Italy 2010 - Days 8 and 9 - Positano-Naples-Rome-Toronto
Now I was on my own. I'd decided about ten minutes in on the bus from Sorrento to Positano that I would be catching the water taxi to Naples, so after another lovely breakfast and paying my bill, I caught the local orange bus down to the main beach, from where the water taxi - or vaporetto departed.
Hiccup number one - my capris, which were only a month old, tore irrevocably across the butt while I was waiting for the bus. Still, no biggie - I had my loggage with me and a pair of yoga pants. I just needed to get on the bus, ride down to the beach, slog my way through the tourists and find a bathroom to change. All of which I managed without killing someone, although it was close when a group of Attractive Young Things literally blocked the walkway while browsing in a store. I couldn't squirm past at all.
Decency accomplished and my favourite summer pants consigned to the trash (curse you Old Navy!), I continued on with my plans. A ticket was purchased for the next vaporetto for Naples was bought, the next boat two hours hence. Easy, I found a cafe, ordered the local specialty, a lemon granita (frozen lemon juice slushie) and set about catching up on my travel blogging.
The vaporetto was achieved smoothly and by dint of watching the locals, I got up on deck where I could finally see the coastline I'd missed twice due to motion sickness. I admit, to waving goodbye to the part of town where my pensione had been with a slightly heavy heart - jellyfish and all, I loved that place. The vaporetto was a stroke of genius on my part, too - a bit more expensive (but not by much) than the bus, but I had all the fresh air I needed and plenty of leg room to get comfy in.
(Yes, I napped again. Don't judge me.)
Naples, I have to admit, didn't impress me much. Perhaps because both parts I saw were around transport hubs - the train station and the port - so there was more graffiti, more garbage, more construction. One day I'll have to go back and check the rest of the place out - the LPG says it's rather pretty.
Hiccup number two - I chose to walk to the train station, where I was going to catch the train to Rome. This probably would have been fine if a) I'd had my own pack (Leonard, the Backpack of Doom) and b) if it wasn't the hottest day on record so far, an insane 48 degrees C. As it was, I was exhausted and overheated by the time I reached the station and a twenty-minute walk had felt like hours.
Next time, doofus, take the bus. At least I had my hat on.
I changed shirts since the one I was wearing was literally soaked through with sweat, and found a corner for hole up in. The station was packed, with very little seating available, so I wound up literally finding a corner. Food probablty should have featured, but I was too hot to even think about it, although I was good and kept up with the water. Getting on the train was a relief - air conditioning, no need to move for an hour, and a whole cluster of seats to myself.
We reached Rome at around 6:00 p.m. I had entertained some thoughts of leaving my bag in secure luggage and going to see the Trevi Fountain (missed by accident our last visit), but after Naples all I could think of was a cool hotel room and a long shower. So getting to my hotel it was.
Hiccup number three: there is a specific train to the airport, clearly marked on big helpful signs. Unfortunately, those signs don't tell you that you have to go upstairs and onto the platforms to actually find the train. It toom me half an hour to find it. Not fun, wandering up and down the station with a heavy bag digging into my back, getting more and more frustrated. Finally I found it, got a ticket and boarded, grabbing the first free seat I could find and flopping into it with all the energy of a boneless fish. Only one more leg to go - catch the shuttle bus or cab from the airport to my hotel, only 10 kilometres away.
Hiccup number four (yes, they're coming fast and furious now!): Fiumicini Airport is possibly one of the most confusing airports I've been too, and that includes Heathrow and Hanoi. Bad enough that the signs aren't clear, there was also construction going on to make things messier. I finally found the cabs and tried to hail one, only to be told I was at the "wrong" taxi rank. I needed to be on the other side of the road. Confused, but too tired to argue, I trotted over there, realising as I did that the exit to the train station was right there and I'd spent half an hour to get somewhere I could have made in ten minutes. Cue strangled frustrated noises.
The other problem was there was no cab stand. Just the shuttles for the hotels, none of them mine. The guy for the Great Western shuttle suggested I call my hotel to request that they send the shuttle, but I didn't have a phone. On the brink of exhausted, overheated tears, I cast around and saw my saviour, a minivan with a TAXI sign on the top. I stumbled over and begged for help, the brink of tears actually overflowing (surprising, since I didn't think I had any liquid left in my at that stage). The driver, a middle aged fatherly type, looked alarmed, took my bag and bustled me into the van, taking off without turning on the meter while I sniffled gratefully in the back seat.
My hotel, Hotel Seccy, was Shangri La by the time we made it. My rescuer charged me 1500 Euro (about $15) for the ride and have me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told me I was beautiful (an outright exaggeration, given how sweaty I was!). I slipped out of his grasp and with much thanks, went into the hotel and threw myself on the mercy of reception, manned that day by an angel in human form who checked me in, walked me to my room and carried my bag. I stripped, showered and flopped into bed with BBC News and the Internet for company. And there I remained until the next morning, when I took the shuttle to the airport.
So, here I am, on the descent into Toronto, with a leaky pen and writer's cramp, and a book full of memories. Italy has been a dream of mine since high school, and while every trip has its lows, I can say the highs more then outweighed them. Of course, we only skim,med the surface, but that just means I'll have to go back someday, right?