Don't Stand So...

I have arrived in Italy. The small bag of toiletries and exercise clothes I had to check has not, but I have been assured that I will receive it by tomorrow. Just in case, they took down my permanent address. Not a good sign.

The fact that I am barely upset at all (and certainly not surprised) about the absence of my bag perhaps shows that I am already in the Italy state of mind, as the employees at the airport were. I spent about an hour waiting at baggage claim before deciding that my good old Georgetown bookbag of not-completely-necessary-but-nice-to-have things were probably still in the US. I should note that bags were only actually being loaded for about 20 minutes of that hour. With ample time to imagine what was going on behind the scenes, I conjured up a picture of two or three Italian men with no conveyer belt between the airport and the airplane, leisurely carrying two or three bags each to the airport to place on the conveyer belt that we see at baggage claim, and then breaking for cappucino. Rest and repeat.

A man on a flight from Atlanta in a cowboy hat and business suit stood beside me and talked about the Cal women's soccer team, who apparently were on his flight and showed up to the baggage claim in a bright yellow pack. The wait would actually have been quite pleasant had it not been for the old Italian woman who insisted on standing so close to me that I could feel her breath on my shoulder*. I mean, there was an entire airport at her disposal and she would NOT move back. The song "Don't Stand So Close to Me" has been stuck in my head ever since.

I am almost at Termini now, from where I will catch a 2 hour train to Florence and then hop in a cab for a short ride to the Villa. The journey that began at 5pm on May 24th is nearing its end...

(Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me...)

*She was REALLY short.