On my way to Noto, Sicily

by Deyanira Borisova (Bulgaria)

A leap into the unknown Italy

What would you do, when you know you have to transfer from one train to another but things don’t go exactly as you planned them…? The first train, of course, arrived with delay, there’s no time for you to wait – you must change. Oh, but you know the platforms are just five, don’t worry, everything should be just fine, less than ten minutes remaining – go and thrive. HOWEVER, for your deepest despair, how can it be so ghastly unfair?! You see that the stop of your next train is platform “e83CN”. What!? Welcome to the Syracusa Railway Station for the second time but it certainly felt like the first time once again. It was my fifth day in Sicily as a solo traveler. I was staying in Catania and this morning I wanted to visit a small town called Noto. Therefore, I had to pass by Syracusa again, change trains and continue to travel to the picturesque “Capital of Baroque”. Until my plans got slightly ruined. I looked around for the train station employees – I felt like I was on a hunt. Finally, when I managed to find some of them, the good part was that even if we didn’t share mutual languages, it took only four gestures and facial expressions from them to make me understand that: I should walk a hundred more meters, to get around the station, to find the next platforms, which are part of the small station within the railway station, and to go to the small train, which took its position on platform e83CN. The small train was supposed to leave at 10:27 am. However, at 10:28 the conductor came and announced with an apologetic tone of voice that this wouldn’t happen as the train was blocked. And now, we, the passengers, united by this unpredictable situation, are waiting for a white bus in front of the railway station. (Every time I see a bus in Sicily, I am thrilled as I am seeing a white swallow.) A little bit later… While I was still writing these notes for my story, a white bus passed us by and we all together ran to it. Our enthusiasm vanished as fast as it appeared – the bus didn’t stop. We saw one more moving – quiet whispers (and curses) were heard in almost every language, “Please, please, stop…”, which followed the buses’ white rump… I’m sorry, I meant „trunk“. I genuinely enjoyed this adventure and thought that if I stayed in Syracuse again, it wouldn’t be such a loss. I would roam the quiet narrow streets of Ortygia, stop for Caravaggio’s exhibition, dream about… In the meantime, a white bus finally stopped in front of the station. Unfortunately, before we were convinced it wasn’t a mirage - it left. I joined a group of Italians, who translated to me every single plot twist in our storyline. Later, it became clear that due to the large number of passengers there will be not one but two buses sent out! However, as I explained earlier, the situation with the transport in Sicily was a bit like the shell game. There was simply no such a virtuous altruist and adventurer among us who would gladly wait for the second bus. "Ahhh, no," said the driver of the first bus that arrived, "those of you who are traveling to Noto must wait for the next bus. This one’s going to Fontane Bianche. " "Of course, it’s going to Fontane Bianche," I thought. I rolled my eyes so skeptically that they sent me to an unknown dimension. The passengers, whose endpoint was Fontane Bianche, held their head up high and started going up the stairs of the bus. I continued to talk to the Italians until I noticed that part of us who should have visited Noto, also went inside. One of my new friends went to ask the driver what was going on. After a while, he turned to the rest of us, grinned, scratched the back of his neck and said: "Well ... the driver changed his mind ... the bus will also go to Noto. Let's get on it. " His words were followed by our uncontrollable laughter.