Italy and Solo Mio

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I waited my entire life, but most especially the last few years, to come to Italy. Injuries and other uses for money, such as replacing a totaled car and recovering from a job at a company that went under in six months, kept me stateside.

Finally, I am here. Surrounded by church bells, wandering (lost) over ancient bridges and through large piazzas. My friends at home request pics, but so far, I have had to navigate issues rather than take photos.

My luggage was lost somewhere between Atlanta and Amsterdam. I kept my landlady waiting as I filled out lost luggage forms, and then lost myself trying to find the tourist apartment. 24 hours later it still hasn’t arrived. Wisely (she says in hindsight) I wore a hand washable little black dress on the flight.Which didn’t dry, so I am writing wearing damp clothing. A dress that is slowly drying on my body as I wait for my phone to charge. Because of course, I didn’t bring an adapter, and had to, wearing my wet dress, without underwear since it was too wet, go buy one.

First world problems. These are the reasons some people who know me didn’t want me to travel alone. Although, my sister tells everyone who asks if she is worried about me that, “Carol will make friends and be invited to dinner on the first day.”

So, that hasn’t happened yet, but there’s time. What did happen is that I got lost coming back to my quaint one-room apartment after dinner, and I asked a nice young Senegalese man for directions. Since I don’t speak Senegalese, nor he much English, and both of us very little Italian, It was a lost cause. Although he did try leading me the wrong way, he carrying his folded cardboard of things to sell. Or possibly to sleep under later. When I said no to following, he darted over to a restaurant, presumably to ask where my street was. I spotted my street name as he went, and took off. I hope that wasn’t rude.

Addendum: my young Senegalese friend found me again and told me he loved me. I told him Grazie, but no, darted into a cafe, ordered a bottle of wine and told the waiter he was rescuing me. He gave me a discount on the wine and a free coffee. Ah, Italian chivalry.

Psychotherapist, Hypnotherapist. Leans Left. Mindfulness practioner before it was cool. M.Ed., LPC. Carolsantafe93@gmail.com.

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