The Post Formerly Known as Sienna in Siena

Didn’t you guys take me seriously when I told you to cross your fingers for me? After a crazy Friday night spent drinking chamomile tea and writing an essay on “Oedipus,” I woke up way before the crack of dawn. It was 5AM in Rome and it had snowed all night. I rubbed my eyes as I looked out the window in awe of the immaculate white layer that covered the city. We ventured out into the darkness with the Metro station a few short blocks away. No one was outside, nor had they been all night, as proof by the untouched powder that surrounded us. To see a city usually overcrowded by loud people and insane drivers in a state of blissful silence was such an unexpected luxury. We walked in the middle of the street, since the sidewalks were piled high with snow. Not a car was in sight and everything was quiet as the sun rose invisibly behind a thick layer of fog.

I thought stories were supposed to climax in the middle, not at the beginning.

(Cue suspenseful music)

We arrived at the Metro and waited twenty minutes for it to arrive. After translating a sign telling us that it wasn’t running (or so we thought), we frantically raced up the stairs and into the still empty street. Like lost ants, we scattered, looking for buses, taxies, or any sign of human life. The effort was hopeless and our train’s departure time had already passed. My friends became discouraged. “If it’s this hard to get to the train station, think about how hard it’ll be to get back!” “We could totally get stuck in Siena.” “Italy never gets snow, this is a disaster.” “Let’s just see if we can get our tickets refunded.” “I’m colllld!” The whining got real old real fast, but I wasn’t letting it discourage me.

We trekked onward and eventually headed back to the Metro, which was in fact running and filled with people. Where were they when we needed em?! We arrived at Termini and got in line at Customer Service. Noel and I wanted to find a later train and the other girls were desperate for a refund. This place was mayhem. The staff was overly stressed, answering phones and questions on overdrive. A group of Italian men wrapped in blankets and carrying neon suitcases pushed past everyone, screaming at the staff in desperation as if the rest of us were here for our entertainment. The remiss man behind the desk told me that I could take the 9:13 train instead of the 7:13 one that had apparently been cancelled due to snow anyway. The girls were overjoyed when they were told they could get their money back, but decided to wait with us for a while before heading home.

Without any insulation, the station was colder than my Grandma’s house in the summertime! Homeless people and their dogs huddled together while my teeth chattered away in the McDonald’s food court. The adrenalin had worn off, and as my friends sipped on McCafe cappuccinos, I knocked out hard on the table. I was awoken from my slumber by Noel, who told me we had to go to our train.

We used all our recourses to get there, checking self-service ticket machines, reading the terminal board (that didn’t have our train on it) and eventually found solace in the unexpected. A browned-with-age poster behind glass in a corner was titled “Departures” and we squinted until we found that Terminal 2 was where we needed to be. We rushed over, with only a few minutes to spare. Terminal 38, 22, 18, 12, we’re getting closer! Each terminal had a train in it, either boarding or leaving. “Finally!” Noel said as the cold air slapped our faces. 5, 4, 3! “TERMINAL 2…is…empty?” The single trainless terminal in the entire station was ours.

People dragged their suitcases, rushing to board the train to Milan next door while we slumped, defeated. Our sign, next to the one that said “MILAN 9:13” was blank, and so were our faces. We deduced that all trains to Tuscany were booked and retreated to the Metro for another day spent on via Snowmentana.

I was actually surprised with my strangely positive outlook. Usually, I’d meet these kinds of situations with severe disappointment, but instead felt optimistic about the whole shebang. We did everything we could to get there, but the Crayon/Van gods just weren’t feeling it. I’m glad we didn’t bail at the first sign of trouble, and even though I was awake way earlier than I ever need to be again, I was glad I made a real effort to make it work. Siena isn’t going anywhere, and neither is Sienna.