,
It’s been a
whirlwind couple of weeks that my pink sneakers have traipsed far from home,
oftentimes strolling, dashing and sprinting from airport terminals, ferry docks
and train stations, schlepping my unbelievably overweight luggage along with
me. I’ve since learned that no matter
which airline you are scheduled to fly with, it inevitably is located at the
possible furthest point from where you are, causing you to literally qualify
for Olympic worthy medal opportunities as you bolt along miles and miles of
endless corridors.
Another helpful tidbit of info that I picked up upon on this trip was that it helps to pay attention to which airport terminal your plane is departing from, as I so harshly experienced when I had yet another dyslexic moment, misreading terminal 2A for terminal 2E. Yikes!! You can imagine just how much fun it is to have to waste yet another half an hour, when you’re already late in arriving at the airport due to heavy traffic, and have to literally run like hell with cumbersome baggage in tow, in order to arrive at the check-in gate in time. Always one to be the first person in line at check-in, I was now crammed in like a sardine, along with the other miserable passengers who also huffed and puffed their way into the ever-growing winding and snaking line.
And then there was the never-ending problem with steps. They’re everywhere, and there was no way of avoiding or escaping them, causing my burdensome baggage and two over-loaded carry-on bags immense challenges. I can’t tell you the number of times that I cursed the number of steps (3 to be exact) that had to be traversed upon clambering up and down those pesky trains. Now, 3 measly steps don’t quite seem like a huge issue in the least, but when confronted with the dilemma of having to figure out how to throw what felt like a hundred pounds of dead weight (luggage) onto the train, the task at hand rapidly became one of Mount Everest like proportions. And, don’t even get me started on exiting the train stations, which required navigating an endless mountain of steps, nary an escalator nor elevator in sight (not like I would even seriously contemplate getting into an elevator, claustrophobic that I am) - so, I'm stuck with stairs, nonetheless.
Another helpful tidbit of info that I picked up upon on this trip was that it helps to pay attention to which airport terminal your plane is departing from, as I so harshly experienced when I had yet another dyslexic moment, misreading terminal 2A for terminal 2E. Yikes!! You can imagine just how much fun it is to have to waste yet another half an hour, when you’re already late in arriving at the airport due to heavy traffic, and have to literally run like hell with cumbersome baggage in tow, in order to arrive at the check-in gate in time. Always one to be the first person in line at check-in, I was now crammed in like a sardine, along with the other miserable passengers who also huffed and puffed their way into the ever-growing winding and snaking line.
And then there was the never-ending problem with steps. They’re everywhere, and there was no way of avoiding or escaping them, causing my burdensome baggage and two over-loaded carry-on bags immense challenges. I can’t tell you the number of times that I cursed the number of steps (3 to be exact) that had to be traversed upon clambering up and down those pesky trains. Now, 3 measly steps don’t quite seem like a huge issue in the least, but when confronted with the dilemma of having to figure out how to throw what felt like a hundred pounds of dead weight (luggage) onto the train, the task at hand rapidly became one of Mount Everest like proportions. And, don’t even get me started on exiting the train stations, which required navigating an endless mountain of steps, nary an escalator nor elevator in sight (not like I would even seriously contemplate getting into an elevator, claustrophobic that I am) - so, I'm stuck with stairs, nonetheless.
So, stay
tuned for a wealth of travel stories, tales and adventures, as my
pink-sneakered feet wandered along the well-worn paths of several European cities,
accompanied by my 16 year old “know-it all”
fashion plate niece and, of course, my ever expanding over-stuffed “chain and ball” cumbersome backpacks and baggage.
Attached are
a couple of pics of my travel journey. Can you guess which cobblestoned paths
my pink-sneakers set their feet upon?
Come
traipse around Europe with me as you schlep all of your worldly belongings and
extremely bulky travel books and journals on trains, planes, ferries,
automobiles and buses. Yikes!! I’m exhausted already!!
Next week –
Stay tuned – The first leg of my 3 week European Pink Sneaker adventure.
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