[The next few posts were written day-by-day and saved on my laptop until I could acquire internet access, so the events actually take place several days earlier than when I post them.]June 8th, Sunday
5:45 pm, Italian time: I’m finally in Arezzo.
As many of you know, I played a show at Musica on Friday night, for which I was preparing all week and not thinking much about packing. So it was a bit of a shock to have to turn around and board an international flight twelve hours later. But, I knew that this would be the case, and I didn’t mind.
So… armed with my violin, my purse, and one suitcase, I set off for Italy.
The flight from Cleveland to D.C., I sat next to a calm 50-something man from Avon with a Southern accent (he was originally from Virginia), who was probably the nicest person I have ever talked to. He told me about his fiancé, his upcoming work in Romania, his old tri-colored collie who he loved, and his four-foot pet iguana named Sharkey. The 45-minute flight flew by much too quickly.
The flight from D.C. to Rome, I sat next to a middle-aged Italian man from Jersey, who got wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed, and who was probably one of the most fun people I have ever talked to. After talking about where we were going (he works in Rome often), and our respective knowledges of Italian (he knows how to say prego and vino), he proceeded to flip on his personal mini TV screen. Since now we clearly needed to watch the same thing, I told him to let me know when he found something good and I'd watch it on mine. His choice: 27 Dresses.
After that we saw Fool’s Gold, and then he started dozing. We both restlessly tried to sleep for most of the flight, but were unsuccessful, so in the “morning” (two hours after taking off at 6:50 pm D.C. time, the sun came up over the Atlantic Ocean), we started talking again, and he told me about his career as coastguard/government security. This included one chilling anecdote about a man on a boat who called in for help, only to lose his wife and one-year-old child in a devastating wreck thirty minutes later. Then we watched Horton Hears a Who. He loved it.
I was really nervous when we got off the plane, so I was happy to have him with me when we went to pick up our luggage. Mine came down the belt first, so he shook my hand and wished me the best as a goodbye. Suddenly, as I walked away, I felt incredibly sad, scared and lonely.
By the time the long train ride came, I was getting tired. As much as I tried, I could not sleep. Every time I dozed off, I’d be woken up by someone else on the train, and my eyes would stray out the window to the Italian landscape. I couldn’t stop gawking at the trees and flowers, so different from what kinds grow in the States. There was a profusion of bright red poppies everywhere, growing wild and scattered around the countryside. The trees looked almost tropical, with tall trunks and palm-like branches (there are even cooler trees here outside the convent). Every few minutes the train passed a huge yellow farming field.
Unfortunately, the other part of the train ride was the complete anxiousness of not having a clue where I was and whether I had accidentally passed up my stop. (I don't think the whole idea of what I was doing quite sunk in until this point, either.) If I hadn't been so worried about this I would have loved to just stare out the train window for a good 2 1/2 hours.
Traveling buddy #3, a young-ish computer engineer, sat next to me on the train from Rome Fiumicino to Florence. Both of us confused and not really knowing what we were doing, we stuck together in the stazione between connecting trains, talking about music, eating gelato, and waiting for our trains to arrive. After about an hour and a half, we were discussing the Van Halen reunion tour when I realized it was time for me to go.
I guess I was lucky to have three really nice, really helpful people on this trip. Although I know it's completely normal for those who travel often, it's still a little strange to me that I’ll never see any of them again. As a matter of fact, I don't even know their names.... but they helped me through what could have been a really miserable day of traveling, and for that I'm grateful.
Ok, first things first – I don’t even know where I’m living yet. I’ll try to get settled in and then write more later....
5:45 pm, Italian time: I’m finally in Arezzo.
As many of you know, I played a show at Musica on Friday night, for which I was preparing all week and not thinking much about packing. So it was a bit of a shock to have to turn around and board an international flight twelve hours later. But, I knew that this would be the case, and I didn’t mind.
So… armed with my violin, my purse, and one suitcase, I set off for Italy.
The flight from Cleveland to D.C., I sat next to a calm 50-something man from Avon with a Southern accent (he was originally from Virginia), who was probably the nicest person I have ever talked to. He told me about his fiancé, his upcoming work in Romania, his old tri-colored collie who he loved, and his four-foot pet iguana named Sharkey. The 45-minute flight flew by much too quickly.
The flight from D.C. to Rome, I sat next to a middle-aged Italian man from Jersey, who got wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed, and who was probably one of the most fun people I have ever talked to. After talking about where we were going (he works in Rome often), and our respective knowledges of Italian (he knows how to say prego and vino), he proceeded to flip on his personal mini TV screen. Since now we clearly needed to watch the same thing, I told him to let me know when he found something good and I'd watch it on mine. His choice: 27 Dresses.
After that we saw Fool’s Gold, and then he started dozing. We both restlessly tried to sleep for most of the flight, but were unsuccessful, so in the “morning” (two hours after taking off at 6:50 pm D.C. time, the sun came up over the Atlantic Ocean), we started talking again, and he told me about his career as coastguard/government security. This included one chilling anecdote about a man on a boat who called in for help, only to lose his wife and one-year-old child in a devastating wreck thirty minutes later. Then we watched Horton Hears a Who. He loved it.
I was really nervous when we got off the plane, so I was happy to have him with me when we went to pick up our luggage. Mine came down the belt first, so he shook my hand and wished me the best as a goodbye. Suddenly, as I walked away, I felt incredibly sad, scared and lonely.
By the time the long train ride came, I was getting tired. As much as I tried, I could not sleep. Every time I dozed off, I’d be woken up by someone else on the train, and my eyes would stray out the window to the Italian landscape. I couldn’t stop gawking at the trees and flowers, so different from what kinds grow in the States. There was a profusion of bright red poppies everywhere, growing wild and scattered around the countryside. The trees looked almost tropical, with tall trunks and palm-like branches (there are even cooler trees here outside the convent). Every few minutes the train passed a huge yellow farming field.
Unfortunately, the other part of the train ride was the complete anxiousness of not having a clue where I was and whether I had accidentally passed up my stop. (I don't think the whole idea of what I was doing quite sunk in until this point, either.) If I hadn't been so worried about this I would have loved to just stare out the train window for a good 2 1/2 hours.
Traveling buddy #3, a young-ish computer engineer, sat next to me on the train from Rome Fiumicino to Florence. Both of us confused and not really knowing what we were doing, we stuck together in the stazione between connecting trains, talking about music, eating gelato, and waiting for our trains to arrive. After about an hour and a half, we were discussing the Van Halen reunion tour when I realized it was time for me to go.
I guess I was lucky to have three really nice, really helpful people on this trip. Although I know it's completely normal for those who travel often, it's still a little strange to me that I’ll never see any of them again. As a matter of fact, I don't even know their names.... but they helped me through what could have been a really miserable day of traveling, and for that I'm grateful.
Ok, first things first – I don’t even know where I’m living yet. I’ll try to get settled in and then write more later....
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