Roma

Travel day dawned with high hopes and anxiety.   Everyone was concerned about riding the water bus with commuters and luggage.  (Debbie said that she didn’t know that Greg and Don could get up that early).  So everyone allowed plenty of time.  Greg and Don to the airport (See the new blog contributor) and the remaining four to the rail station with few issues. (Commuters, don’t like to get up that early either).

We think that Italia has an interesting philosophy.  Let’s follow a real life sequence of events for our 9 A.M. train from Venice to Rome.

8:30 – Don’t worry your platform will appear at 8:45 (This to all the Americans huddled in the Italia waiting room looking for anyone that spoke English and afraid to go out in the actual train station.)

8:50 – Will the train come soon?  Yes (Idiot Americans)

8:58 –  Is the train late? No, it is on time (Just thinking, that the train is supposed to pull out at 9:00 sooooooooo that means you have to announce it, load it, start the train in 2 minutes).

9:00 – Where is the train?  It is not late.  It is on time.

9:05 – The train is here on track 7 but it is not late.

The arrival of the train was followed by a mad rush to get on the train with luggage by everyone on the train.  It was a cut throat affair.  Larry quacked at different people several times and Debbie shouted out “Scusi” (She thinks that is Italia to cut someone off).  We were in the very last car and had scored a table.  At 9:15, the 9:00 on time train pulled out of the station on time.

Everyone had counted on sleeping on the train.  Originally, this did not work out as anticipated.  Across from our table, sat a college student that liked to talk  loudly to the American family (actually anyone) sitting at the table with her.  (Debbie is sorry that she is having trouble with her Spanish boyfriend, will have trouble getting a job in art security, and thinks that young people could save all of Italy from it’s problems if the old people would just give up their jobs.  Debbie is even sorrier that you had to retell these issues to the Spanish family that sat down next. )

We think there is pictorial truth as to what happened on the train.  Debbie and Larry partied for awhile and then even Larry also rested his eyes.  (You should probably not go to sleep on a train with Debbie.  She has some worse pictures than those.)

We arrived at the Rome station on time (Not really) but we did get up to 300 KM per hour.  It was very smooth.   The train station was a mad house.  It took awhile to get situated inside and then we took the madhouse out of doors.  Joyce called the flat owner, Fausto, to call a taxi for us.  Here was her report of the phone conversation.  “I have no idea what he said.  I can’t understand anything he says.  Someone else is going to have to talk to him.  I think a taxi is coming”.  (Larry, Jerry and Debbie refused to make eye contact in hopes that they would not be enlisted for the next call).  We finally decided to cross the street and wait for the taxi thus ensuing the first game of Italian Frogger. (This is the game when you try to cross the street,  no one stops  but tries to hit you).  Joyce stood with a sign saying “Fausto” on the edge of the street until Larry took over sign duty.  Fausto kept texting mysterious messages such as 3570 or 50 Sierra, a white cab (We never saw any cab not white).  “Tell them Fausto for the good price”.

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We all yelled back “Fausto, Fausto, Get in the cab”.

Joyce yelled back “We won’t fit!”.

We yelled back.  “Yes, we do.  Fausto.  Get in the cab!”  (More horns honking)

And then we were all in the taxi and Joyce said “Oh, well I guess we do fit!”

We are happy to report that the cab ride was only 20 Euro.  Fausto delivered.

Thus began our Roman adventure.

We are saving the Rome apartment description for our next blog.  It deserves it’s own blog.  You won’t be disappointed.