From Cannes, France to Genoa, Italy

I hopped a train to Genoa, Italy not feeling all that well.


I took a few photos along the way. I think that was near Monaco ?!? Maybe. All I remember is that the Monaco stop was in a tunnel then as the train left it went out the tunnel and around a curve and this was the view looking back.


There was dramatic scenery, all I was hoping was not to have achy hips, a very sore throat, feeling hot, and sometimes nauseous.

When I arrived in Genoa I had to figure out how to get to my hostel way on top of a zig-zag road. This is a rough map, but the points A and B are set. A is the train station and B is the hostel.

I finally asked someone, luckily in English. I got bus tickets from the news stand then proceeded to walk to the bus stop and wait. I went in the bus got off at a another stop, then waited, then entered another bus to finally reach my destination of my hostel. I checked in. I was the only one in the room thankfully.

I called my mom because I felt awful and I didn't know what to do. She said it was my decision. I called the medical number to find a place to go to and that they spoke English. I finished the phone call and realized that I needed help. I called my mom to tell her I was going to this hospital that they gave me. So I headed to the front desk to get directions to the specific hospital, I was given. I hopped another bus to some stop. Luckily got off at the right stop. At this point hoping I don't pass out and wanted so badly to stop being in pain. I made it to the hospital and asked in broken Italian where it was. They did a point thing and some fast words in Italian. I started walking that way.

Italian hospitals are not like our hospital in one building, more like multiple building in one area. I walked to a bus stop there and tried to figure out my way around. The medical people who told me to go there didn't tell me what building. I started getting upset because I just wanted to feel better. The only Italian/English translation was gynecology. I walked in the building and asked do you speak English in Italian "Parla inglese?" (Par-la en-glay-say) She said no. Then I tried making hand gestures to explain I was in pain and needed to know where to go. I showed her the number I was given. Then she put up the point finger as in a pause sign, walked away to go get someone.

I then asked this other young lady "Parla inglese?" (Par-la en-glay-say). She said yes. I tried holding it together to explain that I called my medical card to get help that I was achy, tired, sore throat, and hot. I showed her the number I had and I just needed to know where to go. I explain all this by crying and then saying I was just tired and didn't know what to do. I wish I knew her name. She was very nice to me and walked me to the place I needed to go and handled all the Italian in getting me in the system. She then walk me to where I needed to wait. She told me it was going to be awhile. I thanked her.

I was there a few hours sitting on the floor hearing people go in, seeing family and friends come in to be with them even if it was a finger that was hurt. I watched an old man with a bad finger for awhile. I asked him "Parla inglese?" (Par-la en-glay-say). Does he speak English in Italian. He said no. Then his son came back and he told him something in Italian. Then the son said he spoke a little English. I told him I just wanted to know if they call the number on my sheet or my name. I had been hearing this thing go with names and numbers, but didn't understand what it meant. He said they call you name.

We sat there for a few more minutes, when my name was called. Luckily I asked these men because they both looked at me to tell me it was me and that I needed to go to room 2. I went in to room 2 to then be confronted again with a very little English speaking doctor. Again the hand gestures came out. They took my temperature, I started to put it in my mouth and both doctors were like NOOOO and gestured to be put in my armpit. I was like Ohhh-K. I left with a prescription. As I left I thanked the men "Grazie Mille" (Gra-zee me-lay) and headed to the bus stop.

When I was on the bus I called my mom again to tell her I have a prescription. I sat on the bus and waited. As I was riding I got off after a few miles on the bus because there was a McDonalds and I hadn't eaten at all that day except water, some chips, and a few other things. I ate chicken nuggets and french fries. I got out and waited at the bus stop. I couldn't figure out if the bus was done for the night or if one was coming again. I kept waiting and nothing was coming. I went into a closing down restaurant to ask direction to a bus stop. They pointed up the street. I kept waiting and waiting and still nothing. I was cold, it was dark, I was extremely exhausted. I kept looking at all these taxis up the street. I said okay if no bus in 10 minutes I am taking a taxi. There was no bus.

So I went to the first taxi. Asked him "Parla inglese?" (Par-la en-glay-say). He said a little. Drive me here(pointed to card, luckily brought the address with me. He said "prima automobile" in Italian which means first car. I looked at him confused, he points to the first car. I say ohhh "si grazie" (yes thank you). I walk to the first car. I ask do you speak English in Italian. He says a little. I say can you drive me and give him the address. He say Si. I get in the car. I am watching to check if he is driving me somewhere I don't want to go. (I had a awkward experience in Washington, D.C. with 3 other girls in the car- I not fond of taxis). Luckily I noticed things that the bus drove by and 11 euros later I was at the hostel. I was willing to pay 50 euros just to get to a bed.

I went upstairs to see if I had any roommates, but luckily none. I put a pillowcase on, a sheet on the bed roughly and laid a sheet over me and went to bed. I didn't change my clothes, I didn't brush my teeth, or wash my face. I was so beat up from the day all I did was set my alarm and go to sleep. Glad no one was sleeping in the room with me coughed a lot that night.

I got up in the morning still feeling awful, packed up, brought sheets down, signed out of the hostel, received directions to the pharmacy(24 hour) I took a bus down to a stop the lady at the hostel told me to get off at, then took an elevator that goes horizontal then vertical. It let me out right at the pharmacy (which was suppose to be open 24 hours) Which days was it not? Saturday. What was today....Saturday. It opened at 8 and my train left at 830a (I was a 10 minute or less walk away). I waited outside with my prescription.

After awhile with me getting nervous about the train this lady came from the inside with the metal gates still down. She asked me something in Italian which I respond by looking confused, then I was about to say "Parla inglese?" (Par-la en-glay-say). I think she realized what I needed and I just handed over my prescription. She took it and filled it. I gave her cash. I thanked her and walked my way to the train station on the way to grab a sandwich, banana, and chips by pointing. The sandwich meat was bad to me but the bread was good. I saved the banana and chips for later. Off to Rome. I sure hoped it would be a better ride then Cannes to Genoa.

On the train.

p.s. I still don't know what I technically had in Genoa, but I don't ever want to experience it again...just a plain mystery.