I was not going to blog but as everyone else on the train to Roma has their electronic devices out, I was feeling left out. After enduring their sneers for about 10 minutes I got out my trusty notebook and started to edit pictures of Venice, just for the cred.
We did not get seats together, so Ilze is sitting diagonally across from me, in her travel pants and white T-shirt sitting next to a 50 something fashionista with more make up than a Myer counter and I just hope that she can’t read English through the back of the screen and that the bloke sitting next to me is not her hairy great boy frienlmnkm,,,phl.
Oops, it’s OK its, not him, just a tunnel, entering it at 240kmh creates a pressure wave and your ears pop two or three times, this one also has a bend and everything slid off the table.
Strange things, Italian trains, the 78km from Lucca back to Florence, cost 7 Euro and took 1hr and 40 mins. The train to 324kms to Rome cost 60Ero and took 1hr 14mins with awful coffee free.
We only had two hassles today, first the gypsy girl who offered to lift my bag into the overhead locker, and ever the gentleman, Pete let her try, two failed attempts were enough and she gave up and left.
The second was not until we had arrived at our hotel, changed, had a drink and left to do some shopping and then couldn’t find the lift. It is actually outside the security door, on entering your floor you use your card to open a regular looking door, full of bags and backpacks we took little notice of the other side and wandered around for several minutes laughing hysterically with blog titles seething through our brains until two other guests merged from the emergency fire escape door, with big red fluro bars across it and threatening massive fines etc. The lift is just inside and the emergency exit a little further on.
We managed to get out, now for dinner and Rome.
Ilze is already plotting the climb to the top of St Peters. 5Euro the stairs or 7 Euro the lift.
I am pilfering her Laundromat money.
Pete of the aching knees.