Journal 6

March 9, 2010
Journal 5

Journal 4 (.pdf)

Journal 3 – Buon Appetito <http://picasaweb.google.com/Gianna.Tieri/Journal3BuonAppetito?authkey=Gv1sRgCNW9zvu4iLr5pwE&feat=directlink>

Journal 2 (.pdf)

Journal 1
January 31, 2010
Gianna Tieri

Ritorno a Sansepolcro

Timeline:

January 20th – 24th, 2010

Didn’t I swear it would be different this time? I knew how hard it was to pack last time and vowed it would never be this way again. Well, I was right, it’s worse this time. Last time I didn’t know what I was getting into; this time I do. In the corner of my bedroom, my overflowing suitcase clearly cannot accommodate what I hope to take with me, but I will not give up without a fight. Right now everything is just tossed in my old, black suitcase. There has been no actual packing or list-checking yet. Even though I know I should leave behind most of my stuff, the thought of re-purchasing things I already own, at Italian prices, when I can haul fifty pounds of crap with me creates my current quandary.

Monday, January 25th:

Somehow, I’m proud of myself for starting to pack two nights before I leave. I recognize that I have created an unnecessary mess. I have all of my belongings loosely sprawled or in various vacuum sealed packets on the kitchen island. I am going to utilize every ounce of weight I can carry with me, I just need to be strategic. I have walked several miles in a small circle packing and re-packing my items into my two suitcases and backpack. Every permutation of “backpack into suitcase,” “suitcase into suitcase,” “computer bag vs. shoulder bag,” has been attempted. I carefully weigh my bags, and each time I seem to be exactly one pound over the limit. I can’t seem to subdue my stuff. My cats are not helping. My beloved Sven hops into my suitcase and manages to pop two vacuum seals at once. I know the other cats find this very funny because they take turns getting into my suitcase. I know I’m going to have to leave some of this stuff here, but I can’t figure it out tonight.

 

Tuesday, January 26th :

Instead of being reasonable, I get online and find that Macy’s is having a great sale on luggage. I fall madly in love with a light, spacious, purple bag with a brilliant four-wheel design. The four wheels make it possible to push a fifty-pound bag effortlessly through an airport. I know that my new purple bag is destined to solve all my travel dilemmas. Instead of recognizing how much I’ve just spent on my new suitcase, I focus on how much I’ve saved: 50% off and an additional 15%!

Wednesday, January 27th:

1:00 a.m. - Now everything fits in my beautiful new suitcase, but it still weighs too much. Hmmm….

2:00 a.m. - 6:00am - Switch this, put that here, try this thing under that thing, leave this, take that, whoops- almost forgot that, where’s my passport? What is wrong with me?!

6:30a.m. - 8:00 a.m. - Short nap.

8:00 a.m. - 9:00 a.m. - I dress in my bulkiest clothes and begin making laps around the kitchen island again. I mistakenly believe that I will be packed and ready to go within an hour.

9:00 a.m. - The amazing Amanda Bitler, my Immortal Nine sister, arrives to drive me to the airport in Washington, DC. When she walks through the door, I can see that she recognizes that I am very stressed. She helps me decide which five pounds of stuff to leave behind and makes sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Amanda is very soothing. Within two hours we are on our way to DC.

11:00 a.m. -4:14 p.m. - We have an excellent road trip. Amanda keeps me laughing while adding my favorite CDs to my iPod all the way to the airport.

4:15 p.m. - We arrive at Dulles International Airport – exactly two hours prior to departure. My bag is .6 kg. overweight, but is accepted! Amanda sees me off. I’m leaving so much behind. This is really hard.

4:16 p.m. - 6:14 p.m. – I get through security without any problems and proceed to the waiting area for my British Airways flight. The flight crew seems incredibly casual about the boarding process. As I am lining up to get on the flight, I realize that we, the passengers, are not being over-managed and are trusted to find our seats and stow luggage without being patronized, and I take a moment to appreciate it. When I flew to Florida to visit my father last week, I hadn’t realized how much Delta shouted over the loudspeaker.

6:15 p.m.- The flight leaves right on time. On my way to Rome, there will be a layover in London. I am so exhausted, I just want to sleep, but I’m really just sitting with my eyes closed. The GPS system and my iPod keeps me more amused than the movies. The flight was about six and a half hours, and the GPS kept me informed of our progress along the way. We arrived in London on …

Thursday, January 28, 2010

6:00 a.m. (London Time) I can’t be fooled, it’s really 1:00 a.m. No matter what time zone I’m in, I have only slept a handful of hours over the last few days. On our way to the main terminal, I have to go through security again. I’m surprised to find myself in such a long line so early in the morning. I don’t think that comparably cozy Raleigh-Durham International has ever been this busy. To me, Heathrow looks similar to a busy shopping mall right before Christmas. What grabs my attention are the multiple duty-free shops overflowing with perfume and cologne. How much money could all these people be saving? My first stop is the ladies room and I am shocked at how nice it is. It’s almost as big as my first New York City apartment. I park my luggage on one side of the immaculate bathroom stall and hang my coat up on the other side. I just stand there and savor the joy of being free of the stuff that has been weighing me down. Then it’s time to meander aimlessly throughout the airport. I find an ATM and withdraw £20 and spend £15 on snacks and a book. I sit in front of the floor- to-ceiling windows and think I will be able to watch the sun rise, but it didn’t really work out. It’s an overcast day, but it definitely went from dark to light. The hours pass slowly as I wait for my flight to Rome. Continuing with their casual attitude, British Airways does not announce the gate until thirty minutes before we depart. Then, instead of boarding us like ill-behaved children, they suggest that “everyone can now board,” and we all find our seats without over-management.

10:15 a.m. – As soon as I’m seated, I fall asleep. Unfortunately, the plane taking off fifteen minutes later wakes me up. I don’t mind at all because soon I will be in Rome!

2:00 p.m. – (Italian time) Rome. I’m here. I’m really here. The baggage claim coughs up my gorgeous purple bag, which is now ready to really earn its keep. I transfer all of the heavy stuff out of my backpack and shove it in the purple bag. It’s so easy to move! I am just like the woman in the advertisement pushing my luggage through the airport. Whoops -not as smooth on Italian cobblestone. Why is there cobblestone at the airport? Oh, it’s raining and cold, but I don’t care at all. I wait outside in the cold for over an hour to catch the shuttle to my hotel. The second-hand smoke cloud surrounding the airport triggers the Italian language center of my brain and I find that it is easier to recall some vocabulary I thought I had forgotten. As I’m waiting for the Sheraton shuttle bus to arrive, layers of stress are evaporating, and I am simply happy to be on the ground with all of my belongings. My shuttle bus arrives right on schedule and when the driver announces, in Italian, that the weather is “brutto,” I just smile. I’m back.

4:15 p.m. - I arrive at the Sheraton Roma for my scheduled two day jet-lag buffer before continuing to Sansepolcro. My hotel room is beautiful and it even has a deep tub. It has taken almost 24-hours to get to this point. I force myself to stay awake until 9:00 p.m., next thing I know…

Friday, January 29th:

2:28 p.m. - The clock on the TV says, “14.28.” It must be wrong; it can’t be 2:28. Huh? Wow. It is. Even though every clock I look at is different, 8:28, 2:28, or 14:28, the message is the same; I just slept for 17 hours straight. Outside it’s still raining and cold, but who cares? I order a margherita pizza from room-service to give me strength for my Internet search to figure out how I’m going to get to Sansepolcro tomorrow.

6:30 p.m.- 8:30 p.m. - Oh, Italy and your non-user-friendly travel web sites. There are many different ways I can get to Sansepolcro, and they all include several transfers between buses and trains. I create my first draft of travel:

As my frustration level increases, I remember that Sulga (bus company) has a bus from Rome to Sansepolcro. Incredibly, they have a bus straight from the airport to Sansepolcro on Saturday! It’s still a long trip, but by comparison, this is cheaper, faster, and easier. Thanks, Sulga!

9:30 p.m. - Back to bed

Saturday, January 30th

11:00 a.m. – I overslept, but this is not a problem. I am still convinced there must be a better way to utilize my luggage and I resume the pointless activity of rearranging my stuff until it is time for me to leave.

1:00 p.m. – The clerk at the front desk has family in Sansepolcro! I tell him I’m going to take the Sulga bus to get there. In a kind gesture, he writes me a “cheat sheet,” so if I have to tell anyone where I’m going I can just hold up the sign that says, “Sulga – Autobus per Sansepolcro.”

1:30 p.m. - The shuttle bus takes me to the airport. The driver even knows where the Sulga bus departs from.

2:00 p.m. - I wait, nervously, very nervously. Even though I checked the web site repeatedly, verified with the clerk at the front desk and the shuttle-bus driver knew about the Sugla bus, I realized that if I manage to miss the bus, I did not prepare a solid alternate plan. The bus is scheduled for 2:30, so it should be here around 2:15, right?

2:30 p.m. - Uh-oh.

2:36 p.m. - It felt much longer than six minutes when the bus pulled up. Much to my relief when I asked the bus driver if this was the bus to Sansepolcro, he nodded his head and pointed to the luggage bay. I took a seat in the third row by myself, and started listening to a book on my iPod. The bus has a “conductor,” with a little computer to print tickets and give change. The last bit of my anxiety vanishes when I purchase my ticket to Sansepolcro. About thirty minutes later, we pulled over in a rest area, and the conductor got off our bus and onto another Sulga bus waiting for him. I’m fascinated by the intricate coordination of this system.

~ 3:30 p.m. - We arrive at Rome Tiburtina bus station. Most of the people on the bus get off and move to other buses, but several stay.

~ 3:45 p.m. - The bus starts traveling again on this cold and rainy day. I am abnormally relaxed. I think after sleeping for two days and knowing exactly where I’m going have contributed to my sense of calm.

~ 5:00 p.m. - We pull into another rest area and pick up the same conductor as before. When he comes to my seat, I show him the ticket he sold me, and he shakes his head. What? I discover I am on an express bus to Perugia and I should have transferred at Tiburtina. Normally, I would have freaked out, but I find myself saying, “va bene” (it’s fine), and meaning it! I know Perugia; it is close to Sansepolcro, and I know there is a train to Sansepolcro that runs in the evenings. If I can’t get a train, I’m sure I can find a nice hotel room and get to the palazzo on Sunday morning. The conductor tells me that two stops after Perugia, I can transfer to a different bus that will get me to Sansepolcro. I smile and thank him very much. I find that I’m not worried. I’m not! Who am I? I watch the conductor tell the driver something very quickly in Italian that includes the words “Perugia,” and “Sansepolcro,” and I guess he is just explaining that I am on the wrong bus. I put my iPod back on and resume watching the dark, wet, Italian countryside. There is certainly nothing I can do until we get to Perugia. What I have learned is that I will always ask if I need to transfer in the future, but I can’t help but think that someone, like the bus driver or the conductor, should have mentioned it.

~6:00 p.m. - We pull into a rest area behind another Sulga bus. The conductor stands up and points to me and says, “You! The bus for Sansepolcro is waiting for you. Come!” I jump straight up and can’t believe this is happening. I grab all my stuff and run off the bus into the rain. I lunge for my luggage below the bus while shouting, “Grazie! Grazie! Scusi, I didn’t know! Thank you!” I hurl my bags into the bay of the next bus and get on as fast as I can. I can’t believe they have coordinated this transfer for me! I am so incredibly lucky! Grazie mille, Sulga!

7:10 p.m. - I am back in Sansepolcro! I create a cacophony by dragging my luggage wheels over the ancient cobblestones all the way to the back door of Palazzo Alberti. This is the place where I have learned more about life, history, myself, language, friendship, and beauty than I ever have. Getting here is only the beginning. Now the adventure begins…..