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Anonymous
I stepped through the doorway at Malpensa airport, instantly immersed in the chaos of passing faces, without a clue where to go next. My final destination was Columbia, Missouri, but how to get there from here seemed a hopeless task. I stood motionless for a moment and studied my surroundings. People of all sizes, shapes, and colors were walking, running, and staring in every direction. Many strolled along confidently as though they knew their way, others sat impatiently waiting for their flight to board. I hurried left and then right and then left again in search of the TWA counter, but it wasn't to be found. I paced frantically through the corridors, bobbing and weaving between other tourists. With each step the time drew nearer for my flight. I looked for a friendly American to ask for assistance, yet I only found a crowd of faceless strangers each too busy with their own agenda to notice me. It seemed I was the only one wearing the face of a desperate soul trying to find his way home.
I wandered in circles searching for something or someone that could lend some assistance, when I had an idea. Why not ask someone working at the airport for help? Sure it sounds like a no-brainer now, but an exhausted non-Italian speaking English trying to function on three hours of sleep on the last day of a nineteen day whirlwind tour of Italy, doesn't always think too clearly. Also, in my defense, I am a man, and as a rule we men refuse to ask for help when we most desperately need it. Nonetheless, with a plan in mind, I approached the nearest counter and pleaded to be pointed in the right direction. The lovely Italian woman behind the counter graciously sent me on my way to the TWA counter conveniently hidden in the back corner of the airport.
With the hustle and bustle of Malpensa behind me I rested uncomfortably in seat 112 on the flight from Milan to New York and thumbed through my trip journal. What began as a nice way to keep track of the highlights of my trip became a detailed forty page travel log expounding on my Italian experiences. High above the Atlantic, I reflected back on my past weeks travels.
Tuscany was my first taste of Italy. Upon arriving in Milan on June 20th my travel companion and I drove south to the picturesque land of rolling hills, vineyards, and olive groves. Tuscany is a wonderful area for relaxation or exploration. The opportunity is there to rest on the sun drenched terrace of your hilltop villa and sip Chianti Classico or venture out to the nearby hill towns, San Gimingnano, Monteriggioni, or Pienza. It is this diversity that has made it such a popular destination for curious travelers. While staying in our villa, just a five minute walk from the tiny town of Viaghali, we managed to befriend a couple of Italians who worked at an establishment we frequented called the Enoteca. This was a small bar/restaurant. Nando and Christian, who spoke very good English, were just as curious about the United States as we were about Italy. I consider our conversations with these two colorful characters a highlight of my trip. I will always remember that Christian was particularly amused when a bird passing overhead deposited a little something from its colon into my companion's water. What are the odds?
Tuesday, June 23rd, we took the car ferry to Elba. I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the Mediterranean. The rich blue water was like nothing I had seen. Once we reached our hotel I had the opportunity to swim in these legendary waters and I savored every minute. While at the beach I noticed a topless sunbather. Now understanding that we don't get a lot of these in the lakes of Missouri, I must admit that I gave her a second look. And if the truth must be known, I probably gave her a discreet third, fourth, and fifth glance as well. Naturally, I was quite fond of Elba.
Venice, June 29th, is an evening I won't soon forget. To begin, the company was fantastic. We were fortunate enough to have the managers of our hotel take us out to dinner at one of their favorite restaurants. The hotel managers, two sisters, spoke wonderful English. In fact, these natives of Venice, actually lived in Texas while enrolled in a foreign exchange program. The unforgettable portion of the evening was my meal. I ordered the seafood platter, but believe me this is nothing like what you get at Red Lobster. I was served pasta with blowfish cheeks, octopus, sea snails, squid eggs, shrimp, cod crostini, manta shrimp, and sardines. Being from Columbia, Missouri, which is at least a ten hour drive from fresh seafood, I was unclear on where to start with this unusual meal. With pointers from our hosts I meticulously sliced and diced the sea creatures before me. Every bite was an experiment in taste, texture and terror. However, at meals end my plate was clear and yes, like a true Venetian I ate the head of the octopus.
The beauty of Rome is that it is so large and full of interesting sights that you will find things completely by accident. A good example of this is the afternoon of July 3rd. I spent this afternoon wandering the city without any real destination in mind. Without a map, I strolled through the city at my own pace and took in the sights and sounds of a foreign land. My first stop was the coliseum. I had seen this the day before so I had a good idea how to get there. The coliseum is remarkable architecture and history. If you let your imagination run wild, you can vividly picture the savage events that took place so many yesterdays ago. Careful to dodge speeding Fiats and Vespas, I continued my leisurely journey through piazzas and alleyways. At one point, I stopped to get gelato, rounded the corner and there it was before me, the Pantheon. I took the time to admire this majestic structure with my jaw dropped in awe I'm sure. A few minutes later I found myself trying to envision Audrey Hepburn, from Roman Holiday, standing beside me as I tossed my coins over my shoulder into the Trevi Fountain. It didn't work. The Italian man next to me was very large and quite hairy. A good portion of the rest of my afternoon was spent people watching on the Spanish Steps. People from every culture collide here in Rome and this is a great perch from which to witness it. It is true that Rome can be a loud, fast-paced, harrowing city, but where else can you leave your hotel and simply happen upon some of the most important historical hot spots in the world.
Italy is truly a wonderful place I thought as I closed my journal and shifted into another uncomfortable position in my seat, but it will be good to get back to my wife, family, and friends and to a place where I know the stores won't be closed at three, where I can get all the ice I want, and where I'm not expected to drink water with gas. I will return to Italy to see the sights and enjoy the simple pleasures in life again, but as I sit on the plane with my back stiffening and feet swelling there is only one place I want to be. If I had ruby slippers I would click them three times and say "There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home."
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