The ticket man told me to come back at four pm to get a train to Pompeii and then change to Sorrento.
I obliged and went for a little read on the beach. When I got back however, a new train man told me it was impossible to get to Sorrento from Salerno. I queried this in my very best italian (talking slightly loader and pointing a lot). He then agreed to sell me a ticket to Pompeii.
I then had to wait another two hours for said train, only to arrive in Pompeii to a ticket man and policeman who neither spoke English. There was no connection to Sorrento from that station. The policeman, realising I spoke no Italian asked me if I spoke German or Spanish, I shrugged and put on my best pathetic face. He then offered French which I jumped at, so happy that there was a glint of light at the end of the tunnel.
Unfortunately my French only extends to ordering ice cream and maybe describing a view as picturesque. So as he, in great detail, advised me what to do in French I smiled and nodded externally as I sobbed whole heartedly inside. I did not have the balls to tell him that although 20 seconds ago I said I did speak French that now he had gone out of his way to help me that my language prowess was actually a lie.
So I smiled and shook his hand understanding I needed to walk in this direction for 2-5 km. in the 40 degree heat with a front and back pack on. Brilliant. There wasn't even a pavement so I was also at high risk of being mowed down in the middle of nowhere.
Eventually I got to the right station and waited another hour for my train with an elderly couple from Wigan.
Bloody trains
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