Italy trip. Part ONE
I bought a writing tablet at Seattle's airport and that is the only place I used it. In fact I just realized that I may have lost it, because I can't recall seeing it ever again. Some poor soul who may have found it is probably in a coma from boredom. Nervous, pre-flight ramblings are never worth the paper used and may even shorten the readers' life by hours when it comes down to it.
All through my trip, I would randomly ("random" my 'Word of the Trip', by the way) consider how "this present moment" would end up in my blog, or at least on paper. I would think of clever lines, full of description or humor and then, seconds later everything I just contemplated had fallen out, leaving only a ghost of memory that something was lost. I eventually made an effort to not do this, since I figured I was losing all my best material. But now, in hindsight, there are few small, reflective moments to speak of when it comes down to the black and white of writing. I am left with two weeks worth of small pulses and large jumps, stops and slowing down, of here and there. I decided a few days before leaving Firenze that:
I am only a bit player in the story of my life.
It is hard to explain, but things that happen, mostly the things that seem like a gift I am not worthy of overwhelm me at times and I feel the need to hide behind the persona of the person who is on the receiving end of these wonderful experiences. I know. This is not sounding like a typical travelogue and more like scraping the plaque of my brain cells in public. Yikes. I suppose Here, is where I should apologize to my readers who have stuck around this long.
So, I guess the only way to do this is to start at the start. If I try to do a highlights/mundane ('mundane' in Europe is still roller coaster exciting from my perspective) format, I will get hopelessly lost, which was a constant state of being in Roma. See! In a flash I could easily begin to tell you about getting and staying lost in Rome. But I won't, it is not the beginning…
I left Juneau early morning Tuesday, March 21. Sitting on the plane at the gate, in my comfy First Class seat (please note: I flew on a Free mileage ticket that bumped me up to flying in luxury on both Alaska Air and British Air. I considered (and still do) I will never be able to fly in such comfort ever again. So in my 'coach class' brain, this was a Big deal :o) so, we are sitting at the gate ready to take off a few minutes early according to the pilot's voice when the next message we get is saying, "Sorry folks, but some fog has rolled in and we don't have our needed quarter mile visibility. We will have to sit and wait." I got to sit and fret for nearly an hour before the fog cleared up enough for us to take off. I'm quite sure, I single handedly Wished the fog off the runway.
Fast forward to Seattle's airport, British Air's terminal is at a satellite wing that requires taking an underground tram. Even though I had over a six hour layover, I decided to hang out at the wing instead of staying in the main terminal with main things to occupy one's mind and wallet. In other words, the satellite is a very boring place. No one showed up at British Air's desk for the first couple of hours (that is three days in airport time) and I was a little concerned about not having a boarding pass yet. I was assured that going directly to the satellite was no problem, but in the past, I had always gone out of security and picked up my BP at the main terminal. "Fretting" is one of my main hobbies when traveling; especially at airports. So, finally a body shows up at the desk. Then, the miracle happened. I was given a boarding pass (NOT the miracle) and then informed I should go up the (grand) staircase to my right, and wait in the World Traveler Boardroom. I was also told, "They will come up and let you know when your flight is ready for boarding." It had started, the part about me being in a place where I don't belong. I said thanks and wandered off pulling my suitcase and suitcase sized "purse" and went to the loo to consider actually entering this rarified space. With still three or so hours to wait, and feeling this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I decided to take those stairs…
There was a high countered desk, with a man sitting (yes, sitting, not standing) behind it. He needed to see my ticket to be sure that I was 'qualified' to enter this space, this space of which I could already hear the FOUNTAIN beyond the large double-doorway. Yes folks (those of you who know not of this stuff) upstairs in a normal looking airport wing was a paradise of a waiting room. It was shaped like a large semi-circle with towering windows shaded in a woven type material that let just enough light in (not too much, not too little). There were tables set up that had umbrellas, like the kind you have outdoors. There are teak lounge chairs place randomly here and there, couches, love seats, benches (all with their own little tables and such). There was a snack bar area with glasses, coffee cups and huge coffee/espresso machine, water-con and sans gasse, fresh juices, a basket full of granola bars and other snacky foods. I tried taking all this in, included the lovely fountain without too much of a look of utter amazement. I'm pretty sure I failed. I quickly claim the uber-moderne couch in the far right corner with the undulating back and its own green glass table, next to the settled in couple in a pair of teak loungers. They were my mentors and never, ever knew it. I sat back and had to observe what was going on. Did you need to pay for the water/snacks? Help yourself? Wasn't all this Too Good to be True!!?! Well, yes. And it was all free. I sipped on sparkling water with fresh lime most that afternoon. I watched people coming in envying their casual knowledge of this special chunk of paradise in the middle of a hectic downstairs airport. They (most everyone) ordered drinks of all types: wine/mixed liquor from the black and white uniformed folks who hovered around. All free. After awhile, they brought out huge trays of small sandwiches that drew small flocks of folks to the snack counter. I sat back and watched and was astounded (hopefully this not registering too loudly on my face) and wrote in green ink in my just bought tablet about how I would like to get to know the act of being "pretentious" a lot more intimately. All the while with my legs propped up on the clean, beautiful couch and a glass of lime tinted sparkling at my side.
All through my trip, I would randomly ("random" my 'Word of the Trip', by the way) consider how "this present moment" would end up in my blog, or at least on paper. I would think of clever lines, full of description or humor and then, seconds later everything I just contemplated had fallen out, leaving only a ghost of memory that something was lost. I eventually made an effort to not do this, since I figured I was losing all my best material. But now, in hindsight, there are few small, reflective moments to speak of when it comes down to the black and white of writing. I am left with two weeks worth of small pulses and large jumps, stops and slowing down, of here and there. I decided a few days before leaving Firenze that:
I am only a bit player in the story of my life.
It is hard to explain, but things that happen, mostly the things that seem like a gift I am not worthy of overwhelm me at times and I feel the need to hide behind the persona of the person who is on the receiving end of these wonderful experiences. I know. This is not sounding like a typical travelogue and more like scraping the plaque of my brain cells in public. Yikes. I suppose Here, is where I should apologize to my readers who have stuck around this long.
So, I guess the only way to do this is to start at the start. If I try to do a highlights/mundane ('mundane' in Europe is still roller coaster exciting from my perspective) format, I will get hopelessly lost, which was a constant state of being in Roma. See! In a flash I could easily begin to tell you about getting and staying lost in Rome. But I won't, it is not the beginning…
I left Juneau early morning Tuesday, March 21. Sitting on the plane at the gate, in my comfy First Class seat (please note: I flew on a Free mileage ticket that bumped me up to flying in luxury on both Alaska Air and British Air. I considered (and still do) I will never be able to fly in such comfort ever again. So in my 'coach class' brain, this was a Big deal :o) so, we are sitting at the gate ready to take off a few minutes early according to the pilot's voice when the next message we get is saying, "Sorry folks, but some fog has rolled in and we don't have our needed quarter mile visibility. We will have to sit and wait." I got to sit and fret for nearly an hour before the fog cleared up enough for us to take off. I'm quite sure, I single handedly Wished the fog off the runway.
Fast forward to Seattle's airport, British Air's terminal is at a satellite wing that requires taking an underground tram. Even though I had over a six hour layover, I decided to hang out at the wing instead of staying in the main terminal with main things to occupy one's mind and wallet. In other words, the satellite is a very boring place. No one showed up at British Air's desk for the first couple of hours (that is three days in airport time) and I was a little concerned about not having a boarding pass yet. I was assured that going directly to the satellite was no problem, but in the past, I had always gone out of security and picked up my BP at the main terminal. "Fretting" is one of my main hobbies when traveling; especially at airports. So, finally a body shows up at the desk. Then, the miracle happened. I was given a boarding pass (NOT the miracle) and then informed I should go up the (grand) staircase to my right, and wait in the World Traveler Boardroom. I was also told, "They will come up and let you know when your flight is ready for boarding." It had started, the part about me being in a place where I don't belong. I said thanks and wandered off pulling my suitcase and suitcase sized "purse" and went to the loo to consider actually entering this rarified space. With still three or so hours to wait, and feeling this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, I decided to take those stairs…
There was a high countered desk, with a man sitting (yes, sitting, not standing) behind it. He needed to see my ticket to be sure that I was 'qualified' to enter this space, this space of which I could already hear the FOUNTAIN beyond the large double-doorway. Yes folks (those of you who know not of this stuff) upstairs in a normal looking airport wing was a paradise of a waiting room. It was shaped like a large semi-circle with towering windows shaded in a woven type material that let just enough light in (not too much, not too little). There were tables set up that had umbrellas, like the kind you have outdoors. There are teak lounge chairs place randomly here and there, couches, love seats, benches (all with their own little tables and such). There was a snack bar area with glasses, coffee cups and huge coffee/espresso machine, water-con and sans gasse, fresh juices, a basket full of granola bars and other snacky foods. I tried taking all this in, included the lovely fountain without too much of a look of utter amazement. I'm pretty sure I failed. I quickly claim the uber-moderne couch in the far right corner with the undulating back and its own green glass table, next to the settled in couple in a pair of teak loungers. They were my mentors and never, ever knew it. I sat back and had to observe what was going on. Did you need to pay for the water/snacks? Help yourself? Wasn't all this Too Good to be True!!?! Well, yes. And it was all free. I sipped on sparkling water with fresh lime most that afternoon. I watched people coming in envying their casual knowledge of this special chunk of paradise in the middle of a hectic downstairs airport. They (most everyone) ordered drinks of all types: wine/mixed liquor from the black and white uniformed folks who hovered around. All free. After awhile, they brought out huge trays of small sandwiches that drew small flocks of folks to the snack counter. I sat back and watched and was astounded (hopefully this not registering too loudly on my face) and wrote in green ink in my just bought tablet about how I would like to get to know the act of being "pretentious" a lot more intimately. All the while with my legs propped up on the clean, beautiful couch and a glass of lime tinted sparkling at my side.
posted by Laurie at
6:25 AM
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