Friday, August 3, 2001: Heading West - Sabaudia to Fossanova to Roma to London - 25km

Frank here…

My last day in Italy. My last day riding on foreign land. My last day overseas. Sigh. I was leaving with mixed emotions. I was wanting to stay on the bike and continue with my adventure while at the same time feeling ready to go home, back with my family, friends and Louise.

I headed out of Campeggio Sabaudia before the sun was too high and made it to the Fossanova train station on time to take me to Rome. There were three train officials hanging around. I was a bit anxious because I wanted to be ready at the correct binero (track) before the train came. All the officials saw me with my bike and one of them sold me a ticket to take me to Rome then to the airport at Fumicino.

When I got into the train I got into a heated discussion with the conductor about paying for my bike. He told me that I had to pay 17,000 lire for my bike because I did not have a ticket for it. "What!", I told him that one man told me to not worry about buying a ticket because I could purchase it on the train, and the man who sold me the ticket, knowing that I had a bike, did not mention that I needed to purchase a ticket from the train station (where it would have only costed me 7,000 lire). Back and forth we spoke, then he verified my claim by phoning the men at the station. Unfortunately the verification was not in my favour. I stuck to my story while I was steaming inside and pacing in the train car. At one point however I told the conductor that I understood that he was just doing his job. With that he softened as well and only charged me the 7,000 lire.

My stop at the Rome train terminal took several hours because I had to get the bike box that was stored and I had to dismantle it. I paid the crazy price of 50,000 lire at the luggage holding section, then headed close to the track that was going to take me to the airport. In the station I ran into John and Trays, two of the Irish Scout leaders that I met in Rome. What a thrill to be recognized in a foreign country.

The train ticket officials seemed concerned about having room for my bike, but when I got in there was plenty of room for my bike and another ten. I was quite amused when a couple of hours earlier, after asking the ticket salesman about the schedules of the trains to the airport I began to leave in the opposite direction of the train. The man ran out of his booth and called at me and passionately gestured that the train in the track is going to leave for the airport in two minutes. He thought that I misunderstood his instructions and was trying to help me. I was not alarmed however, and told him that I was going to take a later train because I had some things to do first. I really appreciated his concern for me.

My next concern was the over weight problem of my bicycle and box and stuff on the plane from Rome to Newark, New Jersey, USA. I was expecting several extra costs. I thought that I might be charged for my overweight bike. It did not happen probably because there was no one to serve me at the oversize luggage counter, so he just took the box without checking it out. The other extra cost I was expecting was the cost of changing my ticket date. I was not charged extra, but was told that it would be $50 New Zealand. I did not ask any questions. Lastly, I thought that I was going to have to pay a pretty penny to get from the Gatwick airport to Heathrow airport. There was a free shuttle and I did not even have to lug my bike box around because it was sent directly to the USA. Yahoo!

It was strange landing in London where I saw overcast skies and felt relatively cool air. At Heathrow, I had to wait about 12 hours to my next flight which was leaving early the next morning. I had to have one drink while I was in England (for the first time in my life). That drink cost me the equivalent of almost one day's expenses in Bolivia. Oh well, I had to have one.

After my drink, I went to the main floor and found an empty row of seats to lay on and sleep with the other 30 or so travellers. Good night to England, Europe, overseas, strange lands, strange customs, strange food, strange language, the next day I was destined for North America.

-"A poor student is one who does not surpass his teacher" - Da Vinci said something like that, but I am only partially in agreement with it.

-Frank Pollari