Me versus a nun

Now, this part of my 2020 European trip felt more familiar than the others.  At the start of the year, I had planned a trip to Italy and Croatia for July time - you know for when I would need a little bit of mid-year sunshine escape. Forever chasing those blue skies.

The post lockdown 1.0 version of the same trip started in Berlin, where I flew into Bologna from.  I remember there was a heightened sense of Covid in Italy.  There was more mask-wearing, a lot more in fact.  Most locals even wore them outside, where it wasn’t mandatory.  I always wore my mask around my wrist since I had it on so frequently, and it kind of felt like an Italian fashion trend as everyone was doing it. 2020, the year mask wearing became ‘COVID’ fashionable.

At the start of the year Italy was the epi-center of the virus as the rest of Europe looked on in shock, not realising one day the UK would start to match the stats we heard from Italy. It seemed the fear from that time had lingered around and most people continued to wear the masks more than they needed to. It was such a contrast from Germany, where mask-wearing was limited. 

Italy became an important part of my 2020 story.  It involved the potential to visit a new country.  That new country was looking like teeny tiny San Marino, which sits landlocked by Italy.  Surely if I was in Italy, and there was the possibility to tick off another country, then I had to make it happen. You can enter San Marino easily via Rimini, a coastal resort town, which can be reached from Bologna by train. Originally North Korea was penciled in to become country number 90, then it was swapped out for Andorra.  Neither of those trips happened. 

So here I was in Italy, with one eye on the new county 90.

I knew the San Marino trip was a possibility when I was in Berlin and found direct flights to Bologna.  Then I would just need to dust off the trip I had planned previously and make it work. It was becoming more real and I started to feel excited.

I spent one day in Bologna wandering the historic streets, eating gelato and pizza.  I even found a Brewdog bar, a Scottish Brewery famous for its playful design and branding. I sat outside sipping a cold zero percent beer while surveying my plans for Italy.  I had no expectations for Bologna as I was only using it as a base to access San Marino, then head West onto Florence and Pisa - the star attractions. 

In the end, I really loved it.  It was small enough to see all the sights in a day, you could have probably squeezed a couple of more days out of it but I gave it one day, two nights and two morning runs.  What a combo.

It felt like a pocket of Italy with no mass tourism.  It is seen as a gastro region and is on the foodie map, but on this trip, it seemed locals only. 

That evening I sat down and plotted out the trip to San Marino for the next day.  This is when I felt that feeling, to accomplish something which throughout 2020 seemed impossible.  I had the train time penciled in to depart for Rimini, then I found a bus timetable into San Marino.  It was all coming together. It wasn’t the most regular bus, so was likely I would spend a little time in Rimini - the more I explore Italy, the more I fall in love with it - so I was happy with this find.

Next, there was the planning of what to do in San Marino.  Although small, the actual tourist part sits perched high on top of a steep hill.  There is a mighty fortress to explore.  It is always hard to get a feel for how long you need in a new place.  For San Marino I had hours.

The main thing to do was walk along the three connected fortresses, at the top of the mountain, which are linked by a path that runs along the entire ridge of the mountain, looking out to the coast of Italian.  It looked incredible.

So I did that thing I do on a trip where I need to be somewhere for a set time the next day - I hurt my head trying to work back to factor in all the moving parts. Calculate my wake up time, run time, get dressed time, grab food time, get train tickets time, all to ultimately get the train on time. All stress-free.  Sounds like a well-executed bit of planning..

The day started as expected and everything seemed on track. I was on the ‘get to the train station’ walking march. I’ve travelled around Italy before using the train, and know you can easily buy tickets the night before from the station. or online from Trainline.  All this removes stress. For whatever reason, I never did any of this even though I had the opportunity.  I considered this as I got to the train station. Everything seemed stressed and majorly chaotic.

‘Here we go I thought’.

Lots of people milling around, everyone wearing masks, the usual levels of normal life stress, and now COVID stress.  I queued for a spot at the next available self serve ticket machine and glanced up to check the train detail. 
As I typed in the details to the machine the train I wanted, which was the fastest, seemed double the price compared to a train that departed ten mins later.  As I had planned out the various options the night before, I knew this train would still work.  I should arrive in Rimini at 10.30 am and get the bus to San Marion at midday.  Easy. 

Well, this is where the stress levels start to increase. 

My trusty and reliable Mastercard got declined multiple times - argh. It never ever gets declined, even in the most random and remote countries.  I had used it already in Bologna so knew it wasn’t my card.  Argh again. 

After doing that annoying thing where you retry many times as if something magical will change, I gave up and looked around for help in the form of a real person at a ticket counter.  I could see different systems on the go, one where you queue to speak to a man at this popup counter or one where you take a ticket and stand to be ushered forward - that option looked busy. 

So, I went to queue for the man at the popup counter.  I was next in line. 

It became clear the person speaking to the man had one of those complex cases, and they kept exchanging quite a tense discussion.  ‘Come on’ I was thinking while maintaining my own stress levels. Suddenly I felt the person behind me stand right up next to me, breathing down my neck.  

At this point, I could feel their breathing from their mask.  I turned to catch a glimpse.  It was a nun.  An actual nun. A real nun. A heavy breathing nun.

The nun took the opportunity to try and queue jump, right under my nose.  I could see it being played out.  She was getting frustrated the person speaking to the man was not sensing there was a queue of similar damsels in distress.  The nun decided her case was more important than mine and did this sneaky manoeuvre, where she shuffled up and stood alongside me. I half glance up at the train station timetable to check how long I had to get a ticket, half glance at the counter situation, which didn’t seem to be wrapping up, then one whole eye glance on the nun.  She was now trying to explain in some pretty good English she had to get her situation sorted, and shared a couple of train tickets and a note with times.  I give it a quick look and came to my own conclusion. 

She was a complete chancer. 

It seemed she had missed her first train and therefore was not going to, in any way, make her second train.  I also knew if I let her jump the queue, I would likely not make the train I needed to get.  She signalled as if to say ‘ can I get in front?’

I looked her in the eye and shook my head, then edged forward to reinforce this.  ‘Not today lady’ I thought in my head.

It felt like a split second judgement, as I knew at this point I had to keep calm and sort this ticket thing or the San Marino trip wouldn’t be happening.

It was then my turn to speak to the counterman, I was soon done with him as he shook his head and said you can’t buy tickets at his pop up desk.  WTAF.  ‘What are you doing then?’ My options were to try the self-service again in the hope it magically works, find an ATM to withdraw cash to use at the self service machine, or take a ticket and wait for the actual counter person.  From glancing over at that counter area, I knew I didn’t have time.

So I was back to trying to figure this out. I couldn’t see an ATM to get cash from. Why do European cities not have noticeable ATMs in these crisis times? 

So I do what any person would do, I try the Mastercard card again. 

I now have about five minutes to get the train and the machine is doing something more than the last time, but it remains very unclear.

I ask the man standing behind me what the Italian message on the card reader says, he smiles and says ‘just wait’.  Arggghh is this life teaching me a lesson.  I look away doing that ‘if I don’t look it will magically print’ technique and it worked.

I saw the ticket print like actual magic then appear in the collection window to be grabbed at. What a moment. I grabbed it, did a slight dash run thing, jumped down the stairs onto the platform and onto the train to Rimini. 

What a drama over a simple train ticket purchase. 

90 mins later I arrive in Rimini and guess who was the first person I saw when I walked outside.

A nun.  Eek!!

Sorry to the nun back in Bologna, but you got to become a ninja when the stakes are high.  Getting to Rimini, the stepping stone to San Marino, was my focus.

Did I get to San Marino - of course I did!! It was super easy in the end and very very beautiful.