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Published: March 29th 2010
Decided to go to Florence. Met a couple (from Belarus) who studied there and who highly recommended the school they attended. So, I contacted the school, arranged for my attendance and accommodations and headed this way on an overnight train from Taormina last night.
Another interesting experience. Particularly noteworthy were the train attendants. They actually smiled and wanted to be helpful, not something that was particularly common in my (admittedly limited) experience in Sicily. They helped make the trip pleasant, especially since everything about it was so new and, at first, a little daunting.
The following is an example of their kind forbearance: During the night, it got warmer and warmer in my compartment and it seemed obvious that the “hot/cold” dial didn’t have any meaningful function besides providing an illusion of control. So, at around 1:00AM or so, I realized that it wasn’t going to get any better and I pushed what I thought might be the button for an attendant to come. I looked into the passageway and saw that the call light was on - so far, so good -- but then it became apparent that there was no one around to see it. So, I looked at the buttons again and noted one with a little bell diagram near it and I tried that one, once again looking out into the passageway and saw the door of the service cabin open and a slightly disheveled, apparently just-awakened attendant asked me what was up. So, I said that it was much too hot. At first, he suggested that I open my window and indicated how to do it on his and I headed back to give it a try. But then, he must have realized that, indeed, the whole place was overheated, because, a moment later, he stuck his head into my compartment and said that he had shut the heat off. “Grazie”, says I and it began to cool down nicely, allowing me to return to sleep. I wondered how many other people had been sweltering in their compartments before that or had been riding with their windows open with all the attendant noise, et al from the outside.
And, from the attendant, never was there the slightest hint of annoyance at having been awakened. Very sweet guy. I happily gave him a nice tip when I exited in the morning, which he seemed delighted (and surprised) to receive. From glancing at other passengers leaving the train, it didn’t look like the attendants customarily receive tips.
I’m staying in the home - an apartment, actually -- of a seventy-five year-old signora,
Rina by name, who likes to chat and is very homey and kind, although seemingly long-suffering, not at all overbearing, and patient with my choppy Italian. She seems to be glad to have the company. She’s a widow whose husband, a doctor, died way back in the seventies from a sudden heart attack. She had three young kids whom she managed to get through school, all with university degrees. She said that in those times after her husband’s death, she had been so busy just trying to survive and deal with all she had to contend with that she didn’t have much time to grieve. She said she only cried about her loss and her plight when she was alone with her thoughts and worries during the night.
Rina’s apartment is on the sixth (seventh in our way of counting) floor on a very busy boulevard. Consequently, there’s a substantial amount of traffic noise, especially if I want the door (no window) to the balcony open for some air circulation (I wouldn’t necessarily call it “fresh air” in this city environment) -- a dramatic change from my last lodging, which was ultra quiet almost all the time. To my surprise, I slept more or less ok on the train and I expect that I’ll do ok with the noise here. After what I went through during the first part of the trip, I’m fairly unconcerned with such relatively minor challenges.
The bump over my right eye and the discoloration around both have gone down to almost normal, although it’s still noticeable enough for Rina to have asked me about it. Maybe another week before all signs are gone. We’ll see.
I’m writing this on Sunday and looking forward to starting at the school tomorrow. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from Rina’s apartment. A dopo.
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Lynn C. Michaels
non-member comment
So, Donny moves on! I was a little surprised that you got out of Sicily so quickly. Apparently not hitting all you pleasure buttons, huh? Allora, Firenze. Next entry, tell us how long you'll be there and if you're studying the subjunctive in all tenses! Glad to know you're healing up. Hope you enjoy the Firenze experience! Lina