Today was so filled with activity — from early morning until mid-afternoon — that I find I’ve run out of steam to write anything tonight.
Oh well.
No more steam
Riomaggiore: getting there, staying there
First we drove to Genova to leave our car parked at the home of Ramesha’s cousin, Marco.
After some time hanging out with him, his wife (Roberta), and their two daughters, he walked with us to the train station. Two hours later we were in Riomaggiore.
The yellow circle at street level in the photo below shows the front door of our apartment, while the other yellow circle is the window we can open and look out on the ocean, the boats, and all the people (this is an amazing place for people watching!).
I have a bunch more photos, but for some reason (I suspect it’s the continuation of Mercury retrograde) I’ve only been able to get these two to upload to my blog. 🤔
Remembering a heart-stopping moment
As soon as I saw this headline — Lost: A Golden Flute on a Train. Found: Faith in Others. — I knew I would resonate with the story related in the article, because I had a similar experience with my own flute many years ago.
At the time I was playing on a handmade silver Haynes flute. It wasn’t worth $22,000 dollars (I have to say, I’ve never understood the need for a gold flute!), but $2,000 back in the mid-70’s was still a lot of money for a college student.
I had taken the bus from De Anza College to the intersection of Stevens Creek Blvd and Wolfe Rd, where I sat on the grass while waiting to transfer to the bus that would take me the rest of the way to my apartment in Sunnyvale.
I set purse, books, and flute next to me on the grass as I waited. We were about halfway to my stop when I realized that I didn’t have my flute. Panic!
My first impulse was to jump off the bus and run back, but I was a good mile away by that time. So I quickly reasoned that it would be faster to continue home and get my bicycle for a faster return.
I ran home as fast as I could…and found my mother waiting for me on the doorstep. She had taken transit to come and visit but, of course, I wasn’t very welcoming — especially because as I went to get my bicycle I suddenly remembered that my brother, who shared the apartment with me, had borrowed it that day. Double panic!
In desperation I called a friend who dropped everything to give me a ride back to the bus stop, where I found two boys waving the case at me and calling, “Is this yours?” It was clear that they had opened it to check out what was inside, but nothing was damaged or missing (just a little sticky from their fingerprints).
I didn’t have any money to give them as a reward, and knew they would not have welcomed an appreciative hug, so I simply expressed my fervent thanks and resolved to never set my flute (on its own) next to me ever again.
The problem is that flutes are small and the case is almost always black. What you eventually learn to do is have a flute bag, in which the flute lives, because it’s a lot harder to overlook a big bag!
It surprises me that the young man from Boston hasn’t learned that lesson yet. His story did have a happy ending, but it was a close call. The person who found his $22,000 flute tried to pawn it and it was only thanks to the sharp intuition and quick thinking of the pawn shop owner that he was eventually reunited with his instrument. However, he first had to endure days of what must have been agonized waiting!