Big Trip Bog 8

La Spezia, for those of you who have not been to Cinque Terre – and that is probably only a few, as everyone but me is in love with it – you know that La Spezia is the second largest city in Liguria (only Genoa is larger) and is known for being the place where you can get a boat tour of the famous Cinque Terre (Five Lands).

We had never been there until now, and we wanted to take the train, which is so convenient and lovely, and do a little exploring. La Spezia isn’t far at all – an hour on the slow train. We plotted our day, checked on things to do, and were up and at the train station on time to get on one of the sweet trains here, clean, comfy, Wi-Fi connected, with seats of a deep cornflower blue, offset with bits of orange. Very sweet ride. Great beginning.

The city is much larger than little Chiavari. While not Chicago-ish or Genoa-ish, it is a good-sized place, made well known for its military importance – specifically Naval, as it is sited on the inside curve of a deep water port. Set low, at 30 ft above sea level, it is ringed about with hills and the city does spectacularly rise around and above its naval footbed.

It was raining within minutes of our arrival but we were prepared with an umbrella. Chilly and wet, we hurried into first a coffee/cucina place to gather our thoughts. Then we found our way to an info-point office. The museum I’d wanted to go to was closed (of course, it is was, it was Monday…) and so was the second art museum I’d wanted to see. But, the Naval Technical museum was open and had lots of history, she said, and we headed off across town to the port. Did I tell you it was raining?

It really had lots to say for itself, and some of it was greatly interesting. There were racks of guns, pistols, machine-types, and early multiple-firing ones, rooms full of torpedoes, measuring devices, previously used equipment, and cases of models of boats of all kinds throughout the ages. There were video displays with WW1 footage, stories, and a thorough exhibition of how we have been improving our ways of maiming and killing each other for a couple of centuries or more. They also had a figurehead display that filled an entire room of men and women, animals, and symbols that have graced the fronts of large boats. Some whimsical, others politically connected – kings, queens, patrons, etc, several mythological Gods and Goddesses. It looks like some of them must have been on giant vessels. One was Minerva, like my mother’s first name – cool!

Then, when we left, the rain again picked back up, and Lew, bless his heart, had explored the way to the Castello, especially in the driving rain; who doesn’t like a very old Castle to wander in?

Off we went to see the Castello built by Genoa in 1170 as a defense against raids on this part of the sea. Genoa was a big-shot place then, and she wanted to protect her vulnerable neighbors and, thus, herself, as I understand it. So – practically at the highest point in the town, Castello of San Gioirgio is now housing a civically supported display of archeological “stuff” from the area and beyond. They have it all – and there is room in the Castello for it all on multiple layers. It’s a big castle. They wisely have left the building itself without much improvement. The age of the castle complements the prehistoric detritus of life lived “Multi-Anni Fa” which I think means a very long time ago. Lots of marble, glass, coins, pottery, ornamentation of all kinds, statues and money, funeral rituals, and of course, lots of marble with inscriptions no one can read, but which hint at thousands of years being lived before McDonald’s flipped their first burger.

I had a fabulous discussion of all things Roman with a guard who was excited to chat about his favorite topic (it must get boring there on his chair…). All of these treasures were in various spaces within the Castello, but we got to walk on top and see the entire town spread below us like crunchy peanut butter. It was great, and then the rain began again.

We hustled to find an inside place for a cappuccino and went to catch our train, scheduled for 5:45. The train was in the station but had no numbers on its side. As you know, each train has its own number, each car has its own number, and each seat has its number. And with luck, it all works out. We walked up to car 5, our tickets said car 5, seats 11 and 12. We got on, walked through, and someone was in our seats. Lew – those of you who know Lew, know – if you know – you know.

Lew saw someone in our seats and kept walking because maybe we were on the wrong train – they come and go quickly, sometimes minutes apart. I was following behind in his wake. He has determination in his eye, and he works to make things work out without mistakes, for which I am very appreciative most of the time. He is sooo careful.

He kept walking through the train, me following a half car length behind, wondering several things at once. Wrong train? wrong ticket? wrong seat numbers? When I got to the end of the car, you know, at the exit door part, there was no Lew. Not in the car before me, and not behind me. No Lew. Some man asked if I needed to get off. I didn’t know how to answer – maybe, maybe not?

The guy moved away from the exit door and through the window I could see Lew talking to the conductor, asking about the train, while standing on the platform. As I watched him, I pushed the button to open the door and exit, and at the same time, the whistle blew, and the door locked, with me inside and Lew out. I pushed the button twice more. Me going someplace, him waving from La Spezia.

He had our tickets; I had no ticket, no seat, and no idea where this train was going. Then, being on this train, unlike every other Italian train I’ve been on, my cell didn’t work. I envisioned Milan – several hours away, how to find Lew, how to call, how to get back, when I didn’t know where I was or where I was whisking away toward. And no ticket.

I wandered back into the car and located an empty seat; while everyone stared at me, I think they knew – I was an idiot without a ticket and no rights to that seat, which proved to be true when the actual ticket holder came along to ask me to move. I slunk away like a sneak without her billetto.

I was going to throw myself on the mercy of the conductor, but when she came along to check tickets, she checked everyone else’s but mine (?) I couldn’t quickly think of how to ask her questions without disclosing one of my problems, and by the time I had found the words to speak, she disappeared into another car.

I stood at the back door for the remainder of the trip, worrying, and in a moment of technological grace, Lew got cell service to text me, and said he’d checked, and I was on a train that would take me to Chiavari. He would take a later train, and we could meet. My answer didn’t go through again, but we did stop at the train station I needed. We met up later and all was well, of course.

However – as my cousin Elaine Lavezzi has branded all adventures with this sort of conclusion – Nobody died. We are home drying out, feeling happy and warm, and drinking an evening tea. I have visitor maps to show Brother Bill, the internet, a cell phone, and some photos to remember La Spezia by. Thanks for reading my drivel.