Unshod Rover
As the train zoomed through one of the many Ligurian tunnels tracing the western border of this region north of Italy, a burst of sea and sun startled my sleepy senses. I realized then that I was already far from my cold, lazy bed at our student residence in the middle of the Tuscan hills south of Florence. I was on my way to Genoa.I wanted to jump into the water, breaking through the glass window that gave the view a slightly blurry effect, it being riddled by scratches and whatnot that is characteristic of many “regionali” trains. Or at least, breathe in the smell of salt. It had been a long while since the last time I saw the sea.