Needless to say, the process of of translating the ticket took some effort. Not because it was in Italian. Between Sarina and I, we could figure out most things on our own from the remnants of our courses in Italian. Between getting your ticket and stepping on the train itself, there are about a half-dozen steps in between. These include the tedious task of finding and deciphering the arrival and departure schedules. Not a huge feat, but when coming from a country that gives you tickets that tell you time and platform numbers, you get to taking simple things like that for granted.
Anyhow, by the time we had decoded the tickets and found our train. People were running down the platform in tens and twenty's, in hopes they would secure at least some kind of standing room on the train. We approached our train, but it was already full. No, full does not come close to describing what it was. There were about 2.5 times the amount of people on the platform as there were square footage on the trains. It degenerated into a free for all with people tackling their way into the doors and scaling the sides of the train to crawl over the open windows. This scene was a contrasting swirl of humor and horror as Sarina and I tried to quickly retool our ideas of how a train should operate.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
By now, you've probably assumed we missed that train. So we waited for the next to arrive. When it pulled up half an hour later, we didn't hesitate to get on while we could. Tho empty now, in an hour it would be swarmed by frivolic Italians. This gave us time to plan things out for the rest of our time here. So, it's not like we were wasting time. After about 45 minutes, the train began to fill quickly.
As we pulled out of the station, a few of the passengers broke out into song. One of them revealed a half-sized acoustic guitar and contributed to the Italian folk songs now being sung by half the train car. It was resembling a train less and more like the prologue to a soccer game [ahem, I mean football]. The music continued as we moved passed old aqua ducts, homes, and an infinite array of olive trees and grape vines. By now, our singers had moved on to American folk songs, like 'Ring of Fire' (by Johnny Cash).
Our train made an emergency stop. A fight had broken out, and on our train car non the less. It was a pretty intense fight that involved three girls and one guy. No one was sure what it was all about, but they were ripping at each others hair, skin and clothing. There were kicks, punches and spitting. All the time, the rest of the train cheered and encouraged them like an Irish bar fight. Eventually they were all taken off the train by police. The passengers poked their heads thru the windows, making the whole side of the train appear to be a life sized version of whack-a-mole. Via a bit of eves dropping, we learned the brawl had begun over someone stepping on the other's foot. I thought that was rather silly. Considering the sardine can nature of the train, you're lucky if you don't accidentally get someones hand up your crotch. In tribute to our gladiator companions, the group of singers and their guitar playing friend broke out into Nirvana's 'Break Me' as we pulled out again towards Mirano.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
As eventful as the journey to the festival was, being there was just as crazy. Thousands of drunk or nearly drunk Italians all competing for what little space this normally quiet town had. The narrow streets were filled to overflowing with everyone within a train ride distance. Everywhere you looked there was wine. It was in bottles, it was in glasses, plastic cups and even emptied water bottles. Anything that could hold wine did. Being in the dense crowd where people were literally climbing over each other, it reminded me of footage from Macy's parades in New York.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
All this drinking would lead up to the two main events: the changing of the city fountain plumbing to white wine (for one hour) and the symbolic reenactment of the historical event of the return in Marino of Marcantonio Colonna with 260 "Marinesi" from the Battle of Lepanto [the last recorded major battle that involved paddle driven ships]. The performance was done with flag bearers. If you've ever seen those girls at high school football games that spin flags during halftime, it's kinda like that. The difference being the costumes and the much higher level of skill and drama that was used here. The performers were all dressed to resemble their characters from history, looking much like a Renaissance fair [but much less dirty and far less marijuana].
After a speech was made from a window above the main fountain, the actors began to course a parade through the streets of Marino. This lasted until they all arrived at the town hall. Luckily, Sarina and I were able to duck into the doorway of a gift shop. Here, we were able to avoid the crowds and see the main flag performances that were happening very ceremoniously below the steps of the town hall. It didn't take long for Sarina to be tired of the overwhelming crowds. Even when it was announced that the customary one hour of wine from the fountains had been turned on, we decided it wasn't worth fighting the masses. It's a novelty, so the wine from the fountains is historically bad anyhow. Being Sarina, and as short as she is, the crowds quickly wore her thin and she was no longer having as much fun. Having had our fill of the performance, Sarina and I made our way back to the train platform.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
Thinking we would catch the 6pm train and avoid the drunken crowd, we sat at the platform and waited. Unfortunately, whether due to the festival or just the nature of Italy, the train was over an hour late. This hour gave Marino's guests time to overflow the train platform, with nearly all of them having designs to board our same train back to Rome. So now, Sarina was fighting to two feelings: one being the fact that she had dressed for warmer temperatures than were actually occurring, and the other was fear that we would be out competed for space on the train when it arrived.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
When the train finally arrived, the mob woke like a field of lemmings. The stirring men and women charged at the train doors in a scene that reminded me of rats trying to escape a sinking ship. Instantly, Sarina and I were slammed into the side of the train with the force of about 600 other people. My first goal was to get Sarina on the train without getting hurt. They crazed swarm could have easily broken her leg by squeezing her against the unforgiving metal steps into the train. I burst out with as strong a lunge as I could and forced three guys off her (along with the rest of the people behind them). With Sarina on the train, I squeezed my own body between the unrelenting mob and the hard metal frame of the train door. With Sarina now pulling at my arm, I crawled up the steps into the train. We luckily were among the first onto the train, so we rushed to find a seat and let the rest of the people figure out were to stand. Having survived our first Italian festival, we were both amazed and exhausted. With this under our belts, we decided I won't be bringing Sarina to a mosh-pit anytime soon.
We finished out our day with a trip over to the Spanish Steps for some dinner and a few night time photos of the Spanish Steps themselves. It goes without saying, we slept very well.
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| From Italy Honeymoon |
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