My cab arrives early in Rome and I am off to the airport. I feel wonderful but exhausted. It is 3 am, bad travel planning on my part. When we arrive at the airport people are lined up outside. This seems strange to me but many things about Italy have been strange. It turns out the airport is closed, an international airport! We are all expecting to check into our flight to Amsterdam but instead are left outside without chairs, standing. When at last we are let in we are directed to use the electronic check-in. After this we are able to stand in line to check our bags.
I arrive at the bag counter and ask politely if she will check my bags only to Portland as I am not continuing on to Seattle. She tells me there is no way that this could possibly be done. I ask what my options are. She directs me to stand in front of an unopened office and wait until after 5 am for them to open. I can then pay a fee to change my ticket. If I wait until after 5, I will miss my flight. I walk away in try to put my thoughts together. I have not slept. I am so tired.
At last an idea comes to me. The new bag that I bought in Rome is too big to be a carry-on but my old one that finally arrived is not. I head to the restroom, find a big stall and lock the door. I unpack everything and repack my backpack and original suitcase. I have bought souvenirs and new clothes so this will not be an easy task. I am going to have to leave a few things behind. I ponder what will make the most sense to leave. I finally settle on my book and of course the big suitcase. I also unload all paperwork, bags and wrappings on everything. I roll every piece of clothing and put on my tennis shoes instead of my flip-flops.
I am ready to go. I make sure there is no one in the bathroom with me and ditch my beautiful suitcase in the garbage. (I did want to cry.) That suitcase had served me well and I figure that it was part of the adventure.
I board the plane and we do not even leave the tarmac before I am out. I wake up in Amsterdam. My next connection is tight but I need to pick up a few more souvenirs. I head through the airport at a fast pace, check in at an electronic ticket station, stop and buy my sister and my Mom some cute little wooden shoes and head to the terminal. I am there just in time to board.
I head to my seat and as fortune would have it a nice young gentlemen is sitting next to me. We will be on the plane for more than ten hours together so I decide to strike up a conversation. His name is Robert and he is a police officer from Hungary. He plays drums in the orchestra with his girlfriend as a hobby and travels Europe playing. This is his first day on an airplane. He is flying to Portland because his friend from Australia is marrying an American girl.
We talk for hours and then sleep awhile. He is happy that I am helping him practice his English and I am enjoying telling him about my life and travels. I talk to him about a future trip I am planning with my boys and he suggests we see Eastern Europe. I already planned on seeing Prague and wanted to go elsewhere in Eastern Europe as well and then head to Italy. He makes an itinerary for us which he says is easily traveled by train. It includes a stop in Budapest where he will meet us and show us the countryside. It sounds perfect.
I ask if he needs a ride to his hotel in Portland but he declines. I try to insist but when we are separated at customs I am not able to find him again. We parted with a hug and a promise to keep in touch. On the plane I quickly realized I should have just checked the bag because of course you go through customs at your first stop. Unfortunately in Rome I was too tired to realize this fact.
Back home I was welcomed by my parents and taken to lunch. My thoughts returning constantly to Italy. Even today I long to be back in the Italian countryside. It felt like home to me.
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