The train! The train!

So here's what happened, I'll make it short and to the point. I missed my flight from Milan to Rome. I had a choice in front of me, red pill, blue pill...fly to Rome on a later flight and miss the last train to Florence and find a place to stay overnight until the train starts running again or take a train to Rome and transfer to Florence then to Arezzo. The first way I would have my suitcase with me but I'd have to find somewhere to stay in Rome at 10PM, the second puts me on a series of trains that would eventually lead to sleeping in a proper bed. At this point I hadn't slept yet so I decided that maybe I should work on that and caught a train to Milan to Florence S.M.N. to Arezzo. The thing about taking regional travel in another country is that the first time you do it you feel totally helpless. I maneuvered my way around the train system. I got a ticket from an agent in Milan, then from a fast ticket machine, with a little help from my fellow travelers I rode this train to the end of the line.
After a long travel day, I settled into my seat on this abandoned train, my mind settled, my heart settled. The train that took me to Arezzo was a regional train, the train was empty, I mean the whole train was empty. I mean the whole train! Although it was creepy I felt like I was the only one left it a town ravaged by a mysterious disease or zombies. Rolling past darkened train platforms and and villages, it was like I was the last person on earth. A lone survivor of a zombie holocaust, the last scenes of The Warriors on the way back to Coney Island after a long night of running. It was a strange mix of peace and paranoia as I recalled the travel tips for women traveling alone, you know the part where it says "if you find yourself alone in a train car, move to a car with more people". Good advice for a train with other people on it, this warning coupled with a day of no sleep, brought about the creative scenarios of how I would defend myself, what tools could be used as weapons against the kind of gypsy my sister warned me about or a big sloppy Dario Argento type zombie. I could dress them in casual, somewhat fashionable clothing or offer helpful brochures to tour Tuscany's wine regions but that would be all really. That wouldn't stop the zombies from eating my brains but...

Travel Tip: Sleep on the plane.

We pulled into our last stop, Arezzo, around 11PM. I emerged untouched by gypsy or zombie was elated that I was, finally, where I needed to be. I got out at Arezzo, sweet, sweet Arezzo. There were no taxis outside of the train station so I walked to where the people were. I crossed the tracks to the way out, walked to the taxi-less taxi stand, walked to the people in the square where there were plenty of taxis...but no drivers. Some sort of taxi manager approached me, he made a call, no answer. He led me into what appeared to be the town youth community center. Taxi manager introduces my problem to the Youth Organizer who speaks a minimal amount of English. From what I can make out, Youth Organizer will continue to call my driver and also get me a drink. Youth organizer set out a bottle of warm Coke, Orange Fanta and plastic cups. This could've been a tall, sweaty bottle of Budweiser as far as I was concerned at this point in the adventure. I drank my Fanta, the driver was matched with his taxi and off we went. Soon, I will be in the comfort of the villa, I will be in the comfort of family. I hoped there was wine. After climbing the narrow roads and hair pin turns we drive through an 7 ft. tall iron gate toward the Holiday House. Finally, after a near miss B&E and walking around in circles I found the restaurant and met the dreamy owner Iacopa. We followed the hushed voices up the stone stairs and yes there was wine and lasagna and the comfort of family.