The person who wrote that song a hundred years ago had
obviously never travelled to Perth from the middle of Europe.
From St Johann via Worgl in a car (30 mintues), to Verona on
a train (4 hours), then on to Milan in a hire car which was too small (2
hours), an overnight stay in a hotel, a flight to Dohar (6 hours), a seven hour
wait in the airport, another flight to Perth (12 hours), and then two hours to
get through customs due to our wooden souvineers.
Now that’s a bloody long way!
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| Our last view of the mountains |
Why did we fly out from Milan, I hear you ask? It was the cheapest flight we could find. But a schedule change on our Munich to Milan flight meant that we could no longer make it to Milan by plane. And so goes the journey!
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| Lucky for us, Sam gave us a lift |
In the mad rush that was leading up to our departure, we
didn’t have time to pack our suitcases suitably for the flight, and just did an
‘it’ll do for the train journey’ pack, which meant two of the suitcases were
30kg, the other two were 20kg, and we each had a rucksack weighing about 8kg
each, a small pull along suitcase and the kids car seats.
Our dear friend Samantha (also known as ‘unlucky Sam –
bugger!’) was lovely enough to drive us and our huge amount of cargo to the
train station in Worgl. I was choking
back tears taking in the beautiful scenery for the last time during the drive,
and felt saddened that our journey with all its emotion and ups and downs was
now over.
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| Waiting for the train |
Sam got us into Worgl without going the wrong way down any
one way streets, which is what she is renowned for! And too soon we were on the platform
exchanging hugs and saying goodbyes with tears flowing.
Our attention then had to turn to how we would manage to get
our 11 pieces of luggage plus two children onto the carriage on our own before
the train pulled away! Just then a
family of Indians came and sat beside us, and as friendly as they were, offering
around a packet of chocolate eclairs, the fact that they also had 4 big
suitcases with them was not good news for us.
The last thing we wanted was a fight for luggage space on the same
carriage! So Maciek inconspicuously
moved one bit of luggage at a time a few metres along the platform and we
decided that when the train arrived we would get onto an empty ‘cabin’ carriage. However it didn’t really occur to us that we
wouldn’t get a choice of carriage to
board, and when the train arrived the empty ‘cabin’ carriage was at the front
of the train, miles from us, and the doors to the FULL one arrived just at our
feet. With no time to ponder Maciek
began loading our luggage aboard while I took care of the small pieces and the
kids. A number of people offered lots of
help and soon there was a production line of people passing our luggage along
the carriage where it all finally came to rest lined up along the outer wall of
the train. Me and the kids were stuck up
one end near the exit doors, where a lovely old German couple took over the
role of ‘Oma and Opa’ and chatted to the kids and gave them sweets and made
sure they were safely seated on the littlest suitcase.
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| Cramped in the carriage |
Stuck this way for an hour until the train arrived at
Innsbruck, right in the way of other passengers moving about the train, gave us
time to ponder how we would negotiate ourselves and all of our luggage into a
cabin once one became available, before new embarking passengers stole it from
us. Cut a long story short a lovely
Italian man who spoke some German and ‘a little’ English bagsied a cabin for us
and then helped us rescue all our luggage from the corridor trapped between
groups of passengers. He was a little
shocked to see the luggage keep coming, and even more surprised when he
attempted lifting one of the suitcases up onto the overhead storage racks! The poor guy spent most of his journey in the
restaurant carriage, but for us, the remaining 3 hours were relaxing.
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| Relaxing for a bit |
After crossing the Italian border we noticed once again the
contrast between Austrian train stations and Italian ones in the general
appearance and lack of amenities, including luggage trolleys. How would we manage all of our luggage and
the kids from the train station, to the car hire venue, without a trolley? We told ourselves that Verona is a big place
and surely its train station would have luggage trolleys, especially with an
airport transfer departing from it.
How wrong we were.
The friendly Italian man had told us that we would be able to get one
for about Eur5.00, and so after he once again helped us with our cargo off the
train and bid us farewell, Maciek went off in search of one. He came back with nothing. And so with each of us towing two massive
suitcases plus our back packs, and Maciek also with the car seats, and Milly
pulling along the littlest suitcase as well as her own back pack, we trudged
along down the elevator and into the station, dodging hundreds of people, out
the front and around the corner, where I waited with Amelia while Maciek went
to sort out the car.
The car was too small.
They’d given us an ‘or similar model’ which looked the same from the
outside but the available boot space was not helpful at all! With lots of jigsaw puzzling, quite a lot of
swearing, an hour and a half later and with Noah ending up having to travel
with his legs pushed to one side to allow room for a suitcase across the back
seat, and my legs not much better off, we began the two hour drive to
Milan. Our task now was to re-arrange
all of our luggage to comply with airline weight restrictions, and after dinner
we spent all evening doing it, having to throw out more stuff that we had
wanted to keep. Quite a few freebies
left behind for hotel staff anyway!
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| The final leg home |
We’d packed our cabin luggage to the maximum, thinking that
no-one ever weighs your hand luggage anyway.
But what do you know, Qatar Airways does! Much to our relief it was all allowed
through, and with that massive stress off our minds, we were able to relax
knowing that in hundreds of hours’ time
we would be home! All we had to do was
survive the horrible torturous plane journey!
Lots of movies later, with not very much sleep, bloated
stomachs and swollen feet, after surviving a 7 hour wait at Dohar airport with
no money, we arrived in Perth. Another
two hours later through customs, where the officer kindly chopped off my lovely
pine cone from my Christmas ornament, finally we walked through the arrival
gates and were greeted by our welcome home party, and 12 degrees, which was a
bummer considering we’d left all our warm clothes behind thinking ‘we won’t
need those at home’!
Home to bed. Only to
be up again at 2am!
And the horror story of jet lag begins……
(A journey of this magnitude requires a very long post! I even cut loads out! So, apologies. The ones to follow will be short and sweet. Promise.)
