Pisa

It's 3:30 in the morning and I'm in Pisa. Italy's stunning but I think I might make this a quick trip. Trains and stations in Italy are skanky and I don't feel safe. I really ought to see the tower and I'm sure I will. One day. As for now I've just spent four hours eyeing some shady lurker eyeing my backpack and I'd rather have been sleeping.

About 20 minutes into the journey a conductor came around with pieces of recovered stolen property. Short while after that I had the privilege of watching Italy's finest run some unfortunate loser down.

They paraded the guy up and down the train for awhile along with some luggage. Presumably to allow the public to venture information or something. An official looking person came by and sternly told me something just after that. I don't speak any Italian so I've no idea what.

Last thing I need now is to be subpoena'd as a witness or whatever so I just shut up. None of the 'Speak-English-?-Parlez-vous-Francais?' routine. Other than that the trip was uneventful. Spent it looking out into a windy night of docks and industrial parks. This shady guy in my compartment made it all uncomfortable.

First thing he did is come sit right by me asking (in English) personal questions about me and my journey. I lied, tersely. I really hate to lie to anyone but there's such a thing as common sense. Also I especially hate the smell of spearmint gum and he was chewing it noisily in my face. In short, very glad to be off that train.

I spent yesterday cooking in Nice (it's groovy). I'd love to get to Florence right now, to a hot shower and a chance to do some laundry. But the train I scheduled online isn't here. It's not coming. Of all the days Rail Italia could choose to go on strike it would be June 18th.

So I might see that tower after all. The world delivers good news via suppository sometimes. /me winces, sees bright side.

A bunch of people are stranded here. There's a litter of Texan schoolgirls curled up dozing in one corner of the station, but I really don't have the energy. They're cute and all and they're going my way (Firenze), I probably smell like a hobo after the garlic I've been eating and all the swimming in the Med I didn't get to do today (growl).

Chase schoolgirls another day. I'm going to see how much sleep I can get on the information counter before someone arrives to gesticulate at me about the error of my ways. And they might speak English, French or German. I don't actually speak German, but if Italians are going to be incomprehensible they might do it in a language that slows them down enough for me to have a stab at figuring out what's going on with this strike. 'Sprechen Sie Deutsches?'