Italy, Rome and Naples.

A jammed BA flight on a Saturday afternoon to Rome, it’s as if I am already in Italy. My neighbor has just spent a month at Oxford University studying English, suitably clad in an Oxford sweatshirt. Incredibly well dressed passengers abound, male and female, young and not young. Looks like I will be the Ugly Duckling again, just like last time I was in Italy, a frump. Its not as if each and everyone has just visited one of those expensive fashion houses, they just look fabulously chick, without looking like million dollar clothes horses. They appear to have this talent, totally alien to me, of throwing things on, tastefully. Of course Italian is the dominant language aboard, I am finding it all delightfully foreign.
Heathrow was great, all of a minute in line for Immigration, pounced on by London 2012 persons offering to help, um, wait, do I look like an athlete ! No seriously, the stops have been pulled out in the old town and good cheer is everywhere, strangers talk to strangers, unheard of. I took pictures of giggling helpers, none of that surliness so frequently encountered, one even said “are you going to put me on Twitter” Ha. Yes. There where Welcome Desks scattered about, at one point I strayed into the Press Accreditaion Area but no one snarled, I just wanted to take a picture of the HUGE Welcome Mat. Fine. No problem. Wait. What. Is this England ? Has Churchill been reincarnated to lead the peoplery ? There seems to be “That” spirit loose in the land. Well, the Heathrow bit of it anyway. Oh, and everyone is talking about Mitt (the twit), and Michelle ( born to say yay, let the yaying begin”.
Gues what, my phone worked. My SIM from the previous trip had all of 84p (a buck) left on it so I was able to talk briefly to family, send one tweet, then it died. A miracle may occur at Rome Airport and I will find an Italian card so people can call me on an Italian phone number, very exotic if you ask me.
I am over the City of Lights, Joyce, Mont Blanc coming up, Switzerland , Alps, Pisa. Plus of course, this being Europe, it all happens quite quickly, London to Rome takes two hours. The cultures change just as quickly too, more of that as we go.
Well maybe Europe is having a love Fest’ because here I am in Rome after riding the train into town from the airport and everyone seems to be beaming. Me, stupid foreigner, asked the conductor if I was getting on the right train to Napoli, oh, si si and proceeded to take me to my seat ! It’s clean, it’s fast and it has electric blinds on the windows. What more could you want. Yes it even has the wifi, tho I haven’t figured it out, yet, and a moving map showing where we are. Outside there are hill towns, red roofs, big and small villas painted that classic yellow, is it ochre, cyprus trees, vineyards, harvested fields, ripening crops, wooded hills and valleys. My fellow passengers are all texting on their phones or Facebook ing on their laptops, the children are talking, quietly, sounding like Angels. The ticket collector comes round and its all grazie and prego, smiles and gesticulations. In the words of a commercial for a rather nasty soft drink “I’m lovin it”. It’s kind of Italy by the numbers. All we need is for someone to start singing Puccini . Now I want pasta, a Peroni, a glass of vino. Please. Maybe a bed would be good, I have been going since yesterday at 10.00am Pacific so that’s, let’s see, twenty three hours and thirty seven minutes. He yawned !
Now crossing a wide plain, very very fertile, ploughs are out, do they a two crop growing season round here ?
Naples and what can only be Vesuvius. That is definitely, up there.