I definitely knew when I arrived in Italy – it was the first place that people actually offered to assist me and my luggage. Shoot. One bike bag, one luggage bag, and a backpack.....up and down stairs in crowded train stations. I must have looked a bit pathetic as I was shuffling along the stairs.

I LOVE Italy. Fact. I have said it a million times before, and I will say it again. It’s “Guarnieri” not Guarnier. The French love to point out I have a French last name, and I love to point out, “I am actually Italian,” and then I go onto tell the 30second family story.

The minute the train crossed the border, the architecture, landscape, and people changed, and it is much more up my alley. I foresee establishing myself here. What a beautiful country.

(This is the view from one side of the train......

.....and this is the view from the other side.)

Even the food at the train station looks irresistible, but I am holding back on the panini/pizza as I am not training today and I don’t have euros to be throwing out the window on temporary indulgences.

(At the train station)

I am writing this blog on my third of four train transfers.Now that I am in Italy, I was able to successfully purchase the final leg of my journey. I had a tiny bit of anxiety about the fact that I had tickets only ¾’s of the way to my final destination; I am not touring, I am bike racing, and I have places to be, and kilometers to pedal. So “YAY” for: easy ticket purchases, smooth (albeit long) travel days, all things Italian, bike racing and the Giro.

Yea, this is going to be good.