lets you put money on a card and take public transport all over the city). But it was apparently, somehow, our ticket. We had no idea which bus to take except, of course, the one we had been at originally.
So we walked back to the bus, trying to talk to each other about anything we could think of. Her English was awful. I speak no Chinese. Both of us sucked at Italian. So we tried in English. The bus driver took half a look at our tickets and said in perfect English "this isn't the bus you want. You want the number 5." And turned back to the passenger he was helping.
At this point, it may be appropriate to attempt to describe the vastness of Ple Roma... But I'm not sure that I can. I'd say it's like a circle. And there are really crappy touristy kiosks selling junky stuff all around the one side. On the opposite side there's crappy food and junky-ness in general. On a third side is water and where the vaporetto comes in. And the fourth side is the road really.. That's roughly the layout. Inside the circle, there is a large ticket booth and about fifty or sixty different buses. It's very complex because there are tall poles with numbers on them for a group of buses... something like B52 (hehe). But you have no idea what B52 means. Nowhere does it tell you what buses are at B52 or why. So you just have to look around at the fronts of all the buses to see where they are headed. We search desperately for the section of buses with numbers on their fronts (the orange ones, I now know) and then look feverishly to find the number five. Sadly, they aren't in order at all. 12, 4, 9, 2, 1.... sigh.
Finally we found the five, but we didn't know what to do with our tickets and we weren't positive it was the right bus. The bus driver eventually gets on and we ask him "Marco Polo Aereoporto?" and he says "Si." And I kind of hold out my ticket and he just nods. So I look around, and I see some IMOB pass scanners... but my card has no scanning strip on it or anything. I don't know... but for some reason, my little Chinese friend holds her card over the IMOB scanner and it turns green for her. YAY! So we scan our tickets and sit down. And twenty scalding hot minutes later, sweaty and tired already, we hop off the bus at the airport.
I almost immediately abandon the Chinese girl (don't worry, I asked first if she needed me) because I'm tired of being responsible for someone I don't know when I don't know what I'm doing myself in the first place. The Lufthansa (my airline) counter is practically right in front of me with no one in line. I am so happy to know what I'm supposed to do that I practically skip up to the counter. I hand him my printed off confirmation email, and he looks like he's laughing at me or something. But whatever. He punches some things in the computer and takes my passport and whatnot. In about three minutes he's handing me my boarding cards and I'm on my way with an awkward wink from the guy... weird.
Security.... way too many times to count...
So I get on the flight to Frankfurt with no problem and then I get to my gate in Frankfurt (yes, I had to fly from Italy to Germany and then back the other direction to England. And yes, it was the cheapest!)... and I pass through security with no problem... and I walk toward an empty chair... and some airport guy stops me.
Sigh.
Apparently he is doing a random baggage check and wonders if he could have a look at my bag. What would he do if I say no? I said yes.
I handed him my bag and they opened it and like ran some weird piece of paper with something shiny on it on some of my things... I don't know what they were testing for... And I told them the black thing was my laptop battery and that the razor was really just my razor for shaving my legs. And they finally let me go.
Blah blah blah. Boring plane stuff and waiting in airports. I get to Manchester and Lee is right there as I walk out of the baggage claim. It was a relief to see a friend. And his car was right outside, and it was sprinkling lightly and kinda chilly. So nice. I was very happy.
And I will save the weekend for my next post, hopefully later tonight after I do my Italian homework. I know everyone is waiting with baited breath...