Funiculì, funiculà!

My obsession with funicular railways probably started with a birthday at the Olive Garden (probably also their TV commercials). And maybe other “Italian” restaurants in my youth as well. Like most Americans, I didn’t really realize this at the time. But that melody you most closely associate with Italy indeed commemorates the opening of the first funicular on Mount Vesuvius. Have a listen; everyone knows this one. Bet’cha didn’t know what it was about, though. As an engineer, the idea of building a safe machine on the side of a steep incline, composed of two balanced, cable-pulled cars of opposing weight really fascinates

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Don’t be a basic beach.

Yesterday, I nicknamed Dreamer “the Gopher” because of the way she was constantly popping up on our train ride to check out the Mediterranean. It was a very scenic train ride back from Barcelona to Castellón, but out of the corner of my eye – as I was trying to get work done on my laptop – this was quite annoying. Dreamer had picked us seats on the dark side of the train… and I do mean “dark.” Some graffito had completely obscured all the windows on our side of the train and the view was all on the other

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Sagunto: O’er the Ramparts We Walked

Each time Doer and I make the one-hour train journey between Burriana and Valencia, we peek out the window at the Sagunto stop midway through our route to catch a glimpse of the breathtaking Roman Iberian castle overlooking the city from a hilltop. A couple of weekends ago, we decided it was time to explore the ancient citadel. After disembarking, it didn’t take us long to decide to take a taxi for the very steep climb up to the castle. It’s very possible that our cab driver spends the better part of his shifts ferrying tourists to and from the castle

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