Terribly Inconvenient

Oh Italy. There are so many things I don’t know about you. Perhaps I should have done more research before I left.

A bus strike? Really? On a day where I *must* take the bus clear across town and back for a site visit and classes?

According to one of my professors, bus strikes occur at least once a month here. So, at what point does a strike become absolutely useless? When there are websites set up to specially let the “everyday tourist” know that one will be occurring for the next 24 hours and to plan accordingly.

Well, that’s my opinion anyway. But nobody asked me.

Regardless, the degree to how inconvenient my day was yesterday was slightly lowered due to the conversations I had that afternoon while trying to catch one of the few buses actually still traveling around town. Apparently, even though these strikes happen all the time, some workers do not take part in them. They continue to work, which is the only reason my fellow travelers and I made it anywhere on time yesterday.

After having class near the Termini station yesterday, I had 45 minutes to get across town to my University. From my apartment to my school alone, it is already a 20-minute walk, so the likelihood of me making it on time by walking from across town was very low. I found the bus area I needed and stood there, my backpack in my hands (way too many valuables on that particular day for me to leave it on my back at a crowded termini station). There were dozens of people waiting, and few of them actually knew why there were so few buses.

I had three different sets of people come up to me as I stood there and ask *me* what was going on. Apparently on this particular day, I looked like I had information? Or maybe I looked the least menacing as everyone who talked to me spoke English in some form? Well, whatever it was, I told them what I knew about the strike. They knew very little about Italian bus strikes (as did I), but I’m sure I played it off as if I actually knew what I was talking about.  

Finally, a bus arrives at our bus stop. Granted, there was no number on this bus. When it stopped along the curb and the doors opened, everyone clamored inside. I joined more out of fear of not getting to class on time (again…I had had another bus situation two days ago and was late for this same class) than anything else.

I would also like to note that even though I have been here for three weeks, this is the first time I have ridden the bus by myself. Continuing…    

Once on, we began to move throughout the city. Within a mile of our departure, a man on the back of the bus was *screaming* in English to be let off the bus. Either the bus driver did not hear him or did not care, but the poor man was not let off. It was a little terrifying, to be honest, when you are in such a confined space and someone is yelling at the top of his lungs. I hated myself for bringing my computer with me on that day out of fear of losing it. I found myself jammed against an American family from California who, again, asked me what was going on (although this time, I think they asked me because I said “I’m sorry” in English when I was shoved into them multiple times). They were extremely nice, and we talked throughout the crowded bus ride. Once I saw a recognizable part of town, I pushed and shoved my way to the door of the bus just in time to be let off. The idea of staying on that bus much longer was not in the least bit pleasing.

And I made it to class on time!

So to describe my day yesterday: Terribly Inconvenient.

Although the museum I went to yesterday was pretty sweet!