So I know I said I was going off the grid, but my brain didn't get the memo and has been going non stop over the last 22 hours of traveling. Although I've done a fair amount of international travel- it still catches me off guard at times just how different airports are!
Operation Return Katie started at the Capodichino Airport. (The one you all will fly into when you visit please.) I got there earlier than I needed to, but given the fact that Italy time is slower than America time and a protest outside the base had traffic at a standstill during the week I figured it was best to have the cab pick me up early. Arriving closer to 3 hours early, rather than the standard 2, I found myself at the place to be in Naples on a Saturday morning. People dressed to impress slowly toted suitcases behind them, stopping every few groups of people to chat. I got a few funny looks in my jeans, running, shoes and tank top but since I was leaving the continent I think my outfit was appropriate AND let's face it- I don't have a ton of options!
Operation Return Katie started at the Capodichino Airport. (The one you all will fly into when you visit please.) I got there earlier than I needed to, but given the fact that Italy time is slower than America time and a protest outside the base had traffic at a standstill during the week I figured it was best to have the cab pick me up early. Arriving closer to 3 hours early, rather than the standard 2, I found myself at the place to be in Naples on a Saturday morning. People dressed to impress slowly toted suitcases behind them, stopping every few groups of people to chat. I got a few funny looks in my jeans, running, shoes and tank top but since I was leaving the continent I think my outfit was appropriate AND let's face it- I don't have a ton of options!
As I sat waiting (and then waiting some more since we were delayed) I felt like I was sitting along the runway of a fashion show. Seriously. If I could name it- it would be dubbed "Shoes on Parade." There were sandals of every kind, heels that make it nearly impossible for their wears to walk faster than the pace of a 2 year old, and so many different bags/purses I found myself longing to go purse shopping. By the way- nothing screams American more in my opinion than wearing your backpack through the terminal. Did I do it? You bet I did with my lucky 4 leaf clover pin and Maasai beaded key chain.
Since the flight was delayed I was able to witness the Italian approach to lines first hand. Well, I mean to say "continue my observations on the lack of line etiquette." Eh, who am I kidding? If there aren't ropes for the line it's not a line...it's an amobea shaped glob with various arms feeding into the main mass. It was amazing. What killed me was the fact that we all were ticketed passengers WITH ASSIGNED SEATS! I ended up making friends with Daniel and Lara- headed to New York as well. Their accents gave them away before I even started talking with the older couple who just ended a vacation along the Almafi Coast. Daniel and I were standing next to each other for some time and he was shocked to hear I not only spoke English but that I was from California...and I thought my backpack gave me away.
This brings up a very fun game I like to play when traveling called- I'm not going to talk in length but I want you to guess where I'm from. (Yep Nina, this game did start with our Irish friend in England that summer...gotta love the guy for trying!)
We eventually had our plane roll up to the gate and we walked out (just like Monterey just way more planes!) and loaded on up. I slept the entire 35 minute flight, woke up, and dealt with the next airport (Rome) starting with cramming the entire plane on 2 busses. It cracks me up. There really is a lack of personal space in the Italian culture. Paired with the need to be super close to the exit and what you've got is a blocked entry way onto the subway/bus/tram. The time spent waiting for everyone to clear the doors would be easily saved if everyone would just take 2-3 more steps away from the exit. Yeah, yeah, yeah....I know it's the American
The Rome airport is large and set up like a shopping mall. Not your typical mall, more like an outlet mall where it's like a gallery. The sitting areas near the gates accomodate close to no one and heaven forbid seating areas are not in areas by the gates. (Again, back to the need to be as close as possible to their destination. They can do what they want, but I've got two legs and don't mind using them.) After some window shopping and walking laps to keep the knee from hating me tomorrow it was time to once again collect data on the line amoeba. It was even worse with this line...but whatever. I'm not going to fight it so I may as well go with it and push my way up to the front eventually. Side note- the people work at the Rome airport are beautiful. Well, the guys were- I wasn't really checking out the women.
Once on the plane I was next to two siblings. They were hilarious. I felt bad that I didn't switch seats with one of their friends, but it was on an aisle and I wanted to see outside my window. After that we kept chating- it was fun. They had just spent 10 days in Italy and were fascinated by the fact that I had just moved to Italy. The girl who was about to start her first year of college was thrilled to hear that I'm a CP grad since her boyfriend starts in the fall. Her slightly younger brother kept us both entertained by his food critiques. Which reminds me. Why does lasagna served on an Italian flight take like a potpie and haven peas in it? Yeah, I was confused just like you are now.
The highlight of this segment was on our decent to New York after they cut off our video options and new blurbs in Italian appeared on the main screens. They kept showing them in Italian so we'd guess what they were saying and then test our translation skills when the English version appeared. We failed miserably on the heat advisory warning for certain regions and wanted to read just what Obama did in regards to Sudan. We never figured it out since they didn't want to show us the English version. The guy thought it said he played oboe. Yeah, I think it had to do more with politics but now 24 hours later, I can't even thing what our reasonable answer was. Even winding through the custom lines we tried to read the ticker on CNN to see if it said anything but it didn't. Hey, we'd been stuck on a plane for almost 8 hours...don't judge!
Going through customs at JFK I was immediately transported back to March when I was doing the same thing with all you CI tour folks. While waiting for my suitcase I enjoyed the memories in my head. When I found out that I was headed up to Terminal 2 I smiled...it's where I had already spent several hours of my life this year and found my same spots to sit and wait. (Allegra you were missed...it's no fun waiting by yourself!)
The gate that I needed to be at had about 4 other flights departing at the same time and mine was the last to load. Once on the itty bitty plane, we hung out on the tarmac for a while. Not sure how long since I was passed out as soon as they turned off the lights until they announced we were approaching Norfolk.
My suitcase arrived and I had Ravi's cousin, Cori waiting in the lot so I could once again feel the freedom that a car often brings. GPS locked in, country tunes on the radio, and AC cranked up I finally made it to the hotel where the nicest English speaking man checked me in. Only problem? My body thought it really was 7am. How I'm not sure but as soon as I hoped in bed I passed out...until 7am local time.
It's strange. I feel like I'm home yet I've never been here before. The fact that I'm surrounded by friendly, English speakers just rocks. I'm here for a while so if you still haven't sent me suggestions for spending my off times, let me know soon please. For now I've got more exploring to do! Well, from the pool side.
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