Day 04 Good-bye Vaduz, on to Milan

It was perfectly fitting — almost scripted — that when I woke up early and opened the hotel curtains, soft snow was drifting around the Vaduz Castle. Our time in Liechtenstein now officially had all the elements of a Hallmark movie: a tiny alpine capital, Christmas decorations going up, and now a light snowfall over the castle on the hill. I headed downstairs for a cappuccino and some blogging while Donna caught a little more sleep. Today was a travel day, and we needed the energy.

We did a self-checkout from the hotel and dragged our carry-ons, backpacks, and CPAP machines over the cobblestone streets toward the bus stop. The wait was short. The local bus carried us to Schaan-Vaduz Station, the main rail connection for the principality. From there, we managed to catch an earlier train to Zürich HB — a nice bonus. Once in Zürich, we felt like old pros. We’ve been through this station before, and it’s always reassuring to return to a place that feels familiar.

We had a bit of time before our train to Milan, so we ducked into a café perfectly — almost suspiciously — named “Oscars.” Since that’s our grandson’s name, it was a no-brainer. I ordered the Oscar’s Special. We settled in with hot chocolates and croissants and quietly claimed a table for over two hours. We made sure to order more than one round and left a healthy tip. We were definitely not the only two people there obviously “killing time.”

Once on the train, life slipped into a calm rhythm. Mountains glided past the window, the rails offered their steady clickity-clack, and occasionally a passing train gave a powerful WOOOSH that shook the windows. A peaceful 3+ hour ride — a rare, built-in moment to simply breathe.

Then came Chiasso, the Swiss–Italian border station where customs officers board and crews switch. Time seemed to pause. An announcement told everyone to take out their passports. Donna placed hers neatly on the tray table. I held mine in my hand like a peace offering. Several agents walked by… and kept right on walking.

Through the open doors between train cars, I could see a young man being thoroughly questioned. The officers had him empty his entire backpack — every item examined as though it might reveal the plot of a spy novel.

Naturally, I assumed they were on to us.
If they asked us to open our luggage, we were doomed — it was packed so tightly it would have exploded like a car in a James Bond 007 chase scene, taking out the customs agents and forcing us to rely on our MI6 skills as we leapt from the moving train.

But none of that happened. They ignored us completely.

As glamorous as that imaginary scene was, I was oddly disappointed that our passports never got checked. Perhaps that’s one of the quiet advantages of being an older white tourist couple from America — we apparently radiate “harmless.” Still, we were relieved our cover story held. Travel Rule #17:
Look the part, play the part. If you believe it… they’ll believe it.

By the time we arrived in Milan, the sun was setting. We had a 20–30 minute walk ahead of us, dragging our luggage through dark, unfamiliar streets. It wasn’t the roughest area we’ve ever walked, but our radar was tuned to full awareness. And we were tired.

At last, we reached our Airbnb. The elevator was hilariously tight — our luggage and our bodies barely fit. Another sardine would’ve been a deal-breaker. But it carried us upward, and that was all we needed.

On our floor, our host Livia greeted us warmly, walked us through the apartment details, had us sign the standard rental agreement, and pointed us toward Alice Pizza for a simple dinner before collapsing into bed.

And, just before reaching the Airbnb, Donna paused at a nail salon window. She didn’t say anything… but something was definitely being considered. I’ve been married long enough to recognize that look.

A long day of trains, borders, snow, and new streets — and tomorrow, Milan awaits.

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