I didn’t choose the squat life — the squat life chose me
Square in Zurich (photo by author)
This story dates back to my university years, when these kinds of accidents were — sadly or funnily, depending on the perspective — happening more often than I might have wished for.
In this case, one sunny Monday morning found me travelling in Munich, Germany.
The week before I was in Scotland.
The day after I was in Italy.
A seemingly great trip, one might think.
The story, though, lies in the middle.
A Beautiful Start
It’s Monday.
I wake up in Munich, to the sound of fresh coffee brewing in my friend’s moka pot. We are on the outskirts of the city, in a spacious flat overlooking the park.
Ready to kick off my last day in the city, I get up and start getting dressed.
I have just spent the previous 48 hours exploring and getting to know Munich through the eyes of two old friends of mine, originally from my hometown, but now studying in Germany and sharing a flat.
In fact, the reason I decided to stop by Munich in the first place is that Bukahara — one of my favourite indie bands at the time — was going to play at one of the local, underground concert halls.
Catching two birds with one stone, I find this to be the perfect opportunity to finally pay a visit to my friends and invite them to join me. We have a great time, and everyone is in good spirits and sad that the weekend is coming to an end.
At this point, as I have quite a lot of luggage with me, I figure out that the best way to get back to Italy from Munich is to take an overnight bus. This would avoid the hassle of carrying luggage, while being overall more comfortable (and cheaper) than travelling to and from the airport.
After scrolling through the options, I eventually identify a beautiful FlixBus ride with a 2-hour stop in Zurich, Switzerland — just enough to have dinner at Hiltl (my favourite veggie restaurant ever) and have a rest before setting off on the second leg of the journey.
Perfect plan, right?
Except — of course — the plan does not, in fact, work out as planned.
The Start of My Downfall
It all starts from the very beginning, when I miss my first bus from Munich.
Isn’t it funny how trains and buses always get there immediately when you’re not in a rush, yet are consistently delayed when you are?
I swear, they are like printers — they smell fear.
As I rush to the bus station, I am suddenly hit by the realisation that there is absolutely no way I am going to make it in time.
I panic.
Not only have I already booked the bus, but I also have a scheduled connection in Zurich in a few hours, meaning that I might lose out on the entire reservation (and, of course, be stuck in Munich for what feels like an indefinite amount of time).
You have to know, by the way, that at this point in life I am an extremely financially challenged university student working two part-time jobs to pay for rent and everything else.
Which means any disruption to any pre-paid booking is a disaster.
Luckily, I manage to cancel the booking just 15 minutes before departure, which is the latest you can do to receive a refund from FlixBus.
As the request gets processed, the idea of getting my grand 7 EUR back is a small relief.
I rejoice.
Reassured by this first achievement, I tackle the second challenge — finding a new option to reach Zurich in time to catch my second bus — and luckily manage to find another bus leaving precisely one hour after my originally scheduled one.
Finally, I can breathe again.
A Case of Excessive Optimism
This is when I commit my second, tragic mistake.
As the ride proceeds smoothly, I browse through the FlixBus app and notice that a later bus will also be departing from Zurich.
“This is great,” I think to myself. I could easily change my booking and spend more time in the city to meet with a friend who lives in the area.
By friend, I mean a boy I am deeply in love with, with whom I have recently ended a 6-month-long situationship — not by choice.
I message him.
After a few hours, though, no answer has come through, and the cold Swiss temperatures make me give up and book the bus departing at midnight from the central bus station, which would get me home one hour later than planned.
The Plot Twist
Except it doesn’t.
As I get to the bus station after quickly booking the bus ten minutes before departure time, I realise that…
No one is there.
No bus drivers, no active buses, barely any people waiting, and just street workers cleaning up the previous night’s mess.
And me.
A 20-something young woman, tired, cold, alone with a giant suitcase sitting next to her and no place to stay.
If there’s one thing about me, though, it’s that I don’t give up easily.
Still confident in my FlixBus, I check for updates on the app, and reassure myself when I see no delay has been communicated.
It must be on its way.
Looking back, my optimism has truly been my biggest blessing and, simultaneously, downfall, throughout my entire life.
But I digress.
Quickly, seconds turn into minutes, which turn into half an hour and, with just a pair of thin socks on and no sign of FlixBus staff, I finally decide to take action and call the help centre to check what might be the issue.
After 5 minutes on hold, I finally get connected to an operator, who — bless her soul — has no clue what’s happening and tells me she will email me once her manager gets back to her about it.
Yeah sure.
Fast forward to 1:30 am, and I am still waiting while my body temperature has dropped significantly.
Desperate and with no credit left to make calls, I see the light of a Starbucks cafe still on and quickly make my way there.
After explaining the situation, the barista working there kindly allows me to use their Wi-Fi, and I reach for the ultimate weapon: my mom.
I message her on WhatsApp to explain the situation and, at last, she is able to get on the line with another operator after a 10-minute hold.
This is when we find out that the bus has, in fact, been cancelled.
And no one thought to tell me.
In Italian, we have a saying that goes, “oltre al danno, la beffa.”
Conceptually, it means that on top of being damaged, you also get laughed at.
This saying is particularly fitting when not only am I informed that the next available bus is at 3:40 am, but I am also told that this bus is already fully booked, and that I will have to take the next available one.
At 6:30 in the morning.
I panic, for the second time in the last 12 hours.
“It’s pretty cold,” said the police
I look around. There is one hotel behind me, which I am scared to look up the price of for a single night. With no other option though, I give it a shot.
300 EUR.
I am afraid my 7 EUR refund is not going to cover this.
Eventually, I find shelter by the entrance of the Starbucks cafe which has by now closed (which, by the way, I learned to appreciate a lot more after this experience). With the luggage I have, I build a temporary wall around me and take a seat in a small corner, waiting for the hours to go by.
I end up accidentally dozing off a few times.
As I drift in and out of consciousness, at some point I see the lights of a police car approaching me. I stand straight.
“What are you doing here?” they ask.
“I have missed my bus. I am waiting for the next one,” I reply.
Convinced they will fine me or at least demand I move — but with a faint hope they would help out and take me in — I am surprised by their utter indifference.
A policewoman looks me up and down, sighs, and says,
“It’s pretty cold tonight, isn’t it?”
Yes, it is, lady. Thank you for pointing out the obvious.
They wish me good luck and drive off.
I am left wondering — did they do me a favour, or do they not care at all about the possibility of someone dying of hypothermia on the street?
To this day, I am still unclear on which answer to give myself.
After that, I try to keep myself warm as best as I can, and somehow manage to stay alive until the next morning, drifting off to sleep a couple of times and frantically waking up to check if I’ve lost a limb to the cold or if I’m still intact.
The Happy Ending
Once morning comes, luck is — for once — on my side.
I make friends with a nice Italian gentleman living in Switzerland who decides to offer me a coffee before departing on our long-coveted journey.
Honestly, I still remember his kindness to this day. He was one of those people who, without doing much, still leave an indelible mark in your mind.
As we ride across borders, we end up spending the entire trip chatting about life and experiences. We involve the bus driver too, and end up spending the full 5 hours next to him.
Becoming short-term friends for that little while, we revel in the dawn as we sip coffee at a gas station right after the Italian border.
To this day, I think this was one of the best FlixBus rides I’ve ever had.
Kinda makes the whole ordeal worth it, doesn’t it?
The small downside is that this ride is not actually driving to my city — it is going to Milan, after which I will have to wait another 2 hours to catch a third, final bus. This will take my overall travelling time up to 26 hours.
Also, the boy still hasn’t replied throughout the whole trip (and — spoiler — will only do so when I am already back in my city).
But that’s for another story.
And you?
Have you had any similar experiences while travelling, or total fails that kinda make you smile when you think back to them?
I’d love to know I’m not the only one.
As always, wishing you all a lovely day,
Elena
BIG DISCLAIMER: This blog post is definitely not against FlixBus — I have travelled with them countless times and never had an issue. This misunderstanding was a bit frustrating, but hey ho, nobody’s perfect!
