Silver tops still wandering

We thought a short trip on the train to a little halfway up the mountain town of Cava de’ Tirreni. So we sashayed up to the ticket machines having conquered  bus ticketing and travel. We felt confident.

We navigated the local train ticket dispensing machines like experts and stood like locals looking at the departure boards waiting for the platform number to come up. ‘PF’ appears. This means … bus replacement! There is a train strike! We were able to find our replacement bus, after a couple of false starts, and off we went.

We arrived uneventfully, but it was siesta time so the town was shut. Nothing for it to have lunch.

Mobbed out it wasn’t! We tucked into the corner and the chef, who was watching telly, greeted us and scuttled off into the kitchen to light his burners.

We had a very splendid lunch. By the time we had thoroughly shocked them by asking for tea, not coffee, the little town was awake.

I had a moment. There was an oral cancer awareness mobile offering checks and generally doing the public awareness that I once did. I was approached by some students from the university and told them of my background. They promptly scuttled off into the mobile unit and came back with their professor! We had the most lovely conversation. He was thrilled to talk to me, as I was him. What a wonderful chance encounter.

We meandered down the winding archways where shops are tastefully hidden and blend in beautifully with the architecture.

Then we had to navigate our way back. So we hopped onto a bus. The driver was in deep and animated conversation with what appeared to be himself. However he had ear things in and a dangling microphone he was talking into. This conversation continued for the 30 minute trip back into Salerno! Tickets were optional extras.

Travel buddy had a moment of genius and suggested the number 5 bus was on a circular route. So we hopped on and set off in the wrong direction. We were both very pleased when we did a spin around at the port.

Well earned tonight. Though our plans to visit Heracleum are scuppered, thanks to the train strike. So many thanks to my fabulous, french living friend. But we daren’t get stuck there!!! We too could become petrified!