Fri, 19 Sep 2003

author Tim	location Roma, Italia
posted 20:08 CEST 21/09/2003	section Europe2002/Europe/Italia ( all photos )

Getting on With Things ( No photos )
Well, chin up and all that, we have moved on from our set-back.
We set ourselves a target of about 2pm to wander around the industrial area of Padova in search of a better quote. We used Babelfish to get a translation of our problem into Italian, in the hope of showing that to some garages.
After a couple of failures (including one guy who just pretended we didn't exist when he found out we didn't speak Italian), we stumbled across a Fiat dealer who initially gave us a heart-leaping quote of much lower than we had expected, in his rather good English. However, he rang through to the Volkswagen place where the first quote was done, and found out just why the quote was so high. In our translation, we had been told that the head gasket was cracked, however it turns out that it is the whole head itself. Much more expensive, and more in line with our intitial quote.
Second opinion in hand, we resigned ourselves to paying the money and continuing with our travels. It is still a better option than either filing off the identification numbers and dumping it or getting it towed back to the Netherlands.
So, we finally got that translation through to the VW guys and they gave us a rather long estimate of about two weeks for the repair. We were pretty much prepared for that, said ok and caught the bus back into town.
After collecting our bags from the hotel, we looked like real backpackers once again and entered the train station. After waiting in the queue for a while, we arrived at a window and asked the standard polite "parlo inglais?" (do you speak English). After being answered no and then showed to another teller who also replied no, we tried to point at our guide book indicating the type of ticket we wanted. "No" once again came the answer.
We were stumped. How to get a ticket without being able to ask for one? Next option was the automated machine, which at least was in English, but couldn't give us the type of ticket we wanted either. Next to the tourist information office for some advice on our conundrum, but that was closed in the great Italian tradition of the three-and-a-half hour lunchbreak.
Nothing else for it but to get back in line, wait ten minutes again and do what we think is quite rude and assume that the tellers speak English. Suprise, suprise, it worked. I think they get defensive and decide it is best not to say they speak English if they only speak a little. We didn't want to trade Shakespeare with them, we just wanted to buy a ticket! Giving up also on the type of ticket we wanted, we settled for two singles to Roma Termini.
Lugging our bags to the platform, we boarded the late-running train, south bound and finally out of Padova.
It pushed on for an hour and a half before we had to change at Bolognia. Here we grabbed some quick snacks and worked out how to validate our tickets (had got told off for not doing that on the first leg), before boarding another regional train, this time to Roma.
We got quite a shock when, after a ten minute pause at Florence station, the train headed off in the opposite direction! Adding to our confusion was the fact that everyone else in our compartment of six had gotten off! We thought the teller had forgotten to tell us about a change, but after a hurried run through the train to the nearby dining car, it was explained that all was normal.
And arrive in Roma it eventually did, albeit 45 minutes late. The ride had been a fun trip through Italy's country-side, passing through quite a few more tunnels than we had expected, each time making our ears pop with the pressure and the speed.
From the station, we wandered along to the highly-rated Fawlty Towers (!) hostel/hotel, not far at all away. However, after lugging our bags up into the place, cramping into the tiny lift with one poor other Canadian guy and our huge pack (lift only designed for three people and that is quite a squeeze), and dragging ourselves into reception, we found out that it was very very full. No beds the following night either.
No matter, as the helpful Canadian guy Andrew offered to take us to where he was staying, another hostel place. Back down the lift, walked about five blocks then up the lift again (I'm not quite sure why, but Roman hotels and hostels all seem to be built vertically, all inter-mixed across several floors, so that in the space you would normally expect to have one hotel there is actually six), only to find that was full too.
We'd had enough lugging around by now, so Liz and the luggage were left to rest in the foyer of that place while I went out in search of a bed for the night. Luckily I didn't have to look too far, a few streets away I found the Stargate Hostel, and the guy promised me he would hold some beds. Back to get Liz, load up with the packs, back to the hostel and it was well and truly time to relax. We checked in, paid the reasonable sum (for central Rome, anyway) and were the only two people in a dorm room of six. Once again, it was five floors up, with a lift which only holds three people and is exceptionally slow.
We had originally planned to cook to get on the money saving boat as soon as possible, but we didn't have the energy. Instead, a short walk down the street we found a restaurant with tables on the street with suprisingly cheap prices - perhaps we were just used to the Venezian prices. We didn't expect much from the food but it was fantastic.
We enjoyed a beer or two and got chatting to a Norwegian guy sitting next to us, who is travelling all over the place, had only had one day in Rome and was leaving the next day. It was interesting to be able to put memories to the places he was talking about from his home, and also for him to hear that we still regard Norway as the most gorgeous place we have seen.

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