Aftermath (It's a long one......)

I'm sitting here in my boxers, the late-evening breeze fairly floating in through the window, I haven't showered since yesterday morning; since before I knew of the kinds of things that were in store for me. Shall I recant my insane string of days? Well, let's skip ahead, post-Saturday, post the amazing meeting up with Carolyn (finally!) and our afternoon in the small hillside village of Fabro. Let's skip ahead past all of that and let's start yesterday (Sunday) morning...

I was heading down in the taxi from Fabro to the train station in the valley below. I had decided to skip a day of sightseeing for a long day riding on the train (I thought it might be relaxing to spend a day sitting and reading) and I was to board a train bound for Terontola at 1239. Upon arrival to the station the taxi driver informed me there was a railroad strike currently taking place. "Lovely," I thought, "thanks for telling me ahead of time." I bought my ticket, and sat down at the station to wait the 20 minutes until departure time. Well let's see, 2 hours later I'm still waiting. The first train had been cancelled. But do not fear, there is one more at 230. So as 230 nears I am still waiting until I hear another cancellation announcement. So by now I am getting a bit ancy (because it's Sunday and things are not open and do not run with normal frequency). I am worried because I am without a cellphone and without Rosie or Patrick's phone number to call them in case something like this should happen. I would need the internet to track it down. Well eff me for not being prepared for something like this, but how was I to know there would be a strike? Either way, be prepared for everything. Had I been prepared I could have avoided the horrible day I would experience in its entirety.

And so off into the village of Fabro Scalo I went. Stopping in two cafe's to see if there was internet access. Nothing. They referred me to another cafe but it was closed on Sundays. So I proceeded to walk through the streets and seek out an unsecured internet connection. No dice. 20 minutes later I return to one of the cafe's and see if someone can help me. By this time I am an expert on explaining my predicament in Italian (I'd say my Italian speaking skills on this trip went from a 1 to a 3, with 10 being fluent. This is a drastic improvement). Same bar, a girl who speaks english, but doesn't live in the village. Help not possible. Ok moving on. Back to the station to sit and wait for the train. Finally some other people were waiting alongside me (all day I was alone at the station. Is there some magical way of knowing this would be the only running train?). I get on the train (it's late by 10 minutes) and arrive to Terontola after 5 pm. This is where the situation grows desperate.

I was due to meet Patrick in Umbertide at 611 (no way that could happen now) and If I could just find internet access somewhere I'd be fine. So I'm walking through Terontola, first cafe nothing, and the second cafe was promising. A woman speaks a little english (I end up explaining myself in Italian) and they agree to try and call some people to find the number. After 30 minutes of trying there is nothing. By now it's nearly 540 and I knew Patrick would be leaving soon. I grab some pizza from the cafe and head down the road towards a hotel they had directed me to. On the way I stop in at another cafe and no help there either. Onto the hotel and apparently the internet is broken (yeah bullshit) so I'm passing the point of desperation, I don't remember what time it was, but it was rather warm and I decide to try a last ditch effort. I had remembered seeing a sign for an Agriturismo, so I decide to try my luck there. I envision me walking up to a woman retrieving laundry and her husband returning from working in the fields and they are totally understanding of my situation and willing to help. Yeah, well, this was the daydream running through my head as I walked along the road in Val di Chiana. It was nearly impossible not to consider my situation and find some enjoyment out of it, after all this is Val di Chiana, and I am in Tuscany, but the situation was still dour no matter how I sliced it. Finally after reaching the Agriturismo and walking down the drive, I find a tall gate locked. Two dogs are barking their heads off, and despite my yelling, "hello!?" several times and there being 2 parked cars, no one ever came out. So back to Terontola I went; walking along country roads between fields of barley as the sun fell towards the horizon.

By now my demeanor had changed. What more could I do? I had tried every cafe, asked countless people for help; I had reached a fuck-all mindset. My thoughts changed from finding internet access to finding a place to sleep for the night. The possibility of having to sleep outside crossed my mind several times. I decided to try and get a taxi to drive me to Camucia (the next town towards Cortona) and maybe there I could find a cheap hotel with internet access. I returned to one of the previous cafe's to ask if they might be able to call me a taxi. The fool behind the counter said there were no taxi's. Yeah, right. So I went back to the helpful cafe, and asked there and they were willing to help me. How is it that these people were the only people all day willing to really make an effort to help me out? I still wonder. After a bit of searching, they find me a taxi. I wish I could have thanked them properly, but here my lack of Italian skills failed me.

The taxi pulled up and I got in. For the first time all day I felt relief. Finally I was going somewhere and getting somewhere and I enjoyed the taxi ride through more winding country roads. I told him I needed a non-expensive hotel and he knew of one, not in Camucia, but in Cortona (I was expecting to pay at least 70 euros). We got out at a nondescript building with an intercom and electric gate and I was thinking, "God, what is this a 4-star hotel?" We get to the door, and the driver asks how much, the woman smiles and says 40 euros for one night. Shocked, I pay the driver 15 euros, thank him and follow the woman to reception. After awhile I begin to understand that it looks to be some kind of Church owned and operated hotel. I didn't know what 40 euros would get me, but the woman was nice and my Italian was still improving. Somehow I remembered phrases and sayings I had not heard or used since I took Italian in school in 2007; something must have shaken them loose at some point during the day. Finally I would have internet access and a way to call Rosemary and Patrick. I get upstairs to my room and it's quite nice; two beds, and a private bathroom and shower. It was a really great value for 40 euros. So I get downstairs and finally place a call to Rosemary, by now I think it was after 8, I don't remember. She didn't sound pleased at all. I tried to explain the situation with the strike and no phone or number to call; understandably they were a bit frustrated. I guess Patrick had waited all evening. I felt horrible. Disappointed with my own lack of success in finding a way to make things work out. I spent a bit of time looking at my return options for the following morning. I would either take a bus to Mercatale or train it to Magione or Umbertide (surely the strike would be over). I would call them back in the morning to discuss further options. I said goodnight to the woman at reception and went upstairs. I fell asleep around 11.

The morning came quickly and I was out of bed at 745 (without an alarm, I might add. Great eh?) and downstairs just before 8 am. I was able to call and got a hold of Patrick. We agreed to meet in Magione at 10 am. This was actually the least attractive of my options as it was already 830 and the train left at 935 and I would need to take a bus down to the station at Camucia. So I ran upstairs, didn't have time for a shower, brushed my teeth, grabbed my stuff, and headed back downstairs. The woman helped me figure out bus times and I was outside at 845. I guess I missed the first bus, and when 9 am passed without the sight of a bus I started to get nervous. If I missed the train I'd be screwed and I'd feel even more lame if I wasn't in Magione at 10 am. Finally the bus comes by at 911. Shit, I'm thinking. I get on and ask the bus driver how long to the station, he says 10 minutes. I feel like maybe I will be ok. We pull in at 925, I get out and buy a ticket. I'm there on the platform as the train pulls into the station. Over the intercom I listen to all the stops the train will be making and Magione is one of them (for some reason, despite my experience traveling by train, I always question whether or not I am actually on the correct one). But I definitely am! And as the train rolls out just after 935 for some reason I am feeling angry at the situation. Frustrated by what had happened the previous day, but feeling a little relief because soon I'll be in Magione. The first stop from Camucia is Terontola. We pull in and some people get off, I remain seated. And then, reminscent of a different train ride in Spain, the power to the train is cut and everyone is getting off. Disembarking from the train we all realize what is happening. We are caught in the middle of yet another strike. On the platform a woman is chastising one of the employees for striking and not working. There is a quick and loud exchange of strong words before the entire crowd of passengers are heading off for the terminal. All the foreigners become apparent in a situation like this and I find an English woman willing to let me borrow her cell phone. Luckily I am able to call Patrick (at this point its 955) and tell them I am caught in the middle of a strike. They tell me they'll be at Terontola in about an hour. That's fine by me. I grab a coffee and chocolate brioche and sit down to watch the unfolding scene. The next train wouldn't be for 2 hours and there was no guarantee it would be leaving. There were rumors of a bus arriving at 130 to take the other passengers where they needed to go. I was glad I had a ride coming. The railway lines closing down really is a messy thing. Finally I see Rosemary and Patrick, and I am finally whisked away from it all.

On our way back we head through villages like Pergo (I really thought it was a nice place) and then up through the mountains (I thought I'd love to climb with my bike) with views looking down towards Val di Chiana and finally we arrive down to Mercatale. After stopping for lunch supplies, we wind through Val di Niccone and up the hill to Preggio and finally to their home: Casa Sagraia. And so my adventure was over, finally. I was so relieved to be back and still can't thank Patrick and Rosemary enough for chasing me around Umbria and Tuscany. Now I'm here in my room, it's 10 pm. And I'm tired. Tomorrow will be another good day. Looking back it doesn't seem such a big deal. It really is not. I can't believe it's almost the end of May. I have also received a response from my friend Ralph who lives in Munich. My plan is to visit him the 1st or 2nd week of June. I'll try and stay there for a week before making an attempt to return to Amsterdam. That's my plan. We'll see where I end up. Toodles.



Zach

"Overlooking Tiber Valley from Fabro"