Survivour Peschici

The words "let the games begin" were words not infrequently crossing our minds as we departed the pleasent easy going lifestyle and home comforts of Kathi's house in Macerata.

Leaving Macerata was a step into the wilderness.. No plans, a vague knowledge of our final destination, no accomodation booked, and no friendly face at the other end to look after us and bring us home. Admittedly these issues were more out our own disorganisation as opposed to personal desires, but it led to an exciting journey.

The traditonal run to meet the train was of course used to maximise sleep time, followed by rushed bookings to a place named S.Severo. Our final destination was to be Vieste, a small beach resorty type town on the bump of the achilles of Italy. This part of the journey was relatively straight forward: jump on train, try not to get jammed in the door as you scramble aboard (unsuccessful this time...damit), and try to make friends with a nice Italian person which might be getting off at the same stop as us. Of course I let Martin do his talking (he seems to be particulary good at this part), and sure enough, we had a decent idea about where and when to get off. The next part of the journey provided a little more insight into the Italian way of things. This far south, things begin to heat up, and the italian infrastructure and organisation begins to loosen up..

We arrived just in time to figure out where to buy our next train ticket - although the man told us to run, so of course we did! The train resembled more of a tin can being kicked down tracks but it seemed to limp us to a place worthy of a postcard. Like usual, we didn't get the postcard, so those of you hanging out for one may want to invest in one themselves and pretend its from us (beck)=). Our thoughts were that we were to ride this train to its death at the end of the line, but apparently not. While tickets were being collected we were informed that two buses would also help us reach our destination. This was a surprise and we began to wonder if Vieste would be reached this day. A bus, another train, then a further bus later, we began to recognise that the people on this journey with us, also doubled as the subsequent bus,train, and ticket officers. While looking at our tickets, Martin was heard muttering, "does it say what our role on this journey is". We were pleased to find that we weren't asked to be the Nanny... or the doctor, this time.. We palyed the tourist and journied on.

Peschici was the last major town before Vieste. Our bus finally bus and very conviently stoped at a bus stop 7km shy of it... A sign on the door said something politcal in Italian. Closer inspection using our supernatural powers in reading foriegn languages enabled us to decipher that there was a local strike in progress until may 19 (today). The next bus would arrive at midnight to take us to Peschici and Vieste. After consulting our stomachs and the amount of food we had left (2 swiss blocks of chocolate melting fast), we decided that italians look like friendly people that would like some Kiwis to share a car with. Hitch-hiking took us about 5min to score a ride with a man that knows how to do a 180degree turn at high speed to pick up a couple of lads in need. Molto Grazie.

A recommendation of a place to stay followed, and we now live in a beautiful paradise 32 steps away from the beach. No desires now exist to visit Vieste.. We're well and truely at home =).