The young Italian controller has the heavy breath reeking of alcohol, and I hope he checks the ticket and hurry to leave. The East-European family that sits in reserved seats in my compartment - not them - it seems nice. The eldest son turns to his mother unintelligible words, then asked me a question in German. I reply in English and her English turns out to be much better than mine. Let's take a look at the cryptic signs of booking on the door of the compartment and decide who can stay at least until Bolzano. So they must get off to Innsbruck.
Maybe I should talk a bit 'more and maybe we would have ended up doing a few laughs together. But I had a book open in his hand and I think in the end it went so good to all.
lunch today, I spoke with my good friend and I decided that I prefer to Spriz breakfast.
Bolzano. The old German lady who now sits in place of the first boy to his feet, which give off a pungent smell of sweat and spread them on the seat next to mine. I am sitting near the door, opened on the corridor and I realize dell'afrore only in Innsbruck, when the placid and obnoxious Austrian controller, after the usual ritual dance of authority, seasoned with useless words, it is decided that he, door, he wants closed. Not without embarrassment, I open. The husband of fairy feet makes me a smile of approval, I guess. Prior to joining Germany
my enemy uniformed re-appears and re-close the door. I try to strike him with a murderous look before he turned to leave and the door opens and a curse to Alex's drastic. Without freedom of speech, my lips spelled words like "hemorrhoids" and "mother" - both of his - in the same sentence. If it comes back for the third time, I decided that I shut the door. On his knuckles.
Erlangen, about eleven o'clock in the evening is always the same. The snow appears on the roadside at least two days old and at home my plant is still alive. We can start over.
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