An excellent post on an Italian trips ‘n tips thread on CycleChat said to regard the occasional train ride as ‘a treat, like an ice cream, rather than an admission of defeat’. All the encouragement we needed to drill through the spine of the country rather than endure what would otherwise have been two or three days of hell.
So, a three-legged journey: half an hour to Pescara, then a couple more to Avezzano, then another hour and change to Sora, for which expedition they’ve hit us for the princely sum of 14 euros apiece. What a country!
The first two legs were on the usual immaculate trains, all 150kph and recharging points for your ebike (should you have one). I write this from the floor of train three – a two carriage diesel clunker from the ’70s, at a guess. Why the floor? Because this train has no cycle facility, and we shouldn’t actually be on it, according to the nice railway man. Why nice? Well, because he explained, then waved us on anyway, after I said I would stay with the bikes and make sure they behaved.
Another piece of Italian gallantry from half an hour ago: waiting in line with a loaf and an orange, the woman in front insisted Jens go in front, whereupon the woman in front of her insisted that he go in front of her too. What a country!
And as I write that, the nice railway man has reappeared to tell us that the next two stops will be fine, but at the third we may have to move our bikes for people to get on or off. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: what a country!
And so to Frosinone, the biggest city hereabouts, and not without its old town charms (tho’ Lucca has set such a high bar that other places tend to underwhelm rather) but I have to say my lasting impression of this evening’s jaunt will be of the soaking we got on the walk back and of our second restaurant-rebuff. “Sorry but we are full.” Er, no you’re not; you have one occupied table. Ok, we were wet, and not poshed up, but this is not exactly the bleedin’ Ritz, and we are not actively repellent…are we? It does seem to be a thing over here – snobby restaurants turning away punters who aren’t up to snuff. Oh well, we went elsewhere and had excellent pizzas and big glasses of very tasty rosso. Cheers!
