The day has finally arrived for my return to work in Italy. I will be going to school for five days in Florence first, not only for a language review, which is SORELY needed, but also to learn “Italian for business” - the phrases and discussions I would likely to run into. The language institute I am attending offers classes for people in the hospitality, culinary and design industries. I love a classroom setting and am very excited, even though the idea of six hours a day has me thinking I will will drinking a lot of caffeine. But it is only five days, after all. I think I can hack it.
I have brought along a few mini companions on this trip, for the first couple of months. I put the word out to my friends that if they wanted to send me a small stuffed animal in need of a vacation, I can oblige. Photos will be included when I send them back before Christmas. Wouldn't you want your little stuffed friend to have a guided tour of Italy even if you can't go with them? Here's your friend at the Colesseum, on a gondola, overlooking the ocean in Sorrento.
So I am in possession of a monkey, a koala, a gnome and the cutest little white dog ever. The dog belongs to the 10 year old daughter of a friend from high school. She wrote the sweetest note when she sent her, telling me her name was Snowball. Laura then caught me on an instant message on Facebook and told me her name has changed to Sienna, like her own real dog. I will care for them and keep them from running into too much trouble, and try to keep the clients from thinking they are being led around by a crazy lady. You know, as per usual.
Said goodbye to my darling husband at the airport. This is going to be the longest I've been away from him. I will be gone for almost five months, but he will come over at New Year's, so it will still be just over three months by the time I see him again. It may get rough emotionally. Gosh, you think?
Finally aboard the plane – in a cushy business class seat. I can still manage to dislike the person in front of me though. I have a knack for being seated near people who annoy. Before the plane had taken off she stretched out her chair to the maximum space allowable about seven times. There is definitely more space in business, but she still managed to encroach on what I consider my personal space about six times too many. Especially when you consider that the time before you take off is usually spent putting your things away. She knocked me in the head as I was placing my bag under the seat a few times. Calm down, lady... jeez
It's a little sad to admit, but most of the movies are on airplanes. I just don't go to the movie theaters much, even though we have a really good one in my neighborhood (Yay, Piedmont Theater!) No stupid blow 'em up blockbusters for me and my twelve dollars. So I spend my time hurtling through the air at 40,000 feet watching those movies I don't deem “worthy” of my time on the ground. I am the epitome of a captive audience while on the plane.
The one exception this time around was that they were showing the documentary “Senna” about the race driver Ayrton Senna. It's still out in theaters in the US, but since I was on Virgin Atlantic, the Brits have seen it come and gone from their theaters. If you get the opportunity – GO! I was supposed to see it with my Dad in a few weeks ago and didn't get to go. I am so glad I saw it. I have always been in awe Senna's talents, so to a racing fan the backstory and footage is fantastic. To someone who is not a racing fan, it is definitely interesting. You do not have to be a gearhead or know anything about racing to follow it. It was done very well.
I also watched “Bridesmaids” and “Thor.” Um... yeah. Very glad I didn't spend money on either. Next?
Did something different by ordering a special meal in advance. My rationale was that I would be served first, not have to worry about them not having the selection I wanted with a regular meal – then again, I would be served first anyway because I wasn't in coach. Duh. See where my mind is? I ordered a Hindu menu. It was really good. Chicken curry, lovely basmati rice, potatoes and cauliflower. No naan, darn it. Flavorful!
My friends who ask me about traveling at some point usually get a diatribe about how much I dislike the Paris airport and avoid it like the plague. Charles de Gaulle is the worst hub and I will do about anything to ensure I do not have a connection through there. Guess what? I have a new LEAST favorite airport. Heathrow in London!
It's been a few years since I've been here, and I've never had to use it as a connection; only as my destination. We all spent over an hour and a half getting through passport control. Over 90 minutes IN LINE to have a worker bee stamp my passport. Get some more lines going, people. That was ridiculous. The rest of my dislike is based purely on how tired I was and having to maneuver my bags through the terminals. I'm willing to concede that the situation from the outset was not exactly ideal, so I reserve the right to change my opinion for LHR after some time has passed.
My home office folks made an odd booking for my plane tickets (someone was not on the ball – and we're touring company – yikes!) so to amend it they purchased a separate ticket from London to Rome, thus making me have two separate tickets, separate bookings, separate record locators. What does this mean? It means my luggage was not getting pushed all the way through to Rome. I had to pick up my bags in London, exit the terminal and go through check in again, security again, everything again.
I knew it was going to happen beforehand, but it was still tiring to do it. Heathrow is huge and being muscle sore, punchy from flying, and angry in the head from the passport control stupidity, having to walk half a mile to go get the bags, walking another mile (not kidding – it was 25 minutes on foot!) to the Tube station below ground and get the train to Terminal 4, THEN another half mile inside to the Alitalia desk to check in again and hand over my things.
Which is exactly what I did. I pulled the “I'm a Gold Medallion member I want to check in additional baggage for no cost” card and got rid of everything but my wallet, my phone and some gum. They did it. Virgin had allowed only on bag, weighing 50 lbs maximum. I had a carry-on stuffed to the gills and my large messenger bag with the computer and electronic doo-dads. But thanks to my usual frequent flyer program rigidity, now they were gone. Away! Good thing too – my gate was another 15 minute walk from security. Yup. Batting a thousand here. Where's my pedometer?
Then the dread set in. My flight was delayed until the middle of the night. I found a corner chair and half-slept for five hours. We were supposed to land in Rome at 8PM, but the delay got us there at 3AM. Too early for the express train into the main train station, Alitalia made up for it by busing those of us desiring, on a coach bus instead. We got to the Termini station before 5AM and I lugged my things onto a train for Florence. It was a sleeper train, coming from Calabria (the toe of the Italian boot) and bound eventually for Venice, an “Inter-City Notte” designation. I hadn't been on a night train in my travel experience. I found a cabin with two guys sleeping, woke them up and asked them to move over (the cabins seat six) and we were joined by two others. I didn't feel so bad after that.
Two hours later just before 6:30AM I was handing my luggage down off the train in Florence to a helpful soul I was hoping wouldn't take off with it before I could get onto the platform. Over 27 hours in transit, not much sleep – certainly none that was restful, and I still get to go spend 6 hours in classes and then go put my things away in the apartment I am in for the week.
Give me strength. Give me caffeine.
No comments:
Post a Comment