The flight home:
I've had a few people tell me that I need to write about my trip home just for completions sake. Since it was almost two months ago (two months, oh golly!) I'll write what I remember now. I have a scroll somewhere with that eventful day which may be posted at a later date.My friend Jill, whom I flew over and roomed with, changed her flight to come home with me since our program ended a few days earlier than originally planned. We left our room at the convent at 9 to find the guy in charge of the keys so Jill could turn hers in. Turns out he didn't show (or was just running on Italian time), so after 20 minutes of waiting, Jill went back to the room and gave her keys to to someone else in the apartment. On a side note: I was really touched at everyone who woke up (most were out until 5) to say goodbye to us. Anyway, we trudge through the cobblestone streets one last time to get to the tram. Now, the tram is usually very functional, the drivers are great, it's smooth sailing. But on this tram, the driver stunk (it was an unusually rough ride), there was an accident or something (causing a delay), and for some reason the tram had to back up. Ever back up in a tram? It's one of those things in life that seem like it should never need to happen.
We make it to the train station, and Jill went to use the automated ticket machine as I waited in line for a real person. For some reason, the machine didn't work, so Jill waited in line with me anyway. We get the tickets, search long and wide for an elevator (down, over, up, over), made it to our platform, and finally got on the train to go to the airport.
Once we arrive at the airport, we just have to make it to our terminal. At this point we only have an hour before our flight leaves, so we have to move. And fast. All the terminals in Leonardo da Vinci airport are connected to the train station, except for Terminal 5- the one we had to go to. It was a quarter of a mile away, only accessible by car. We ended up waiting with other American college students who were on the same flight as us, which really helped calm me down. (I am quite the anxious traveler; I'd rather wait 90 minutes at the gate and know I'm getting on that plane instead of cutting it close. I feel like this is not unreasonable though.) We finally arrived at our terminal to check in, everyone in a rush, and the desk we go to look a lot like the one in Haiti. For some reason we had to check- in twice, once at the Haitian desk and once at the real desk. I don't understand the purpose of the first desk- they just checked our passports and asked us about our luggage (I don't see why, it's not like they could do anything about it anyway).
So off we go to the real desk. 45 minutes until take off. We had to use another machine before turning over our luggage. Everything worked for me (by the grace of God), but Jill's card wouldn't work, my card wouldn't work for Jill, and she didn't have enough Euros for everything (she had enough in American dollars and Euros). I turned in my luggage, the lady had to swipe me card again and it didn't work, but she let me go anyway. Jill told me to go ahead, and "whatever you do, do not let that plane leave without me". Got it. Went through security, and had to wait for another tram to take us to the main part of the airport to catch our plane. I swear, if this country could just organize themselves A LITTLE BIT, they might actually win a war or become successful at anything but eating.
I got to the gate 10 minutes before our scheduled departure, but luckily and in true Italian form, they didn't start boarding yet. I wasn't about to board the plane until Jill was with me, so I waited. And waited. They were boarding the last two zones, aka the last of the people, and I saw Jill running towards me. I cannot tell you how elated I was that a) she made it! and b) I wouldn't have to try and hold up a plane.
On a positive note, the flight over was great. The caption was very kind and realistic, and he was very good at taking off and landing (which we experienced a lot, more on that later). Flying over Europe was amazing. I loved looking down and seeing the Alps right below me, the powdered sugar snow topping the daunting structures. I loved flying over the top of the world and looking down at the thousands of ice bergs, little ice cubes in a big glass of water. I loved flying over Nova Scotia and northeast America, and then looking at a map and realizing that I saw the same exact thing from a bird's eye view. The world is beautiful, just like it's Creator.
We arrive close to Philadelphia and start circling. Circling in a plane is never a good sign when I'm on it- we always end up circling for two hours or having to go somewhere else. I believe our captain said something to the effect of, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are circling here with only about 30 minutes of fuel left, so if they don't let us land soon, we will need to go somewhere else or we will be in big trouble." Off to Atlantic City we go!
The captain estimated a 30 minute refuel. 30 minutes pass, 1 hour, 2 hours, 2.5 hours later we get our fuel. Meanwhile, we got to witness a wicked thunderstorm, complete with hail. That was actually pretty cool. 3 hours after landing, we are off to Philadelphia once again!
Now, a 3 hour delay can really mess up someone's schedule, especially if they have connecting flights. Turns out everyone did, and Philadelphia was re-organizing everything. As I said before, I'm an anxious traveler, so when I got off the plane with 45 minutes before my next flight, I was pretty much in the brink of a breakdown. Jill missed her flight, so she was rerouted to Williamsport. I had two options, and I had to make a decision pretty quick: reroute my flight to Williamsport, or try and make the State College flight. Security was a breeze, and as Jill and I were waiting to re-claim our luggage, I called my mom. And the second I heard her voice, I was way past the brink and in breakdown stage. I wanted to be home. With her, with Steven, with my family, and I just wanted everything to go right. Being the phenomenal mother she is, she calmed me down and told me my flight was delayed half an hour. Relief washed over me, I collected the pieces from my breakdown, and kind of just got angry.
Since the Philadelphia airport is the Italian airport of America, after we got our luggage we had no idea where to go since there were no signs anywhere pointing us in the right direction. Luckily, no one was in the airport it seems except for us, when the employees saw two girls running around looking very lost, they directed us where to go. We rechecked our bags, and Jill's had to go to State College even though she was going to Williamsport. I say this as sympathetically as I can: although my day was bad, Jill's was worse. But I really think it was better that everything happened to her because she is much more even-keeled than I am, a lot less emotional, and a lot more logical. If I had her day, I'd still be a puddle in the Philadelphia airport, whereas Jill would have built herself a plane and flew it home if she had to.
I finally got to my gate. I'm going to State College! I never thought I would be so happy to be returning to my hometown. They switched my gate, and then switched it again, and the plain left a half an hour after the delayed time, but I didn't really care. I was in America. I was in Pennsylvania. I was on the plane that would take me to the people I loved the most. And after the day I had, I just laughed. It was actually funny how ridiculous that day had been, starting from the key issue in the convent 16 hours earlier, and continuing until I finally got home.
I arrived in State College at 11 pm, or 5 am Italian time. I didn't even notice that I was tired because I was so anxious to see Steven and my family. Everything from that day, the Twilight Zone of traveling, melted away and didn't matter the second I was in Steven's arms. I hope I'm always as smitten for him as I have been the past 3.5 years.
I got my luggage, I got Jill's luggage, and the cherry topper on the day was that olive oil exploded in my suitcase. It was all over my new suitcase, my new and old clothes, my bedding. I told Jill and we both just laughed, because what else could we do? And it didn't matter, we were both with our families. And then I went home.
Back in America:
It took like, 5 loads to get the olive oil out of my clothes (Mrs. Holdcroft told me to use dawn. Mrs. Holdcroft is my hero). My wardrobe tripled when I finally got everything clean. I haven't done anything with my suitcase. I don't really care that much right now. It's oily now, it's going to be oily later, and I'll deal with it then.
Ever since then, I feel like I have been non-stop. I went to a wedding; did a scrapbook with Mrs. Holdcroft; took Spanish linguistics and Technical Writing (in which I wrote an 18-page paper on hockey, one of my proudest accomplishments); went to Pittsburgh 3 times: over the fourth, to visit Ashley, and as a stop on my way to Cedar Point; went to Arts Fest and hung our with Steven's family the whole weekend; celebrated Steven's 22nd birthday; hung out with Don and Sarah Jones (LOVE having them here!) and their kids; got food poisoning; worked about 15 hours a week; and still found time to sleep. My food tastes are now a blend of Italy and America; I like things a lot less sweet now, I like Italian food if it's not over-Americanized, I don't like creamy things, and all I want to eat are vegetables. I eat meat maybe twice a week, and I don't miss it.
I started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert this past Friday. Her first stop was in Rome. I miss Rome. It's an amazing city, dare I say the most amazing in the whole world. I think about Rome and my whole stay abroad everyday. I think of my time in England and Germany fondly, but I really want to return to Rome someday. Even though it's inefficient and slow, Italy is beautiful, pleasant, relaxing, has the most amazing food in this world (no lie, seriously. Go and find out.), and most importantly, gives you a new perspective on humanity, time, God, and the world.
Maybe I'll keep writing, maybe not. I start my last fall semester as a Penn State student on Monday. I have 16 credits and I'll be working 10 hours a week. I already have plenty of weekend trips and social activities planned, just to keep me thoroughly busy. And I'm training for a half-marathon and running on December 5th.
*sigh* Life is good.
