On to Paris

We left the villa at 9:00am to catch the local bus to Sorrento. From there we took the intercity train to Naples. Hanging out at the Naples terminal waiting for the Rome train I stepped outside for a smoke. I was approached by a local trying to sell me a lighter. When I refused one of his friends came over and they both demanded cigarettes. I refused and they pressed in glaring at me. I waved the back of my hand at them and told them to get lost. They did. Italian thugs are not nearly as intimidating as their American counterparts.

On the way to Rome:

Through a complex series of events De Anne and I possessed six train tickets from Naples to Rome. Our 2 original 2nd class tickets and 4 1st class tickets. Of course we used two 1st class tickets and it was a relaxed, comfortable trip. With a few hours to kill before the night train to Paris we decided to linger in a very nice Rome restaurant for a couple hours.

Meanwhile, forces were brewing to make the next leg of the journey a little less than ideal. Our train left two hours late - where was Mussolini when we needed him? With some trouble we found our sleeper car for six and were relieved when a nice French couple joined us. The relief vanished quickly when a Jamician couple entered with their four-year-old. The father promptly informed me our luggage was too big, the mother had a bad cold and no tissues, and the child did his best imitation of an entire Indian tribe on the warpath.

De Anne and I claimed the top two bunks abandoning the French couple to their fate below. Since the whole cabin was six by eight our escape was measured in inches. At 5:00am, after answering the call of nature, I remained in the two foot wide hallway watching the dawn arrive. The carriage conductor, a plump French lady, was less than pleased at having to pass me several times. It was an intimate experience every time. Karma was served when at the Paris station I observed the happy family surrounded by 4 police officers. I assumed one was for the parents and the other three to control the four-year-old.

Life was good again when after a nice stroll from the Paris station our host came running up before we even reached the door and exclaimed "You are Merrick! Yes?". He lead us through the huge double doors to a courtyard and up one flight to our apartment. He then took us on a walking tour of the neighborhood.

Looking out our window: