Just a quick blurb about our choo choo train ride. This is the second overnight train ride we've taken, and, I must say, it isn't anything like the Orient Express or even Angelina Jolie's misadventures in "The Tourist".
In fact it was more like two sardines in a tin can doing the fandango, trying to figure out where to put our suitcases and ourselves. In addition, we are insatiable button pushers. As a result, the porter was not amused. Especially after we asked him to open the window and we discovered the we were trying to push open the window instead of sliding it down.
In addition, the washrooms for our "first class" car weren't working so we had to mingle with the hoi poloi in second class. Whereupon we discovered that they had a newer version car and their washroom was much nicer and larger. But still smelly.
And Mom's breakfast bun was stale. She was unhappy. You shouldn't mess with Mom's buns. Makes for a cranky mommy.
However, as bad as it was to haul Mom's suitcase up two flights of stairs because the escalators weren't working and the elevator was blocked off for construction in their fancy railway station, the aching muscles pale in comparison to the retina scarring that seared my eyes just before bedtime, thereby producing horrific nightmares of TME - too much exposure. As usual, Mom, the friendly soul that she is, was chatting up an Argentinian in Spanish. This is the same man who then proceeded to ask me if I was married. But that was not all. As I was returning from the "steerage" class, I chanced to glance sideways into an open compartment. To my dismay, and involuntary gag reflex, I was met with a vision of manly pulchritude - an immense and very hairy back and (one presumes) an equally hairy backside thankfully covered by a pair of white with bright red polka dotted boxers. I stumbled back to my compartment. It was the same Argentinian that had been talking to Mom earlier. Yup, just our luck.
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