Umbrellas and One-Legged Pigeons

June 7, 2007

The trains from Verona back to Sansepolcro were hectic and full of adventures, which I won't get into now--needless to say, they involved gypsies, stinky breaks, and the longest arm hair I have ever seen on a woman (*full body shudder*). However, there is one character I met on the journey about whom I would like to tell.

We named him Pinocchio, but for no specific reason; it just seemed like a funny name after four hours on a stuffy train. He was balding and fat, rather squat, and his head bobbed as he jumped around. He was a grey pigeon, covered in the dirt of the train station and the squalor of his kind--and he had only one leg. We figure it got ripped off by a passing train or a cleaning machine, or maybe he was a daredevil who took it too far one day. Needless to say, he hopped around on that one leg like he owned the place.

Hillary was fascinated by him and wanted to reward his amazing survival skills, so she dug half a tuna sandwich from the trashcan that she had just thrown away and threw it at him. He jumped over to it and began digging in, but he wasn't the only one impressed by her generosity. Every pigeon in the Bologna Centrale station hopped onto our end of the platform and began shoving Pinocchio out of the way in an effort to grab hold of that sandwich and feast. There's a reason that bird has survived so long with only one leg, though--he's got more brains than your average featherhead. He would rip off large chunks of the sandwich and, anytime a bird got too close, he would fling it in the opposite direction and every pigeon in the vicinity would follow it, leaving him to his large piece of bread, fish, and mayonaisse. Yeah, Pinocchio!

Our train eventually arrived in Arezzo, and an ocean had begun to pour itself on our heads, our bags, our everything. It was ridiculous! We hauled buggy to the bus and hopped on, and Hillary, Bekah, and I snagged the back five seats. It was only once the bus had begun to move, however, that we realized our problem: the ceiling emergency exit door leaked right on us. Other Meredith girls in the front of the bus had the same problem, and they squealed and hid underneath their rainjackets. Hillary is a certified genius, however, and she opened up her umbrella (does a bus count as inside?) and wedged it between the overhead compartments, and we had a mini-ceiling that kept us dry for the hour-ride home. The whole situation could have turned out terribly--the girls could have complained about the state of Italian buses, which would have made the Italians on the bus angry, and we could have offended a whole nation over a bus and some water. Our humorous look at the situation created comraderie with the Italians, however, and the whole bus had a wonderful ride home as we laughed at ourselves and each other.

When it Italy, remember to smile--it's the most effective language out there.