The Journey Begins

Me and Sherra at Stazione Termini (Rome's main train station) after nearly 18 hours of travel. Aren't I a sight for sore eyes? Loved my suitcase, but those wheels didn't last 5 minutes on the cobblestone streets.

One year ago today I flew to Rome. I figure it's about time I blog about my absolutely fantabulous-10-day Mediterranean Cruise-plus 6 more days in Italy-sans kiddos-vacation extravaganza.

In order to maximize the time Gavin had off from work (we took nearly all of his vacation days in one full swoop for this trip), I had to take the kids to Utah so he could work a few more days. We booked our flights such that we would meet up at JFK and fly to Rome together. Gavin's dad and stepmom were also joining us, but they were flying from Denver and meeting us in Rome.

Sometimes the best laid plans don't work out exactly as planned. I was flying from Salt Lake to JFK the same time Gavin was supposed to be flying from Seattle to JFK. Well, he slept through his alarm and got to the airport just a smidge late. When he checked in, they didn't bother to tell him his flight had been delayed until he got to the gate. By the time he turned all the way around to go back to ticketing and rebook, he had missed the next best flight. Of course I boarded my flight before finding out his plans, and then I was sitting in JFK while he was still in the air.

It was tricky, but I eventually figured out that he was rerouted through Salt Lake (imagine that?!?) and Paris and would arrive in Rome about 8 hours after us. Wayne and Sherra were supposed to get there only 20 minutes after I did, but their flight was also delayed. After many long hours of flying, I was alone in the Rome airport for 2-3 hours until Wayne and Sherra got there.

We had decided beforehand that if anyone was delayed more than 2 hours, they were on their own. Since I was the only one who spoke the language, I figured I'd wait a little longer and get at least three of us to the hotel. It turned out to be fine since my luggage didn't show up for at least a few hours anyway. (Aaaah, the beauty of international travel . . .)

Most major airports in the United States are pretty comfy when it comes to sitting around and waiting. Not in Rome. I was lucky to find a hard wire bench to sit on. I didn't know it yet (the cruise ship doc would confirm it later), but I had bronchitis with a horrible cough and barely any voice at all. My throat was extremely irritated, and guess what? No water fountains in the Rome airport. No little food court or kiosks either until you leave security. There were vending machines, but I didn't have any euro yet. I finally found an ATM to get cash without paying a crazy surcharge for the exchange rate and bought my first aranciata (Italian orange soda--definitely worth trying, Costco actually sells it).

You know what though? Even with the jet-lag, flight delays, missed communications with my husband, sore throat, etc.--none of this mattered because I was in Italy.

ITALY!! This was the second time I'd been back since my mission. A part of me comes alive when I return to my bella Italia. There is no other way to describe it. I feel whole.

As we were planning and anticipating this trip, Gavin and I often referred to it as the 'vacation of a lifetime.' While that is still true, it only took a few moments back on Italian soil for me to realize that there would be many, many more such vacations in our lifetime.