The third class train rounding the mountain above Python Valley.
The sun was just coming up that February morning. The fog, though not thick, laid like a blanket between the buildings and the tree tops. I could taste the smell of wood smoke in the still, damp air. Wes and I boarded the post bus and watched a waking Asmara pass by as we road through town to the east end of Haile Selassie I Avenue. We got off the bus and walked the last two blocks to the train station.
We paid for our ticket to Massawa and headed for the platform. A steam engine stood puffing quietly on the second of three tracks. Just before the platform the "train" we were taking to Massawa stood on the first track. The single-car train with streamlined silver sides and large flat windows looked more like a trolley car than a train. It was a Fiat Littorina, our transportation. ...
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