Day #20
Breakfast
At first we thought that we were only entitled to cold buffet here so when we saw the all the hot food we tried to ask the waitress what we were allowed to and not allowed to eat. The waitress looked confused. Amy went to reception and they said we were entitled to full hot breakfast. Woot! (It later turned out that the cold buffet was actually during our stay in Italy - more on that later)
We went back to our room, packed our luggage and then checked-out at 8:15am. Our flight to Venice wasn’t until 1pm so we had plenty of time (or so we thought). Amy was even considering a bus tour of the city.
At 8:15am we checked out, and reception rang for a cab. It did not (finally) arrive until 8:50am (and that was after repeated calls by reception). He dropped us to Oxford train station at 9:20am. We thought better than doing the bus tour (luckily) and jumped on the train. We got to Reading about 10:30am. We changed to Gatwick Airport. We arrived at Gatwick Airport at 11:50am. Gatwick Airport is huge, it is made up of 3 terminals a long way apart. We had to get a mini-train to north terminal. We arrived there at 12:05pm. I went to check-in and there was a queue of at least 200 people (and it was moving at a snails pace). Now it was looking bad. Amy went off and did electronic check-in while I waited in the queue. At 12:20am an Airport lady came through calling for people going to Venice (imagine a snaking queue, so that the whole place looked more like a rock concert crowd with someone way at the back calling "Anyone for Venice" - they made 2 passes before I even heard them). I raised my hand and the queue performed a virtual pass-on of my message, tapping her on the shoulder. She motioned me out of the queue and I left (which is an enormous effort in itself - I had to do a moses and part the queue, and also get through all the ropes as well) She then hurriedly led me to the check-in desk via the back way (I grabbed Amy who had gotten the tickets and I was trying to negotiate with other staff) and checked our stuff in. Then we went to screening and got passed through without event (luckily - it was now 12:30pm). At last we had made it or so we thought. The walk from screening to the gate was about 500m going up and down escalators and around winding corridors. At this point we were running and I thought Amy was not going to make it ("go on without me" she said - haha - she actually said "you leave me and I will kill you"), she was in a bad way (I don’t think her having taken her blood pressure tablets yet was helping either).
We finally got there at 12:45pm with 15 minutes to spare. We got on the plane and we were the first ones there! After all that effort (I think other people were mulling around the gates outside - but we didn’t see anyone nearby when we boarded) we got there with plenty of time. Still, 8:15am to 12:45pm to get to the airport was way longer than we had anticipated.
Finally the plane took off. The only eventful thing about the flight was passing over a huge snow-covered mountain range (probably the italian or swiss alps). We landed at Marco Polo Airport and I was delighted to see things written in Italian (with English written in a subordinate font in most cases or not at all occasionally) (In Singapore, English seemed like the dominant language - so I was disappointed there - here it is the opposite way around).
We came up to the guard who stamped our passports and then let us through. (He said "bago" - I still don’t know what that means)
The luggage claim was a nuisance. My bag didn’t turn up on the carousel, and I thought we were going to have to report lost baggage. I did a round of the carousel first to see that it hadn't got caught on something, and found it lying against the wall, and open (I assume some yobbo picked it up, looked in it, realized it wasn’t theirs and then just left it against the wall - thanks scum).
We did an inspection of it to make sure nothing was planted and then left the airport.
We decided to wing it and get a bus to our hotel. We knew it was near the Mestre Railway station, so we got on that bus. One annoying thing, was that there was no hint about the name of the next stop (I guess this is the same for Brisbane buses too), this makes it very hard for a person who doesn’t speak the language to work out where they are. I had to keep stooping at each stop to look at the sign (outside) to work out where we were. ok, this stop is "Fermata", couldn’t see the next sign, next one is "Via SomethingorRather", couldn’t read the next one, next one is "Fermata" - what gives? Amy looked up (Colin's) Italian language book - it turned out that "Fermata" is Italian for Bus Stop. So I had looked at a whole bunch of signs, going "Yep … Bus Stop" - lol. Amy said "Look for a street called Miranese" (where our hotel is). I saw it, so we jumped off the bus (NOTE: everyone drives on the right-side here - so you have to look to your left when starting on a crossing).
We walked the couple of 100 metres to via Miranese (via means Street). Unfortunately it said "via Miranese 30-40" (note: they write their street signs backwards too). The street was way too short (our hotel was at via Miranese 111).
Amy eventually plucked up the courage (I was too shy) to ask one of the locals for directions. They responded in broken English that it was about 2km down the road (Even though most of the locals know English they are not too fluent with it - and it is a bit of a struggle for them - I feel guilty speaking to them in English). Some of the footpaths are very narrow here and it is a struggle to drag our luggage here. My first contact with the locals is with a woman with a pram who cant get past a pole that these idiots have stuck in the middle of a narrow footpath. She is contemplating going out onto the road (there is a step down to the road). There is traffic going past regularly (so she is kind of playing Frogger). I come up to her and offer to help carry the pram (in English). She replies "No thank you, light will go green. I will go then". Amy & I press on. Finally we arrive at our hotel and check in. I say "graccious" to the reception. She looks at me confused (stupid me - graccious is spanish for thank you). I ask her what is Italian for thank you, she says "gratzi"(sp) [I am trying to say "gratzi" instead of thank you now].
We went looking for somewhere to eat. It is funny, people come up to you and rattle off a whole bunch of Italian. When you say that you only speak English (I usually say "Sorry, I cant speak Italian", the conversation changes to English (like I said before it is still a struggle for most of them to speak English and it is unfair to expect it from them). We go to a café, and order these ice-cream sundae type things (mine was called "After Eight" - Mint icecream, with Mint chocolate biscuits and some other sweet biscuit). At last food with taste!!
After this we went to a restaurant (we have to stop eating at restaurants - it costs a fortune - but this was the only place open that served meals). And I had a glorified Chicken & Chips (The waiter called them "Fried Potato"). The waiter also asked if I wanted the "Water with gas" (Sparkling Mineral Water ;). Amy had steak & veges (I am not doing the food justice by describing it like that - it was restaurant quality food). There was a basket full of Bread/Breadsticks on the table that I was not sure if we were allowed to eat, and there was no butter. Amy looked up her guidebook and it said that Bread & Wine was something that Italians commonly consumed while waiting for their meal - and no, butter was never provided with it). At the end of the meal, I asked the waiter how you called for a waiter. He looked confused, Amy said "in french you say 'Garcon'". He said "ahhh … 'Accomaderie'(sp)". I asked him if it was custom to pay the bill at the counter or at the table. He said either (well actually he said "What is better for you? You can pay here or at the counter"). We got up to pay. Amy left 1 Euro on the table (a tip for the waiter - as suggested by the guide book). We went to the counter, and Amy ;) paid. While there I said to the lady "do you know what 'Accomaderie' means?" (I was trying a blind experiment ;). She looked blankly at me. Amy chastised me for torturing the locals, and I said I didn’t want to ask if 'Accomaderie' meant waiter, because then I would be leading the witness. Amy just sighed and we moved on.
We then went back to our room and crashed (it had been a big day).
