I woke up a little whoosy. Obviously the liter of wine for the two of us was too much. Tasted really good though. After studying the tiles in the bathroom I made a sketch of the pattern. Each was off-set by one third which made them progress across the floor in a diagonal as well as providing a space a ninth of the size of the original square smaller contrasting square to enhance the design. I hope you understood that. Just try to picture it. O.K.? You never know what will attract the attention of a whoosy brain.
Recalling the delightful dinner we had last evening I recorded it in my journal. As mentioned before we were seated inside where it was cool. Yellow table cloth supported napkins that were curled up like a blossom and a line up of stemmed glasses. At the next larger table a group of women of various ages were ordering dessert. Their voices delivered their excitement in staggering decibels and I was hoping this was soon to be the end of their evening as I could hardly hear myself think and R could not hear anything I was saying. I soon remembered that the Italian way is to spend the evening at dinner. The glasses on our table were taken away. Apparently they were too small to accommodate the liter of wine we would soon be consuming. It seemed as if the air was pushing the waiter to hurry his steps to accommodate the needs of us all. Pizzas in pans customized with ingredients to please each patron sailed above their heads on the tips of the waiter’s fingers. The pizzas looked so good and I was so hungry that I vowed we would come back for a pizza later in the week. It was 9:45 when our wine arrived. Soon to follow were the little ears with a sauce of tomatoes, rocket and cheese. Rocket is arugula. I normally am not fond of arugula but somehow it tasted better in Italy. We ordered the dish on the waiter's recommendation. It was featured as their fresh pasta for the day. The pasta was chewy but the sprinkling of cherry tomatoes, cheese and arugula were lacking just a little. A few grains of salt helped bring it up to a better flavor. That's as much as my journal offers but I know the rest of the meal was good. The seafood was interesting and varied and the salad was fresh and welcome.
Breakfast at the hotel was very nice that morning. There were several choices of desert. They must put everything out from the night before. I ate two hard boiled egg whites and one yolk, fresh peaches and really gooood yogurt, chocolate cake that was not all that good and washed it all down with orange juice and capapccino.
I had wanted to return to
Getting tickets was no problem. We just walked up to the counter and said we wanted to go to Florence and the ticket seller sold us two tickets and told us which track to pick up our train. Standing on the platform we squinted at every train that went by. The sun was heating up the day at an early hour as usual. We were certainly hoping for an air-conditioned car. The train came, we got on and the adventure began. It seems this was a milk train and it stopped everywhere so it was taking longer than we anticipated. Mostly we stared at the people seated across from us and they stared back. Unlike the train that goes to Chicago the tracks were smooth so we were not jostled around much at all. We were on the sunny side. Sunny was the only choice as the hall was on the shady side. It was not all that cool but opening a window would not have helped. The bald guy across from me in the red shirt and jeans kept looking at me through his fashionably safe rectangular glasses. Well I admit to being guilty of studying him pretty intensely as well. Some porter type came by with a drink cart. Nobody in our section bought anything. At some point and I'll never remember what broke the ice but we were conversing with the bald guy and his cute wife sitting across from us. We were basically in a tight space with a few other people. The smell was pleasant at least. Everyone had bathed. The conversation turned to everyone's destination and we expressed ours. However the two stops that were by Florence did not seem to fit the area of town that we wanted. We stayed on the train until the bald guy and his cute wife got off. They looked in our direction and told us that we had gone past Florence. Well of course we got off and had to buy another ticket to return to Florence. We stated emphatically this time which stop we needed to get to the center of the tourist section. We were still seeing this as an adventure and merely thought that lunch would be a little late.
Breathless heat accompanied our train on the return to Florence. Open windows prevented smothering. R and I faced each other a couple of micro biologists sat next to us. She was on my right and he on R's left. This was their last day in Italy after a conference in Rome. They had been traveling by train their whole trip and understood how it works so we were pretty secure in knowing that we would reach our destination with their guidance. We shared the in and outs and around's of our experiences in Italy but their story took the ghastly prize.
Their excursion from Venice to Rome to Bologna was also by
train.
Melessa described the scene as hopeless. She thought that the action taken to remove the man from the tracks was slow. The man twitched and gasped for an eternity before he died and was wrapped and removed from the scene. After nearly two hours after the tracks were tidied up their train pulled out of the station.
Relieved to be at the correct
The Duomo (Cattedrale di Santa Maria Del Fiore) is in the neighborhood and so big that unless you make a drastic wrong turn it is easy to find. The sight of a long line of tourists waiting in the sun discouraged us. I would be willing to wait though if I could be assured of having access to the dome. Did I mention that Florence was hot? Just keeping up with the necessary fluids to keep our bodies from going into convulsions was daunting. We examined the line and walked around the cathedral in hopes of finding another entrance. We found one but the guard would not let us in. R was quick enough to ask how long the dome would be open. It was not open. It would not be open until Monday. There was no line waiting at the 82 meter high campanile next to the Duomo. 414 steps and many snapshots later we enjoyed the view at the top. Not the point, really, but better than nothing after all the train travails.
Discouraged by the day's events we went back to pick up a train back to Bologna. I declared that I would never come back to Florence again. The droves of tourists might be good for the economy but we both hate crowds.
The train provided another scene that we would not want to repeat. We, for whatever reason, ended up on a first class car. We sat down in empty seats but were soon warned that they had been reserved for others who purchased first class ticket. It was a good thing we had hit the money machine at a bank earlier because we would have been put off the train without the added cash to make up the difference between first class tickets and second or non-class tickets that we purchased early this morning in Bologna.
A couple seated next to us spoke English. She was Italian and he Peruvian. On break from their jobs with Carnival Cruises they were traveling to her parent's home for a two month rest. As she filled me in on the details of her job I wondered if two months was enough time to recover from the long hours and problems dealing with people of all sorts of expectations.
The day is not over yet. We arrived in Bologna tired but amused at our crazy day. A local bus became our next experience with public transportation. Curious to see where it would take us we climbed in the bus, purchased a pass from the machine on board and rode in the opposite direction from our hotel destination. We just wanted to see where it would go. The bus was about a third full and after nearly half a dozen stops the Bus Patrol times three mounted this number 28 bus to check for tickets. These guys made quick authoritative movements and began their dirty work with glee. I'm not sure of the fine but people without valid tickets would at the very least be put off the bus. We had one Euro tickets good for an hour. More than half the people riding the bus were caught without a valid ticket. If you are willing to take the chance you might come out ahead depending on how much you ride. I did feel a little bad for the woman across the aisle. She and her granddaughter seemed to be having a great time up until then. Grandma's overweight body perked with the excitement of the adventure with her granddaughter. The bright image in that swishy yet snug in places flowered dress made her bottle enhanced red curly hair shine. The two of them chatted in close proximity as they hatched out the design for their trip. Their pleasure ceased when approached by the grayest of the Bus Patrol men. Grandma was shaky but insisted that she had a ticket in her purse. She found several but they had all expired. Well, it was a short trip in any case because we had to get off at the end of the line and wait for another bus to take us back where we started.
Since our ticket would run out before we reached our destination I suggested that we stop on the way back to the hotel at the square to walk around and become a little more familiar with the area as each of us would be on our own during the meetings.
The little room at the end of the hall of the fifth floor in the Fiera Hotel overlooking the railroad tracks was our turf. It felt good to be cool and comfortable with the luxury of a freshly made bed, clean towels and fresh miniature bars of soap and bottles of shampoo. We washed out our sweaty clothing, snacked on sausage, sipped wine before calling it a day.