YDYtravelers: Wait! We wind up going to one more museum and then everything goes wrong until it doesn’t

Okay, you may want to put on your comfy pants and settle into an easy chair for this one. It’s been a long day. We were up early and out the door by 9, because we wanted to see one last musuem in Torino before bussing to our Milan airport hotel in the afternoon. There was plenty of time because our Airbnb hostess let us know we could stay as long as we wanted since she didn’t have another guest booked. So, we began the walk to the very cool National Museum of Cinema. Torino, the birthplace of Italian cinema, does a great job of celebrating the craft with a multi-story, epic, musuem housed in a landmark building called the Mole Antonelliana. It was built in the mid-late 1800s and was originally a synagogue. Now, it’s believed to be the tallest musuem in the world (also it’s featured on the 2 cent Euro coin - how do you like these Wikipedia skills?). As soon as we paid for tickets, Mom and I took the panoramic elevator up to the top of the long spire at the center of the musuem. It’s a glass elevator and gives you views of the musuem all the way to the top, where you switch to views of the city. All of this was pretty fantastic and we took pictures, including our last selfie for this trip (see below).

After our elevator ride, we three left the musuem for a short bit to grab breakfast. We lucked out big time because we happened to find this lovely little place called Tabata Creperie and Bistro. Recommended. For the first time since leaving France, mom (and the rest of us) had egg at breakfast. She’s an eggaholic so the brunch which offered eggs, pancakes, toast, bacon, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice was just the ticket. Might as well eat like an American since we’re heading west tomorrow. George and I also tried the handmade hot chocolate and it was mighty fine, all thick and not too sweet. Our spirits were mighty high upon the completion of breakfast. Then we toured the musuem.

So this musuem is fantastic. There are amazing relics of not only Italian cinema, but also the film industry around the world, And a large portion of the musuem’s exhibits are on a circular pathway that leads up (and down) the round building’s side. We’ve grown accustomed to grabbing a wheel chair for George on these musuem days. He’s just lacking the stamina to get through a musuem at the pace Mom and I want to go, so it works out pretty good for everyone. Today, as I tried and failed to find the words in Italian for wheelchair, I instead, sat in the air and motioned with my hands like I was pushing myself with wheelchair wheels. That just confused everybody and made George crack up. Apparently, I don’t do a good impression of wheeling. Mom just pointed to the wheelchair sitting 10 feet from me (I would have thought of that eventually) and I handed over my passport to a stranger (as you do) and exchanged it for the chair.. George sat in it and then said to me “you have to do it”, and I thought he meant unlock a break or something, so I started to fiddle around with the side of the chair. Turns out, what he was saying was that I’d have to push because the wheel chair lacked wheels for the wheeler to push. So we teamed up for the visit and I learned what it’s like to have no one see you when you’re trying to navigate a musuem in a chair. Also, it was good strength training to push him up the multi-floor circular walkway. Maybe an hour into our musueming it became quite clear that we were all just done. Walking home happened and as soon as we arrived back, things became difficult.

Turns out the our lingering afternoon packing was not to be. The Airbnb had found a last minute guest and they wanted us out ASAP. Our first indicator was someone else’s stuff just inside the doorway. That was odd. So Mom checked her Airbnb account and discovered that while we were at the musuem our person was trying to reach us. So now we felt like interlopers. Quick packing was our game and I was winning until I received a text from Booking.com, unhooking me from our hotel in Milan. Cancelled reservation. Super rude. I had reserved the room months ago and got a pretty good deal, maybe $85 or something. I don’t actually know because the reservation was deleted off of my account. Turns out that my credit card was renumbered when the number was stolen a few months back and they wanted me to update it. They sent me an email, which I didn’t read because vacation and all that. So, when I didn’t update my card, the reservation went away. No biggie I thought. I’d just call the hotel and re-reserve. Only when I called they couldn’t help. They told me there was only one room available and it would be $295 Euro for the night. That was my room! But the hotel wouldn’t budge and so I entertained the idea of sleeping at the airport. Then we remembered that Mom had booked a separate room, so we were saved, paying an extra 40 Euro to bunk with her. George and I are her guests this evening.

While I was trying to work out the hotel situation, the clock ticked down to our new exit time and before we could escape, the cleaning people arrived at the apartment, clearly pretty aggravated that we were still there. Believe me, I was pretty aggravated too. I didn’t want to be there as much as they didn’t want us there. Oh, and several days ago, the flusher fell off the wall and into the toilet. Long story. But, they seemed none too pleased, even though we’d reported it to the owner. The exiting from that apartment felt much like how one feels slinking out of a stranger’s house after a one night stand. We felt a bit disoriented, clothes were not in their proper places and there was the scent of cigarette smoke in the air (okay, that had nothing to do with the situation but it paints the picture, right? Also, Europeans tend to smoke. A lot). Taxi was found and our troubles were over as we headed to the bus station to catch a ride to the Milan airport, where we’d transfer to our airport hotel.

I’d purchased tickets for the 4PM bus but since we were hustled out of the apartment early, I asked the driver if we could jump on the 3PM. No problem! Until I made the horrifying discovery that I had accidentally purchased tickets for the 2PM bus. We’d missed the bus. There was a very nice Italian bus man who clearly saw my distress, as my eyes became a bit misty, and he reissued tickets for us and soon we were on our way. Whew. We had to change seats to avoid a very loud conversation happening in the row behind us, which was a big disappointment to the guy in the back who was trying to make out with his much younger girlfriend, even when she was sleeping. It was a lot of action back there and he didn’t want to be interrupted. Also, he decided to take a nap on the seats in the very back row, right behind George and me, laying prone across all five, with his feet in our direction. He folded his hands over his body like Dracula in his coffin and proceeded to snore his way through the misty rainy day. That was the bus, but what did we really expect?

We safely arrived at Milan’s airport and found the taxi stand pretty quickly, except the taxis wouldn’t drive us to our hotel. They were special taxies that only drove into Milan itself. Instead we had to travel to the other end of the arrival gate, take an elevator, cross the street to the Sheridan hotel (walking through it, with bags but with no intentions of staying there), out the door and to a local taxi stand. Once we got there, I was just fine paying the “standard fare” of 20 Euro to anywhere from the airport. Our taxi ride was maybe 5 minutes, but whatever. We really needed to be in our room (well, really Mom’s room). I give him a 50 Euro bill when we got to the hotel and he only gave me back 20, claiming that the ride was actually 30 Euro. Really guy? He did give in quickly and handed over another 10 after I gave him side eyes.

And finally, in our hotel room, our trip for the day over, I took care of one last piece of business. We had tickets on Easy Jet in the morning to Amsterdam, where we’d connect with our Delta flight home. But a few months ago Delta changed the time of our flight from 5PM to 3:15PM, which I thought was no big deal until I figured out yesterday that Easy Jet would not let us take carry on luggage on the plane. That meant that when we arrived in Amsterdam, we’d have to leave the secure area of the airport, wait for our luggage, go through security again, and then get to our gate during what used to be an ample layover but was now very not. Easy Jet said no to gate checking our bags and cared not at all about our Delta problem (really why should they, well, maybe except to be nice, I guess). So I was pretty worried that we may miss our flight home. In a moment of desperation, I called Delta with this crazy idea that perhaps they’d fly us to Amsterdam instead, since their change put our connection at risk. I really didn’t have high hopes that this would happen, but I also wanted to know what our back up plan was if we were to miss the flight. Many many minutes of hold music was my immediate future, followed by a transfer or two. Then, supervisor Melodie clearly put the idea of a flight from Milan off the table. Then she said our only choice was to rebook our flight for Friday or for a different flight tomorrow that would take us through Atlanta and then to Minneapolis in the middle of the night. Alternately, we could buy a ticket from Milan to Amsterdam for $700 per person. Or we could be refunded our ticket price and find a different carrier to take us home. So those were some terrible options. We talked about protocol a lot and about how it wasn’t Delta’s fault we’d chosen to book with Easy Jet. When I asked what would happen if we tried to make the flight tomorrow but missed it, she told me we’d be facing a penalty to get rebooked. So I got off the phone with her and went to the restaurant to drink wine. Then, the most amazing thing happened. Melodie called me back and said that she’d talked to someone else and that they would change our tickets and fly us all the way from Milan to Minneapolis, with our expected layover in Amsterdam. What happened, Melodie? I thought you were not on our side, but all this time you were and were just hiding it. Now I love Melodie, who saved us a very stressful day tomorrow. She also saved my Delta friends from having to hear this story for years to come.

Are you tired of listening to stories about our mishaps? Do you wonder how on earth I bought a 2PM ticket for a 4PM train? Is the water safe to drink at the Idea Hotel in Milan? And under what conditions, if any, are nuts allowed to be transported into the U.S.? Why am I asking you, my few and faithful readers, these questions? At this point, after 35 days of traveling, I don’t really know the answer to anything anymore. But, I will post one last time tomorrow when we are home, loving on our kitties and doing a whole lot of nothing.