There is so much to prepare before walking out the front door and moving towards the airport and for some reason the list never ends...so many things seem pertinent that really aren't...for instance, did it really matter if the spices in my pantry were organized before leaving the country? Did I think I was going to be cooking up a foreign gourmet frenzy the day upon returning in an extreme jet lag state? It was hard for me to realize that everything did not have to be left perfect and that returning to less than perfect DOES NOT matter. Leaves me to wonder why we put so much pressure upon ourselves before leaving. Maybe it is because we feel like we are up against so much uncertainty and Murphy's Law looms more strongly then ever while traveling?? and to have an orderly home gives it all an element of control?

There are so many facets to traveling alone. The biggest is....you are responsible for everything-before, after and during the adventure....there is no one to cross check with. To me that was HUGE. I do not use the word adventure lightly because that is exactly how you have to think about it. Something painful always happens on each adventure! I think calling it that somehow helps...or even calling it journey...sounds more positive that working up towards the phrase "trip from hell". Believe it or not I have even heard men call their travels such a phrase...and they won't even ask for directions on driving trips to make it look like things are under control! So yes that is what it had to be and will always be... an ADVENTURE!

How I came to this conclusion is all the stories that are securely stored under my belt and clearly in my memory....

Italy--Long plane trip mostly uneventful. Then...came the train station. I needed to get from Rome to Viareggio. About a 3.5 hour train ride. I get there...everything is chaos. They were on strike. I had lots of luggage because I was continuing on to South Africa following Tuscany so I was traveling with two climates of luggage. HEAVY! I was redirected to SO many platforms to catch my train that I blew out my hips...did not even know there was such a thing but that was the only way to describe it. Finally after resorting to a few tears out of pure pain (and I am the type that at the dentist I refuse Novocain), a nice young Italian man assisted me (the only nice Italian in all of Italy and that ain't no lie) Got on my train and was bumped out of first class which only meant I lost air conditioning and was literally stuck in a car with four men with expired antiperspirant...they all leered a bit and I think it was mostly because of my two countries worth of luggage....probably were thinking "princess!"

I sweat through he train ride literally and figuratively...thinking that I was almost at my destination....what an adventure! They dropped us off at the other side of the tracks which meant traveling under the tracks on foot and then riding an elevator that DOES NOT WORK...meaning heave ho! I had to carry my luggage up two flights with blown hips. The pain was indescribable. I think it was adrenaline or perhaps hormones at that point that got me up those stairs.

I could hardly walk for two days...ran a marathon not to long ago with less residual discomfort than that.

I really panicked a bit after realizing I had to do the same thing to get back to Rome or should I say "Roma?"--who really knows (depends on which angry Italian you are conversing with and the severity of their anger). I did not want to ruin South Africa, my next destination, if the same adventure came about. I thought and I thought...maybe I could rent a car to get back to Rome... Nope, not an option. I get severely lost if I turn around in a circle once...could never win at pin the tail on the donkey as a child. I would probably still be driving around looking for Rome a year later. You will never guess what I did...since my trip was mostly a work trip to get beautiful photos, I thought a taxi to Rome is the answer. To the tune of 500 Euros (do the conversion and laugh...most of my friends did!). After all I did not go on any excursions (this is where justification begins) mostly did everything on foot asking directions from Italians that seem to spit a lot while talking. Mind you, I am part Italian but I found them to be very rude. Too bad because their country is absolutely beautiful--the beauty would be much more clear if there was not so much saliva flying around messing up things!

When I asked the concierge to call for cab...his jaw hit the floor with a clunk. No spit just a clunk. I did not want to take the risk of ruining Africa and having to rest my hips instead of going on a photo safari. I STILL think it to be a wise photography business decision...not an executive decision because more than likely they would never admit to having "train" trouble in the first place. Traction in a hospital in South Africa probably would have been much more appealing. I digress...

After getting to the airport in Rome, I paid the cab driver handsomely (old language seems to apply for some reason) and he dropped me at Domestic flights when I NEEDED International...doesn't South Africa qualify as International????. He refused spitting out, "I know no English!" Then I turned into Steve Martin on "Trains Planes and Automobiles." I had to walk a long distance to get there and my hips started screaming at me once more....I spit this time and stomped my feet and sputtered words in some tongue that was not even recognizable...no phrase book for that!

I will tell you more in article #2 about an entire day's "quest" for band aids....yes my aching feet. Article #3 will tell you about proper Tuscan beach etiquette and learning the hard way....thanks to my uninformative beach hotel I stayed in. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the perfectly lined up beach chairs and groomed sand...hmmm just what was I getting into?? It was an extreme sport just going to the beach...at least for me! More later...

Sincerely,
Lori Ann
lascottphotography.com