Thanksgiving in Trobole, Italy 2009

Ah! To be Thankful! My friend Zenobia and I were picked up at our respective apartments at 5 a.m. Thanksgiving morning and driven to Frankfurt Hahn airport to begin our journey to Trobole, Italy for our Gourmet-Italia cooking school. By air, it was a short trip of 65 minutes. To continue on to Trobole by bus, train, train, train, bus, it was a much longer journey but filled with memories, fear, laughter, joy, hiliarity, and finally, exhaustion.

 

 

In pouring down rain, we caught the bus to the train station in Bergamo, Italy (the first picture) and we were both a little taken back at the absolute filth we were exposed to at the Bergamo Train Station. Z kept saying "I miss Germany, you know, the swept sidewalks and stuff." There was no lobby to speak of, but the sidewalks outside were crammed full of people peddling their wares like umbrellas, "used" camera's and phones and I-pods. I actually bought an umbrella for 5e and it worked just fine. We quickly moved our BACKpacks to FRONTpacks and neither of us felt safe. We waited anxiously for the next train to Bressia.

This train was what we now affectionately call "the ghetto train." You can see the graffiti on the side, and the inside was just as ghetto.

 

 

I think we were the only women, but the train was standing room only by many of the peddlers we saw on the sidewalk, illegal immigrants from Nigeria, Romania and Russia. I know this, because we had quite an in-depth conversation with one of the same on our short journey to Bressia. It seems that it is no problem getting into Italy without the proper paperwork, and they live basically together somewhere, selling what they can, work on english and legal paper work. I didn't take pictures because I wanted to keep my camera.

When we got off the ghetto train, all I wanted was a shower. And I may have been dreaming about this a bit because in a flash, some young dark skinned man grabbed my suitcase saying "oh, an American." In a flash he fled down 45 stairs, across the tunnel of tracks and up another 45 stairs. Goodbye suitcase. Goodbye clean clothes. Goodbye make-up. Oh well. Maybe I could buy my suitcase at the next stop.

I am very embarrassed to say that when I made it down, across and up the stairs, my suitcase was waiting on the platform to Verona. There was the young, dark skinned man, grinning, saying "Goodbye, America." I reached into my pocket and offered a couple of euro's and said "Hello, Nigeria." And in his hesitation, I sensed that he was not expecting gratuity but rather, he was simply a kind young man who wanted to help an "elder."

The train from Verona to Roverto was clean, quiet, and we celebrated our successful journey with a bottle of wine in the club car.

The last leg of the journey was a bus ride (short, the web-site assured us) but it was a 45 minute wait, again in pouring rain. After 2 busses passed us by because of no room, a third one stopped just for a moment to let a young boy off. I was not to be denied, and forced Z into the back door of the bus (2 back-packs, 2 suitcases) knocking down a few individuals in the process. I told her to stay there and went out and around the bus to the front to buy our tickets. "NO. There is no room." "We are already ON this bus. We have seats in the back. I just never paid the fare." "NO. You may not board this bus. This is a SCHOOL bus." "And, WE are CHAPERONES!" He took my 5e and somehow I made it to the back to my friend.

45 minutes later we were let off within 500km of our beloved Piccilo-Mondo Hotel, a 5* Hotel, looking like drowned rats who may have not even been allowed to work the night shift. It was 6pm and Thanksgiving dinner was to be served at 7:30.

Ah. Thanksgiving. 2009. I sat at the beautifully appointed table for 15 and quietly gave thanks. For arriving safely at the Piccolo-Mondo, and as our host remembered Pets who had blessed us in the past, I remembered Mickey and Xena. And I was filled with such warmth and love as I gave thanks to my family who is with me on this journey. I feel so grateful that my "children" Megan and Austen are strong, settled and secure enough to allow me this time of exploration and not only allow me, but to encourage me to continue. That, in and of itself is enough Thanksgiving for one day.

So, this was Day 1. Look forward to Day 2, 3, 4. And, please know. I gave thanks to each one of you reading this blog, who is with me on this incredible journey...and who are kind enough to forgive me for my misspellings:-) Happy Thanksgiving!