Taking the train north

Somewhere between Roma and Pisa, Sunday 27 September

My feet were still suffering from yesterday’s walking when I dragged them out of bed this morning. The marble on the bathroom was believe it or not pain inducing. When in Rome and all that was on my mind so I decided to do as the Roman women do and bellisimo I am in heels … not quite the nails they walk on, actually not at all, however some height seems to have made a positive difference (maybe that’s the real secret to walking Rome). Not capable of the marathon efforts I have achieved to date, my onward move to Pisa is well timed. And of course I am looking forward to heading north to join the birthday celebrations, my inspiration for being here.

After my last nightmare of a European trip (when, with my arm newly in plaster I was a sardine in a Caboose with my 40 kilos of baggage and 60 others for five hours) I was taking no chances. First class to Pisa please. Three observations about this : 1. the Martinborough train is still in better shape than this Eurostar (although this is running perfectly to time) 2. a number of beggars boarded the train at the station asking for cash and then got off before it departed. Some were typical of beggars the world over but some had stories, told in very good English. One guy wanted just 4 Euro’s to return to his family somewhere (he apparently had the rest of the fare), I was tempted. It is sad and I always feel like a hard arse in these situations but I am -unless it is a phenomenal story or they can make me laugh as they try so hard to extract money. I would however have preferred someone at TransItalia to intercede - along with the leg space - that would be a good reason one pays an extra E20 to upgrade. Of course I am talking through a hole in my head, I haven’t been to investigate 2nd class and don’t intend to. 3. The 1st class carriage (one of about 20) was right at the other end of the platform (two from the front) which mean’t dragging the bag over knobbly paving for half a mile to get to it. Like all of my recent train experiences , there is no porter to carry the bags anymore. At least I knew this. Today I am travelling with just two bags…a large (new ) handbag and my trusty expandable suitcase. I will confess that I off loaded about 5kg of gear to the (hopefully) safe hands of the Parco this morning to courier home. Some of it now has served its purpose in Rome; yes some was new and some of it a realisation that I really won’t need the JIC items I was intent on having to reduce my need to shop. Indeed I know that shopping is not about need. I have newly learned though that I am a hopeless case - there is no stopping me. God knows how much it will cost to get the other stuff home but needs must and the only place I could relatively safely arrange this was the Parco.

I left Rome as I found it. The streets were again surprisingly quiet. It was Sunday morning though so I guess everyone really was at Mass.

When the train finally pulled away (I was early!) I could see more of the real parts of the city. The ruins and relics are still dotted everywhere, some of them would deserve an entry fee anywhere else on earth but here they are comfortably living among modern terracotta apartments except for the scores and scores of television aerials mounted on the rooves. Not like Pariola where the roofline is an oasis of roof gardens.

I had forgotten the pleasure of traveling without a care in the world (well almost), there is nothing like it. It makes it all the more enjoyable not to be squeezing trips in between work engagements and work