Joann couldn’t believe she was finally on her way to Europe. On the flight from Seattle to New York she had not yet felt any sense of adventure as she had often visited her father’s brother on the east coast. Her father worked as an aeronautical engineer at Boeing, and the perks of his job included the use of free flights anywhere in the States, so her family were frequent fliers, and often flew on vacations and to visit relatives.
She had spent a couple of days in New York under the loving but strict eye of her uncle and his wife and, although she had enjoyed her visit and meeting her cousins, her coming adventure had prickled her nerves up until this moment. Underneath the aircraft was the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, and on the other side of the blue-gray realm lay Europe. Her heart filled with joy as she stared at the clouds below, scattered over the glimmering sea.
It had been a lot harder to leave than she could’ve ever thought. At the last moment, just when she had turned to go through the departure gate in Seattle, a colossal wave of homesickness had struck her. She had clung to her parents and sister in tears, wailing that she missed them so much already.
Her mother, although in tears as well, had eventually shoved her on her way, pushed her past the flight attendants at the gate with an encouraging smile, while her father had stood back, clearly also moved to tears. Not to mention her younger sister who had cried openly, with huge ragged breaths.
Her thoughts returned to the day just over a month ago, when her parents had sat her down on the couch in their cozy living room.
“Joann,” her father had started, his expression serious but kind. “Your mother and I have something we need to discuss with you. Since we haven’t been able to solve this problems of yours, of what you would like to study, we feel that you should take time off to think about your future. There’s no point in applying to a college for the sake of studying something that doesn’t interest you. In fact, we think that might even be detrimental and put you off studying altogether. We thought about this long and hard, and eventually came up with one solution which, at least we think, is the best for you.
“We suggest that we contact my sister, your aunt Janet, who lives in Italy, and ask her if she could take you for a few months after you graduate, maybe until Christmas. You could explore Europe a bit, maybe visit Rome. In fact, you could fly to Frankfurt, in Germany. I have colleagues there who could accommodate you for a day or two, and show you the sights. They could then put you on a train south to Genoa. That way you’d be able to visit at least two countries, and on the way down to Italy get an idea of what Europe looks like, see some landscapes. Aunt Janet lives on the coast south of Genoa, so she could come and meet you there.”
Joann remembered her first reaction, a gut wrenching shock and fear of the unknown. It was alright to dream about traveling the world – to actually make the dream come true was another matter altogether.
No to mention Auntie Janet. Joann had met her a couple of times when she had visited Seattle, but that was years ago. All she remembered of her was a beautiful, slender woman who had an air of mystery surrounding her. A quietly smiling woman in a yellow, flower patterned dress, leaning on the back rest of a deckchair and smoking a cigarette in their back garden. Joann had been nine years old the last time she’d met Auntie Janet. All she knew of her aunt was that she was an artist who lived alone in some old, derelict building in a small coastal village in Italy.
Joann had voiced her doubts, but her parents had eventually convinced her that this was her best opportunity, the best way to see at least some parts of the world she so much wanted to see. Eventually, after a couple of days of milling the idea privately, Joann had accepted the plan. When the departure date drew closer, she got very excited about the coming trip, and spent hours planning what she would do with her best friend, Lily. Who, of course, was green with envy.
Now she was on her way, flying high over the ocean. She smiled to herself and snuggled into the seat, thrilled to bits.
* * * *
Joann sighed in relief as the train pulled out from the main railway station at Frankfurt am Main. The past two days she had spent with her father’s colleagues—a nice, energetic young couple from Seattle, in Germany to represent Boeing—had been a blur of activity.
Both Darlene and Harry were nice people, but in their enthusiasm to show Joann her first European city, all of it, had gone a little over the top. Joann’s feet still ached from having walked and walked, from one sight to the next, with Harry’s almost continuous monologue of the history of the city echoing in her ears, broken by the witty remarks of Darlene. Of how the Germans drink huge amounts of beer, and how they are so organized, so serious, but sometimes have a sense of humor, especially when drunk and clad in their traditional leather pants and quilted feather decorated caps, dancing and clapping their thighs.
Of how the television is filled with soft, and later at night, hardcore porn, and that Joann shouldn’t watch it; and how all the films are dubbed in German, and how funny it is to watch John Wayne shout commands to his cavalry troops in one of the world’s less attractive languages.
Another tired sigh escaped Joann’s lips. It had been a busy two days. An interesting experience, although if anyone asked her about Frankfurt she doubted she could recall one clear memory of the place. The city wasn’t that attractive, in fact its modern block buildings were quite ugly, and the whole place had a sense of discipline and urgency to it. The only section of the city she clearly remembered had the few reconstructed old buildings that showed what the city had once looked like, before the Allied bombings during the Second World War.
Her gaze drifted across the view of the modern city that rolled past the window. History invaded her mind. Harry’s tight package of facts about Europe emerged again. Only about forty years ago this had been the stage for the biggest war in the world. A spooky shiver ran down her spine when she thought how the people must have felt, to be the target of such massive bombings. Millions of people had died here, her own countrymen included.
The rhythmic movement of the train eased her mind and she brushed the sad thoughts away. The rolling countryside opened to lush patches of fields and copses of trees and, in places, to forested areas. Quaint villages with buildings older than those in the city flew past while she sat on the edge of the lower bunk bed in her own private compartment.
Harry and Darlene had insisted on paying for the whole sleeping compartment, to give her privacy, they said, but Joann knew better than that. They’d been worried about her sharing the quarters with strangers.
Joann didn’t mind as the same thought had occurred to her. The trip down south took well over twelve hours, overnight, and to share the space with someone she didn’t know wasn’t that appealing.
Deep in thought she watched the landscape roll past until the sun set. Then tiredness overcame her and she crawled in between the clean sheets. The soothing, rocking motion of the train lured her to sleep almost immediately.
* * * *
The sudden loud knock on the door of her sleeping compartment made Joann’s heart jump in her throat as she startled from deep sleep.
“Controllo dei passaporti!” A man’s demanding voice boomed behind the door, followed by another loud banging that shuddered the flimsy divider.
“Yes, just a moment,” Joann croaked, her voice not yet recovered from sleep. She rushed to slip into her jeans and threw yesterday's t-shirt on quickly, then opened the door.
A stern looking man dressed in what could only be a border guard or police uniform stood in the corridor. Black eyes under a deep frown inspected her closely. The thin mustache on his upper lip twitched from side to side.
“Yes?” A whisper escaped Joann’s lips as she shrunk in front of him. The man looked intimidating.
Suddenly he exploded into a bellowing laugh. His loose flabby middle rippled with every note of his deep voice. “Ah, an English ragazza! You sleep so well, you no hear me.”
“An American…” Joann felt the color flow onto her face.
“Aah, an American!” The man stretched his words exactly like in every cliché sketch on television, to ridicule the way the Italians spoke English. “Well, pretty American, I have to see you passaporto, per favore.”
Joann knew her face must be the color of an eggplant by now. She turned and dug in her bag for the passport, and her tickets, just in case. She passed the documents to the now smiling guard, who studied them carefully, then stamped one of the pages and returned the papers to Joann.
“Welcome to Italy, Signorina Keller.” He saluted Joann with a wide smile that exposed slightly crooked front teeth, and then slid the door closed.
Joann held on to the edge of the top bunk bed for a moment, dazed by having woken up so fast. She briefly wondered why the border guards at the Swiss border hadn’t checked her passport since they must have passed through Switzerland, then shrugged her shoulders. What did it matter? She was in Italy now. She opened the curtain to look outside and gasped in delight.
The train stood at a station that was surrounded by a small, quaint town of terracotta roofed, mostly stone walled old buildings, mixed with some peach, pink and white washed dwellings as well. Lush flowers decorated the small gardens, and vines crept on the buildings and on the stone walls surrounding the houses. A church that was clearly centuries old dominated the silhouette of the town.
The early morning sun was already strong, promising a hot day ahead.
On the platform, people milled back and forth, some hugging one another, some rushing to board the train, some looking around, lost, only to break into a smile at locating their loved ones. Joann opened the window, and the sounds and the heat of the sun flowed in. A brief, unpleasant smell of engine grease and diesel exhaust from the train invaded her nose, but soon dissipated as a light breeze swirled in and around the compartment.
Hollered greetings echoed from the station walls, the rapid, fluid, music-like chatter of numerous people talking at once filled the air. Someone whistled loudly at the other end of the platform, maybe to attract the attention of a friend. The colors of the clothes, the almost over-exaggerated gestures of people; it all looked foreign to Joann and she smiled as she sat on the edge of the bunk bed to enjoy the view.
A couple of stray dogs navigated in between the crowd, searching for an opportunity to snatch a snack. A few mangy cats lay on the wide wall to the side of the station, eying the dogs suspiciously. A flock of gray and white pigeons strolled on the roof of the station, the male birds strutting in a pompous pose to attract the females. Joann wished she owned a proper camera, not just the compact snap-shot her father had bought her, but nevertheless took some pictures of the picturesque setting that opened up in front of her.
A whistle indicated that the train was about to depart, and immediately the crowd on the platform began to move restlessly. Last minute goodbyes, tears and laughter, smiles. When the train jerked forward, the arms of the people flailed in the air to send off friends and loved ones.
Joann’s spirits were high when she strolled to the dining car for breakfast. Her first impression of Italy warmed her heart.
She ordered a cup of tea and a tasty looking meat pastry, then sat on a window seat to admire the view while she enjoyed the food. An elderly couple sat opposite, and she tried to speak with them, but soon realized they didn’t understand her. They only smiled, both with a set of sparse teeth.
Dental care in this country didn’t seem to be in such great order.
After breakfast, Joann returned to her compartment and once more sat on the bed and admired the changing scenery. The train stopped more often now, to drop off and pick up passengers, and at each station the same play was re-enacted; warm, loving, grand-gestured and enthusiastic hello’s, and wistful, tearful, over-exaggerated farewells.
The bigger towns were as beautiful as the smaller villages, old and full of character. The train wound its way across the mountain passes, through towns and cities, fields and forests, all drenched in the searing heat of the sun. The train wasn’t air conditioned, but the air flowing in through the open window kept the temperature tolerable.
Only at the stations did it become unbearable, if they stopped for more than ten minutes, which happened frequently. The only way for Joann to cool off then was to wipe her face with a small towel that she had soaked in water.
The closer the train swayed toward its destination, Genoa, the tighter the nerves in Joann’s stomach cramped. She knew next to nothing of her aunt. Soon she’d meet her, and move into her house for the next few months.
Joann’s mother had told her that Auntie Janet had agreed to let her come to stay on the condition that she would do something useful while she was visiting. What, Joann had no clue. Apparently Janet had said that it was up to Joann to decide.
Joann had conveniently forgotten the issue while she planned what to do once she got to Italy, but now the uneasy feeling in her gut increased. What if Aunt Janet was really strict? What if she’d send her back straight away because she didn’t have a plan to do something useful? What did she consider to be useful anyway?
Joann decided to forget about the whole thing, and just enjoy the rest of the train journey. She would deal with it later.
The train slowed down as it reached the edge of the city limits. The beauty of the buildings that flowed past had her eyes darting in all directions as she tried to take in the scene, sighing with delight at regular intervals. This was so different to home, so old, soaked in history.
At last, the long line of carriages ground to a halt at the main station in Genoa. Joann’s nerves fired once more as she gathered her belongings and prepared herself to meet her aunt.