Big, mutha lemons that is….
Oh Italy, where can I begin? Alluraa… It was such a mixture of emotions. Wows and "you’ve got to be kidding me’s", buzzes and soberiety, heat and chills, health and sickness all with not one stitch of my knitting done.
It all started with the two our delay on the tarmac at JFK airport. Something BA called, "evening out the gas tanks". This delay caused a domino effect that wouldn’t end for the next two weeks… Our connecting flight out of Heathrow did not think it best to wait for the 53 passengers that were on our flight. Instead, re-booking 53 (46 teenagers mind you) on 3 different flights seemed to work best for them. I happened to be on a flight that didn’t leave Heathrow until 10 hours later…
Once in Rome, 29 of the 53 people in my group did not receive their luggage. One of which was me. If you’ve ever lived in Italy or are familiar with Italian customer service then perhaps knowing that I didn’t get my luggage until a week later wouldn’t be a surprise to you. All others, yes the shock hit me hard too. Though, if you were to talk to my parents and boyfriend and friends you would know that I had the best possible attitude ever. I mean how could I be any less in front of 17 year old girls who were also waiting for their luggage and they were the ones who paid for the trip. I was just the hired chaperone. I needed to be the positive reinforcer! I washed clothes in the sinks of my hotel bathrooms and dried them with their handy automatic hair dryer.
I must not say though that the entire trip was spoiled due to this because it truly wasn’t… Italy is stunningly gorgeous and no words can truly express how I was moved by the sights we saw… I cannot wait to return there and I solidifed that with the coin over my left shoulder at the Trevi Fountian. But for now, the photos – just a few of the hundreds I took.
At the Four Corners in Old Palermo, Sicily
Me and the ladybugs on Mt. Etna, Sicily
No lost piece of Luggage was gonna bring me down! A little bit of that lemoncello does help though as does the many glasses of local vino I drank.
It just feels so good to be home – to blow the dust and dirt off my knitting needles and to do my own thing.
Ciao Italia. Can’t wait until next time.