DAY SIX

Up early to get to the airport, lovely morning sky lighting the same square in which I arrived.  And it only took ten minutes to find the right “corner” for the bus stop. The “corners” are like those in England – no such thing, only a million arms off one circle.

I fly to Rome, decide to take the Leonardo da Vinci express – against the advice of my sister, whom I will visit – but then the woman train person says I really should take that local train, as Cathy had said. A guy standing there concurs, so I run to get on, and guess what? I miss it! It pulls away one second before I get there. Well, says the guy, there's another one in about ten minutes. Join me for a coffee, si? Sure, si, i say, and we go next door – I have an orange juice; we chat; he's an interesting guy, until suddenly he looks at his watch, and says we have to run for that train. I grab all my bags, run, and - you know it – the train is pulling out. Ba da boom. Leonardo is still there – he doesn't run as often, so I end up getting that train after all.

I get into a compartment with a Chinese couple. No offense, but I wanted to listen and learn more Italian. I have to imagine their conversation, since I don't understand a single word. I fantasize an argument about anal sex. “You know I hate that,” he says, crumpling his empty sandwich wrapper into his pocket angrily. “Well, you didn't mind it that night we met.” She was giggling, and wiping fruit juice off her chin. “I was drunk,” he muttered. She looked out the train window, and smiled at her reflection. As the long grasses by the tracks flipped by, she watched for a few minutes, then leaned her head back onto the seat and closed her eyes. “What'll we have for dinner?” she asked, eyes still closed. “Chicken breast?” he offered. “No, you are,” she grinned, then, seeing the pre-sulk frown flicker over his brow, she added, “Yah, with veggies”. It's amazing what you can pick up in a language, just from inflection. Clickedy clack. And we continued our journey to Roma Termini for a train change, destination Ficulle, the tiny town in Umbria.

zoe in the sky with watchstrap (no diamonds here)

the train from the airport; i can't help being artistic and moody

the seed was planted

and ecco!! noi siamo in Italia! finalmente!!!

Cathy has told me to cross an overhead bridge from the binario three to number one, where she willl meet me, but I see all the locals picking their way over the tracks, so I do likewise, just like I do over the GO tracks in Toronto. Dangerous living (“lotsa fun, eh?”), and then: “Eh, sorella!” from Cathy – she's studying Italian. The embrace; the big sister 'You're not allowed to cross the tracks!'; then the drive to her house; good food; a movie, and bed