Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Milano, Italy to Paris, France
Bit of a lazy morning today, no last minute things that we just had to do in Milan so we had a leisurely breakfast and a bit of computer work in the room before coming down to the lobby at noon for checkout. We waited a while in the lobby as well, then cruised over to the train station. Along the way we had lunch at a very nice restaurant nearby, very good memory for us. All in about an hour with a 10 minute walk in total.
The SNCF ICE train was there and ready for boarding by about 3:05pm, shortly after we arrived at the station. Since we have so many bags, heavy ones too, we want to get aboard early and stow our gear easily, while there is room. So we boarded and properly stowed everything, so no worries. The train started to fill slowly as we worked along toward the 4:10 pm departure time, at at about ten minutes to four a family came in and filled the seats in front of us. There were five of them, sitting in a four-seat block, two facing ahead and two feeling back toward them. Rats, I thought, there goes the chance for a quiet ride this evening, as the three kids were all under six years old. They were mid-eastern in appearance, maybe arabic of some sort, Iraq or Iran somewhere, not Pakistani or Indian. The mom was a short-ish, wiry woman in western dress (ie no burkqua) and the man very tall at about six and a half feet, muscular, shaven head under a leather baseball cap wearing an Addidas track suit, blue, and with a couple of days of very heavy stubble on his cheeks and chin. His face was narrow, angular, with a hooked nose and eyes so dark that they seemed all black within the white surroundings, and they darted about or alternatly fixated upon some one or some thing for intense scrutiny. Overall, the impression was that of a minor gangster, or thug, definely someone to be reconned with. The couple, man and wife I presume, repeatedly went outside to the platform to smoke while leaving the three kids to themselves in the compartment. The three were well behaved, overall, but it was clear that they were spoiled a bit and that when tiredness set in there would be issues. At last, just before boarding, the parents came aboard to stay, and we noticed for the first time the undeniable scent of body odor that surrounded the man like a dark overcoat.
All was relatively quiet as we moved north from Milan, across the flat northern plain of Italy and up toward the mountains and the French border. We made a few stops at small towns, as usual, and then at one place, name unrembered, the Italian border police entered the cars, the one in ours standing in the front saying 'Your papers or passports please'. Clearly, the 'please' at the end was a formality, these guys were tough and serious. We produced ours quickly enough, and our passports were ignored, but the family in front of us did not. Broken english seemed to be the common medium of communication between this particular border guard and the thuggish fellow in the blue track suit, and I heard the guard say 'Your papers, please' and the fellow saying 'I don't have them'. The guard, large and tough in his own right, and armed with a large handgun in a ready holster, stared at the father and with a slight turn of his head, indicating the family, said 'and them?'. The track suited father shook his head. I watched the face of the guard, he was facing toward me about five feet away, and he did not look happy. A moment of indicision, pity perhaps at the disruption to come, a furrowing of the brow, and then the immediate action of 'You'll have to come with me, ALL of you'. Omigod, they are going to pull the family off the train. The father stood up, took down their bags from the overhead area, handed them out to the two older kids, mom got the baby up and held her, and the five of them got off the train, one guard ahead and one behind, just like that. Holy cow, just like a scene from a movie, but the reality of life. What about the Schengen agreement for free passage between countries that are signatories, like France and Italy? I don't know, I just know what happened on the train this evening.
Its true that I didn't like him, or the noise and disruptions that his family almost certainly would have caused, but I would not wish on him, or his, the fate that befell them at the border. I was sorry to see that happen, and wished they were back and safe. But the train started without their return, they never came back.
At the next stop, we were joined by French border guards, announcing 'Passort Control, could we see your passports please.' Again we had our ready, again we were ignored, and again the guards left the train with an offender (offense unknown, but he was a scruffy looking fellow of african origin) accompanied by two burly guards. By this time another passenger had sat down in the reserved seats vacated by the family at the last border inspection, he also of african descent though not that scruffy, more like a student, young. He didn't have a passport, but he had papers on him that perhaps idenified him as a student or worker on a visa. The guard gave this fellow a very hard time, and seemed that with hardly any provocation at all he would haul the guy off the train, but he didn't. The african stuck to his story no matter how hard the guard pushed him for answers, and in the end a bunch of copying of information, accompanied by armwaving, by the guard and the passenger was allowed to remain on the train. The conversation was all in French, a language that I refuse to comprehend, so while the details are unclear the overall intent of the guard was very evident.
After that, all was clear sailing into Paris Gare du Lyon station. Then a taxi ride to the hotel, uneventful at quarter to twelve in the evening on the uncrowded Paris streets. Arriving at the hotel, unloading the bags, I was readying the fare to be paid. It was 13.60 Euro for the ride, and 1 Euro each for the two bags, total of 15.60 Euro, simple math. So I knew that I was being scammed when the driver announced 25.60 Euro, please. Sure, nice try, 30 Euro rounded up for a 15 Euro fare, not tonight asshole. So I walked to the passenger window and pointed to the meter, 15.60 I said. The large black driver, taller by three inches and heavier by 50 pounds, said '25.60'. I reached inside the cab, pointed at the meter, said 15.60 again, still pointing. He then said, 'yes, 15.60'. I gave him the money, sans tip, and walked away muttering to myself. Poor Jan was mortified by my behaviour, but it had been a long day and being ripped off by a Paris cab driver was just not going to happen. I would have stood there and screamed for the cops before I would have paid that cheater anything at all.
Finally, upstairs to bed, the end of a long day, almost home now, just the Eurostar ride in the morning to London.
