Usually I don’t write on long train days, but this trip was particularly exciting. I had to get up on the early side as my train left at 8:30 and I planned on walking to the train station. The walk to Part Dieu was really nice, Lyon is different at 7:30am, softer, and I got to watch the last of the sunrise trail off from the tops of the tallest buildings. I think one of the reasons I liked Lyon so much was that it didn’t feel like a place where people survive as Paris did, but like a place where people live.
I picked up my ticket and got on the train, found my seat and settled in to do some quality scenery watching and dosing. The landscape was beautiful, with green plains and adorable little towns that eventually turned into snow capped mountains and yellow mustard fields.
One odd moment on that journey was the border crossing. We were all asked to produce our documents, not the most polite police officer I’ve ever interacted with, but just fine. The man sitting across from me on the train could not produce his identification so the police swept him and his stuff up and whisked him off the train and down underground.
The train got to the Turin station and I got off and grabbed a cappuccino, knowing that I had an hour wait before the local train to Genoa departed. About 30 minutes before my train to Genoa was supposed to leave I went to the board to watch for the departures information. I waited for a little while but my train wasn’t showing up so I asked a lovely older couple. They were very patient with my “Scusi…? Genova?” and quickly launched into english. They were also confused so the husband went to check the schedule for me and reported back that I needed to be at a different train station. I hadn’t realized that the arrival and departure train stations were different. WHOOPS! The lady said, “It is too late, you must catch taxi.” so I rushed out side and grabbed a taxi saying desperately, “Porta Nuova” through his window. The drive wasn’t long and I made my train in plenty of time, but it’s the first time something really could have gone wrong.
The walk to my hostel from the Genoa station was easy and I got a good look at the city. It’s really beautiful and only smells like pee in some places, a real winner for European cities. 🙂
p.s. There are more photos in the gallery. Fun fact- the people from Lyon call themselves the Lyonnaise, and yes, that does rhyme with mayonnaise.