In the morning I called the airport again. Yesterday evening I only reached an answering machine and hung up in disgust. This time I listened to the whole message as this connection was clearer. In short it said that my backpack had been found and that they would contact me for delivery. But that was only a small relief. It was fairly certain from the beginning that my baggage wasn't lost, only delayed, since they knew it had not shared my flight. So I'm still wondering when they will deliver.
I did my Gubbio excursion yesterday because today is Sunday, and bus services are less frequent. So today I will wander around Perugia, and among other things look for an Internet cafe to catch up with email.
Perugina chocolates come from here. Perugia also stages the annual Jazz in Umbria festival. Jim McLeod, the previous presenter of ABC Jazztrack, was a great promoter of it. I think that's what cemented the name Perugia in my consciousness and made me want to visit it.
This aqueduct no longer carries water, but serves as a pedestrian bridge. I wonder where the water for Perugia comes from. It would have to be a place at higher altitude.
There are many old and abandoned buildings in Perugia. Many of the places and businesses named in my old edition of Lonely Planet do not exist any more. On the other hand, the city's tourist map shows a future feature, a mini-metro linking the lower and upper cities. (Note from the future: It commenced operation in 2008.)
In the afternoon, when I returned to the hostel, they gave me a phone message. The earliest they can deliver to Perugia is Wednesday or Thursday, because of the lack of couriers over the long weekend. Tuesday is the first of May holiday and many people have taken Monday as a bridge.
While I'm in my dorm trying to plan around this enforced prolongation of my Perugian stay, I was called to the phone. It's the airline representative. He asks if I'll be in Perugia. I say that I want to continue to Bologna. He then offers to deliver it there. It's a larger city and they can deliver on Monday. So I gave him the address of the hostel there. Perhaps he was rostered to work on Sunday, but he could have pushed my case aside until Monday or even Wednesday. Italy is like that, you hit problems but you also experience kindness from Italians who go out of their way to help.
I have not made any bookings for Bologna. Mustafa, a Turkish engineer sharing the dorm, offers to take me to a nearby Internet and phone centre that he knows, to do this. He needs to call his sweetheart anyway. Mustafa has been working in Doha, Qatar, but has quit to study in Perugia. He will be doing research on the hydrogen economy. He thinks it will be important. I hope he's right. He will marry his sweetheart, who works as a nurse to refugees, in September. I see from his collection of travel reading that he has leftist leanings. One of the names, Gramsci, I look up later. (Preview: You will read more about the left when I'm in Bologna.)
We share dinner in a pizza restaurant. I have the pizza funghi. The porcini mushrooms are heavenly. I can understand why they are so highly prized. I have even seen a magazine for mushroom hunters in newstands.
The streets are packed with revelers tonight, the middle of the very long weekend. I think that Italians should have a telefonino permanently welded to their ear. A bluetooth earpiece might be more convenient, but just doesn't have the prestige of having your mobile ring while in company and then taking the call. Jim McLeod once related an episode at an Enrico Rava concert when a mobile phone in the audience rang while Rava was doing introductions at the microphone. Rava spoke into the mike, playing the part of the owner of the phone: Pronto? Pronto? Ah, I'm so sorry, I cannot talk now. I am at a concerto. Ciao!
Perugina chocolates come from here. Perugia also stages the annual Jazz in Umbria festival. Jim McLeod, the previous presenter of ABC Jazztrack, was a great promoter of it. I think that's what cemented the name Perugia in my consciousness and made me want to visit it.
There are many old and abandoned buildings in Perugia. Many of the places and businesses named in my old edition of Lonely Planet do not exist any more. On the other hand, the city's tourist map shows a future feature, a mini-metro linking the lower and upper cities. (Note from the future: It commenced operation in 2008.)
In the afternoon, when I returned to the hostel, they gave me a phone message. The earliest they can deliver to Perugia is Wednesday or Thursday, because of the lack of couriers over the long weekend. Tuesday is the first of May holiday and many people have taken Monday as a bridge.
While I'm in my dorm trying to plan around this enforced prolongation of my Perugian stay, I was called to the phone. It's the airline representative. He asks if I'll be in Perugia. I say that I want to continue to Bologna. He then offers to deliver it there. It's a larger city and they can deliver on Monday. So I gave him the address of the hostel there. Perhaps he was rostered to work on Sunday, but he could have pushed my case aside until Monday or even Wednesday. Italy is like that, you hit problems but you also experience kindness from Italians who go out of their way to help.
I have not made any bookings for Bologna. Mustafa, a Turkish engineer sharing the dorm, offers to take me to a nearby Internet and phone centre that he knows, to do this. He needs to call his sweetheart anyway. Mustafa has been working in Doha, Qatar, but has quit to study in Perugia. He will be doing research on the hydrogen economy. He thinks it will be important. I hope he's right. He will marry his sweetheart, who works as a nurse to refugees, in September. I see from his collection of travel reading that he has leftist leanings. One of the names, Gramsci, I look up later. (Preview: You will read more about the left when I'm in Bologna.)
The streets are packed with revelers tonight, the middle of the very long weekend. I think that Italians should have a telefonino permanently welded to their ear. A bluetooth earpiece might be more convenient, but just doesn't have the prestige of having your mobile ring while in company and then taking the call. Jim McLeod once related an episode at an Enrico Rava concert when a mobile phone in the audience rang while Rava was doing introductions at the microphone. Rava spoke into the mike, playing the part of the owner of the phone: Pronto? Pronto? Ah, I'm so sorry, I cannot talk now. I am at a concerto. Ciao!
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