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The train ride across Greece reminded me of another long trip I had to take on a train one time up through the mountains, from Ft. Knox, Kentucky to Colorado, shortly after being sworn into the army. Shifting from side to side and going up and down through the mountains made the train slow down to a crawl on it's way up, and speed up so fast going down that it seemed like it was gonna fly apart. I remember having to chase the peas on my food tray while they rolled back and forth. It was a much longer train, but a similar experience. The engines pulling it were several cars up from the car I was on. Very seldom did I hear or see the engines during the whole trip. Once and a while, I could smell a little smoke from the engines. The train in Greece was ancient looking in comparison and for some reason, the passenger car I was on was the first car behind the engine. I'd never ridden on a train that had a passenger car so close to the engine before. The huge diesel engine that fastened directly onto the passenger car by a conventional, very thick metal lock, sent a continual flow of heavy vibrations from the engine to my seat. At the same time, the loud, roaring sound coming from the vintage dinosaur engine was so loud that you could barely hear what the person next to you was trying to say. It was a lot like riding in a C130 cargo plane I had to ride in a couple of times in Vietnam. I don't know which one was worse...

We didn't go through any mountains that I can remember in Greece, so the train usually maintained the same speed. The only thing that stood out to me on the trip, besides the train itself, was on was an endless amount of olive trees that were just about everywhere. Judging from the amount of olive trees I could see, I don't think they'll ever have a shortage of olives in Greece! The other passengers looked about as afflicted as the way I was feeling during the whole trip. Meanwhile, a female college student who was the daughter of a Canadian congressman, asked if she could sit next to me. She apparently was feeling a little uncomfortable by herself and thought it would be better if it didn't look like she was alone. She was going all the way to Rome and wanted to use me as some kind of guardian, I guess. It would've been interesting to talk with her and learn about things in Canada, but she apparently didn't feel safe enough to say much the whole time. Then again, maybe it was just too noisy for her to talk...

It was a little tricky reconnecting with the ferry boats after getting off the train on the same day, but it wasn't long before we were trudging along through the water again, heading towards Brindisi. After making it by boat to practically the southern most tip of Italy to Brindisi, I had some Italian pizza and boarded a long, electric passenger train for an all night ride to Rome. Quite unlike any other train ride I'd been on, it came to a complete stop every four or five minutes throughout the night, all the way to Rome... Each time, just as everyone was nodding off to sleep, about fifty heavy metal sliding doors opened and shut automatically with a thunderous slam, jolting everyone to their foundation.

I locked my bag at the Termini, or train station in Rome, and did some rather extensive walking around the city, looking for an inexpensive hotel room. If anyone thinks there's such a thing as a low priced room in Rome, they can forget it. After getting blisters on my feet from combing the streets of Rome, I decided to settle for a room at the Italian Salvation Army. I stayed there for under ten dollars a day for four days until I arranged to catch a plane from there to Heathrow Airport in England. I'd always thought of Historical Rome as being cross cultural and somewhat western minded, but very few people there spoke English. Similar to the way it was in Greece, the Italians weren't particularly fond of Americans either. I ended up having to walk into a christian bookstore to find someone who was kind enough to give me some directions in English...

The room at the Salvation Army was small, but peaceful and quiet. I used some of my shampoo to wash a pair of my jeans and hung them out on the window sill to dry. While in Rome, I found a travel agency that got me an inexpensive airline ticket to England. The plane was coming from Nigeria and made a brief stop in Rome, making it possible for me to get on board. The passengers were ninety-five percent Nigerians and didn't seem to speak any English. I was honored to be fortunate enough to sit next to the Nigerian heavy weight boxing champ. For some reason, he was wearing a suit jacket that was about five sizes too small for his rather large frame. He could speak a couple words of English and was on his way to fight the champ of England. On the other side of me was a banjo player from Aspen, Colorado who played some pretty good banjo for us during the flight...