Day 4.5, or Why the Term “Sleeper Car” is Misleading

On the train to Italy, I ended up having a sleeper car all to myself. That is, until my new friend Cambio discovered I was all alone, took pity on me, and proceeded to move into my car. This particular Italian gentleman didn’t know a word of English, so we were quite a pair: me stumbling through my limited Italian vocabulary, him offering me food every five minutes.

He was very nice. Very. Fortunately, I was able to keep his niceness at bay by telling him all about my boyfriend, Sean. (Oh, so you’re my boyfriend now, Sean. Also, you’re living Charlotte’s life and you look like a bearded Jim Halpert. I just thought you should hear it from me first.)

I tried to go to bed nice and early so I would be perky when I met my host family for the first time (at 5:12 in the morning). But sleep evaded me just as I evaded Cambio … by making up a fake boyfriend – your tricks don’t fool me, sleep!

The beds weren’t uncomfortable, but I was too hyped up by my imminent arrival in Italy. For the last hour, I watched the lights of Italian cities out the window of the train. And then, finally!, 45 minutes behind schedule, I saw the sign for Parma. It was an exuberant moment! …and then I remembered that I had to get my bags down off the storage racks.

Welcome to Italy, Lindsey. Welcome to Lindsey, Italy.