Everyone knows that booking ahead of time is smart, and that making assumptions is not. When the ticket collector checked my confirmation ticket number, his little machine beeped telling him it was not valid. He spoke little English and charged me 93 euros. Confused, I searched for someone on the train who could translate. It turns out you have to not only reserve but also go to a ticket booth and pay in Italy. Lesson learned.
Italy has been an interesting experience. I think it's the first country I have visited in my life where I do not speak the language, making communication between me and the rest of the country very limited. Everywhere I have gone so far I have felt confident, yet these few days I have had trouble walking into a store because I don't even know how to greet the people inside. Italian and Spanish are similar and if someone had the time to talk slowly and clearly to me as if talking to a child, I don't doubt I'd understand parts of the message. But no one has that kind of patience around here.
Italian; a language where goodbye also means hello, a language of very little patience and too much speed, a language I am eager to learn.
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