Quick stop in Pescara

Pescara was originally a small fishing village, now a modern beach-side city.

Following on from my last post on Pompeii: Our driver then drove us from Pompeii to Salerno train station where we were to catch a train back to Rome. I have discovered that I can sleep just about anywhere — including on the steps of the main train station entrance.

Unfortunately our train was running late, due to a railway line fault. We had a connecting trip planned for the next leg to Pescara, on Italy’s east coast, departing from Roma Tiburtina station (which is about 10 minutes by taxi from Roma Termini). Our taxi driver drove as all Rome’s inhabitants seem to (read: manic), but we still missed our train (by a minute!) — the last train for the evening. I did not remain calm. I had visions of sleeping with a garden gnome in a photo booth at the train station, a’la Amelie. Thankfully, hubby kept his cool, and used his phone’s internet connection (which probably cost a small fortune) to find the details of a Best Western local to Tiburtina station. It was simple and kind of in the dodgy end of town, but I was overjoyed!

The following morning we made it to our intended destination: Pescara. Pescara is not normally frequented by overseas tourists — it doesn’t have the monumental draw-cards of other cities. To me, it felt a little like a quieter version of Queensland’s Gold Coast — a huge stretch of beach with sun-lounges and beach umbrellas as far as the eye can see. It is obviously a popular beach holiday destination for the local Abruzzo region. We made the trek there because hubby’s father was born in the region. He moved here to Melbourne with his mother and father when he was just four years old.

Because they don’t often need to accommodate English-speaking tourists, we encountered a few minor language challenges here, but nothing insurmountable. There are a few similarities between the Italian and English languages — and when I ordered an awesome gelati combo of chocolate and bacio, I could understand the lady who served me thought my choice was ‘romantic’. There is something absolutely joyous about making a connection and understanding someone despite language differences.

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