we are the french police

I've finally made it home from my holiday. I'm exhausted.

I woke up at seven this morning so that I could get myself packed up and ready for my train. I got dressed, packed my bags, and headed down to breakfast. It was only a few minutes after eight and I was the only person in the restaurant. I had a cup of coffee with milk and three packets of sugar, a croissant with two packets of nutella, orange juice, and a roll. I then went back for a second cup of coffee. I put too much milk in this one and ended up compensating for it with too much sugar. I ate fairly quickly and then started my walk.

It was raining this morning and all of the shops were closed. I was walking around looking for the correct type of mailbox in which to mail my postcards. I bought special stamps that are supposed to go in a special mailbox, but since all of the shops were closed, I slipped them into a normal mailbox. Hopefully they make it home eventually. I also stopped at COOP to try to pick up some bread for my journey. They had nothing good so I moved on. It was such a gray morning that my goodbye walk through Venice was very uneventful. I even got lost on my way to the Rialto Bridge so I ended up making a big loop back to the hotel.

Once I got to the train station I turned right to go back to the neighborhood I was in yesterday when the boat dropped me off. I needed to find an actual bakery that didn't only sell sandwiches, cookies, and pizzas. It took awhile, but I finally found a place that sold bread. I got two rolls for 75 cents. They didn't look delicious but they had to do. I then went back to the hotel to rest before my train. I double checked my ticket, and my train left at 11:50 and not 11:30 like I had thought. I used my extra time to surf the internet.

I got my things to leave at 10:45 and went downstairs. In the hour that I had been upstairs the sidewalk had totally flooded. The innkeeper was downstairs and seemed very dismayed that I'd have to walk through the water with my boots. She told me to wait a second and then came back with a pair of blue boot covers. Score! I put them on and she helped me climb over the metal barrier and water pump that was occupying the front door. I carried my suitcase and bags to dry land and then walked to the train station. Way to say goodbye, Venice.

Nothing interesting to report about my trip to Milan. I tried to do my reading for pop on the train but it was too bumpy to get much done. I did have to change train stations between Centrale and Giribali so I was forced to take the metro with my bags. While I was getting my ticket, two women stood way to close to me. After I was finished they asked me to buy tickets for them. They ignored the worker who told them that the machine didn't take paper money. They pressed the key for English and I left. Traveling was making my nerves wear thin because I was not very happy with the screaming child that accompanied me on the metro. I went the two stops and got off. Navigating the train stations in Milan was difficult.

Once in Girabaldi I decided to walk around before my next train at 16:10; it wasn't even 15 yet. It turns out that a local art school decorated the walls of the corridor leading to the higher number trains (14-21 I think). I walked down the corridor and then walked back up to take pictures of the works. I then saw that my train was arriving on track 12 so I went back to the big electronic departure/arrival board to confirm it. My train came up on the board and I went to track 12. I had to wait for the train doors to open, but once they did, I got on with no problem.

An Italian girl sat next to me and spent the first five minutes of our meeting blowing kisses out the window to her boyfriend. There was a couple behind me also and the guy kept making really loud kissing noises. I hate couples. I was getting really angry for some reason. I'm sick of Italians and their disgusting, loud ways. I'm sick of not being able to speak to anyone. I'm sick of being lost in foreign countries. Part of me just wants to go home.

I finished my pop reading and spent the rest of the journey alternating between sleeping and eating snacks. We had been on the train for awhile when I saw a series of police officers file onto the train. I got nervous but everyone else seemed fine. After about ten minutes some officers came back into the car. One officer stood at the head of the train and announced "we are the french police. please take out your passeports and identification cards (pieces)". I was scared shitless. Did I tell you that I forgot my passeport at home? I was all ready to plead my case to the officer and demand my rights as a US citizen when they left after checking only a handful of IDs. Thank the sweet lord. I'm never mocking the French police again.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful because I was asleep the whole time. We finally arrived at Gare de Lyon and I was overjoyed. I found my way out of the train station and walked home. When I got here I checked my email and saw a response from Caroline. I had emailed her asking if she had time to meet up again sometime soon. She said that we should meet on Tuesday if I don't have school (it's a national holiday) and have wine at her home. She's inviting her goddaughter so that I can meet her. I'm excited.

My room is weird juxtaposition of way too clean and a total mess. My bags are spilled out all over my tiny floor. I'll deal with them some other time. It's time for bed. It's only one am.