If you're wondering why I haven't uploaded anything from the Prague or Tuscany trip yet, it's because my last few days have been INSANE. I haven't even had time to go grocery shopping. I'm existing on espressos.
I had a midterm report due yesterday, and I was up so late working on it that for the two days before I got approximately three-four hours of sleep each night. Last night I canceled all my plans after class, ate, showered, and slept for nearly eleven hours straight.
So. About the opera. At home, anyone who's heard me talk about Italy knows that one of my must-do goals here was to see an opera. I like opera. I especially like Italian opera. Puccini's "La Bohemè" is my favorite. So I said, while in Italy, I was going to see an opera.
One of my friends decided to see Puccini's "Tosca" a few weeks back. I thought, hey, I love Puccini, I'm not traveling this weekend so my week is more relaxed, and I can see an opera! Let's do this! I didn't go with my friend, we went separately, but still a good idea. The ticket was around 40 euro, which is like 45-48 American dollars, but you know what, for me, it's worth it. To see an actual opera in Italy, it's well worth 50 bucks.
So tonight comes, I put on my black dress that my aunt got me for Italy, because I wanted to dress up a little. I do my hair and makeup all nice and put on a scarf and my coat, and I'm ready to go.
Here's where things started to go wrong. I was planning on taking a bus straight down here from the apartment. Google maps says it will take a little over a half hour. I'm not taking chances. I leave with an hour and ten minutes to get there.
Right away I realize that I don't know exactly where the bus I need stops (I usually prefer to walk rather than take public transportation, so I've taken a bus only once before, and that was easy because all buses seem to lead to the train station, where I was going). I know my bus number, and that it stops near here, but that's it. So I wander around looking for the bus stop. I find it not far away, but after twenty minutes.
Whatever, I've still got twenty extra minutes than what Google maps says I need. I'll be fine. So I wait at the bus stop.
...and I wait.
....and I wait.
Everyone here makes jokes about how unreliable the buses are, but people here tend to exaggerate a bit, so I thought it was just another exaggeration.
IT WAS NOT.
The bus- one of the main buses that is supposed to come every ten minutes- didn't come. And didn't come. I kept waiting. I started getting impatient. And worried. My other option was taking the tram all the way down, then walking for another twenty minutes to the opera house, and that was cutting it closer than I'd like. Finally, with only about eight minutes leeway, I see a bus. I step off the curb and wave the driver down, to make sure there's no chance of them missing me.
They didn't even slow down. I had to hop backwards to keep from getting hit.
Now I'm trying to hold it together. I'm angry, I'm wet, because it's raining, and the one thing I've been looking forward to through this tough week is slipping away. I'm gonna be out fifty dollars because the buses here don't work right.
I waited another few minutes, hoping in vain there would be another bus right behind the first. There was not. I was sure I was going to miss my opera now. All my leeway time was gone, and that was for the fastest route, the bus. The tram would take me way longer.
I teared up a little, said a few very colorful words, and stormed towards the tram. I'm sure I had murder in my eyes.
A half hour before curtain. The tram felt like it was taking forever. Twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes. I could walk fast, right?
Now I've been using Google maps to help me find things. How it works is that you can't look up directions with your WiFi off, but the little blue dot still moves on the map with you, so you can tell if you're going the right way. Now, it's raining, it's dark, and I've never been to this place before. I'm using that blue dot to guide me. But the rain kept getting between my case and the screen and making my phone freak out and the screen kept bringing up things I didn't press, so I was walking blind for awhile.
Five minutes to curtain. I'm power walking. Two minutes. I'm running now. One. Curtain. One minute late, and I'm praying Italians let people in after the show starts. And then this seller guy- one of the guys who is always walking around touristy areas selling umbrellas or selfie sticks and getting in people's faces- steps in front of me, trying to sell me umbrellas. I go to dodge, but he shoves umbrellas at me. "Miss," he says, "umbrellas. Good price. Very cheap, miss. Only-"
I am done. Done. I snap "basta!" ("Enough" in Italian) with more venom than I knew I was capable of.
It is 8:06 at this point and I hate everything. This bus system, these slow sidewalk walkers- I dare another seller to come at me right now. Finally, eight minutes late, wild-eyed and sweaty from running, I get to the opera house. I've already decided that if they don't let me in and won't give me a refund, I'm going to start crying right there in the lobby and make them feel bad.
However, it seems that they are used to people coming in later, and are very polite as they show me to my box. The opera had started, but I only missed the first few minutes. There were four people in my box already, and I had a chair but I couldn't see a thing sitting, so I stood for the first act. (The boxes provide five chairs of varying heights and patrons rearrange them as they wish) At first intermission, one man in my box rearranged the seats so that I could sit and still see. He's a saint. I hope he finds money on the ground. Another woman was glaring at me, I think because everyone in this box knows each other and then there's me and I interrupted the family box.
And now it is second intermission. Act 3 will start soon. This is a very good opera, and I will write about it later, but I just wanted to tell that story. The moral is NEVER TRUST ROMAN BUSES and if you want to get anywhere, leave at least an hour early.
