My backpack goes missing

The plane touched down just after dawn. Rome's Fiumicino airport has seen better days, but that wasn't the main reason I have disliked it since. When it was clear that no more items would appear on the baggage retrieval carousel, I went over to the service counter. While I was describing my backpack there, an airline employee came over and told me the bad news: my baggage had not followed me but would arrive by the next day's flight. I filled in forms, giving my address in Perugia, and handed over keys to the padlocks on the zippers, so that customs could inspect my belongings.

Bugger, I thought, all the way on the train to Rome Termini station, as the bad news sank in. Well, at least I don't have to lug a backpack for a while. But when would I get my belongings back? It was Friday and maybe they might just deliver it on Saturday? I had only the clothes on my back, one change of clothes from the KLIA stopover shower, and of course money, passport, etc. I had briefly flirted with the idea of staying in Rome until I got my backpack, but had quickly decided that I would continue to Perugia as planned and let them deliver to the hostel where I had a booking.

Rome summons the image of grandeur, but the reality is grubbier. Seen from the train, the Tiber was a dried up stream with weedy banks. What's a little garbage in a city that's eternal, well, over two and a half thousand years old? A mere quotidian concern. Rats yesterday, rats today, rats tomorrow.

To get to Perugia in Umbria, I had to change in Foligno, which is mainly a rail junction, but a pleasant enough town. It has a cathedral with an attractive facade. I had an hour's layover to explore a bit, as it was still morning. I almost missed the continuing train because it was on a spur platform. I quickly informed some other travellers who were also waiting for the same train.

Perugia has several train stations but I didn't know that then and got off at Perugia S. Giovanni by mistake. Oh well, the hostel didn't open until 4 pm so there was no hurry. Might as well explore a bit and have lunch. I spotted this classic Vespa model in a scooter shop. Reminded me of Peter Moore's adventures on a classic Vespa published as Vroom with a View.

Perugia is a hill town and a bus connects the plain with the upper town. The elevation is fortunate because it is cooler up there, and even this early in the season it was starting to get uncomfortably warm in the middle of the day. After checking in I picked up some food for dinner and breakfast at the local coop supermercato and watched the townsfolk on their passeggiatta. The pigeons were unafraid of people. I have a theory that if you find that the cats and dogs run away from you, then you are in a mean neighbourhood and should leave forthwith.

Despite having stayed up late before leaving Sydney in an effort to preadjust to the time difference, I crashed out around 8 pm, and naturally, woke before daybreak. Not much to do that early but to read a book since the breakfast room opened at 7:30 am, and to practice a breathing exercise whenever I felt panic creeping in over my missing luggage.