Posted on 08/14/2005 2:44:52 PM PDT by NYer
FRIDAY EVENING, Aug. 12 and SATURDAY, Aug. 13th:
I don't even know where to beginning. I don't think I'd believe it myself if I hadn't experienced it.
I now understand how Mussolini could rise to power in this country. The trains are nothing short of a banana republic nightmare. If it weren't for everyone speaking Italian, I would've though I was in Cairo. This is what that young Roman was trying to tell me yesterday when he lamented the utter absurdity and chaos of their rail and transportation system.
And finally, the train itself looks like it was built when Mussolini was in power. First, they don't post the platform (track) until about 3 minutes before the thing is supposed to leave. Then, they have no train car numbers, which means no one can figure out where the hell they're supposed to be. Imagine, if you will, a couple hundred people entering a train car at the same time down a little narrow corridor that one person can barely walk down. Whenever someone realizes that they are in the wrong car, they turn around and are now blocked in by the people entering, so that you have to negotiate who is going to back up for whom.
I shared a room the size of your bathroom with five other people. The compartment had three bunks -- just narrow slats really-- on top of each other. Three on one side, three on the other. A tiny walk space between them and an even narrower corridor connecting the cars. The train itself was so loud and rattley I'm surprised it didn't jump the track.
Now let me introduce you to my five co-passengers. First there was a crazy old strega nonna look-alike from Naples (where else!) who looked exactly like a caricature of the Italian "Mama". And then there were the three West African women who have been living in Naples for the past 15 years and so spoke they spoke Italian in addition to the English they learned in their British schools.. They also were straight out of a comic book.
BTW, none of the other Italians I've met like Naples very much -- I got this impression loud and clear from the woman at the Italiam embassy in LA, from the young Roman at Termini, etc. I am beginning to understand why they speak of Naples in the same hushed tones one might use when speaking about a crazy aunt.
The West Africans kept calling the crazy aunt lady "Mama". So for most of the trip I kept trying to figure out what exactly their relationship to this woman was because they sounded as if they knew each other. They certainly shouted as if they did. "Mama! What you doing?" Followed by Italian. When I arrived on the scene, there was also a short Roman man wearing bermuda shorts and a leisure shirt (he kinda looked like George Castanza) in our cabin. He was organizing our luggage and lifting it to put it up on the rack. Naturally I assumed he was also a passenger in this cabin. He didn't speak English, neither did strega nona. The west Africans were translating intermittenly for me. The guy finally just leaves saying, "Ciao," and waves good bye from outside the train window. I ask the West Africans, "Do you know him?"
"No," they deadpanned with no indication that they considered this in any way strange.
And finally to cap off this motley crew was a gay Greek from Athens who was, I kid you not, setting out on a "backpacking" trip through western Europe lugging all his worldy possessions with him in three huge suitcases. You might think that someone would explain the concept of maximum luggage allowance -- let alone the concept of "backpacking".
Strega Nonna takes one look at him and starts ranting, "Na, na, na..." followed by very passionate sounding Italian. I had no idea what was being said and so I assumed (because she looked like she came right out of the DeNiro scenes from the Godfather II) that she was objecting to him being in the cabin because he was a man. He and the gay friend who was dropping him off were trying to explain to her that he has a ticket. This contunued for a while. Strega was making thumb-biting curses and wailing lamentations with wild gesticulations. The West African women were clapping their hands and wildly waving to get Strega's attention, all the while bellowing, "no, no, Mama, no" followed by Italian which I could not undertand. The gay friend of the gay Athenian (or Grecco as the Italians referred to him) is protesting Strega's tirade with all the manly vigor of a cheerleader who's just been told that she can't shop anymore because she's grounded. Finally, it all gets cleared up, but! not before the train starts rolling down the track. Apparently Mama Strega thought that the George Castanza guy who helped with the luggage was the six person in our cabin, and so she was protesting the gay Grecco's perceived attempt to join us as a seventh passanger. But the whole thing was instantly cleared up when George Castanza appeared out of nowhere just as the train started taking off and knocked on the window outside of our cabin to wave goodbye to us yet again. Mama sees this and realizes that all is well. So then the naturally bossy West Africans tell Mama to lie down and go to sleep. Mama moans that she "no get no sleep". They babble back and forth in Italian and I notice them gesturing at me. My ticket affords me the middle bunk on the right, which I only belatedly realized was the roomiest and most comfortable one in the cabin. Always trying to be the polite and helpful American as I represent my country abroad (the tabbachi lady incident yesterday aside) I asked what's the matter and they continue to make my head spin with mor e of their back and forth babble until I'm dazed and confused but still want to be helpful. They explain that I need to switch places with one of the West African women and sleep in the bottom bunk on the left so that Mama who had the bottom bunk on the right, could sleep. How the hell that made sense is beyond me, but I was so confused and disoriented by then that I just said, "oh, sure, no problem." As I said, it was only later when I was lying in the cramped claustophobic bottom bunk that I realized that the West Africans had managed to score the three best bunks.
But lest I forget the next bit of fun, let me explain the gay Grecco's luggage situation. He was trying to fit these 3 giant pieces of luggage into our crowded little compartment. He kept saying that one of them was too heavy to lift, when in fact it was fairly light. So the West African women kept taunting him, "oh you are not a real man! Now we know you are not a real man."
Now contrast this nightmare ride to the total--TOTAL--silence of the German trains. I am in culture shock overload this morning. The Germans would appear to be everything the Italians are not: quiet, unemotional, precise, and orderly. Some one spilled coke near the train platform and within 4 minutes there was a guy with a bucket their mopping it up. The Italians would have just left if there to be evaported by the mid-day sun.
I'm on the German train now and almost a Frankfurt. The major draw back with German trains is the smoking. One out of three Germans smoke, and so smoking is permitted pretty much everywhere. It fills the train until the air is practically unbreathable.
So far the only non-Germans I have seen coming on or off this train or even waiting for a train at Munich is a French couple.
As if I needed another reason to dislike the French, I'm now sitting across from this very same French couple who are literally cooing at each other as they play kissy kiss. They are so "in love" they make all around them not only nauseated, but actually uncomfortable and embarrassed -- as if we just barged in on someone as they are in the middle of adhering to nature's call.
All in all, they don't see many Americans in this part of Germany. I wouldn't be surprised if the last Americans to drop by were the 101 Airborne.
I don't know about you folks but but I plan to copy and paste these to the WP on my computer! It's been years since I've read such entertaining commentary on European travels. Anyone remember that movie - "If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium?" GG's journal is as close as it comes to pure comedy. Right up there with Seifeld. Perhaps she'll run into the Soup Nazi during her travels in Germany.
LOL! Sounds like she's having a great time. I'd just want to get home if it were me!! :o)
You think that's bad? You've never flown Russian airlines, hahaha.
Well, I did suggest to her that she consider one of the discount air carriers. She would have missed out on a lot of the cultural aspects, however.
I must agree. These are priceless.
By the way, whassa matta a little smoke? You will note that GG observes there are NO BUGS on the German train. No vermin--because there's plenty of SMOKE.
We Germanics are not only precise and orderly--we are efficient.
Be that as it may, here's missive # 2 from the Pilgrim Kid, now decamped from Munich:
Hey Family,
WOw I have so much to say. First of all, the Alps were gorgeous. There was so much to see.
The city we were in when we went hiking is called Garmish and it was surrounded by the Alps. It was so pretty and I wish you could have all been there with me.
We had a very nice and relaxing dinner right there at the bottom of them and right next to the field where the German Olympic ski and soccer teams practice. I got to watch them practice.
L: - 3.7 miles is nothing compared to what they do so just keep running.
M: - If you could just understand how gorgeous and meaningful everything I see here is, then you would easily understand that [some minor child/friend squabble--ed.] not worth it. You might hate my advice but never take ANYTHING for granted.
Mom - everytime I touch you gaurdian angel necklace I think of you and how you are probably worrying. I love you.
Yesterday I did some shopping and then we all left Munchen and are currently in the amazing city of Rothenberg. It is so pretty and small and cute. I have been taking alot of pictures so don't worry.
Dad - The Germans here are interesting. When we went out in Munchen one of the street performers made fun of us. It was funny. Right now we are staying in the mayors house and it's beautiful...
I don't know what else to say.
Oh yes, don't expect everything I said I would get. It really is expensive especially with all of the tourists.
Love You All,
That is a very funny story!
Many many years ago I rode the train a few times in Italy, and my recollection is they were quite nice. I'd imagine alot has changed in the last 20-30 years!
I do remember it seemed like we were always running. If I recall correctly one had something like a 1 or 2 minute stop to board or disembark.
Funny about Naples- I befriended an Italian woman I worked with years ago in Charleston. She was married to an American "submariner" she'd met when he was stationed out of Naples. She was very sweet- but definitely a little nutty!
---- Strega Nonna----
More travel scenes from "Moonstruck!"
Scene at JFK airport as Johnny takes off for Palermo:
Strega Nonna: "You got somebody on that plane?"
Cher: "Yeah. My fiance is on that plane."
Strega Nonna: "I put a curse on that plane! In the middle of the ocean, that plane is gonna explode!"
Cher: "What?"
Strega Nonna: "My sister's on that plane. Fifty years ago, I met a man. He loved me but she stole him from me! Now, she tells me she never loved the guy. She just didn't want me to have him! So, a put a curse on that plane!"
Cher: "I don't believe in curses."
Strega Nonna: "Me neither."
LOL. I'm planning a trip to Italy. Hope it goes a little better than this :-)
This reminds me of a World War II memoir I once read. The Okie officer said that the American troops admired the Germans, because as soon as the shelling stopped, they'd be out repairing the roofs, getting the roads cleared, etc., while the Italians would just sit in the ruins and drink!
Sounds like it hasn't changed since the 40's.
On the other hand, my dad, "The Cowboy in the Continental Suit," said the Italians were his favorite people in Europe.
OMG!!! I am NO fan of Cher but this movie is a classic! One of my favorites ... especially that scene! It's so Italian ... " I put a curse on that plane " .... ROFL!!!
BEST scene of all is when Johnnie describes how his mother came back to life. "She ate a meal that would choke a horse". I've seen this, first hand, in Italy .. right down to the professional mourners.
True .. I have never flown Russian airlines but I've come as close as you can in the US. Mohawk Airlines! (now out of business).
Wanna trade daughters ;-D?
There is an old Italian expression: "See Naples and die!"
I recall one trip to Naples when a friend of mine picked out a pair of shoes that he liked. They were brown and he wanted black. The shop owner told him that was not problem. He would send his young assistant over to their other store for the same shoes in black. He then called over a very young boy, handed him the boxed shoes and sent him to the other store. Within 20 minutes, he returned with the same model in black.
Once back in NY, my friend found himself in a rain shower while wearing the new shoes. They got wet in a puddle and as he looked down, he noticed that they had changed color. And he was Italian! Ahhhh, the Neapolitans. (there are plenty more stories like this one)
Before you go, get yourself a BlackBerry. GipperGal and I will guide you the rest of the way :-)
I remember one of my trips to Russia. We were circling LOW above the airfield at St. Petersburg, and I had a window seat. I saw some big ugly birds on the tarmac, and I nudged my native-Russian seatmate, and asked him what those birds were. In a thick Russian accent, he said, "Oh, those are kind of like a cross between your American crows and your vultures."
Vultures on the runway.
Never an encouraging thing.
ROFL!!!!! Speaking of wildcat strikes, I recall a group of us driving up to the top of the mountain that overlooks the Bay of Naples. We sat down in a nice little trattoria, examined the menu and placed our order with the waiter. We then became engrossed in conversation and it wasn't until nearly 1/2 hour later that one member of the party realized our food had not arrived. We summonded the waiter but he remained motionless by the front desk. One of the gentlemen approached him to find out the status of our meal. From the distance, we observed many hand gestures after which he returned to the table to announce that the waiter was on strike! We crossed the street to another eatery where we enjoyed a fine meal.
As for the Neapolitan drivers .... one member of our party was a lifetime resident of Naples and we entrusted our lives to her in navigating us through the mayhem. She owned a Fiat 500 (a clown car, highly prized for its ability to park in any spot). After it was stolen and recovered, she had a triple alarm system installed. Should someone try to steal the car, the 1st alarm would kick in sounding a loud alert. Should the thief bypass the 1st alarm, the 2nd one locked the engine rendering the car immobile. The 3rd alarm was a "last resort". This woman had (rightly) concluded that any thief who could fenagle his way past those 2 alarms did not deserve to take her car and was willing to sacrifice it at any cost. The 3rd alarm, if enacted, would totally destroy the car.
During one of our visits, as we enjoyed a wonderful home cooked meal made by her mother, we heard an explosion. Yup! It was her car.
Indeed! See post #18.
Wow!
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