Airplanes are a terrible way to travel. Eight hours of being squished between two people. Squirming for just a glimmer of comfort. Years ago I experienced what the captain called "moderate turbulence" and I had an epiphany that it was not logical to travel thousands of feet in the air in pretty much the equivalent of a tin can; After that episode, I didn't fly for years. But I realized recently that life is too short to be afraid of flying (even if flying might make it shorter). Add the creepy chicken and rice airplane food and...
But enough of that rant. We revived and, while Jake and Sally, slept through their jet lag, John and I rallied. We strolled out into the Piazza and found a friendly little restaurant called, Trattoria al Vaticano. It was one of the few restaurants ready to serve a couple of Americans dinner at 7 PM.
It was so cool. The owner didn't speak any English and the only Italian words I knew were Grazie, Ciao and arrevidierci. We ordered two great pastas and he brought us this amazing EGGLESS omelet for an appetizer. I had buccatini ala amaticiana and John had "little pens on fire". As you can see from the photo. I enjoyed it.
I think of my life at home and this one and I'm so grateful to have this adventure.
And now for a restful sleep enhanced by Italian wine and horrible airplane jet lag.
Ciao Friends and Family.
The final days leading up to the big trip have been so weird. I've got plenty of time, but I'm constantly feeling like I have an overwhelming amount of stuff to do. I think it has a lot to do with the feeling that I can actually control the events ahead. Or more accurately, it's the feeling that I can control the things behind. I'm not used to leaving my home or my cat or my mother or my family or my life in the hands of others. I've been told by those wiser than me that the ability to control is actually an illusion, rather than something we can actually do. I'm getting a glimpse of the illusion these days.