Grosotto

My first few days in Italy were the appetizer; now it was time for the main course.

Returning the rental car was the most angst-inducing bit of driving yet. The garage was jammed, the spaces were tight, and cars were left in the driving lane. In true Italian style, someone flipped my passenger-side mirror back so I could squeeze through an opening that looked impossible. After driving 515 km without incident, was I destined to scrape the vehicle in the last 10 meters?

Next, I hauled myself and my baggage (remember that bicycle?) out to the bus that would take me to Bologna Centrale. One of the nuances of Italian train travel is the requirement to validate your ticket before boarding the train. Without prior research, this fine point would have escaped me. The high-speed train arrived in Milan in less than an hour. Needless to say, I collected some data: we averaged about 141 mph, with a top speed in excess of 162 mph.

At Milano Centrale, the ticket validating machine next to my train was non-functional. An Italian standing nearby launched into some lengthy exposition and did not stop even when I offered Non parlo l'italiano. I followed the lead of a fellow passenger and used the machine at an adjacent track.

The train ride to Tirano was neither high-speed, nor express. And that was just fine, as there was much to see along the way.

My final destination was the tiny, charming town of Grosotto. No longer a solo traveler, I would join our group for the start of our cycling adventures in the Italian Alps. We were staying at a "bike hotel," which caters to the needs of cyclists.

The Pika Packworks bag lived up to its reputation: lightweight enough to carry around, sufficient protection that the bicycle arrived unscathed. Reassembly went quickly and smoothly.

At last, ready to ride!