OK, so this is the story of my Olympic adventure in Torino, Italy.

If you’re not familiar with the story, this was basically a balls-out, “go for it” kind of a trip. For one thing, I left the U.S. with no lodging plans whatsoever, no tickets to Olympic events, and no knowledge of the Italian language (I actually tried to learn some Italian by listening to CDs in my car, but to no avail). For another, I was meeting two friends, Lisa and Melinda, whom I had only met once before in my life, last summer skiing at Portillo, Chile. Each of us even had different flight arrangements!


Day 1: Friday, February 17th, 2006

I made it to the Torino airport in good form and on time. That was the good news. As I walked of the airplane and descended the steps directly onto the tarmac, I had a beautiful view of the area: snowy mountains in most directions. Nice. The bad news was that there was nobody there to meet me!

The plan, or at least plan A, was to have Lisa and Melinda meet at the airport in Milan, where Lisa was renting a car, and then drive out to Torino to pick me up. With the girls not there to meet me, I was immediately concerned. After a short wait, I started thinking about plan B, a downtown meeting near the train station. However, before things got too hairy for me, I saw a most beautiful sight: Melinda!! She and Lisa were running a bit late for various reasons, but now we were united and ready for some Olympic adventure.

We left the airport in the little European hatchback Lisa had rented. After a brief discussion—during which we all agreed that there was a snowball’s chance in hell of finding a hotel room in Torino—we headed for the mountains to the West. The thinking: we would definitely have a better chance of finding rooms outside the city, plus all of the alpine events were going on in various mountain villages west of Torino. Genius! So off we went, towards the snowy mountains.

After a short while, once we hit the mountains, we left the highway and took the more scenic route. We figured that we’d better start going through the small towns along the way to look for rooms. Hopefully we could find a room in time for dinner. As we climbed into the mountains there was plenty of snow, both on the ground and in the air. We drove through a few small towns, past a wondrous castle, and finally decided to stop in the next town. And stop we did, although we came up short in our search for a room. In fact, we came up a bit short in our bid to communicate, as English did not appear to be the language of choice in the mountains of Italy! Suffice it to say, we did not find a hotel room in the town.

We continued on as night fell fast and the snow continued. A few more small towns, and still no luck. We decided that would find our room in Oulx!

Oulx is a town mid-way to Bardonneccia in the Italian mountains. It is significantly larger than most of the towns we had passed through, and clearly had a number of lodging options as well as various eateries, one of which had been recommended to us during one of our fruitless stops along the way. So when we arrived there, tired and hungry, we thought things would finally go our way. Lisa found a parking spot near what seemed to be the center of town, and we were on our way…to…ummm…what, exactly? First, we went looking for an ATM machine to grab some local currency. After several tries at 2 banks, we found that our cards were not being accepted by the ATM machines! Even then, with little cash on hand, we figured we needed to find a restaurant and a hotel. Neither was to be found! Knowing that there had to be food and lodging somewhere in town but unwilling to further inconvenience ourselves in this stupid town, we dubbed it the “dead end town” and left, heading further west towards the Olympic venues.

A roadside establishment seemed to hold a good possibility for a room and/or food, so we pulled over. Once inside, we hit the ugly language barrier once again—they knowing no English, we knowing no Italian. Then, on a whim, and recognizing that we were close to the French border, I tried something absolutely desperate…French. Lo and behold, this would turn out to be the language of choice for finding our way in the mountains of Italy! Now, able to communicate to some extent, we could fully appreciate that there were—again—neither rooms nor food to be had. Instead, we were directed to continue west to the town of Bardonneccia, which at this point was not too far away.

By this time we were tired, anxious and hungry. It was getting on towards 8:00 o’clock, and we were still in the middle of nowhere, and without a place to stay. Melinda was particularly hungry, and every now and again I would catch her sizing up either Lisa or myself, dinner on her mind. Fortunately it never came to that! We soon arrived in the bustling village of Bardoneccia, home to a number of the things we were searching for.

Lisa had the right idea: get some grub in a local Italian restaurant, meet some locals while we were eating, and get hooked up with a room for the night. Simple enough! And in fact, we found a nice little restaurant and sat down with menus, and quickly met Jean-Marc, a young traveler from France who was there on his own. Jean-Marc joined us for a nice little pasta-and-breadsticks dinner while we discussed with him our lodging issue. Between his English skills and my French skills, we were able to come to an understanding of what needed to be done, so Jean-Marc made his way to the counter to speak with, apparently, the owner of the restaurant. After several minutes of discussion, it appeared that we had a strong lead on a room!

We left the bar, walking through town under a blanket of falling snow, warm with wine and the anticipation of finally having a place to stay for the night. We made our way along the main street in town, certain that we would come upon an apartment. After several misses, we joined a group of hearty drinkers outside a bar. They turned out to be Olympic volunteers, and had 5 empty beds in the house! It would be no problem to take us in for the night! First, however, the gentleman we were talking to would need to return to the apartment to receive permission from his roommates, a virtual formality. So he went while we waited….and waited…and waited. After nearly a half hour (an may I remind you, we were standing out in the snowy night the entire time), he returned with bad news and a lame excuse: we could not stay, because one of the volunteers had to get up early the next morning, and needed to get his sleep. Are you serious???

It was now almost 11:00 p.m., and we restarted our stroll up the main road. Only a short distance up the road we found an open ‘rental office’—I use the term very loosely, as it was basically a guy in a room with a phone—which turned out to be the place we had been referred to in the restaurant. As luck would have it, after some initial uncertainty and waiting, the gentleman came up with a small one bedroom apartment that we could rent for a few nights!

We pretty much would’ve paid anything for a room by now, but the rate was actually not unreasonable, given that the Olympics were taking place. With 4 small beds in the room, we agreed to allow Jean-Marc to stay with us as well; after all, he had been instrumental in getting us the room, and was getting along well with our group. Plus, hadn’t we come to Italy to meet people from different cultures? Isn’t that a big part of what the Olympic Games are?

We went back to the car for our bags and eventually settled in for the night. Lisa and I were pretty whipped by that time, so at 2:30 we called it a night. Melinda and Jean-Marc went out to the local disco for some fun, returning at 6:00.


Day 2: Saturday, February 18th, 2006

We had planned to get up late morning, but it was nearly 11:00 by the time Lisa and I were ready to move. Melinda and Jean-Marc were, understandably, looking for a little more sleep. Lisa and I walked around town in order to locate the Olympic ticket booth. It took us a little while, but with a little help from some locals we found the booth and asked about tickets. The number one event we wanted to attend that day—ski jumping—had tickets for sale, but at a cost of $110 or $170 per seat. $50 standing room ‘seats’ were already sold out. We decided to head to the event and try our luck there!

Before heading to the venue, we had enough time to grab some food, do a little shopping, and pack some bags for the day. Once we were all back at the room and awake, we went for a walk to find some lunch. Jean-Marc decided to be on his way. After a few unsuccessful stops, we stumbled upon a nice looking restaurant with absolutely nobody inside. Well, OK, there was ONE American couple eating at the same time as us, but that was it. Bizarre, considering how few restaurants even appeared to be open for lunch! Anyway, back to the restaurant. They had a menu, but the waiter quickly notified us that our options were, in reality, pasta, pasta, or pasta. We ordered the pasta.

Next, we set out to find some souvenirs. I nabbed some Olympic flyers in Spanish and French, hoping that the language teachers back home at school would use them in class. I also found these very cool Olympic event tins with some kind of small candies inside. Each tin was decorated for a different event, such as ski jumping, luge, etc.

By the middle of the afternoon it was time to head out to Pragelato, the site of the Olympic ski jump. We would grab a train from Bardoneccia to Oulx—the “dead end town” from yesterday’s drive in—then snag an Olympic shuttle bus out to Pragelato. While the train ride would be no more than 30 minutes, the shuttle ride was longer, perhaps an hour.

The wait for the train was more than we’d expected, but not terrible. The train was typically adequate for our short ride. However, upon our arrival in Oulx, it was not super clear where and how we were to get our Olympic shuttle. It was actually somewhat of a relief to get on our shuttle a short while later! The shuttle was pretty full, and made several stops along the way, including a stop in the Olympic mountain village of Siesstre, where those athletes competing in the alpine events, such as bobsled, luge, Nordic combined, slalom, downhill, stayed during the Games. What a neat town Siesstre seemed to be, decorated to the hilt and teeming with people!

As we left Siesstre headed for Bardoneccia, the sun was dropping fast, a bad sign since the ski jumping competition was scheduled to begin at 6:00 and we still had no tickets. We passed a ski area that had hosted some of the alpine ski events; with all of the lights blazing you could make out the remnants of the course and see the blue die on the snow, used to make sure that the athletes could clearly see the path they were required to ski.

After nearly 2 hours on the bus we finally arrived at Bardoneccia at 6:30. Damn, we were missing the event! On top of that, one member of our party, whose name I won’t mention although I will say that it was neither Lisa nor Larry, had a bathroom “emergency” after nearly (and unexpectedly) 3 ½ hours of travel. Thankfully, a woman in a ski shop sent us through the bowels of her shop, past grinding and waxing equipment, to the little stall in the back of her warehouse. I have to admit, I did not mind the opportunity to spend a minute “releasing the hounds” after Melinda had refilled the local river.

We met up again with Lisa and quickly made our way through the snow to the event area. Not only did we not have tickets, but it turned out that the ticket area was a quarter mile away in the wrong direction! So, instead of hiking for tickets and making ourselves even later, we decided to see if the gate people would let us in without tickets. After all, the event had to be half over already. No such luck, but as we walked from the gate a group of people walked by us on their way out and let us have their tickets. How lucky—we got in for free!! We rushed to the stands, found our seats, and realized that while we had missed the first round of jumps, we were just in time for the second round, the finals! Awesome!

Our seats were not bad, and we were surrounded by people from all different countries. Many fans waved flags, while others were dressed in their country’s colors to show support for their athletes. One wildly spirited guy near us wore a hat with horns on either side. Amazingly, regardless of who was jumping, the entire crowd seemed to cheer as one. Everyone cheered for everyone, regardless of nationality. If I had to use one example of what makes the Olympics “The Olympics”, that would be it. I mean, where in America do you find the entire crowd cheering for all of the athletes, and booing none? Truly a special experience for me. The way athletics should be!

Sitting next to us was an English-speaking gentleman by the name of John. John was from Seattle, which got Lisa pretty excited. Although she hadn’t said anything earlier, Lisa decided that it was a good time to tell us that she was planning to move out to Seattle after the Olympics. What a cool coincidence, going half way across the world to Italy, only to make your first friend in your new home!

OK, about the ski jumping competition. We were sitting at the bottom of the hill, looking up at the take-off ramp. Our section of stands was just to the right of the jumpers as they landed. The first thing I noticed was an incredibly gorgeous Czec woman sitting nearby (leave it to me to notice the women before anything else). The first thing I noticed about the ski jumping was that the athletes were never too far off the ground. On TV, it looks as though they are flying 100 feet high off the ground. That is an illusion created by the cameras, which show the skier in relation to the landing area below. In reality, the skier leaves the jump ramp, achieves a maximum height of, I don’t know, 10-15 feet, and then follows the downward contour of the slope, getting closer and closer to the ground until finally touching down for a landing. Still, there athletes are sailing a distance further than a football field through the air.

As the competition went on, it seemed like a couple of Norwegians were going to sweep the two top spots. The night was almost through, and nobody had been able to top them. Suddenly, the second-to-last competitor, an Austrian by the name of Andreas Kofler, uncorked a jump a full 8 meters further than anyone else in the competition! he would be the clear victor, with only one jumper remaining. Alas, the final jumper, Kofler’s Austrian teammate Thomas Morgenstern, would literally do him one better, outjumping him by .5 meters and winning the event (and the gold medal) by a puny 1/10 of a point. So in the end it was Austria with the gold and silver, and Norway bringing home the bronze.

As an extra surprise, we were then treated to the medal ceremony. Most medal ceremonies took place in downtown Torino, even including the events taking place out in the mountain venues. However, this event ended late in the evening, and the athletes stood no chance of making it back into Torino in time to receive medals. So the ceremony was done on the spot, immediately following the event’s finish.

After the awards ceremony we headed over to the on-site souvenir shop to see what there was to see. I picked up a blanket, a shirt, and some Olympic pins, and Lisa and Melinda blew some cash as well. We then hustled over to a restaurant in town where Lisa was planning on joining John and some of his friends for dinner. Melinda and I had thought we would join for dinner as well, but after some deep thinking we decided that we really wanted to go up to the Olympic Village in Siesstre and party, so we made plans with Lisa to meet up later, and headed outside to catch a shuttle. Or so we thought.

Several busses and shuttles came by, but each time the shuttle went right past us, picking up none of the burgeoning crowd. After 45 minutes of waiting we changed strategies, walking a ways down the street and attempting to hitch a ride. This worked out pretty well for us. We were picked up by a Japanese journalist, who was sent to the Olympics to write about the lack of success that his home country of Japan has had in the Winter Olympics. He was very friendly, and seemed to enjoy our company on the 15 minute ride up the mountain to Siesstre. Upon dropping us off he insisted on giving us each an Olympic pin from his delegation, part of a tradition of swapping pins at the Olympics. Although Melinda and I were not prepared with pins of our own to swap, our driver insisted that we take his. So we did!

Melinda and I were now in Siesstre. Siesstre seems to be a mountaintop town that was built up and fenced off just enough to become the Olympic Village. Indeed, there were people everywhere.

One of the first things we passed by as we walked curiously around the village was a downstairs bar with a banner hanging above the steps proclaiming “Home to the U.S. Olympic Team.” Cool. We walked around the main square, down a few side streets, and then found ourselves looking at the Olympic athlete’s area and hotel…with a huge fence and security guards. We decided not to force the issue. Just a few minutes later, after a perfunctory tour of the area, we rushed back to this same bar to join the festivities. Down 5 or 6 stone steps, in the door, and to the coat check area. Wow, what a sight! People everywhere, hanging out talking, dancing, drinking, and just generally having a relaxed, good time. As we waited to check our coats, it was obvious from her (lack of) accent that the coat check girl was American. An 18ish guy came out from the bar and said “hey, can you get me the coolest coat in the place?” As the girl came back with his plush white jacket, I smartly suggested that perhaps my jacket was the coolest one in the place. His reply: “Does your jacket have this built-in MP3 player like mine?” He was one of the U.S. Olympic snowboarders, and—swear to god—his jacket had a flap that opened up to reveal a built-in MP3 player!! I congratulated him on having a much cooler jacket than my own.

Inside the club, I nabbed a couple of cocktails for us while Melinda struck up a conversation with some other patrons. I came over and joined the conversation with a couple of Austrians, in town for the Olympics. It soon became clear that they were there in a different capacity from us. One of the guys, Michael Gruber, had just won a gold medal in team Nordic combined (ski jumping and cross-country skiing), and had his own individual event still to come in three days! And here we were, having a drink with him at the Olympics!

Looking back at this moment in the club, I think again of what the Olympics are all about. Bringing people together from all corners of the world; the athletes, the coaches, and the fans. A time for peaceful, friendly competition. A chance to build friendships through sport. What an amazing experience to be a part of it all, sitting in a little town in the Italian Alps, meeting people from Japan, Austria, and all parts of the world.

For the next two hours Melinda and I hobnobbed with quite a few other folks, including some locals. At one point we were even asked if we were Olympic athletes! A highlight for me was talking to one of the U.S. team trainers. She was one of the people responsible for doing highly individualized testing on athletes, and then implementing specific training regimens to maximize benefit.

Just before 11:30, Melinda and I left the club to meet up with Lisa at our designated spot, a sporty little Alfa-Romeo on display in the center of town. We couldn’t find her, and after a little while one of us would mill about the square looking for her while the other stayed put at our meeting place. For over an hour she didn’t appear. Finally, we thought to look for an internet café and send her an emergency email. Thank god we found one, both because we needed to contact Lisa and because it was getting pretty cold standing outside for all that time! We also stumbled upon a live band playing a show in a large room just off the main square, with a good crowd of people hanging out soaking in the sound.

It must have been close to 1:00 when we finally ran into Lisa, who apparently had been at the meeting spot at 11:30, hadn’t seen us there, and had decided to have a look around until she could find us. An unfortunate near miss for our little group!

Reunited, we all agreed that the night was still young and we needed to party some more. The folks at the U.S. bar had tipped us off on “Club Tabata,” a dance club off of the corner of the main square, so we headed over to check it out. Yet another home run! The place was large and packed, this time with a somewhat younger crowd, dancing to the pulsating sounds of foreign music. People were dancing on the rails, in their chairs, on tables—pretty much anywhere they could find space! The only downside: a cloud of smoke. We’ve been spoiled here in Connecticut the past few years since the legislation was passed to prevent people from smoking in public places. This dance club was hot and smoky. And did I mention crowded?

Still, we were soaking in the atmosphere of what was obviously “the place to be.” Who were we to argue with fate? So we hit the dance floor with vigor. It was a mob scene, sweaty bodies bopping and grinding, random men flashing in to hit on women, and hot women lighting up the dance floor. Pretty soon Lisa, Melinda and I were separated, dancing with whoever happened to be nearby.

At some point I started to feel dry, smoked out, and tired. Probably tired of the smoke more than actually tired. Either way, I needed some cold water and some fresh air, and there was not much of either in the club. I found Melinda, dancing with a guy, and happy to find what I was looking for instead. But somehow, for the second time tonight, Lisa was nowhere to be found! I even got up on the railing looking for her, but it was impossible to make her out in the sea of bodies that was the dance floor. Somehow, almost miraculously, she eventually came into view and made contact with us. It turned out that she had been…well…just about right under where I had been standing up on the railing, except that a few other people and a pile of coats had kept her hidden from view. Oh well.

With Lisa now leading, we were able to get some crisp, cool water at the bar and then find our exit. What a relief! Smoky bars and clubs are not my forte, and however good this club had been (it was pretty awesome), it could not overcome the lack of fresh, breathable air.

Now it was almost 4:00am, and time to go home. To do so we would first take an Olympic shuttle down to Oulx, then catch a train to Bardoneccia, where we could walk back to our apartment from the station. So we waited for the shuttle…and waited..and waited some more (sound familiar?). A full shuttle rambled past, and when an empty shuttle finally did come by, the driver would not take any passengers on board. At that moment, with a large, tired, and mostly drunk crowd running out of patience, a riot nearly broke out and the bus driver had to hightail it out of town. Finally, after about a 45 minute wait in the freezing cold, a shuttle arrived and took us down to the train station. We would catch the 5:15 train home to Bardoneccia. But wait, there was no train! We asked the Olympic volunteer how we were to return home, and—as was the case with most of the Olympic volunteers--he had no clue whatsoever. Would there be a shuttle? What time would the next train arrive? No clue!

At around 6:00 our prayers were answered by a shuttle bus. The bus took us to Bardoneccia, we walked up to our place, and finally, around 6:30am, crashed out in bed.


Day 3: Sunday, February 19th, 2006

After our late night out in the Olympic Village, Melinda, Lisa and I agreed to sleep in a little. We didn’t want to sleep through the entire day, but we also needed to catch at least a few hours of quality sleep.

At 11:15 we awoke. Melinda and I were hungry, so we went out in search of a quick bite. Once again, we had little luck in finding open restaurants in town. After a short tour of town we had our snacks: breadsticks for me, a Coke Light for Melinda. Not exactly spectacular in a country that brags about it’s cuisine!

When we returned to the apartment, Lisa was up and ready for action. She lamented the fact that her luggage had still not arrived. Ignorant of any luggage issue, I asked what luggage we were talking about, afraid of the answer I might get. Yes, Lisa’s luggage had failed to make it to Torino with her! Worse yet, after 2 days, there was still no sign of it.

Our plan at this point was to head back into Torino for our last day and night. We hoped to see the Olympic Village, catch an event or two, and go to one of the medal ceremonies. We also hoped that Lisa’s luggage wouldn’t be delivered to our apartment in Bardoneccia after we left. As it turned out, there was no reason to worry about that possibility—Lisa’s luggage never made it while we were at the Olympics!

Together the three of us headed back past Oulx, through the mountains, and into Torino. When we arrived in Torino it was snowing. Or raining. Or…well, it was doing something crappy!

We parked not far from the Olympic medal ceremony plaza and walked the area. The plan was to eat, look around, get tickets for the evening’s medal ceremony, and then find a hotel north of town, near the airport. Yet again, almost impossibly, we could not find a reasonable restaurant to eat at! How could it be? Now we were in a reasonably large city, host to the winter Olympics, and still no open restaurants! Short of fuel we continued our adventure and searched out the ticket booth. It was too late, all of today’s medal ceremony tickets has been released, and there were no more available.

Disappointed, we decided to try for some event tickets. After a short wait in line, we asked about the possibility of attending the U.S. vs Sweden hockey game that would begin in a couple of hours. It was sold out. Next, we asked if there were any other hockey games today with available tickets. None, they were also sold out. Were there tickets to any other events that we might be interested in? No. We stepped out of line and contemplated our next move. Maybe we could buy some scalper’s tickets to the U.S. game.

As we discussed our options, we overheard the folks who had been behind us in line. They were buying tickets to a hockey game…the Canada game…the game that started right after the U.S. game! They had told us that it was sold out, and now they were selling the exact tickets that we had asked about. Damn! Second class status for the Americans, I guess.

There was time to burn before the U.S. hockey game, so we decided to check out the “sponsor village,” which was basically a showcase for all of the sponsors to promote their products. Vaguely interesting, fairly crowded, not too much more to say about the village itself. However, an old high school acquaintance, Rana, was in Italy working the Games for Coca-Cola, and might be at the village. I had spoken to Rana before flying to Torino and therefore had her phone number, so I gave her a call. Unfortunately, she was not at the village and had business-related meetings to attend for the rest of the day. Maybe there would be another opportunity to meet later on.

With our previous day’s good fortune in mind, we made the decision to head over to the hockey rink and try to get tickets there. We would also stop for lunch at one of the city’s many restaurants. We walked and walked, passing countless restaurants that were closed for the afternoon. Literally, we did not see one dining option! So, we got directions from a friendly local, boarded a shuttle, and headed to the stadium. Or so we thought! In reality, we were on a shuttle heading AWAY from the hockey rink! By the time we figured out our problem, we were way across town, and dying of hunger. We got off the bus and headed to the only open restaurant that we could find…McDonalds!

We finally arrived at the hockey rink about 30 minutes before the game. With some effort, we were able to acquire one ticket in hand, and two more that we could pick up at the will call window. Two guys sold us the receipt to pick up their tickets at will call, certain that we could easily gain access and have the seats to the game. The folks working at will call had some other ideas! They could not release the tickets for some reason. Fortunately we had taken contact information for the guys who sold us the tickets, and thus we were able to contact them.

In a kind gesture, Melinda and Lisa, knowing that it was my last opportunity to see an event while they would stay in Torino for additional days, had me take the single ticket into the game while they worked on the other two seats. So, with the snow now coming down hard, I walked down the street and into the Olympic Hockey Arena. Wow, what a sight! Banners everywhere, national flags hung throughout, and people from all over the world buzzing with anticipation for the U.S. vs Sweden hockey game.

The game was fun—the U.S. was behind almost the entire game, but never by too much—and there was no shame in losing to Sweden, the eventual gold medalists. There was only one negative during the game: a pair of French guys sitting behind me who apparently came to the game for the sole purpose of hurling insults at the American players and at America in general. Get a life, guys! Everyone else behaved with dignity and class, cheering their team loudly but also cheering the good plays of the opposing team. These two idiots stood alone in booing the players. I guess even the Olympics aren’t perfect.

When I left the game it was snowing like crazy. I searched for Lisa and Melinda at our designated meeting point, and met them fairly promptly. While they had not been able to secure the tickets, they had gotten their money back and had spent the time at a café, enjoying the warmth and comfort. Fortunately, not a wasted afternoon! In addition, the girls had managed to secure tickets to the next day’s women’s hockey game.

We took a shuttle back to our car (more confusion, as different people gave us different information on which shuttle would take us where), and made a new plan. We would spend a little more time touring around Torino, and keep our eyes open for a hotel room in the meantime. So through the snow we walked, soaking it all in (the sights and the snow), and periodically stopping in a hotel lobby to check on rooms.

At the third hotel that we stopped in, the gentleman at the desk indicated that there were no rooms available. Just as we were almost outside the door, he called us back. He did have one room after all, but with only 2 beds and at a cost of 200 Euro. Were we interested? Lisa, Melinda and I looked at each other, and each came up with the same answer: “yes!!” We paid the man (I honestly think we would have considered paying double, just to have warm beds) and went upstairs to see our room. What a nice place! We had a 2-room suite, the first room with two single beds, and the second room with a couch and television.

Exhausted, the girls both went to bed for a nap while I took a long, hot bath in the beautiful tub. I must have been in there for close to an hour!

Our car had been left in a spot where it would potentially be towed for staying overnight, so after my bath I decided to go out and move it if necessary, along with doing a little bit of exploring. Lisa continued to sleep, while Melinda anxiously (OK, she was a little tepid at first, having just awoken from her nap, but then she really was looking forward to exploring) joined me.

The area around the hotel proved to be beautiful, nothing like most of the areas of Torino that we had already seen. The sidewalks were marble, well-lit, and led the way to some of the finest fashion and jewelry shops in the world. Along the way were Olympic exhibits such as photographs, special lighting, and even a bobsled exhibit where we were actually able to climb in to a retired bobsled and see what it felt like. No 80-mile-per-hour wind through our hair, true, but still a cool experience.

Realizing that we hadn’t eaten a whole heck of a lot all day, we found a nice little restaurant, “Gio,” and stopped in for some Italian cuisine. For nearly 11:00 at night, the restaurant was quite lively! Many of the tables were filled with diners like us, while other tables hosted small drinking parties. Pretty soon, Melinda and I had ordered some delicious-sounding dishes for our dinner. With eager anticipation I chomped on some fresh bread and breadsticks. Dinner did not disappoint! My swordfish was unbelievable, melting in my mouth and bringing me great joy at the end of a long, exhausting day.

(optional paragraph for female readers) Not to be outdone by the food, the waitresses were equally delicious. Our guess was that many of the waitresses could have been related, as they shared exotic jet-black hair not commonly seen in the U.S. Perhaps that uniqueness added to my appreciation of the outstanding staff of waitresses.

Meanwhile, I made one last attempt at getting together with my old friend Rana. We spoke briefly on the phone. She was only a short distance from our restaurant! Unfortunately, it did not appear that her social event would be breaking up anytime before the wee hours of the morning, and thus we were again unable to meet in person. Fortunately, my $100+ overseas phone bill for 3 days serves as a reminder me of our calls and attempted get-togethers.

With our appetites satisfied and the clock now well past midnight, Melinda and I still had to attend to our car parking issue. It turned out not to be a big problem—or so we thought. We walked out to the car, drove by the hotel, and found a parking spot just a few short blocks away. As we left the car things got a bit more complicated. Turns out they have color-coded curbs in Torino, which indicate the parking rules for the particular street or portion thereof. A friendly couple pointed out our little faux pas. We had parked in a blue zone, which would not suffice even though they had just parked right behind us in the same blue zone. They would just be there for a couple of hours, it was explained, so their car would not be spending the night. For us, it would be a problem. It was very difficult to communicate with our kind local friends, as we spoke no Italian and they little English. Fortunately for us they had an American friend (read: translator) who they called on their cell phone to help us out. Whew, thank goodness—we had to park in a yellow zone! There was one only a half block away, so we thanked our new friends and gave the car a proper parking, and then returned to the hotel. By now it was nearly 2:00a.m.

Day 4: Monday, February 20th, 2006

My flight back home to the U.S. was leaving at 10:45 Monday morning, so I set my alarm for a 7:00 wake-up. That would give me time to get up, take a quick shower, grab a bite, and walk over to the train station, where I had been told there would be trains shuttling to the airport at intervals throughout the day. It was only about 30 minutes to the airport by train, so my plan was to catch the 8:00.

In spite of going to bed so late the night before, I managed to wake up before my alarm even went off. Or so I thought. A casual glance at my watch showed that it was already 8:25!! I had slept well beyond my alarm, if it had even gone off, and was suddenly faced with the prospect of missing my flight! I shoved my things together, grabbed a snack to go, said a very quick “good-bye” to Lisa and Melinda, and ran out the door. Literally. I basically sprinted the ¾ of a kilometer to the train station. As I approached I immediately began looking for signs for the train to the airport. As you may have guessed by now, this being Italy there were no signs anywhere for my train! I began asking for assistance, first a security officer, then an Olympic volunteer, and finally an employee of the train station. Three different people, three different answers. The gist of it all was that there WAS no train going to the airport, but I could catch a bus on the corner that would take me there. The bus would (hopefully) be leaving at 8:45. Not ideal, but at least it would give me a shot at making my flight.

As I waited for the bus I mercifully ran into a Canadian couple who seemed to know a bit more than me. There was indeed a bus to the airport scheduled for 8:45. I needed to buy a ticket in advance at one of the local shops. Good to know!

Shortly after 8:45 the bus pulled in and quickly loaded up with passengers. We then…well...we…then just sort of sat there, with no explanation, until a bit after 9:00. Maybe be were waiting to see if there were some folks running a little late for the bus. Whatever the reason, I was nervously watching my window of opportunity close. Finally we pulled out and headed for the airport.

We arrived at the airport later than even I could have expected, at 9:55. Would they allow me to check in for my flight at this point? I rushed to the check-in counter and found absolutely no line. Finally a little luck! There were two people at the check-in counter, and both gave their full attention to my check-in efforts. Their english was so-so, but good enough for a rapid check-in and some playful banter. As the female attendant mentioned something about the male attendant I commented that he was “next to a pretty girl.” Enjoying the complement, she replied “thank you, or a pretty boy.” Hmmm, wonder what she meant by that one…In no time I was at my gate and on my way home to the good ‘ol U.S. of A.

In summary, this was an awesome trip! I was with two friends, in Melinda and Lisa, who were equally up to the adventure of planning free (ie: no lodging) travel. We met amazing people from all over the world who treated us as friends. We drank with Olympic gold medalists, received gifts for hitch-hiking, and nosed our way into ski jumping for free. We were misdirected, misinformed, and even mistaken for Olympians. We made it all happen with no reservations, no tickets, no luggage (poor Lisa!) and no old friend (we’ll meet some day, Rana). We ate Italian food, American food, and sometimes no food at all! In other words, we did it all in our own unique way.

Thanks for reading! Ciao!