This is The Cinque Terre

As I have three more travel days on my Eurail and as there are four calendar days left in which I can use them, I decided to travel up to the Cinque Terre for a day trip. Four hours there. Four hours back. Awesome.

So I left way early this morning and hopped on a train. I had my own compartment for about 2 minutes, when I was joined by an Italian man of nearly 70. He knew a little English and, as he spoke, I found out that I knew a little more Italian than I had thought. We talked about our families, about our love back home, about what we do for a living, and about President George Bush.

"Charles," the Italian man, didn't care for PGB, especially with the Iraqi War and the oil stuff. Charles, as I later found out, was an Italian marine whose ship was submarined by the US in the 19050s. (Which war was that?).

At any rate, he and I talked for nearly all of the 4-hour journey. He's an electrician and sells major-bling plasma sets, sound systems, and other "I'd rather be alone and in my own world" sort of gadgets. He was all excited by his work-- and if it was my passion, I'd be too-- but as he was turning page after page of electronic shtuff, I couldn't but help think that what he was selling was "escape" and "isolation." Being without a TV for three months (and nearly six months prior to coming out here), I've realized how much I don't miss it and how much I grow as a person-- and in my relationships with other people-- when the TV isn't a part (usually, a demanding part) of my life.

Soapboxes aside, Charles invited me to coffee as the train pulled up to La Spezia, the entryway to The Cinque Terre. I had to decline, as my train for Riomaggiore-- the first town-- was about to depart.

"Don't forget about the train strike today!" he shouted as we left.

Train strike? ..... today???!?

Huh? I quickly got a ticket for my train and searched out the meaning to this admonition Charles provided. And, sure, enough, emblazoned on the ticket window was a sign-- in Italian-- letting everyone know that all trains in Italy will stop functioning at 2100. As I read this, it was 1200. And the only train that would make it back to Rome was at 1600.

As the strike was planned for merely 24 hours, I was stuck in a dilemma: stay in Cinque Terre for a mere four hours; or stay in Cinque Terre for three days and two nights (as there would be no trains to Rome after the end of the strike). Without money for a hotel, shampoo for my hair, and a really good reason to miss a Papal Mass on Sunday, I decided to suck it up and slog through the Cinque Terre in four hours.

Quickly, I learned that this is impossible.

I blew through the first town, Riomaggiore, and-- on the outskirts-- looked back to see this view:

Hmmmm.... maybe I should take some pictures.....