The Saint of Parma

Backlog from 27 May 2010
We've made it! Country #7! By now hopping on and off trains is old hat. Today we took six different trains between Lauterbrunnen, Switz. and Parma, Italy. Once we read it was the birthplace of delicious prosciutto and parmesan, coming here was a no-brainer.

Upon arriving in town, we found the train station in a state of reconstruction. Once we finally found the exit, we headed out in the direction we thought was correct. None of the scant steet signs revealed we were on the right path so I asked a crossing guard who was helping a ton of little kids get out of school. A safe bet, right? As a cigarette hung from his lips, he spoke a great deal of Italian- of which we caught that there was a stop light involved in the opposite direction we were heading. Already he had been more helpful than every person in France put together, but he wasn't done yet. Thinking we spoke French, he began asking parents if they spoke French! What had we gotten into?

One father spoke French, and I attempted to communicate but I'm sure it was just a bunch of deer-in-headlights and head nodding. I handed him our notes, which we had scrawled a completely inadequate map onto. He recognized the hotel name and asked if we were on foot, and we said "Oui..Dah..Si." He gestured to his car and pointed here and there for where we would fit. His adorable son sat in the front with Chris looking completely mellow, as if strangers from strange lands often rode beside him. Amazed already that he was giving us a ride, he then used his cell phone to call and verify the location. Lots of Italian later, we were on our way! Within two blocks, we were delivered right to the door of Leon D'oro. We thanked him profusely in Italian, French and English as he held up traffic for us.

The door to the hotel had a sign on it. Italian, of course. But with the door locked, we hoped if we just stood around, eventually something would happen. Our driving friend hadn't left yet and called the hotel again for us. Presto! We were let in and the rest is history.