We woke up this morning and rushed out of our Roman flat, dragging suitcases, backpacks and other large, cumbersome objects. Sal complains about using public transportation when she comes home from school for a long stay. I used to accuse her of over reacting, but I totally get it now.
By the time we made our train, I was spent, exhausted, hungry and afraid that John, who had raced off to find coffee, may not return in time for lift off...or worse, he may not return with COFFEE.
For the past three nights, I have had horrible insomnia. I attributed it to jet lag, but Sal astutely pointed out that having three espresso in an afternoon is more influential than three cups of good old American coffee. Jake equates Italian coffee to cocaine humorously, but I think there is some truth to the analogy.
Anyway. Traveling is the hardest art of travel. Once we arrived and settled into our new Florentine flat, the grumpy moods evaporated into the energized Florence air, and we were off again.
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