Flying Solo

The bells were still ringing off eight as I left campus. Trains don’t run early enough to catch my 06:35 flight, so I decided to spend the night in the Bergamo Airport. I could almost enjoy the rusted crescent hanging in the sky, but walking through a quiet neighbourhood, with its overhanging street lights, barking dogs, and the intermittent zoom of cars returning home, I was reminded of my own corner of the earth. I didn’t leave home for normalcy and comfort.

Getting to the first airport was the most stressful. For some reason, I believed that if I could make it there, then the rest of my solo trip would sort itself out. Besides a wrong turn to the Castellanza train station (which I corrected) and the lack of change for a bus ticket in Bergamo (which a McDonald’s employee kindly helped me out with), my mini-adventure went off without a hitch. Many entrances to the airport were already locked off and the other morning travellers had congregated to a section near the Arrivals port. After a few passes back and forth along the hall, I chanced on some prime property: an end seat of a steel bench. As it turns out, the best real-estate is in the corner nooks where more experienced travellers had set up their blankets and sleeping bags. I managed to get about 2 hours of sleep while huddling my knapsack.

Getting into the earlier hours of the next day, a deep chill crawled under my bones for cover and I had to satisfy myself with the thought of my first stop in sunny Palermo. At about 03:00, the rest of the airport opened, but I remained by Arrivals to read a bit longer. After finally deciding to get up and pass through security, I headed straight to the McCafe and ordered a cappuccino and chocolate brioche.

My first experience with RyanAir was entirely positive. I had no trouble getting through the Bergamo security checks, the plane left on time and arrived early, and I even had an empty seat beside me. The flight was short and I managed to sleep through 90% of it. Not bad for a discount flight (but is the yellow/ blue combination really necessary to promote a bargain brand?). 

As would become my habit, I headed straight for the info desk at Arrivals in PMO to ask where to catch the appropriate bus. Had I planned everything to the minute, I could not have made better timing thus far (besides the night in Bergamo airport). The ride along the coast was peaceful and I was surprised by the lack of high-end hotels. Instead, thin and bare concrete houses as weathered as the surrounding cliffs remained where they first staked their claim.

Finding Ai Quattro Canti Hostel wasn’t particularly difficult, though “turn left at the Tobacco Shop” was misleading (they’re everywhere).  I was an hour early and, ringing the bell to the door, received no answer. Carrying my coat and knapsack, I made a point of walking the streets for half an hour and retracing my steps.

At 11:00, I was back and found a mammoth of a dog sleeping on the step to the hostel (which I’d later deduce, had wandered there of his own accord). Uncertainly, I reached over and knocked on the door.