The Trip Across The Ocean

The plane was just getting ready for take off. You know the scene: taxi to the end of the runway, turn around, rev the engines, and ...
turn the engines off and taxi back in whil the pilot gets on the intercom and explains that someone in the tower noticed an oil leak! What?! Damn good eyes on some ATC. Anyway, we taxi back to the terminal and the maintenance crew comes out and literally tears the engine on the wing apart. Doors opening, bolts, rags, wrenchs. Guys on the wing! Two hours later (we're all still in the plane drinking hard liquor and wondering WHY we're all still in the plane), but now we're heading back out for take off. Everyone had a nice warm feelng in the pit of their stomach.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. We landed 2 hours late in Rome.

Now to figure out Roman trains. Anyone know the story of why train rails are as far apart as they are? It has to do with Roman chariots and horses' asses. Anyway, I missed the early train out of Rome, and the next train north was another 2 hour wait. Well, at least, I'm in Italy now. I practiced Italian on unsuspecting airport/train station employees. Most took it well. Some even laughed. Hmmm.

Two hours of waiting and three hours of train travel (training?) found me in Figline Valdarno at the stazione ferroviario at 6:35pm - a mere 30 minutes after the last bus left for Ponte Agli Stolli. At this point, I should show my luggage Not too bad for three months, but definitely a bit much to be moving around. the biked weighed in at 69.5 pounds (the limit), the suitcase was 50 lbs (mostly books) and the laptop and backpack a stout 37 pounds. Stairs were definitely a problem.

So, now the fun began. You know how you always forget something...
Well, I did - the address to the villa. I emailed it out to some friends, but I never PRINTED it out. Hmmm. A phone call should fix that if I could find a phone (a reoccurring theme). Nope, no phone, but aha! un tassi. Tax drivers know everything right? Well, not the way to Villa Le Fornaci, but he did know how to get to Ponte Agli Stolli, so we were off. We got there and asked a man if if knew of the villa. Sure. Sure. A sinestra primo, a destra ... diretto su la collina. Right. Well, we followed the directions but no villa. Did I mention that the cabbie didn't know inglese? We stopped and asked again. More directions. Still wrong, but this time we passed a sign for it. Fermata! Viola! I'm at the villa and it's only 8:00pm - plenty of time to unload and go grab dinner.

But wait, Marco e' tardi (by three hours). No villa keeper. No key... Damn.

Nothing to do but call him - if I had a phone. *sigh* So as the villa is out in the country, time to build the la bicicletta and go find a phone.

Ponte Agli Stolli was west of the villa by only kilometer. So, I went there first. I found the phone BOOTH! No phone inside. Damn.

Seems Europe has gone the way of cell phones, so when publicco phones break, they never get repaired. So, it seemed I was destined to bike back to Figline (6km down the mountain).

As I started, I passed the house next to mine and the people were out on the porch having dessert and coffee. I cycled over.

Marco: Parlate l'inglese?

Nice Italians:No. Solo l'italiano.

Marco: Damn.

Marco: Errr, ha un telefono?. Ho bisogno di chiamare Riccardo Bianchi. Non ho chiave al villa.

Nice Italians:Ahh, Riccardo?! Un momento.

And we were off. Well, 30 minutes later, Riccardo still wasn't picking up but I mentioned Marcello (the other person I talked with) over cafe e i dolci, and they knew him as well. They called him. And at last, I was in!

It was almost 11:00pm, so I made a quick survey of the place (e' molto grande), made a cup of tea, and promptly went to bed (a mere 24 or so hours after I started). This travelling stuff is a lot like adventure racing!