I’m going to Italy next week!
No, that’s a lie. I’m not going to Italy in another 9+ months, but in my dream last night those months had flown by and suddenly I found myself only a week from D-day. I was saying, no, shouting that to anyone who cared to listen – and in English, for some reason. I’m going to Italy next week! I was so happy.
I remember the day before my first trip to Italy. I remember how I sat in class, and as the day progressed I found it more and more difficult to keep a straight face. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I kept watching the time, counting the hours, telling myself that tomorrow, at this time, I’ll be in Italy. I couldn’t believe it, I simply couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that I was actually going to Italy, for real! I had made the trip in my dreams so many times, but this time it was really happening.
The trip was surreal, I’m still not quite sure it ever took place although I have the photos to prove I was there. I hadn’t slept well all week, and the fatigue and shock combined covered my first few days in Italy in a nauseous haze. I was freezing, and my hair was frightening, and I had absolutely no idea what to do with myself, but I was so intensely happy.
I am not fretting over the upcoming trip as much as I was the previous two times. It doesn’t feel exciting in the same way – I have a new feeling now, a calmer, more secure feeling. I know that I will be nervous, as I am going with my son and I will be responsible for both of us and our belongings, but there is something that feels so unbelievably right about the trip, and the apartment, and everything. I don’t have anything planned for our two weeks in Amalfi – I know that we will go to Positano, Nicki talked about a wine bar in Praiano, I would love a day trip to Capri… but I’m not making any plans. Last time I had a camera glued to my face the whole time, this time I just want to be there. I already have the photos, now I want the experience.
I’m not going to Italy next week, but I am going there in nine months.
Until then, I watch Rai Uno and pretend that I understand.
I can attest that your hair was NOT frightening. And we were ALL nauseous after all those hours driving around curvy Chianti!
l find it’s in the little things that you find the real amalfi coast experience. You and your son will be fine. Lovely positive dream.
It will be here soon! I’m wishing you were in Italy now so you could help me out with my hair – it’s a disaster getting used to the hard water – it’s literally
been in a ponytail EVERYday since we moved! AUGH!
That’s too bad Erin – try mixing lemon juice with your conditioner, or rinse with diluted apple cider vinegar.
Laurie, you’re too sweet but just look at my hair in that picture! Thankfully it got better after we had been at Cristina’s
OOh Yes! Come back next week..I haven’t had my hair cut since you did it in April and it really needs to be reintroduced to a pair of scissors again!
I’ve got to ask, I’ve wanted to ask you for the longest time…how in the world do you speak grammatically PERFECT English. Even you’re idioms are PERFECT. How do you know what an inch is when you live in a metric country? I’ve scanned your posts for a long time now watching for one mistake, misspelling…nothing. I’m starting to think that this Swedish thing is a farce and that you’re really an American. I’m not kidding. You can’t be that good. You don’t even live in the States. I’m sorry, it’s impossible.
Hush pat, don’t blow my cover!
Swedes are unnaturally brilliant!!!
It’s not a secret that Swedish people speak English so well. It’s their second mother language. Their closeness to UK can be a reason but i think it’s just natural to them.
Annika your attachment for Italy is unbelieveble.
Ahh! pat how many mistakes i did??
Sei bravissima, sai…
I’m worried about you watching (and understanding) those very bad Rai Uno programs…
[...] been wanting to say that and mean it ever since this post, and now I [...]