As I write I realize the necessity to offer the reader some details about the actual train trip and my feelings associated with the experience of crossing Italy as the train chugged along to the Adriatic...
"This is why I came" became my mantra.
My need was to merge with each moment, focusing on the well-used phrase "Life is a journey - not a destination." I would pinch myself several times during the three and one half hour trip while taking in some of the most splendid, breath-taking landscape I'd ever be blessed to witness...
Once out and away from Rome the train began to climb gently and the fog became thick. Because I planned to see the towns along the way, this was a concern for me. After going through a very long tunnel (five to ten minutes in duration) we came out of the other end to find the fog lifting in that area. In fact, it was mostly sunny and I thought, "God is blessing this journey with a miracle." Fog clung to trees and the mountainsides, still hovering over and around some isolated areas, and each patch seemed to sway as the train passed, as if to dance for my amusement. I thought, "I was meant to see this, and this is why I came..."
The train was electric and smooth and no where near capacity as it glided effortlessly along the rails. "Butter" sprang to mind each time I noticed it. When it curved around the bends the pitch was so that it seemed to flow with fluidic motion - no rigidity what-so-ever. Each time we approached a town I could hear the whistle blowing ahead, a calling out announcing our arrival and passing. I was surprised because this was not a fast Pendolino, Eurostar, or even an IC train, but a simple regionale train with comfortable, upholstered individual seating. Although I was in "Primo" I am quite sure "Secondo" class would have been comfortable also. The only differences I noted were the number of seats to a car, and in secondo, they all faced forward. The train, which was only five or six cars long, passed through perhaps fifteen to twenty towns and villages but made only about nine or ten stops through the mountains winding it's way to Pescara. At most the stops lasted one or two minutes, and only occasionally did we stop on the tracks to wait for an oncoming train. At several stops I instinctively jumped up as if propelled by some unknown energy within me, urging me to grasp one of the two handles and pull the large, lock-less window down. I needed to take in the view of the stations by looking up and down the sides of the train - sometimes through a camera lens.
Opening the window at stops is common practice in Italy. It strikes me that travelers like to watch and see who is coming aboard and perhaps, wave "ciao" to those still left standing on the platform. Here is as good a place as any to note - I saw very few if any tourists on board. Opening the windows as the train moves along is also usual, and I did that several times to breathe in the cool, crisp mountain air...
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