Stories and Poems

Foreword to An Unforgettable Holiday

I always had second thoughts whether to have this little adventure added to my web site. But after telling quite a few people about it, each one told me that it was really funny. It is no reflection on Italy or the sweet and kind Italian people. This could have happened anywhere. It only shows that when one thing goes wrong, so many other things will follow. Its just like coming to one red traffic light, one has to stop driving at each and every traffic sign and wait for the green light to come on. A friend told me, when she lived in Berlin, there is a very long highway, called the Herren Strasse. When she was lucky, she started off with the green light and absolutely raced along, as not to be bothered by a red traffic light. Of course we could not race away from what happend to us. Actually, I would not have liked to miss our adventure.

I’m wondering if anyone would like to write me their own funny or strange events in their life. I think that people love to read about such stories.

AN UNFORGETTABLE HOLIDAY

My friend Margot and I always travel together and found that the inconvenient prelude to a great holiday is always the hours one has to spend reaching the airport.

###

After about 6 hours travel by coach, we arrived eventually at Stansted Airport. It pored with rain and our suitcases were unceremoniously discarded into deep puddles. After retrieving them out of the rain, all travellers looked like drowned rats. Carefully groomed hair hung loosely like spaghetti around faces, and clothes were soaked looking drab, as if coming out of a shower. Luckily our clothes soon dried in the departure launch, and we squeezed our hair back to the normal shape. All the same, people seemed happy and chatted together. The flight was great, and just before coming to Italy, I loved to see the snow covered Alps peeping through the clouds.

Arriving soon at la Stazione Termini in Rome, we had to buy train tickets to Montalto di Castro. But at which platform did the train leave from? We found an Information Centre, but we had to wait in a long queue for our turn. Our train was to leave in a few minutes time. We hasted to the platform to learn from there on which one our train would leave.

With only a few minutes to spare, we heaved our heavy suitcases into the last carriage before the door closed automatically.

Then the ticket inspector came and we had to pay a fine. Because we had not stamped our tickets.. They were marked for the duration of 6 hours. (Different countries, different methods!)

Our suitcases stood in the gangway. We were not able to lift them over our heads on to the nets above the seats. Now we were told to move to the front of the train. Ignoring this, a kind gentleman put the suitcases up. On our destination he helped us with our luggage before the doors closed, or one of us might have been left on the train.

In Montalto di Castro Station were no trolleys to push the luggage. We had to drag the cases for a long way to the exit, where we were welcomed and taken to the apartment in Montalto di Marina.

We knew that we had to climb some stairs to get to the second floor, but did not expect stairs resembling a chicken ladder. We dreaded thinking how to balance our luggage down again when leaving. (I already walked with a stick)

###

Our apartment was comfortable and the weather was glorious. It was so good during the first few days that we suffered with sunburn. At least we shed our winter colour and looked sun baked instead.

We made friends with an Italian family, who took us in their car to a fruit and vegetable nursery, where we were able to buy all we needed, but there was no butcher shop to be found, in Montalto di Castro, nor in Montalto di Marina. There were only snack bars and one Pizza Restaurant. We ate lots of Gelate (ice-cream) as not to feel too hungry.

Every day we met the family’s grandmother, because she sat on her own chair in the shade by the beach. We always exchanged a few words with her. She was a dear lady of 98.

Midweek, on market day we went by Pullman, a local bus, to Montalto di Castro, bought some fruit and went window shopping. There were only a few shops. As there are no Cyber cafes, someone let me use their computer and invited me for the following week to use it again.

On the bus stop we had met a Tunisian girl, who had a day off work. She showed us the lovely walk circling Mountalto di Castro. Mountalto di Castro had been built on a hill (High Mountain.)

The town must have been a fortress. On the left, along the road, a steep valley falls down, giving a free view over the countryside. On the right, circling many high enforced and joined buildings, with small windows on the very top, surround the town. People are living there. One part is a refurbished church. Along this massive wall, brickwork has been repaired and has been painted white. It is a pity because it takes the antic look away. An archway leads into the inner part of the original town, riddled with small streets, dividing the old but well preserved buildings. It’s well populated and decorated with plants and flower pots outside each entrance. A wonderful tranquillity lies within. It made us stay for a while.

###

Tuesday we took a trip to the town “La Citta Vecchia,” and on Wednesday we could not leave the apartment. A strong wind was blowing. We certainly did not want to risk clambering down the chicken ladder. The skimpy railing did not look safe, and the ladder had become slippery with the rain.

We scraped all the bits of food which was left in the refrigerator together to have some sort of meal. We had intended to go shopping in the afternoon and for a pizza in the evening. There was no Restaurant anywhere to be found, which would serve a good meal. Only pizzas and snacks were available. We had to put up with vegetarian dishes, as no butcher shop was to be found.. In the night to Thursday we had thunderstorms, and in the morning the wind was still strong, but we dressed up warm and edged down the ladder, clinging on to the frail banister.

Once more we went to Montalto di Castro to check on my e-mail, which had been kindly offered to me.

After some shopping and some Gelate, we had to hurry to the apartment because, another storm was brewing. Chairs and tables on our balcony were thrown about, and before we could secure them, a table flew onto Margot’s leg.

In the night we could not sleep. The storm and rain whipped against our windows and shutters. We were having nightmares if the chicken ladder would have disappeared by morning due to coming off at the rusty hinges. We might have to be rescued by the Fire Brigade, which was standing daily at the bottom of our apartment.

Friday morning we ventured out for another pizza. The wind had now subsided a little, and we enjoyed a walk through a pretty park and the nearby pinewood.

After eating yet another Gelate, which had become our stable food, we went back to our apartment, but before climbing up, I decided to take some photos of the chicken ladder. I don’t think anyone would have believed us, or be able to imagine it unless we could show it.

###

Our last day in Montalto di Marina had come. And what a start it was! The electricity failed somehow. Luckily we had our shower and our breakfast, but the washing was half done in the washing machine. Margot opened its door to catch the water in a bowl, but some run onto the kitchen floor. Now we had a washed floor in the bargain.

Margot, the good soul, finished the washing by hand. We were hoping that it would dry by next morning as it could now not be spun. At night we sat with torch light and candles, of course no TV now either. It was too dark to read.

Sunday morning we said good bye to our eagles nest, and I am glad to say that we will not see the chicken ladder again.

For one day and a night we stayed in Rome and were expecting something new to happen. And it did.

Coming out of the Stazione Termini, we were helped with our luggage into a taxi. No sooner we drove off, a Police car followed us, and the driver got us and our luggage out and disappeared driving his car like a maniac. We had sat in a rogue car. The Police helped us to get to a railway taxi.

Arriving at our Hotel it started to rain, but we were able to get the first wonderful hot meal near the Tuscana Metro Stazione.

We had been told that the Hotel stands near the Forum in the Centre of Rome, but our taxi driver found it eventually in the very South of Rome. We had intended to see more of the famous places in Rome, especially, as we had not seen the Spanish Steps on a previous visit. But with the rain, feeling hungry and tired, we went for a rest after the meal to be refresh for the next day’s 13 hour journey home.

We had already bought couch tickets to take us to the airport, but decided to go by taxi, with the same taxi which had taken us to the Hotel. We were dreading to log our luggage again from one place to another. Now it was all easy, and in the airport I was able to drink lots of tea. I had been very thirsty. Coffee was really too strong for me, and not much of it either. The journey home was pleasant, but we were sad, because we were not able to see more of Rome.

Coming home we were told that none of our cards we had sent two weeks previously had arrived yet. I had sent an urgent message to my granddaughter Leanne, where to get the house key to get into my apartment on the first day, but luckily she could stay with an aunt. I had tried to phone her, but the connection was very bad, and we could simply not hear anything, except crackling noises.

###

All together it was not a holiday we had hoped for, but for just being in Italy, we ignored all the mishaps and can now have a good giggle about it.

© 2008 Gisela Cooper