Day 19

Yup I'm going to start to skip around. What? There are 50 days of this trip - there is no way I can report all these stories at a timely matter.

I'm still going to stick with the count up. I'd like to keep track with how many days I do sing about.

Snap. Snap. Snap - "I don't wanna dance -- dance with you baby no more" - Listening to Lady Linn. They snap I write.

On the fictitious day of 19 I decided it was time to get the hell out of Rome, not because I didn't want to marry it. Something inside knew that if I didn't force myself to leave I wouldn't. I had made friends there. I had a huge bedroom in a fabulous Apt. I went food shopping on several occassions. I was settling in and I knew it.

Here are a few questions I jotted down to ask the Termini train agent:

"How much is a ticket to Berlin? Nice? Paris?"

"Is there a train schedule? When can I take these trains?"

This was how bloody unorganized I was. Reminder: Still phoneless and watch-less. The concept of time meant nothing to me. I ate when I became hungry and slept after it was dark for a long while.

Before I had the chance to ask these ridiculous questions Ms. Train Agent said: (After I asked if she spoke English of course) "You must be 18 if you want to travel by train." If I hadn't already heard, "You traveling alone? But you're just a little girl," twenty-seven times before this, I would have laughed tahee he, and said, why thank you.  But there was no laugh after waiting in four wrong lines, after two hours, and after an old Italian woman cut me. I said in my most businesslike manner, "Actually I'm 23. Would you like to see my ID?"

I immediately broke after this and apologized as I explained the lines and the fact of not knowing where to go. Ms. Train Agent, who gets bumped up to Lovely Ms. Train Agent from this point on, took out a map. We talked, then talked some more, and decided that Nice would be the best choice. Since I was already partial towards Nice I had a very large smile on my face as I stored the one way ticket into the pages of my journal.

This may not sound like a lot, but the day was shot after the ten hour wait at Termini. The only thing I could do was consol myself with two large gelatos before getting home for dinner. (Don't let the yogurt sign fool you.)