Hurry up and wait

We made it to the gate in Philadelphia with only seconds to spare, but then sat on the runway for 2 1/2 hours because they were replacing s seal under the right wing and because the airport was so overloaded with travelers we couldn‘t get slated for takeoff. We eventually went wheels up at 8:30 PM. The plane was new, or new-ish, because it was one of those that has monitors in each seat back. Although we could choose from a selection of movies, I only watched one: Vantage Point, with Matthew Fox. It was all action, no character development. I would have liked it to have been more fleshed out, but it kept me awake for an extra 90 minutes or so until I was really tired and fell deeply asleep.

The mother and daughter sitting in front of us are following the exact itinerary we are, but not going to Pompei. They are from Arizona. The daughter just graduated from HS and will be going to the University of Prague in the fall to study international business. When she was in HS, her family hosted a Czech student with whom she has maintained close contact, so they will be rooming together at the university.



We caught the train into Rome, about a 30 minute trip, then scouted around inside the Roma Termini for an edible lunch. We found a busy deli counter (for lack of a better term) that had prepared sandwiches. I had a tangy vegetarian wrap with fresh tomatoes an buffalo mozzarella, but my mother selected some kind of salami sandwich that was so dry she couldn’t finish it. We found our reserved seats on the train and, in perhaps the funniest moment of the trip so far, and there have already been quite a few, my mother stood on her cushion trying to shove her bag into the overhead storage compartment and let out the squishiest sounding fart right in the face of the man sitting across the aisle. He looked at his wife with the most confounded look on his face while she tried hard not to laugh. I, of course, was unable to contain myself and laughed for about 5 minutes non-stop with tears streaming down my face. My mom, taking it in stride, just shrugged and kept working with her luggage. “What?” she kept saying. “What?”

Our 90-minute train ride to Naples (on an air-conditioned EuroStar train) went by very quickly because we sat with a young Australian couple just out of university who are spending about 6 weeks traveling Europe with most of their time in Italy. Ned’s working as a sports journalist in Sydney, while Char is an administrative assistant in a large office. Turns out, Ned’s father is a famous journalist in Australia working on a TV news program that sounds like the equivalent of our 60 minutes. His name is George Negus, but I haven’t had the opportunity to look him up yet. The four of us talked about everything from geography and agriculture to entertainment and politics (as if they aren’t the same thing) spending most of our time discussing the American presidential election. It didn’t surprise me that they were quite well versed in the intricacies of what’s going on in the US right now, but I was pleased to learn a few things about Kevin Rudd, their new PM and what he’s been doing in Australia. He apologized to the aboriginal people of Australia right after he was elected and declared a national “Sorry Day.”

We just missed our connection to Pompeii from Naples because we took time pee in the most disgusting, toilet paper-less bathroom on the planet. Actually, there was toilet paper, but we would have had to pay a creepy looking old man sitting out front 1 euro per sheet. We opted to use the Kleenex we had with us which worked fine. Not that anyone reading this needed to know that. We waited an hour in the Naples train station for our connection south. Found out, however, that there is a train strike scheduled for Monday (tomorrow), so we are not going to get back to Rome tomorrow night. That means we will have lost the price of the train reservation we made weeks ago and will have to reschedule our trip north on Tuesday morning. More on that as it develops.

The train to Pompeii was an old local with hard seats and open windows, but the scenery was breathtaking as we stayed in the shadow (well, not really shadow) of Mt. Vesuvius along the coast south of Naples. Mom and I were both so exhausted and hungry that all we wanted to do was stretch out and sleep. The hot sun was streaming in the window and we were getting sunburn inside the train. By this time it was 3:30 PM local time, which means we had been in transit close to 21 hours non-stop with only a couple hours sleep and not much food. (Hard to imagine. Pittsburgh seems so far away.)

Because the train was a local with few tourists, we found ourselves in a car with another old character. He must have been 75 or more, green t-shirt, no teeth, but talked loudly on his cell phone and had his German shepherd puppy, Stella, with him.



She did well on the train with all of the movement and people, exploring when the train was in motion and returning to his side when we pulled into stations, but she wasn’t overly friendly with other passengers, which I would have liked.

There are many more dogs in Italy than I remember or than I saw last time. They just wander free, few with collars, sometimes alone or in small groups. All breeds and cross-breeds. Makes me miss Radar all the more. My little schmoop.