Our friend took us on a walk through his small town in Northern Italy. It was hot, so we had some gelato. Gelato is … is… well, it’s so good it ought to be sold by the bucket full.
…and then it was time to say “see ya later!” To our wonderful friend who shared his home with us. We hopped a train back Venice for some lunch before our train to Rome.
We didn’t get to St Mark’s, but we saw this little gem just off the main drag:
After some of the best (and cheapest!) pizza (at lunch time, follow construction workers. they know where all the good places are. also, some construction workers take a gondola to lunch.), we caught our train to Rome.
It was a very fast train with a dining car which served coffee.
The human kidneys will process coffee at the same rate regardless of what is going on around them. Even if what’s going on around them is train travel at a very high rate of speed.
It’s hard to pee on a train.
The bathroom is about as big as a college student’s coffee table and the lock is equally minuscule. So while praying that the lock holds and/or no one tries to open the door, I noticed handles beside the toilet. “why would they put handles by the toilet?” I wondered just before the conductor popped an Ollie and I grabbed the handles in terror/desperation/panic.
They put handles next to the toilets for the same reason they put handles on the passenger side of SUVs. They are aptly named “oh, sh*t!” handles. Except in a train lavatory, it’s an appropriate name.
I was terrified. My mind was filled with every conceivable bathroom catastrophe. I can think of a lot of bathroom catastrophes.
And yet, I survived. Next posting: some photos of Rome.
… I survived the high-speed train lavatory. (is that a t-shirt?)