“Mi Scusi” or alternatively “Snakes on a Train”

This past weekend I traveled to Monaco and Monte Carlo and also to Nice, France. It’s been a week now since we took a night train Thursday night at 11:30 to arrive in Monaco by 8:30 the next morning. But, that is where the adventure begins. If any of you have ever ridden on a train in Europe you now that the cheap seats are usually compartments with six seats in them. Of course, being students on a budget, this was the choice we opted for, instead of the sleeper compartments—bunkrooms with locks on the door…Keyword: locks.

Since the stop we got on at was not the first stop for the train, there was only one compartment left for the six of us—and to our luck—depending on which way you look at it—it didn’t have a curtain. So we--Jon, Bailey, Martin, Kyle, Omid and I, that is—sat up for a while snacking and chatting waiting until we got tired enough to try and go to sleep on the train.

After a while we began the process of trying to pack all six sardines into the tiny can that was our compartment. Luckily the seats in these compartments slide together flat, making one big pallet of sorts…that would be maybe be comfortable for three or four people—not six. We are lucky that it was uncomfortable though, because many of us couldn’t sleep that well, including Omid, my roommate—and the lightest sleeper of the bunch. He just so happened to get the “smashed against the door” spot in our tightly orchestrated positioning.

Now, rewind to the first week we got here. We had an Italian police officer come and speak with us about how to stay safe and not get robbed or mugged. It was really useful information, and scared us for a while—until we got a little more comfortable with our surroundings. I know many of us had heard horror stories about similar situations form family and previous students, but none of really thought we would see it so closely firsthand.

So, back to Omid. Being his roommate, I can attest to how light of sleeper he is. I can simply exhale loudly and he will shift in his bed. So as the rest of us clung to what little sleep we could get, Omid was only half asleep. Still facing the outside window with his back to the door/other window, he kept noticing a shift in the light in the reflection of the window he faced. He woke up to watch the reflected silhouette of a man scoping out our room. We were wealthy Americans with our Ipods, credit cards, and cash headed to a wealthy city were we we’re planning to drop some cash—cash that we obviously had with us at the time.

Sure enough, Omid—silently freaking out at this point—feels the door sliding open across his back. He obviously knew what was happening. The man wasn’t looking for a seat, because without a curtain in the compartment, he could see that not only were we full, we were packed full. Finally Omid has had enough, he takes a deep breath, flips over in a split second, and slams the door shut. The man simply said “Oh…Mi Scusi.” Italian for “excuse me.”

Now Omid is stuck. He can’t really call for help because he’s not really sure how to, and he can’t leave the compartment for fear of his own safety. Especially since the man speaks with his partner, who was there to make sure no conductors would be roaming that cabin during the wee hours of two and three in the morning. The guy now proceeds to take a seat in the hallway directly across from Omid to see what his reaction will be, while his partner moves down to the next compartment, sits down in the hallway, slowly slides the door to the darkened, curtained, room next to us. He pulls out the bag and wallet of another unsuspecting college student—takes his time going through everything—pulls out the money—and throws the incriminating evidence back in the compartment while shutting the door like nothing ever happened. At this point, Omid doesn’t really sleep the rest of the night.

The next morning, the rest of us awoke to beautiful views outside our windows on what appeared to be the European train equivalent to our Pacific Coast Highway. It was then that Omid recounted the whole story to us as we set in disbelief. We found out later from some of our other friends on the train that the bathroom was strewn with makeup cases and wallets that were no good to these merciless thieves. I guess all of this is why I woke up at some point during the night and saw Italian police pacing the hallways.

The rest of the weekend was wonderful, but luckily not as dramatic. Monaco is a beautiful city and a country—because apparently it’s both. The palace is interesting with its marching guard at the entrance and beautiful views of the sea. Wealth abounds here, as shown by the five Ferraris parked out front of the renowned Monte Carlo Casino. We weren’t able to see any of the high rollers’ tables, but we did visit the “one-armed bandits” in the poor man’s section of the casino.

Nice, France (pronounced like niece) is a very modernized, graffiti-ridden city, but still had its aesthetic values. Mainly beautiful were the town plaza and beautiful beaches—even in the rain—don’t ask me how I know. It was definitely a welcome break from Italy to see a little bit how the other parts of Europe live. I especially enjoyed the “Nicoise” specialty—eggplant and zucchini fritters—which almost made me feel like I was eating fried squash at home.

To sum it up, we all learned our lesson the easy way, luckily, and on the return train to Florence, we were so careful with our bags. The bottom line is, people are people, and most of them believe in doing good to one another. But any time you throw in the two elements of large cities and wealthy tourists, someone is going to be taken advantage of. This event doesn’t make me dislike Europe more or keep me from wanting to travel on a train again—it simply made me appreciate the many opportunities we have in America to trust each other. And that is one of the many reasons I am proud to call it my home.

Do good unto others always…,
Blake