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Episode/PUntata n. 1 Torino - newport
Packing for the trip
Packing for this trip reminded me of my Interrail trips, as a student. Not that I haven’t travelled by train and coach in recent years, too. But this time, there will be an extra dose of adventure and improvisation. And some camping. And a foreign language exam. Just like back then. Reit, ‘te. Passport - check. Camera - check. Towels - check. Sleeping bag - check. I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.
Torino Porta Susa
I reach the station of Torino Porta Susa comfortably in advance. The train is on time and I find my seat among a group of parisians going back home after a pilgrimage to the village of the Notre-Dame Miraculeuse des Roses. Oddly enough, there’s a church and a street named “Madonna delle Rose” just a few blocks away from where I live, but I had never really known the story. My fellow travellers would passionately analyze and discuss the topic for the whole trip so I can consider myself quite an expert by now.
Approaching Paris
Five hours later, we’re getting close to our destination. But while I’m already revising which metro line will get me to Gare du Nord, instead of running to Paris, we start going slower and slower and stop in a field in the middle of nowhere.
A creaky voice explains that severe storms earlier in the day have caused an electrical problem: we will need to wait until they remove une vache (a cow) from the cables. Oh, that was a strong wind indeed!
“Une vache?” I ask the lady sitting next to me.
“Nooo, une bâche (a tarpaulin)!” she answers, chuckling.
Within a minute, the whole car, and some the staff accidentally walking by, are joking and laughing about them low flying cows over Paris. Glad to have provided a bit of entertainment to the party, and that no bovines were harmed in the process.
Siarad Cymraeg?
In Paris, everything goes smoothly, except that the automatic border control gate doesn’t let me through. It happens, from time to time, so I’m not worried. And luckily here there’s a much shorter and faster queue compared to airports, so I just walk to the booth right next and hand my passport to a human officer.
“Do you live in the UK?” “No, in Italy”
“xyxyxyx yxyxuxuxyxxxux xxxxyx?”
As it often happens, especially when someone speaks from behind a thick glass and there’s other noises around me I don’t understand anything at all. But border officers usually ask more or less the same things, so I just try and dish out a few answers, hoping that at least one will match his actual question.
“I’m going to make an exam of Welsh language, and visit a few places and friends, and staying for ab…”
“Wait, did you say exam of Welsh language?!”
“Yes”
“Dych chi’n siarad Cymraeg? Tipyn bach?”
“Wel…ie, mwy na tipyn bach, rili.” Turns out he’s from North Wales and fluent speaker, but unfortunately our nice as much as unexpected conversation in Cymraeg is cut short because a very nervous American lady has just been bounced from the passport checking machine herself and requires immediate attention.
Eurostar
As I walk on the work-in-progress platform towards the Eurostar, a few bags of debris say: votre réussite commence ici - your success begins here. A good omen for my exam and beyond?
To be honest, I can’t feel completely sure it is, but I’ll take it as such.
London and Wales at last!
When the train reaches St.Pancras - very much unlike when you reach Stansted - I’m only minutes away from the Tube that will take me straight to Victoria Coach station for the last leg of my route to Wales or, more precisely, to Newport.
Traveling by train and coach is relaxing, but it’s been a long trip nonetheless. For this evening, I’ll be just off for a quick cwrw and a short walk to stretch my legs…And then…straight to bed.
Busy week ahead!
Newport
