Rachel Hajar's Blog: My Life in Doha - Posts Tagged "train"
A Family Summer Holiday 2011 - Paris (Part 2 of 3 parts)
August 11, 2011
By train, it takes four hours to Paris from Montreux; to Milan from Montreux is three hours. When travelling by train, being at the station 15 min before departure is enough, unlike in an airplane where you are required to be at the airport at least two hours before departure, Also, the security check in airports is something to put up with stoically. In trains, police may or may not come to check passports
I find train travel comfortable. Train travel has a certain allure, an old-worldly charm that is quite appealing. You can relax and enjoy the view, talk to your companions, read a book, or doze off. You can stroll from car to car or have a meal in the dining car. Or you can buy a light snack from the mobile snack bar as it passes by your seat.
It was a cloudy and moist morning the day of our Paris trip. We had to take the train to Lausanne first, and change trains in Lausanne to go to Paris. Our train departure to Lausanne was 8:25 AM but we didn’t arrive at the station until 8:20, so there was a mad rush to the platform gate! The Montreux train station is only 10 minutes drive by car from our flat and it was ten minutes after eight when we left our flat. In the car my my daughters kept re-assuring me: “Don’t freak out Mommy. We have plenty of time!” I’m convinced my daughters are not at all obsessive-compulsives! They always like to rush; to catch a train or flight at the last minute. When I wanted to go early, they asked me, “Why should we go early and wait for the train thirty minutes? We’ll just be sitting, doing nothing! Dah!” They never think we need time to find our gate from the boards.
As the car screeched to a stop in front of the train station, my husband said, “You made it!” And we scrambled out, each one picking her carry-on luggage with wheels, waved good-bye to my husband, “Take care!” It occurred to me as I struggled up the elevator with my luggage that were it not for the wheel, I would always miss my train and silently thanked whoever invented the wheel! The people of Ancient Iraq were using it since 3500 BC. What would life be without the wheel?
My daughters, well, they were used to train travel and knew Montreux Train Station like the back of their hand, seeming to know where to go, so I just followed them. They frequently use the train to go to Lausanne or Geneva. Montreux Train Station is small and has only three gates. Me, well, I don’t use trains as much since my husband and I use the car to Lausanne or Geneva. “Ooops! Wrong gate! We have to go to Gate 3”, they said as they checked the boards. We had gone to Gate 1, as written on the ticket. And we rushed to Gate 3, going down the elevator again and then up another. I didn’t ask anymore questions. I just followed whatever my daughters decided we should go.
Lausanne Train Station is bigger than Montreux, but my daughters found the right Gate to Paris easily. In the TGV to Paris, after crossing the border, two men walked down the aisle asking if anyone wanted a taxi on arrival to the station. Yes, of course, we wanted a taxi! I asked how would I know the driver? The men explained that the taxi driver will come to the station platform with a placard bearing my name and they took down my name. They said the service costs 10 Euros, in addition to the fare and which I will pay to the taxi driver. They told me it was a service in all the TGV trains. Sounded good but I wondered if the driver really would come to the platform with my name. Well, he did come to the platform and was embarrassed that he had written “Monsieur Hajar” on his placard. He took my luggage from me and pulled it, as we followed him to his taxi. He spoke only French and fortunately, I had the address of the hotel all typed in little papers. I always do that when travelling, distributing the address to my family to put in their wallet. One never knows when they might need it.
In Paris, we stayed in a hotel just a stone’s throw from the famed Champs Elysee. It was very “Frenchy.” It had 28 air-conditioned rooms and a charming little patio. We were tired the first night and we had filled up and hung our breakfast orders on the door. We had chosen 9:30 – 9:45 am but the time came and went and no breakfast! Calling reception, the voice was apologetic and rushed and said it will be up in 10 minutes, and it did arrive 10 minutes later, brought by a nervous maid from Africa and a white waiter. They did not understand a word of English! I thanked them and the African maid explained she did not see our orders last night. No problem but I thought she did not see it because she didn’t come to check. She was probably home sleeping by the time we hung it out on the door; it didn’t occur to her to check early morning either! I also realized that probably most guests would not order room service for breakfast in such a hotel, preferring to eat in the hotel’s little patio or little cafes found everywhere. But my daughters, well, they thought it would be nice to eat breakfast in the room while getting ready and discussing where to go. Haifa said the breakfast was good. Later, when the maid saw us near the elevator, she asked if we wanted the same breakfast the following day, and to make things simple, I said yes. The breakfast did come on time, brought by the same maid, who giggled excitedly when I tipped her! I wondered why tipping her should make her giggle.
Our first day in Paris, we strolled along the famous Champs Elysee avenue. It was sooo crowded, and it is not elegant as it once was. It was still recognizable though. The open-air cafes were covered, I guess so people could sit out year round. I have to take my hat off to the residents of the capitals of Europe for putting up with yearly tourist invasion, especially in summer. Tourism is a good source of revenue though.
My plan of a boat tour on the Seine River to re-acquaint myself with the city didn’t materialize. Neither was a re-visit to the Louvre. My daughters had different agendas. Salma went to EuroDisney with friends who were also in Paris. Haifa wanted to shop, so we went mainly to Ave. Fabourg Saint Honore, where the shops we like were located and where walking is still enjoyable. Around the Louvre is still nice.
Saint Honore avenue is a long strip with shops and cafes on both sides. Haifa went to the shops she liked while I entered the shops that I thought might have what I wanted. I bought a bag at Ferragamo and accessories in Chanel. Ferragamo had accessories like pearl ear rings and necklaces but they were too showy and I didn’t like the look of the “pearls.” “Your pearls look like plastic” I told the guy and he said they were “cultured” but not from Japan. Another lady came and explained to me the process of how the pearls are made. I smiled but didn’t really listen. In Channel the salesgirl whispered to me how they make their pearls. Channel makes their own pearls in a bathtub! They just seed the oysters and immerse them in the bathtub and they grow! That was really fascinating! Can you imagine the millions and billions Channel saves by producing their own pearls!
Haifa said she heard that there was a big mall in Paris. Do I know the name? Can we go there? Yes. LAFAYETTE and we need a taxi. It was so difficult to find a taxi. Fortunately, the salesman in Ferragamo where I bought my bag saw us looking for a taxi and was nice enough to hail a taxi for us and told the driver where we wanted to go. He even gave me his card in case I need any help about anything. That was very nice of him.
Lafayette is a big mall – 8 floors – and extremely busy! It was full of tourists and all the brand name shops were there also. Haifa and I got separated and Haifa’s cell phone ran out of battery. We had no way of communicating! I waited for her at Christian Dior where we last saw each other until the mall closed. But Haifa did not come! I called my husband in Montreux, asking him what I should do. He advised me to go outside and look for Haifa outside exits and if I don’t find her, then go back to the hotel. I had given Haifa the address of the hotel and also she knows the way back to the hotel from the Champs Elysee.
When the mall closed, I went out looking for Haifa but I could not find Haifa! Worried and anxious, I got into a taxi and asked the driver if he spoke English. Clear communication was important but the driver didn’t speak English; Not a word! I managed to make him understand in my marginal French that I was looking for my daughter and could he please drive around the Lafayette Mall? Miraculously, he understood me and drove around the building slowing where people waited to cross or at exits and entrances. No Haifa! I pleaded that he drives around another time; still no Haifa. “Please, drive around again”, I implored him and he drove around a third time, all the time assuring me that my daughter probably went back to the hotel. Then miraculously, I saw Haifa waiting among many people at the main entrance! She was not there the two times I passed there in the taxi! I called her through the taxi window and she came. I was overjoyed! But Haifa lashed out and raged at me that I was just going to leave her and go back to the hotel, otherwise why was I in a taxi? I replied that I was going around the building in the taxi looking for her but she was not listening! I just kept quiet, letting her rage at me. I was just SO RELIEVED I found her! I didn’t want to argue with her and I knew she also had the scare of her life. Later, she told me that it was no big problem because she would have taken a taxi to the Champs Elysee and would have known how to get to the hotel from there. I was just happy that I found Haifa and I’m convinced that God takes care of me and my loved ones.
We left Paris on Bastille Day, La Fete Nationale. We were woken up with the sound of helicopters and jets. We went to Champs Elysee to watch the parade and have lunch in one of the outdoor cafes. We found a nice table where we thought we could watch the parade but when we asked the waiter about the parade, he said it was over! It had been held at 10 AM, when we heard the sound of jets overhead.
Our train was due to depart around 5:15 PM, so we had a leisurely lunch and went back to our hotel around 3:30 PM, waiting for our taxi to pick us up around 4 PM. We all longed to be back in scenic Montreux before going to Milan.
We had to change trains in Lausanne and we arrived there around 9:20 PM. Our connecting train to Montreux was around 9:40 PM, I thought, written on the ticket. But my daughters found that an earlier train was leaving for Montreux, 9:25 PM. They whicspered and consulted each other and then said to me, “Let’s catch the 9:25. We can make it. Hurry Mommy!” And they ran, pulling their luggage behind them!” “No. No!” I protested as I ran behind them, out of breath. I was sooo glad to see the train start to move as we reached the platform. I could not imagine myself, weighed down with luggage, scrambling on a train with just 10 seconds to spare! For sure I’ll fall under the train! “Missed it!” Exclaimed my daughters. It was one train I was glad to miss!
Rachel Hajar, M.D.
Author of My Life in Doha: Between Dream and Reality
By train, it takes four hours to Paris from Montreux; to Milan from Montreux is three hours. When travelling by train, being at the station 15 min before departure is enough, unlike in an airplane where you are required to be at the airport at least two hours before departure, Also, the security check in airports is something to put up with stoically. In trains, police may or may not come to check passports
I find train travel comfortable. Train travel has a certain allure, an old-worldly charm that is quite appealing. You can relax and enjoy the view, talk to your companions, read a book, or doze off. You can stroll from car to car or have a meal in the dining car. Or you can buy a light snack from the mobile snack bar as it passes by your seat.
It was a cloudy and moist morning the day of our Paris trip. We had to take the train to Lausanne first, and change trains in Lausanne to go to Paris. Our train departure to Lausanne was 8:25 AM but we didn’t arrive at the station until 8:20, so there was a mad rush to the platform gate! The Montreux train station is only 10 minutes drive by car from our flat and it was ten minutes after eight when we left our flat. In the car my my daughters kept re-assuring me: “Don’t freak out Mommy. We have plenty of time!” I’m convinced my daughters are not at all obsessive-compulsives! They always like to rush; to catch a train or flight at the last minute. When I wanted to go early, they asked me, “Why should we go early and wait for the train thirty minutes? We’ll just be sitting, doing nothing! Dah!” They never think we need time to find our gate from the boards.
As the car screeched to a stop in front of the train station, my husband said, “You made it!” And we scrambled out, each one picking her carry-on luggage with wheels, waved good-bye to my husband, “Take care!” It occurred to me as I struggled up the elevator with my luggage that were it not for the wheel, I would always miss my train and silently thanked whoever invented the wheel! The people of Ancient Iraq were using it since 3500 BC. What would life be without the wheel?
My daughters, well, they were used to train travel and knew Montreux Train Station like the back of their hand, seeming to know where to go, so I just followed them. They frequently use the train to go to Lausanne or Geneva. Montreux Train Station is small and has only three gates. Me, well, I don’t use trains as much since my husband and I use the car to Lausanne or Geneva. “Ooops! Wrong gate! We have to go to Gate 3”, they said as they checked the boards. We had gone to Gate 1, as written on the ticket. And we rushed to Gate 3, going down the elevator again and then up another. I didn’t ask anymore questions. I just followed whatever my daughters decided we should go.
Lausanne Train Station is bigger than Montreux, but my daughters found the right Gate to Paris easily. In the TGV to Paris, after crossing the border, two men walked down the aisle asking if anyone wanted a taxi on arrival to the station. Yes, of course, we wanted a taxi! I asked how would I know the driver? The men explained that the taxi driver will come to the station platform with a placard bearing my name and they took down my name. They said the service costs 10 Euros, in addition to the fare and which I will pay to the taxi driver. They told me it was a service in all the TGV trains. Sounded good but I wondered if the driver really would come to the platform with my name. Well, he did come to the platform and was embarrassed that he had written “Monsieur Hajar” on his placard. He took my luggage from me and pulled it, as we followed him to his taxi. He spoke only French and fortunately, I had the address of the hotel all typed in little papers. I always do that when travelling, distributing the address to my family to put in their wallet. One never knows when they might need it.
In Paris, we stayed in a hotel just a stone’s throw from the famed Champs Elysee. It was very “Frenchy.” It had 28 air-conditioned rooms and a charming little patio. We were tired the first night and we had filled up and hung our breakfast orders on the door. We had chosen 9:30 – 9:45 am but the time came and went and no breakfast! Calling reception, the voice was apologetic and rushed and said it will be up in 10 minutes, and it did arrive 10 minutes later, brought by a nervous maid from Africa and a white waiter. They did not understand a word of English! I thanked them and the African maid explained she did not see our orders last night. No problem but I thought she did not see it because she didn’t come to check. She was probably home sleeping by the time we hung it out on the door; it didn’t occur to her to check early morning either! I also realized that probably most guests would not order room service for breakfast in such a hotel, preferring to eat in the hotel’s little patio or little cafes found everywhere. But my daughters, well, they thought it would be nice to eat breakfast in the room while getting ready and discussing where to go. Haifa said the breakfast was good. Later, when the maid saw us near the elevator, she asked if we wanted the same breakfast the following day, and to make things simple, I said yes. The breakfast did come on time, brought by the same maid, who giggled excitedly when I tipped her! I wondered why tipping her should make her giggle.
Our first day in Paris, we strolled along the famous Champs Elysee avenue. It was sooo crowded, and it is not elegant as it once was. It was still recognizable though. The open-air cafes were covered, I guess so people could sit out year round. I have to take my hat off to the residents of the capitals of Europe for putting up with yearly tourist invasion, especially in summer. Tourism is a good source of revenue though.
My plan of a boat tour on the Seine River to re-acquaint myself with the city didn’t materialize. Neither was a re-visit to the Louvre. My daughters had different agendas. Salma went to EuroDisney with friends who were also in Paris. Haifa wanted to shop, so we went mainly to Ave. Fabourg Saint Honore, where the shops we like were located and where walking is still enjoyable. Around the Louvre is still nice.
Saint Honore avenue is a long strip with shops and cafes on both sides. Haifa went to the shops she liked while I entered the shops that I thought might have what I wanted. I bought a bag at Ferragamo and accessories in Chanel. Ferragamo had accessories like pearl ear rings and necklaces but they were too showy and I didn’t like the look of the “pearls.” “Your pearls look like plastic” I told the guy and he said they were “cultured” but not from Japan. Another lady came and explained to me the process of how the pearls are made. I smiled but didn’t really listen. In Channel the salesgirl whispered to me how they make their pearls. Channel makes their own pearls in a bathtub! They just seed the oysters and immerse them in the bathtub and they grow! That was really fascinating! Can you imagine the millions and billions Channel saves by producing their own pearls!
Haifa said she heard that there was a big mall in Paris. Do I know the name? Can we go there? Yes. LAFAYETTE and we need a taxi. It was so difficult to find a taxi. Fortunately, the salesman in Ferragamo where I bought my bag saw us looking for a taxi and was nice enough to hail a taxi for us and told the driver where we wanted to go. He even gave me his card in case I need any help about anything. That was very nice of him.
Lafayette is a big mall – 8 floors – and extremely busy! It was full of tourists and all the brand name shops were there also. Haifa and I got separated and Haifa’s cell phone ran out of battery. We had no way of communicating! I waited for her at Christian Dior where we last saw each other until the mall closed. But Haifa did not come! I called my husband in Montreux, asking him what I should do. He advised me to go outside and look for Haifa outside exits and if I don’t find her, then go back to the hotel. I had given Haifa the address of the hotel and also she knows the way back to the hotel from the Champs Elysee.
When the mall closed, I went out looking for Haifa but I could not find Haifa! Worried and anxious, I got into a taxi and asked the driver if he spoke English. Clear communication was important but the driver didn’t speak English; Not a word! I managed to make him understand in my marginal French that I was looking for my daughter and could he please drive around the Lafayette Mall? Miraculously, he understood me and drove around the building slowing where people waited to cross or at exits and entrances. No Haifa! I pleaded that he drives around another time; still no Haifa. “Please, drive around again”, I implored him and he drove around a third time, all the time assuring me that my daughter probably went back to the hotel. Then miraculously, I saw Haifa waiting among many people at the main entrance! She was not there the two times I passed there in the taxi! I called her through the taxi window and she came. I was overjoyed! But Haifa lashed out and raged at me that I was just going to leave her and go back to the hotel, otherwise why was I in a taxi? I replied that I was going around the building in the taxi looking for her but she was not listening! I just kept quiet, letting her rage at me. I was just SO RELIEVED I found her! I didn’t want to argue with her and I knew she also had the scare of her life. Later, she told me that it was no big problem because she would have taken a taxi to the Champs Elysee and would have known how to get to the hotel from there. I was just happy that I found Haifa and I’m convinced that God takes care of me and my loved ones.
We left Paris on Bastille Day, La Fete Nationale. We were woken up with the sound of helicopters and jets. We went to Champs Elysee to watch the parade and have lunch in one of the outdoor cafes. We found a nice table where we thought we could watch the parade but when we asked the waiter about the parade, he said it was over! It had been held at 10 AM, when we heard the sound of jets overhead.
Our train was due to depart around 5:15 PM, so we had a leisurely lunch and went back to our hotel around 3:30 PM, waiting for our taxi to pick us up around 4 PM. We all longed to be back in scenic Montreux before going to Milan.
We had to change trains in Lausanne and we arrived there around 9:20 PM. Our connecting train to Montreux was around 9:40 PM, I thought, written on the ticket. But my daughters found that an earlier train was leaving for Montreux, 9:25 PM. They whicspered and consulted each other and then said to me, “Let’s catch the 9:25. We can make it. Hurry Mommy!” And they ran, pulling their luggage behind them!” “No. No!” I protested as I ran behind them, out of breath. I was sooo glad to see the train start to move as we reached the platform. I could not imagine myself, weighed down with luggage, scrambling on a train with just 10 seconds to spare! For sure I’ll fall under the train! “Missed it!” Exclaimed my daughters. It was one train I was glad to miss!
Rachel Hajar, M.D.
Author of My Life in Doha: Between Dream and Reality
A Family Summer Holiday 2011 - Milan (Part 3 of 3 parts)
August 16, 2011
Milan is known as one of the world’s glamorous fashion capitals, and indeed it is. It is quite fun to shop in Milan. Many shops and boutiques – and cafes and restaurants – speak English or at least make an effort.
I am sure that Milan has many other things to offer the visitor besides shopping. When I hear the word “Milan”, what comes to my mind is the Duomo Cathedrale, which is the heart of Milan.
Just like our Paris trip, I was instructed to book a hotel in the midst of shops, quite a tall order when your trip is in less than a week’s time. Thank heavens for online booking, where the location and distance of the hotel to places of interest are indicated. In addition, cost of accommodation plus rating and reviews of clients and pictures of rooms are also posted. Online booking provides a box where you can indicate special requests. I found this box very, very useful, especially when reserving rooms with connecting doors. To make sure my special requests are made available, I follow up with a phone call to the hotel a couple of days before our arrival.
Our train to Milan was not on a TGV train, so I thought that most likely I won’t be able to request a taxi from the train, like I did on the train to Paris. I’d been to Milan with my family a few times before and I was aware that taxi drivers don’t accept more than two or three people because their taxis are small. On this particular summer Milan trip (2011), I was travelling with three daughters: Alia, Haifa, and Asma. As we didn’t want to split, there was no way we would be accommodated in one taxi. Therefore, I emailed the concierge to arrange a minivan for us and for the driver to be waiting for us on the train platform with a placard bearing my name. It could be done for a certain fee and this was confirmed. A taxi driver was waiting for us on the platform when we arrived. This delighted us very much. All we had to do was follow the driver down to his minivan and he also relieved me of my luggage.
We had arrived early afternoon, so there was plenty of time for my daughters to re-orient themselves. The landmark of course is the beautiful Duomo Cathedrale, known simply as the Duomo, and where tourists gravitate. Shops and outdoor cafes have mushroomed around the Cathedrale. One of my favorite pastimes in Milan is sitting in one of the outdoor cafes around the Duomo, sipping cappuccino or eating ice cream and gazing up at the beautiful Gothic architecture of the Duomo, watching tourists walk about and snap pictures and pigeons fly, swoop, and hop among the milling tourists.
The first time I took my daughters to Milan was in the summer of 2004 and we had stayed at a hotel just across from the Duomo. I had been intrigued by the circular shape of the windows in that hotel, which was rather quaint and charming and I could see the Duomo and its spires from my room window. We had dinner in the terrasse of the hotel (La Terrasse) where we had a fantastic view of the Church, admiring its gothic architecture. The maitre’D who was very attentive to us had been a very nice old man and he had pointed to us that at the top of the tallest spires were statues of past popes. Indeed, we could make out the statues. Statues of various saints adorned the spires at a lower level, which had intrigued me, because it was as though the popes occupied a higher position than the saints. Popes in the Middle Ages were very powerful of course but I had not expected them to be placed higher than saints in the church spiritual hierarchy. The old man also pointed out the statue of the Virgin Mary – Madoninna - representing Our Lady of the Assumption, at the top of the church, lighted, more than 4 meters tall, and embossed in gilt copper. There was a crescent moon and the marble shone. The place was very intimate and private, with the moon and starry sky and across us, very near, the magnificent Gothic Church with its forest of spires. It was lovely.
The following day, my daughters had gone up the balconies of the church where they strolled among a sea of spires (135 spires, I read later) and had a panoramic view of the city. They said it was lovely; I had missed that because it was hot and I had gone back to my room to rest.
The waiter had also told us that the church was made of marble – all of it, including the floor. “At sunset time, the marble walls are a beautiful roseatte pink color”, he said. He spoke very, very good English. He was multilingual and he could also speak Japanese, for he had also worked as maitre’D in Japan for two years. The Duomo construction had begun in 1386 and had been finished sometime in the 16th century - 200 years. He said that construction had begun to build a spire for the statue of the present pope (Pope John Paul II at the time) because he was very ill; we saw that one side had been boarded up for construction. It had been lovely to eat dinner there, under the "shadow" of the beautiful and imposing gothic church with its forest of spires. It is the largest gothic church I have ever seen.
I should be familiar with Milan but I still tended to get lost because I hardly have any sense of direction. I thought that since there was not that much for me to do in Milan because I was chaperoning my daughters who wanted to shop, I might as well tag along with them and also spend my time looking around the shops and reading in my hotel room when it’s hot, like from 12 noon to four or five pm.
Alia, my eldest daughter, has excellent sense of direction, which she inherited from my husband. When she was 5 years, she had directed our new driver the way to her kindergarten. She is now a physician, married, and has two sons whom she left in Montreux with my husband and her sister Salma. Alia said she will take us to dinner at the best Pizza place in Milan. She knows Milan because she sometimes accompanies her husband to Milan on his business trips.
The pizza place was 15 min walk from our hotel but when we got there, it was closed. We read that it closed on Mondays but near it was a restaurant that Alia said had the best seafood in Milan and she was planning to take us there the following day but since the pizza place was closed, we’ll eat there instead. It truly had excellent food, and also away from tourists. The restaurant was very busy. Lining one wall was floor to ceiling wine shelves. Compliments of the house, the waiter poured wine for us but Haifa told the waiter we didn’t drink alcoholic beverages and so he took away the wine and slender wine glasses. First, we had an appetizer of risotto with mushrooms which was very, very, good and also zucchini flowerets stuffed with mozzarella. It was delicious but Alia said the best risotto with mushrooms was in another restaurant, which serves the risotto with mushrooms only in September because the mushrooms are only harvested in September. We all ordered what Alia ordered as main course but I don’t know the name, some kind of mixed seafood frutti or something. It was very, very good!
Walking back to the hotel, there was a woman all dressed in red sitting and eating at a table with red chairs; the tablecloth was also red. She was a fortune teller. Asma wanted to get her palm read just for fun but Haifa discouraged her, so we passed her by.
The following day after breakfast, Alia and I went to Monte Napoleone, an upscale shopping street, just walking distance from our hotel and from the Duomo. We window shopped, then entered an Armani boutique, for me to see what kind of accessories they had. Armani accessories are decadent and not my taste – huge bulky stones and phantasmogoric creations. However, the boutique had some nice bags and I found a neat little bag that I could sling through my wrist, shaped like a flower, very, very elegant and simple, so I bought it. Alia said it was not her style but she found a very elegant scarf (very, very nice), which I bought for her. The salesgirl took a fancy to my hat (a cheap hat that I had bought in one of those moveable makeshift stores near the lake in Montreux; the hat had cost 25 euros!). The salesgirl found a long, narrow, thin scarf and she came and tied it around my hat. “Oh, Madame, it’s beautiful” she enthused. Alia said it looked very nice. “Now, people will think your hat is Armani!” Alia giggled. The scarf was light black chiffon with Giorgio Armani scattered over it. Well, I had been looking for just such a scarf (but not the Armani signature) to tie around my hats, so I bought it. The salesgirl said to wear it already around my hat and she cut off the price tag and Armani label, so I went around Monte Napoleone street and around Milan with my cheap hat with the Armani scarf tied around it!
On a side street, we came across MikiHouse, which sold very nice stuff for kids and we bought T-shirts and pants for Alia’s sons, Aziz and Saoud, and my other grandson, 6 months, and whom we affectionately call Hujairan (which means little Hajar because he is named after my husband. In the Arab world it is usual to name a first-born son after the paternal grandfather). I love how Alia gets identical shirts and pants for her sons in their sizes! (sizes 8 & 5 although they are 6 years and 3 years). I always love to see them dressed identical! And I love shopping for my grandsons. It brings back memories of how I used to buy clothes, shoes, and toys for my children when they were small. Images of me buying different small sizes for my children when they were small kept flashing in my mind. It was like history – a very personal history – repeating itself!
Alia casually mentioned that Hessa, her friend and wife of her brother-in-law, and their children were driving from Munich or Vienna to Geneva. Alia had mentioned to Hessa that shops in Milan were having sales and Hessa had wanted to stop for a day in Milan. Hessa had asked Alia to ask our hotel for rooms. So, when we went back to the hotel around noon, we went to the concierge but there was only one room left. The group was nine people and the concierge said they will need 5 rooms. I mentioned to Alia that her brother Tami had told me to go to booking.com on the internet when I was trying to book accommodation for us for the Paris and Milan trip. I had found the site very, very useful. Alia really wanted to help Hessa, so we went back up to our room to go to the internet. We found hotel recommendations with phone numbers and Alia texted the info to Hessa. It took us one hour to search. But I was very surprised that minutes after Alia had texted the info to Hessa they had booked a hotel based on Alia’s info! That was really quick! One of the marvels of the internet age!
Tagging along with my daughters on their shopping, I was also seduced by the discount prizes of 40 – 60% in the majority of shops. At Rinoscente, a huge mall, I also bought some gift items for loved ones who were not with us. It was not easy choosing colors and figuring out the appropriate sizes. You have to do conversion from European size to American or vice-versa. Some clothes had the conversion on the tags but many times you have to ask someone. I was getting tired and pretty soon my feet were aching! I found Asma smelling perfumes at ground level where all the brand names were and I went and stood near her, curious what perfume she would buy. I told everyone who came near me asking if I needed assistance that I was waiting for my daughter, nodding towards Asma and they would exclaim in accented English, “She’s beautiful! Congratulations Madame” or break out in Italian, “E’bellisima! Complimenti signora.” Shopping with one’s daughter/s can be quite fun!
When we got tired, we had refreshment at a café near the Duomo Cathedrale. I always like sitting in that café, people- and pigeon-watching. The Duomo Square was also crowded but I found it much, much more pleasant than the Champs Elysee, perhaps because of the beautiful Gothic church. I wondered how long before the place became like the Champs Elysee. Milan is pleasant: good ambiance, maybe because the Italians in general have warm personalities; wide boulevards and piazzas; quaint narrow alleys, and good shops. The place where we had Pizza and seafood were located in a narrow alley with charming cafes and restaurants and bistros.
Milan is nice – for shopping, but probably not for living. There is always life in the streets. Sometimes I could not keep up with the energy of my daughters and when that happened, I would stay-in and read my books. Many times I was mystified what it was they were looking for in the shops. One evening I opted out of dinner because I was not hungry at all since I had had a heavy breakfast with Alia and in late afternoon I had ice cream while they had sandwiches in a café by the Duomo.
I was quietly reading in bed when my daughters came back and the room again came alive with their chatter. Asma presented me with a long-stemmed red rose and kissed me. She apologized for snapping at me that afternoon, when we were out shopping. Then Haifa came also and presented me with another long-stemmed red rose, kissed me, told me she loved me and also apologized for snapping at me yesterday before we went to dinner, for hurrying her. I had forgotten the incidents. I lay the flowers on my pillow while I looked for an empty bottle of mineral water. Alia took a picture of the flowers on my pillow and gave me her empty bottle of mineral water to put them in. Haifa and Asma also gave Alia a white long-stemmed rose, perhaps for taking us to good restaurants away from the crowds. Needless to say I was misty-eyed. My philosophy is if you give love you get love in return. Love begets love.
On our last day, we checked out at 2 pm. Checkout time was 12 noon but reception was nice to extend my checkout time. I had requested that we stay in one room until 4 PM and they were willing but when they looked in their computer, a family with children had been booked to occupy our rooms at 2 pm, so we checked out at that time and kept our luggage in the porter storeroom.
Our train was due to depart 19:25 pm and rather than wait around in the lobby until time to go to the train station, we went and window-shopped again in Monte Napoleone. However, my daughters bought some more things! I wondered aloud how they were going to carry all those bags plus their luggage. “Mommy, we know what we are doing” I was told. I had kept quiet because I was also carrying an extra paper bag besides my luggage. The roses my daughters gave me and Alia were still lovely and fresh and I hated to leave them behind. So, I emptied most of the water in the bottle leaving only a small amount at the bottom, packed them with my hats in a paper bag and hand carried them back to Montreux! My daughters were very surprised to see me lugging around in a paper bag the flowers they had given me! In the train, I had taken a picture of the roses in the paper bag next to my luggage and the photo is now the background screen of my iPhone, reminding me always of my daughters’ lovely gesture.
When the porters loaded our luggage in the minivan, I asked the porters to tell the driver in Italian to help us find a porter at the station. I’m always told there are no porters in train stations but I always ask because sometimes I see some. The porters spoke to the driver in Italian, and there were arm gesticulations and worried expressions. One of the porters told us that the driver will help us at the station and I thanked him. The driver spoke a little English and along the way, I asked what seemed to be the problem. “Madame, there is a train strike”, he informed me, scratching his head with one hand. “What?” I exclaimed. “But maybe Madame it is over now. We see.” “When did it start?” I asked. “Yesterday.” I sighed. Nothing we could do except go to the station and see how things were. Alia had left yesterday for Montreux and she had made it, not mentioning to us anything about a train strike. Perhaps, I consoled myself, the train strike was only local, not involving the international trains. “Do not worry Madame. I will help you”, the driver assured me and I thanked him.
I remembered that in 2007, when I took my daughters to Milan again, we had arrived to a city paralyzed by a taxi strike. When I called the hotel to send someone to pick us up, the hotel had said yes, they will but we may have to wait an hour or so. It had been a very hot day. There had been a small car circling the taxi stand and I had flagged it. I had thought it was a taxi but it was not. The driver had stopped and we managed to communicate, he speaking Italian and me summoning remnants of Spanish from memory. He was not a taxi driver but he would help us. We had been five with luggage and he had taken us to our hotel in two trips. While I checked-in the hotel, he had gone for the second trip to fetch my other daughters and I had had a sudden attack of anxiety. What if he was a member of the mafia? After all I was in Italy! Voicing my concerns to reception, the staff laughed and told me not to worry. In a few minutes, my other daughters arrived and I had been so relieved. Of course, they told their daddy, “Mommy left us stranded!”
Well, finally, we arrived in Milano Centrale train station (Stazione Centrale di Milano), one of the most beautiful train stations in Europe. The station is airy and spacious with marble flooring, sculptures and ceramic panels.
Milano Centrale train station was only 5-10 minutes drive from our hotel by car. As expected, there was no porter around. The driver parked his minivan and helped us get to the train platform, pulling the two heavy suitcases of my daughters. There did not seem to be any train strike. The driver talked to some people in Italian. It seemed the strike affected only certain trains. We looked for our gate on the boards but our train was not listed. “It is still early Madame”, said the driver. I mentioned that the Milan – Montreux train had been Gate 1 the last couple of times we were in Milan. He took us to Gate 1 and advised us to park ourselves there, and to watch the boards for the correct gate.
There were more than 10 gates I think, but they were all on the same platform, the trains parked parallel to each other.
The hour was 19:10 but still the Milan – Montreux train was not listed on the boards! It should have appeared by then and I started to fret. “Don’t freak out Mommy. It will appear soon”, said my daughters. “Wait here. I’ll go ask information” I told my daughters and looked for the information box. There were two, with long waiting lines, with little forward movement and my heart sank. Well, what kind of efficiency did I expect? I went and queued in one, not knowing if my query would be answered by the sphinx in the box. Seconds were ticking and I told the man in front of me that I was looking for the gate to the Milan-Montreux train and that the info was not appearing on the boards. Luckily he spoke a little English and he was kind enough to look at my ticket, informing me that that particular queue was only for questions about certain trains, and our train was not one of them unfortunately. He said the gate will be announced on the board anytime soon. I thanked him.
I glanced at the time. 19:15! And our train still was not listed on any of the boards! I was frantic, literally flying around Milano Centrale, looking for our train listing on the boards. 19:20! I certainly didn’t want to spend the night in train stations looking for connecting trains to Montreux! Then I received a message on my iPhone from my daughters: Gate 8. Apparently it had just appeared on the board. Gosh only 5 minutes before the train departs and we had so many luggage! 3 heavy suitcases and several paper bags, my flower bag among them! I flew to gate 1 and grabbed my luggage and my paper bag. WE RAN TO GATE 8!
The train was there waiting serenely, and it flashed through my stressed brain that that train had been parked there the last half hour! Why wasn’t the gate announced earlier? Italian efficiency! Anyway, we scrambled in. And luckily it was the right car! Because we had so many things, I told my daughters to wait with our luggage in the front of the car while I go and search for our seats. I had written it down somewhere on a piece of paper but from memory: 42, 43, 44. The train had 4 seat rows, facing each other; one row on the left, and three rows on the right.
To my chagrin, seats 41, 42 facing each other were occupied by an elderly couple. Across the aisle from them were Seats 43, 44, 45, 46, two chairs occupied by a lady with a hat reading a book and feet stretched across the chairs. “Uum, 42, 43, 44”, I intoned. “You’re sure you’re in the right seats?” I blurted in English. The lady in the hat smiled at me and the elderly man across the aisle replied, “I think so” in American English. I found my little paper, glanced at the seat numbers again. “43, 44, 45”, I read aloud. “Sorry, I made a mistake”, I said to the elderly man. “Uh-huh” he replied. I went to my daughters and told them to come as I had found our seats. The lady with the hat had transferred to the row behind us, still reading her book, and with legs stretched across the chairs. The elderly American was reading aloud from his book, Touring Italy. His wife, who sat across him, looked out the window impassively. They were a strange couple because the wife never once talked to her husband who sat intermittently reading aloud from his tour guide and smiling vacuously at no one in particular!
We stored our luggage in the side compartments located at intervals and some of the paper bags overhead and we settled in our seats. “I miss work” I said. At work I don’t frantically fly around the place looking for information. At work I know what I do. “Mommy, you always freak out. We told you to relax and just wait for the gate announcement on the boards but you had to go looking for information.” “Well, you see, I thought our train was canceled because of the so-called train strike.” I also thought there was something deficient in the Italian board announcements. Why announce the gate only 5 minutes before departure when the train was already parked in the assigned gate, for half an hour? It was a mystery!
I was surprised that the train was not moving yet. I couldn’t believe that we were able to make it to our train but we did, with a few minutes even to spare! Funny how much you could accomplish in minutes! We had run to our gate, clambered on the train with our heavy luggage, and stored them properly, all in three minutes for it was two minutes before the train started to move. Time is relative!
We had a wonderful time in Milan. Until next year. In Italian, Fino al prossimo anno (courtesy of Google translate!).
Rachel Hajar, M.D.
Author of My Life in Doha: Between Dream and Reality
Milan is known as one of the world’s glamorous fashion capitals, and indeed it is. It is quite fun to shop in Milan. Many shops and boutiques – and cafes and restaurants – speak English or at least make an effort.
I am sure that Milan has many other things to offer the visitor besides shopping. When I hear the word “Milan”, what comes to my mind is the Duomo Cathedrale, which is the heart of Milan.
Just like our Paris trip, I was instructed to book a hotel in the midst of shops, quite a tall order when your trip is in less than a week’s time. Thank heavens for online booking, where the location and distance of the hotel to places of interest are indicated. In addition, cost of accommodation plus rating and reviews of clients and pictures of rooms are also posted. Online booking provides a box where you can indicate special requests. I found this box very, very useful, especially when reserving rooms with connecting doors. To make sure my special requests are made available, I follow up with a phone call to the hotel a couple of days before our arrival.
Our train to Milan was not on a TGV train, so I thought that most likely I won’t be able to request a taxi from the train, like I did on the train to Paris. I’d been to Milan with my family a few times before and I was aware that taxi drivers don’t accept more than two or three people because their taxis are small. On this particular summer Milan trip (2011), I was travelling with three daughters: Alia, Haifa, and Asma. As we didn’t want to split, there was no way we would be accommodated in one taxi. Therefore, I emailed the concierge to arrange a minivan for us and for the driver to be waiting for us on the train platform with a placard bearing my name. It could be done for a certain fee and this was confirmed. A taxi driver was waiting for us on the platform when we arrived. This delighted us very much. All we had to do was follow the driver down to his minivan and he also relieved me of my luggage.
We had arrived early afternoon, so there was plenty of time for my daughters to re-orient themselves. The landmark of course is the beautiful Duomo Cathedrale, known simply as the Duomo, and where tourists gravitate. Shops and outdoor cafes have mushroomed around the Cathedrale. One of my favorite pastimes in Milan is sitting in one of the outdoor cafes around the Duomo, sipping cappuccino or eating ice cream and gazing up at the beautiful Gothic architecture of the Duomo, watching tourists walk about and snap pictures and pigeons fly, swoop, and hop among the milling tourists.
The first time I took my daughters to Milan was in the summer of 2004 and we had stayed at a hotel just across from the Duomo. I had been intrigued by the circular shape of the windows in that hotel, which was rather quaint and charming and I could see the Duomo and its spires from my room window. We had dinner in the terrasse of the hotel (La Terrasse) where we had a fantastic view of the Church, admiring its gothic architecture. The maitre’D who was very attentive to us had been a very nice old man and he had pointed to us that at the top of the tallest spires were statues of past popes. Indeed, we could make out the statues. Statues of various saints adorned the spires at a lower level, which had intrigued me, because it was as though the popes occupied a higher position than the saints. Popes in the Middle Ages were very powerful of course but I had not expected them to be placed higher than saints in the church spiritual hierarchy. The old man also pointed out the statue of the Virgin Mary – Madoninna - representing Our Lady of the Assumption, at the top of the church, lighted, more than 4 meters tall, and embossed in gilt copper. There was a crescent moon and the marble shone. The place was very intimate and private, with the moon and starry sky and across us, very near, the magnificent Gothic Church with its forest of spires. It was lovely.
The following day, my daughters had gone up the balconies of the church where they strolled among a sea of spires (135 spires, I read later) and had a panoramic view of the city. They said it was lovely; I had missed that because it was hot and I had gone back to my room to rest.
The waiter had also told us that the church was made of marble – all of it, including the floor. “At sunset time, the marble walls are a beautiful roseatte pink color”, he said. He spoke very, very good English. He was multilingual and he could also speak Japanese, for he had also worked as maitre’D in Japan for two years. The Duomo construction had begun in 1386 and had been finished sometime in the 16th century - 200 years. He said that construction had begun to build a spire for the statue of the present pope (Pope John Paul II at the time) because he was very ill; we saw that one side had been boarded up for construction. It had been lovely to eat dinner there, under the "shadow" of the beautiful and imposing gothic church with its forest of spires. It is the largest gothic church I have ever seen.
I should be familiar with Milan but I still tended to get lost because I hardly have any sense of direction. I thought that since there was not that much for me to do in Milan because I was chaperoning my daughters who wanted to shop, I might as well tag along with them and also spend my time looking around the shops and reading in my hotel room when it’s hot, like from 12 noon to four or five pm.
Alia, my eldest daughter, has excellent sense of direction, which she inherited from my husband. When she was 5 years, she had directed our new driver the way to her kindergarten. She is now a physician, married, and has two sons whom she left in Montreux with my husband and her sister Salma. Alia said she will take us to dinner at the best Pizza place in Milan. She knows Milan because she sometimes accompanies her husband to Milan on his business trips.
The pizza place was 15 min walk from our hotel but when we got there, it was closed. We read that it closed on Mondays but near it was a restaurant that Alia said had the best seafood in Milan and she was planning to take us there the following day but since the pizza place was closed, we’ll eat there instead. It truly had excellent food, and also away from tourists. The restaurant was very busy. Lining one wall was floor to ceiling wine shelves. Compliments of the house, the waiter poured wine for us but Haifa told the waiter we didn’t drink alcoholic beverages and so he took away the wine and slender wine glasses. First, we had an appetizer of risotto with mushrooms which was very, very, good and also zucchini flowerets stuffed with mozzarella. It was delicious but Alia said the best risotto with mushrooms was in another restaurant, which serves the risotto with mushrooms only in September because the mushrooms are only harvested in September. We all ordered what Alia ordered as main course but I don’t know the name, some kind of mixed seafood frutti or something. It was very, very good!
Walking back to the hotel, there was a woman all dressed in red sitting and eating at a table with red chairs; the tablecloth was also red. She was a fortune teller. Asma wanted to get her palm read just for fun but Haifa discouraged her, so we passed her by.
The following day after breakfast, Alia and I went to Monte Napoleone, an upscale shopping street, just walking distance from our hotel and from the Duomo. We window shopped, then entered an Armani boutique, for me to see what kind of accessories they had. Armani accessories are decadent and not my taste – huge bulky stones and phantasmogoric creations. However, the boutique had some nice bags and I found a neat little bag that I could sling through my wrist, shaped like a flower, very, very elegant and simple, so I bought it. Alia said it was not her style but she found a very elegant scarf (very, very nice), which I bought for her. The salesgirl took a fancy to my hat (a cheap hat that I had bought in one of those moveable makeshift stores near the lake in Montreux; the hat had cost 25 euros!). The salesgirl found a long, narrow, thin scarf and she came and tied it around my hat. “Oh, Madame, it’s beautiful” she enthused. Alia said it looked very nice. “Now, people will think your hat is Armani!” Alia giggled. The scarf was light black chiffon with Giorgio Armani scattered over it. Well, I had been looking for just such a scarf (but not the Armani signature) to tie around my hats, so I bought it. The salesgirl said to wear it already around my hat and she cut off the price tag and Armani label, so I went around Monte Napoleone street and around Milan with my cheap hat with the Armani scarf tied around it!
On a side street, we came across MikiHouse, which sold very nice stuff for kids and we bought T-shirts and pants for Alia’s sons, Aziz and Saoud, and my other grandson, 6 months, and whom we affectionately call Hujairan (which means little Hajar because he is named after my husband. In the Arab world it is usual to name a first-born son after the paternal grandfather). I love how Alia gets identical shirts and pants for her sons in their sizes! (sizes 8 & 5 although they are 6 years and 3 years). I always love to see them dressed identical! And I love shopping for my grandsons. It brings back memories of how I used to buy clothes, shoes, and toys for my children when they were small. Images of me buying different small sizes for my children when they were small kept flashing in my mind. It was like history – a very personal history – repeating itself!
Alia casually mentioned that Hessa, her friend and wife of her brother-in-law, and their children were driving from Munich or Vienna to Geneva. Alia had mentioned to Hessa that shops in Milan were having sales and Hessa had wanted to stop for a day in Milan. Hessa had asked Alia to ask our hotel for rooms. So, when we went back to the hotel around noon, we went to the concierge but there was only one room left. The group was nine people and the concierge said they will need 5 rooms. I mentioned to Alia that her brother Tami had told me to go to booking.com on the internet when I was trying to book accommodation for us for the Paris and Milan trip. I had found the site very, very useful. Alia really wanted to help Hessa, so we went back up to our room to go to the internet. We found hotel recommendations with phone numbers and Alia texted the info to Hessa. It took us one hour to search. But I was very surprised that minutes after Alia had texted the info to Hessa they had booked a hotel based on Alia’s info! That was really quick! One of the marvels of the internet age!
Tagging along with my daughters on their shopping, I was also seduced by the discount prizes of 40 – 60% in the majority of shops. At Rinoscente, a huge mall, I also bought some gift items for loved ones who were not with us. It was not easy choosing colors and figuring out the appropriate sizes. You have to do conversion from European size to American or vice-versa. Some clothes had the conversion on the tags but many times you have to ask someone. I was getting tired and pretty soon my feet were aching! I found Asma smelling perfumes at ground level where all the brand names were and I went and stood near her, curious what perfume she would buy. I told everyone who came near me asking if I needed assistance that I was waiting for my daughter, nodding towards Asma and they would exclaim in accented English, “She’s beautiful! Congratulations Madame” or break out in Italian, “E’bellisima! Complimenti signora.” Shopping with one’s daughter/s can be quite fun!
When we got tired, we had refreshment at a café near the Duomo Cathedrale. I always like sitting in that café, people- and pigeon-watching. The Duomo Square was also crowded but I found it much, much more pleasant than the Champs Elysee, perhaps because of the beautiful Gothic church. I wondered how long before the place became like the Champs Elysee. Milan is pleasant: good ambiance, maybe because the Italians in general have warm personalities; wide boulevards and piazzas; quaint narrow alleys, and good shops. The place where we had Pizza and seafood were located in a narrow alley with charming cafes and restaurants and bistros.
Milan is nice – for shopping, but probably not for living. There is always life in the streets. Sometimes I could not keep up with the energy of my daughters and when that happened, I would stay-in and read my books. Many times I was mystified what it was they were looking for in the shops. One evening I opted out of dinner because I was not hungry at all since I had had a heavy breakfast with Alia and in late afternoon I had ice cream while they had sandwiches in a café by the Duomo.
I was quietly reading in bed when my daughters came back and the room again came alive with their chatter. Asma presented me with a long-stemmed red rose and kissed me. She apologized for snapping at me that afternoon, when we were out shopping. Then Haifa came also and presented me with another long-stemmed red rose, kissed me, told me she loved me and also apologized for snapping at me yesterday before we went to dinner, for hurrying her. I had forgotten the incidents. I lay the flowers on my pillow while I looked for an empty bottle of mineral water. Alia took a picture of the flowers on my pillow and gave me her empty bottle of mineral water to put them in. Haifa and Asma also gave Alia a white long-stemmed rose, perhaps for taking us to good restaurants away from the crowds. Needless to say I was misty-eyed. My philosophy is if you give love you get love in return. Love begets love.
On our last day, we checked out at 2 pm. Checkout time was 12 noon but reception was nice to extend my checkout time. I had requested that we stay in one room until 4 PM and they were willing but when they looked in their computer, a family with children had been booked to occupy our rooms at 2 pm, so we checked out at that time and kept our luggage in the porter storeroom.
Our train was due to depart 19:25 pm and rather than wait around in the lobby until time to go to the train station, we went and window-shopped again in Monte Napoleone. However, my daughters bought some more things! I wondered aloud how they were going to carry all those bags plus their luggage. “Mommy, we know what we are doing” I was told. I had kept quiet because I was also carrying an extra paper bag besides my luggage. The roses my daughters gave me and Alia were still lovely and fresh and I hated to leave them behind. So, I emptied most of the water in the bottle leaving only a small amount at the bottom, packed them with my hats in a paper bag and hand carried them back to Montreux! My daughters were very surprised to see me lugging around in a paper bag the flowers they had given me! In the train, I had taken a picture of the roses in the paper bag next to my luggage and the photo is now the background screen of my iPhone, reminding me always of my daughters’ lovely gesture.
When the porters loaded our luggage in the minivan, I asked the porters to tell the driver in Italian to help us find a porter at the station. I’m always told there are no porters in train stations but I always ask because sometimes I see some. The porters spoke to the driver in Italian, and there were arm gesticulations and worried expressions. One of the porters told us that the driver will help us at the station and I thanked him. The driver spoke a little English and along the way, I asked what seemed to be the problem. “Madame, there is a train strike”, he informed me, scratching his head with one hand. “What?” I exclaimed. “But maybe Madame it is over now. We see.” “When did it start?” I asked. “Yesterday.” I sighed. Nothing we could do except go to the station and see how things were. Alia had left yesterday for Montreux and she had made it, not mentioning to us anything about a train strike. Perhaps, I consoled myself, the train strike was only local, not involving the international trains. “Do not worry Madame. I will help you”, the driver assured me and I thanked him.
I remembered that in 2007, when I took my daughters to Milan again, we had arrived to a city paralyzed by a taxi strike. When I called the hotel to send someone to pick us up, the hotel had said yes, they will but we may have to wait an hour or so. It had been a very hot day. There had been a small car circling the taxi stand and I had flagged it. I had thought it was a taxi but it was not. The driver had stopped and we managed to communicate, he speaking Italian and me summoning remnants of Spanish from memory. He was not a taxi driver but he would help us. We had been five with luggage and he had taken us to our hotel in two trips. While I checked-in the hotel, he had gone for the second trip to fetch my other daughters and I had had a sudden attack of anxiety. What if he was a member of the mafia? After all I was in Italy! Voicing my concerns to reception, the staff laughed and told me not to worry. In a few minutes, my other daughters arrived and I had been so relieved. Of course, they told their daddy, “Mommy left us stranded!”
Well, finally, we arrived in Milano Centrale train station (Stazione Centrale di Milano), one of the most beautiful train stations in Europe. The station is airy and spacious with marble flooring, sculptures and ceramic panels.
Milano Centrale train station was only 5-10 minutes drive from our hotel by car. As expected, there was no porter around. The driver parked his minivan and helped us get to the train platform, pulling the two heavy suitcases of my daughters. There did not seem to be any train strike. The driver talked to some people in Italian. It seemed the strike affected only certain trains. We looked for our gate on the boards but our train was not listed. “It is still early Madame”, said the driver. I mentioned that the Milan – Montreux train had been Gate 1 the last couple of times we were in Milan. He took us to Gate 1 and advised us to park ourselves there, and to watch the boards for the correct gate.
There were more than 10 gates I think, but they were all on the same platform, the trains parked parallel to each other.
The hour was 19:10 but still the Milan – Montreux train was not listed on the boards! It should have appeared by then and I started to fret. “Don’t freak out Mommy. It will appear soon”, said my daughters. “Wait here. I’ll go ask information” I told my daughters and looked for the information box. There were two, with long waiting lines, with little forward movement and my heart sank. Well, what kind of efficiency did I expect? I went and queued in one, not knowing if my query would be answered by the sphinx in the box. Seconds were ticking and I told the man in front of me that I was looking for the gate to the Milan-Montreux train and that the info was not appearing on the boards. Luckily he spoke a little English and he was kind enough to look at my ticket, informing me that that particular queue was only for questions about certain trains, and our train was not one of them unfortunately. He said the gate will be announced on the board anytime soon. I thanked him.
I glanced at the time. 19:15! And our train still was not listed on any of the boards! I was frantic, literally flying around Milano Centrale, looking for our train listing on the boards. 19:20! I certainly didn’t want to spend the night in train stations looking for connecting trains to Montreux! Then I received a message on my iPhone from my daughters: Gate 8. Apparently it had just appeared on the board. Gosh only 5 minutes before the train departs and we had so many luggage! 3 heavy suitcases and several paper bags, my flower bag among them! I flew to gate 1 and grabbed my luggage and my paper bag. WE RAN TO GATE 8!
The train was there waiting serenely, and it flashed through my stressed brain that that train had been parked there the last half hour! Why wasn’t the gate announced earlier? Italian efficiency! Anyway, we scrambled in. And luckily it was the right car! Because we had so many things, I told my daughters to wait with our luggage in the front of the car while I go and search for our seats. I had written it down somewhere on a piece of paper but from memory: 42, 43, 44. The train had 4 seat rows, facing each other; one row on the left, and three rows on the right.
To my chagrin, seats 41, 42 facing each other were occupied by an elderly couple. Across the aisle from them were Seats 43, 44, 45, 46, two chairs occupied by a lady with a hat reading a book and feet stretched across the chairs. “Uum, 42, 43, 44”, I intoned. “You’re sure you’re in the right seats?” I blurted in English. The lady in the hat smiled at me and the elderly man across the aisle replied, “I think so” in American English. I found my little paper, glanced at the seat numbers again. “43, 44, 45”, I read aloud. “Sorry, I made a mistake”, I said to the elderly man. “Uh-huh” he replied. I went to my daughters and told them to come as I had found our seats. The lady with the hat had transferred to the row behind us, still reading her book, and with legs stretched across the chairs. The elderly American was reading aloud from his book, Touring Italy. His wife, who sat across him, looked out the window impassively. They were a strange couple because the wife never once talked to her husband who sat intermittently reading aloud from his tour guide and smiling vacuously at no one in particular!
We stored our luggage in the side compartments located at intervals and some of the paper bags overhead and we settled in our seats. “I miss work” I said. At work I don’t frantically fly around the place looking for information. At work I know what I do. “Mommy, you always freak out. We told you to relax and just wait for the gate announcement on the boards but you had to go looking for information.” “Well, you see, I thought our train was canceled because of the so-called train strike.” I also thought there was something deficient in the Italian board announcements. Why announce the gate only 5 minutes before departure when the train was already parked in the assigned gate, for half an hour? It was a mystery!
I was surprised that the train was not moving yet. I couldn’t believe that we were able to make it to our train but we did, with a few minutes even to spare! Funny how much you could accomplish in minutes! We had run to our gate, clambered on the train with our heavy luggage, and stored them properly, all in three minutes for it was two minutes before the train started to move. Time is relative!
We had a wonderful time in Milan. Until next year. In Italian, Fino al prossimo anno (courtesy of Google translate!).
Rachel Hajar, M.D.
Author of My Life in Doha: Between Dream and Reality
