Long Day's Journey into Night (s)

On around my god-only-knows hour of travel time I am sitting on a train heading to Rome from Milan taking the scenic route via Genoa and the coast, but it's all beginning to blur into a constant state of sitting and looking out a window. My day began at least one night ago in Washington DC, which was as far as I got on standby on my real first leg (day) of this trip. I waited for the flight to Rome with about 200 very excitable spring break students, who would soon be where I wanted to be (little turds!) taking in gelati and whining about how few McDonalds they could find! Fortunately I have an awesome DC backup team in my old friend Dan Gorham and his wife Michela, who keep a room permanently set aside for my casual drop ins (we call it the Shriver Suite.) Dan has been a friend since kindergarten, and has been a long time supporter of what I do by commissioning and purchasing numerous artworks since I first started out. After a plush night of some really good Greek food and a cocooned sleep in my luxurious suite, they dropped me off at Dulles to take a second shot at standby on the 5 o'clock flight to Rome, which looked to be a lot less crowded than the Friday flight. It was an illusion unfortunately, as I missed getting on by ONE person, who incidentally showed up 5 minutes before the gate closed with no check in status, but had checked a box in a different way than I, thus gaining superiority over my status. ARRRRGH!

I was feeling quite frustrated at that point, as I'm supposed to meet my friend Darius in Rome to pick up his keys and learn what his dog will need for the next few days as I take care of her. The gate attendants suggested I try to get on a flight to Zurich, from whence I would have to pay for transport to Rome, as the free pass that we've been flying with (courtesy of Marianne's aunt, who used to work for United) does not transfer to other airlines within Europe. So that's what I did.

 I sure wish I could sleep on planes and trains- I do envy Marianne's ability to sleep sitting up (even though I tease her about it mercilessly.) Instead I watched three movies and tried to make sure I was drinking enough water to make it necessary to visit the head at least four times during the flight. Watching movies on the little seat back monitor is a great distraction, but it does a real number on my eyes after 8 hours! So when we got off, my eyes felt a bit like martini olives as I negotiated the impeccably Swiss airport. Is there any other adjective one can use for the Swiss? 

The man at the transfer counter there told me if I wanted to fly to Rome it would cost about $450 from Zurich to Rome, so I decided I'd take my chances with the train, especially after hearing that it's a very scenic route through the Alps to Milano. The prices for the train were a bit higher than what the airline man had quoted, which influenced me to take my chances on getting the second leg (Milan to Rome) at the Milan station. Glad I did, as it saved me about 30 Euros. And the trip through the Alps was as rich as promised, with Matterhorn like peaks and chalets perched on impossibly steep hillsides. 

Gorgeous views in the Swiss Alps- rain stains on the window. 

With my next to negligible German language skills (let alone the Swiss dialects, which are undoubtedly only spoken correctly by the impeccable Swiss), I was a tad relieved to see signs and hear announcements made in the much more familiar Italian, as we schussed down the backside of the Alps into Lugano. I just managed to drop off into some kind of alpha state when I was awoken by the announcement that we were arriving in Milan. 

In my bleary state, I was glad to be at least nominally familiar with the (gorgeous white marble) station there from the trip last summer, especially as the train to Rome was leaving in about 15 minutes from our arrival. I made my way downstairs to the ticket kiosks and had my first reminder that I was no longer in Switzerland from the "kindly" gentleman who offered to help me negotiate the ticketing kiosk. These guys are hustlers, and whether or not they are trying to steal your credit card info-or the card itself- they will at the very least pester you for some kind of tip if you allow them to push your buttons for you. DON'T do it! It did have the upside of shaking me out of my dazed state into savvy traveler mode so that I could score my ticket and get back upstairs with about 5 minutes to spare before the train doors closed. 

Thus far I have been keeping myself going with a mix of spelt bread that I brought from home, (I have a wheat allergy.) some salmon jerky from Trader Joe's, (which tastes pretty good though I'm certain it smells like a dead seal at low tide) and a baggie full of Mike and Ike candies that Michela filled up for me before I left their house. I'm telling you, they spare no expense chez Gorham! So I'm really looking forward to arriving in Rome and getting a little something to mangia! 

If the ticket is correct, we will be arriving at Termini station in Rome tonight at 8 pm. I won't even hazard a guess as to how many hours I will have been up at that point, with all the time changes along the way and the various seats I've occupied, but I'm definitely starting to feel a bit spacey. I suppose I could use the old tried and true "beard growth guide" to estimate it. Starting to feel fairly scruffy, especially since I didn't bother to shave at Dan and Michela's house. I'll still need to get down to Campo di Fiori to Erica and Darius' place, and figure out some way of getting a hold of him, since my phone is not working here (yet). Hopefully by tomorrow this will all seem like some gauzy opium dream, and I can help Marianne find her way into town on the flight she hopefully gets on. This standby thing is amazingly cheap, and has allowed us to take some trips that would have been unaffordable otherwise, but it does have its drawbacks.

 

Carnivale is winding down too, leading to some pretty funny costumes all over the place.

Epilog: I ended up the train ride having a nice conversation in my broken French with an Algerian guy who works as a baker in Belgium. Hope it doesn't impact my fragile Italian skills too much! We kept each other going (he had been on an equally long train trek across France.) and parted as good friends when we finally pulled into Termini station. I changed some money, found the bus line to Largo Argentina, and rolled my rollie over the cobbled streets to find Darius and Erica's place, where I stood nervously in front waiting for the doorbell to be answered. Had Darius not been there I would have been really screwed- Sunday evening with no phone and no internet and tired to the bone. Somehow, I'm still awake three hours later, yakking with Darius and getting the low down on the dog care, where the circuit breakers are, etc. I'm going to post this now and crawl up the spiral stairs to nest in the loft. Ciao, ciao ciao.