As we were getting settled in, Marsha wandered down to the WC and met some Brits that were in the same car.  She brought back a couple of bottles of water that the Brits had liberated from the train's storage area.  Damn, they are a cheeky lot.  A conductor came by and took reservation times for us for dinner and gave us bottled water, which we were now swimming in.

We sat with newlyweds from Chicago, as Marsha expressed that we were also on our honeymoon.  I sort of forget that kind of thing, having shared the last eight years with her.  Yes, Silver Streak fans, there is something about the motion of a train traveling by night through foreign lands.  I will leave it at that.

I slept like a rock, and awoke to go get some industrial strength espresso.  Marsha is really starting to love cafe au lait or cappuccino, however it is made or sold.  The ride from Florence to Rome gave us a view of the Italian countryside and we got ready to meet Rome, head on. 

I was very cautious of the offers of a cab ride in the terminal, as they started at 50 euro and dropped to 30 euro when I got angry and said it was a six block ride.  He responded " Yes, but it is only one way".  I returned my anger and replied that cab rides generally ARE ONE WAY.  We found a cab at the legitimate stand and some old woman who tried to pass herself off as the Bloody Queen Mum of the Taxi Stand is looking for a hand out for opening the door to the cab before the cabbie could do it.  The taxi situation was getting to be a pain in the wallet.

We landed in a little piece of heaven.  The Concordia is run by a guy named Roberto.  His English is great.  His idea of how to run a hotel is incredible.  As Marsha catches a nap, I go to the lobby and and link into his Ethernet cable.  It turns out that 30 years ago, Roberto showed up at the Concordia to be a night clerk.  The elevator starts on the first floor, which the yanks don't stop and realize is the floor ABOVE the ground floor.  The company next door will not sell him the 2 square meters that the lift would consume to reach his main floor.

I comment on the low cost of the contents of his honor bar in the room.  He said that they try not make that part profitable, that generally they do not bill the honor bar.  The room is great, the plumbing and water pressure are phenomenal.  It is Friday, and the concept of a regular diary  has sort of gone out the window as the availability of net access gets flaky.

Remove all doubt to email me.

craig@alldoubtrodgerson.com