HC Abroad: Train Troubles, Cliff Climbing, & Everything in Between

Buon giorno, collegiettes! How was everyone’s weekend? Bellisimo, I hope, because mine most certainty was! As I am sure you would all expect, my complaints about studying abroad are few and far between as I round out my third weekend as an official European resident. This weekend, some friends and I decided to take a little trip over to Cinque Terra, on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. We had heard that it was absolutely spectacular (it certainly sounds like it is, right?), and even better, only two hours away by train. In typical college-student fashion, instead of getting a full night’s sleep in anticipation of our journey, we all went out in Florence Friday night. I mentioned what the nightlife was like here, right? I mean come on. What would you do. 

Anyways. After catching a whopping four hours of sleep, we managed to wake up early enough on Saturday to clean up our apartment, pack our bags, and sprint to the train station. What a relaxing way to commence our beach trip. After fighting with the automated Euro-rail machine for upwards of 30 minutes, the gang had managed to hop aboard the correct train intact, albeit both out of breathe and seat-less. Little did we know, of course, that this was just going to be the beginning of our traveling misfortunes…but that will come later.
 
At last we arrived in Cinque Terra, which is, let me just tell you, paradise. I know that everyone always says that about beautiful places they’ve traveled to in the world, but you guys, trust me. This place is magic. Just turquois water and sloping cliffs and pastel buildings for days. Unreal. We essentially spent the day wandering between the five beach towns, mouths agape and eyes-wide like the American tourists we so clearly are. But who could blame us with views like this? 

That’s me right before we jumped into the water. Yup, that’s right, jumped. Into the Mediterranean sea. Can anyone say YOLO?! By the end of the afternoon we were completely worn out, so heading to the apartment we had booked for the evening was a welcome respite. After freshening up for dinner (and by freshening up, I mean jumping into a cold shower with our bathing suits on and attempting to assemble a suitable outfit amidst the clothes we had thrown into a bag at the crack of dawn that morning), we set out to find a charming seaside restaurant for the evening. 

What a restaurant, right? Era molto costoso, as you can imagine, but hey, I did just say YOLO.
 
Now, amidst telling you about all this swimming and staring and wining and dining, I may have forgotten to mention one small, inconsequential detail. Before leaving for our Cinque Terra dream-trip, our ever-vigilant NYU administration had kindly informed us that the Italian train system would be going on strike Saturday until Sunday evening. But like the foolish college students that we are, we decided to ignore our sage mentors’ warnings, and not alter our weekend plans. Cue the I told you so’s, I know. Upon waking up on Sunday morning, fully planning to beach-it-up in Cinque Terra until the train strike ended, much to our chagrin, instead of sunny skies and balmy breezes, we were met with torrential rain. And sixty-degree weather.
 
Thus began our day spent wandering through Cinque Terra, clad in far-too-flimsy clothes and saddled with all of our luggage. Killing nine hours has never been more difficult. 

At last we were able to get on a train that would at least be stopping in the proximity of good ole’ Firenze. Granted, as soon as Kristen fell asleep and left me in charge of focusing, I caused us both to miss our stop. As in, strand us in a random Italian suburb neither of us could pronounce nor locate on a map.
 
In my defense, it’s not like I haven’t told her a thousand times I’m no Christopher Columbus here. Fair warning: I can barley get myself from class to class on campus, let alone navigate a series of train stops in a foreign country. Not my bag at all.
 
But as I am sure you all surmised, after a few changeovers and more-than-a-few profuse apologies from my end, we arrived back in Florence, safe and sound, and utterly exhausted. Was it the traveling trip from hell? Absolutely. Did I feel borderline homeless trekking through Cinque Terra for nine hours? For sure.
 
But would I do it all again? You betcha. 

Euro-tripping with my best pal has never felt so good. Until next time, my collegiettes. That is, if there is a next time…
 
Something tells me there’s a good chance Kristen will think twice before boarding a train with me ever again.

• travel