Roma a Napoli

Buon Giorno!
Well. I made it.  It was a fairly smooth trip, and I had a lot of help and suffered one (small) con job.
Before I begin relating my day, let me take a refreshing sip of Lacryima Christi.
Uh, Pil. That means "Tears of Christ." Just where did you get this from, and why are you drinking such a divine substance?
I got it from the grocery store, and it's the name of a local wine.  Frankly I feel a bit blasphemous drinking it, but the Italians like giving irreverent or even vulgar names to their food and drink.  The white wine is nice though.  I paid more than I usually do for wine, because I wanted to try it.
My problem this morning was that the escalators and elevators at my metro stop were out of service.  When I arrived it was not great, but it's easier for me carrying my bags upstairs because if I fall it's upward, there was only one flight of stairs.  Going down is much harder for me, and there are two flights.  A fellow American tourist took pity on my struggles and took my heavier bag down.  Then it was a smooth trip to Termini, I got my ticket and waited for my platform to be announced.
This is when I fell for the con job.  A woman came up to me and asked what I needed, and I explained.  I thought she was an employee of the railroad doing customer service.  She did indeed find out about the platform and showed me where it was.  Then she demanded a five euro tip.  I gave it to her, as an education expense for myself and to warn other travelers to beware what help you take.  But the truth is a lot of nice folks helped me out today out of the goodness of their hearts, so let's not be too cynical.
I'm a little old lady, and sometimes hefting bags onto or off trains or up into the overhead bins can be difficult.  People volunteered to lift and load, and my train seat mate sought out help for me at the end of the journey to get my suitcase down.
I had my google maps directions to my apartment. The directions made no sense to me until I actually was there and then I understood them.  The directions brought me to my destination, but then I was puzzled.  Hotel?  Where's the sign and entrance.  I wandered.  I looked and asked. Finally, I found someone who knew what I was talking about.  I went back and found the name of the hotel in tiny hand written blue ink.  I rang the bell and was admitted.
I have a Really Nice Apartment. I'm sitting in my dinning room having apero of crostini with feta and the wine.  I'm ditching the bucatini for now for capetellini which cooks a lot quicker.  I got some olive oil and I have some parmesan.  Doesn't that sound nice?
Ciao