Monday, December 8, 2008

Written November 26, 2008, posted in December due to technical, intellectual and emotional difficulties

Getting Ready
It’s been a whirlwind, all right, kind of like a shotgun wedding. Except that we’re the ones holding the shotgun and we’re the ones at the altar. I know it’s not polite to complain about having to go to Europe—we could be forced to do far worse things, like listen to Rush Limbaugh or go to Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday afternoon—but I feel so unprepared and strangely unable to panic. Since I generally only get things accomplished in Panic Mode, this has led to a certain inactivity that I’m sure will culminate in desperation about December 30, the day before we leave.

For instance, we have said that this time we’re only bringing two carry on pieces of luggage. I think we believe that these pieces of luggage are going to be carried on the gossamer wings of singing angels into our home, because at this point we only own one piece of normal carry on luggage and a ratty, small suitcase that could accommodate a pair of jeans and not much more.

The last time we went to Europe, we brought two carry on pieces (I think the ratty one came, but seemed less ratty at the time—perhaps the rats hadn’t claimed their stake quite yet) and two large checked bags. Of course, we were only in one hotel, but indeed, we had to repack those two large bags in the Sacramento airport, because one weighed more than 50 pounds. It was kind of like giving our suitcases a girdle—we had to redistribute the weight a little more evenly.

Our hotel was on a quaint street in Paris, about a block down cobblestones over which only feet were allowed to trod. So the taxi from the airport left us at the corner, and we begged and cajoled those four suitcases down the cobblestones, thinking we would never find the hotel. The wheels bounced and veered every which way, and so did we, in our jet lagged, confused, excited state.

The hotel itself—a charming piece of Parisian life, situated right beside an odiferous cheese cart that greeted one’s arrival and departure with what smelled like the pleasant scent of tar and cow shit gone bad—-had an elevator that Rick Steves referred to as a “Star Trek Elevator” in his guidebook. Actually, it was a Superman elevator—the size of a phone booth. Even without suitcases, one of us had to turn toward the back of the elevator, and the other horizontal, in order for both of us to ride. Four suitcases and two fat American women weren’t going to make it. So we sent one of us to the fourth floor, where our room was located, and the other loaded a suitcase at a time onto the elevator. We don’t want to repeat that mistake: we’re going to four cities this time, not one, and we don’t want to be that couple you read about in the newspaper. MIDDLE AGED AMERICANS DIE FROM HEART ATTACK INDUCED BY VIGOROUS SUITCASE HANDLING.

Of course, our carry on luggage-less state doesn’t compare to the fact that we do not have a single hotel booked yet. We know which hotels we’d like to sleep at; we just can’t seem to find our way to the internet to book them. I am starting to have a vision of the two of us, gay American girls (in more ways than one), dancing around public fountains, surreptitiously taking a dip in the water (as if the water will be running in the icy winter), tra-la-la-ing our way into restrooms to change our clothes, and sleeping on the benches of obscure Italian parks. We’re a little old and we’ll be a little cold for that kind of fun, but at this point, that appears to be our plan.

The night before last, I had the flu, and without going into the specifics, I had a sudden urge to visit our bathroom. As I wandered, surefooted, through our living room, MK looked up from her computer and said, “I’m starting to get nervous about the train.” We’re supposed to take the train from Rome to Florence, and then from Florence to Venice. All of this is, of course, theoretical, as we haven’t booked a thing. When she said that, I nodded, and then rushed on my way to my favorite room of the house, the bathroom. We’ll talk about it later, I thought. We haven’t. I’m now wondering if walking from Rome to Florence to Venice is our plan.

Oh well. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and I’ve been sick for two days. I have done nothing to prepare for that either. I’m going to the grocery store today, because I’m sure that it will be quite empty. I can’t imagine a quieter place than Safeway on the day before Thanksgiving. I wonder if advance planning isn’t our long suit.

3 comments:

ellid said...

I am related to a friend of yours and heard about your trip. We are living in Florence for the year and have spent quite a bit of time in Venice over the years. It's chilly in Florence now, but not windy and not wet. Actually, it has been a pleasant Fall week. Layers are definitely the way to go. I wear long underwear everyday and am comfy. A few pairs of panties goes a long way if you wash them out at night and dry them on a radiator. And, in the local markets, there are always vendors of underwear, sweaters, scarves, among the billions of tchatchkes for sale. For a few euros you can buy another scarf or a warm hat... or undies!

BTW, if you are looking for "gay friendly" places, we have a favorite little cafe -- nothing fancy -- which is run by two delightful women. It is the Cafe Girasole (Sunflower Cafe) in Venice. The Vaporetto stop is St. Stae. I will look for their address, which I have here somewhere and send it.

Italy is wonderful at this time of the year.... very few tourists and lots of nice Italians. Fireworks in Venice are terrific on New Year's Eve, but Florence has none.

Have a really great time!

Elli

GladysKravitz said...

Thank you so much Ellie! I can't find a way to email you--so I'm thanking you on here. We will try to make it to the Sunflower Cafe in Venice, just on your recommendation.

ellid said...

Dear Gladys,

Say Buon Giorno to Sylvie and Monica at the Cafe Girasole. They don't speak English, of course, so it will be difficult. And, I am sure they could not remember us, unless they saw us... but it's the thought that counts!

Will be following your blog... Buon Viaggio!

Elli