The Trek Home [to] At Last
04 April 2012 | Marina di Ragusa, Sicily, Italy
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While the planning was arduous, the trip home was fairly easy. Or at least if I had kept my head screwed to my neck it would have been. Business Class on British Air...fab! Even better than the flight, was the baggage allowance. Three bags each up to 70 pounds! Enough to bring back a water maker and 17 pairs of shoes (not listed in order of importance). No hiccups in London during our layover. Although boarding our Rome flight we were asked to step aside into an adjacent hallway where a security guard had one of our "special ops" cases with him that contained the control board of our water maker. He graciously asked us to explain the nature of this device. After some eyebrow raising we were cleared for departure. Phew. We were halfway home.
If you've ever arrived to Fiumicino airport in Rome, you'll know exactly what I mean when I say it's usually chaotic at it's best. However, we were shocked to see that our bags were already making their way around the carousel after we had passed through immigration...another "phew" since technically we weren't allowed to return to the EU for another couple of months based on our Visa.
One black case, two black cases, YES, the water maker made it. Now for our other 3 bags. Yes! They made it too. Off to Hertz to get our "wagon" to fit all of this luggage. Oh good, that unpaid traffic ticket made no difference to us renting a car. Now, load the bags. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...where is our 6th bag?! What?! OK, so I run back through the octopus-maze to find which exit we had come from. No, not that way, this way. But how am I going to re-enter baggage claim through customs? After some gesturing and some sweat that may have been mistaken as a tear, I showed my passport and ticket then entered a mini-security entrance. (Interesting security hole, but that's for another topic). I ran to our baggage carousel. Of course the never-efficient-except-for-today baggage handlers had swept away the unclaimed baggage. Luckily, these baggage handlers liked big American breasts (frankly I don't think they were distinguishing of breast's nationality), and escorted my breasts to a back room where my little orange case, full of shoes, sat patiently awaiting our reunion.
Back to the wagon, another catastrophe avoided. Off to the hotel. Oops, forgot to get directions. Well, the Hertz guy said all of the airport hotels are in this area, indicated on the non-descript map they gave us. Shouldn't be that hard...aren't most airport hotels just near the airport? After 2 hours and three more sets of "directions" from overly helpful (or in this case, not-so-helpful, Italians), we finally made it to our fancy Marriott Courtyard where the restaurant was closed and the only room left was the "accessibility" room, with a toilet that I had to nearly tiptoe onto. Whatever! The bed was clean and we were happy to hit the sack.
I did remember to bring directions to the ferry in Naples. I did not, however, expect there to be absolutely no signs that remotely matched those that Google provided. Again, how hard can it be? Drive to Naples and head towards a big ship. Yeah, ok! A few wrong turns but we make it way ahead of departure time. Good, we can head into town to pick up a sim card for my phone. Then we'll have directions and translation at our fingertips.
Has anyone reading this been to Naples? It's a PIT. But not only is it a pit, but it apparently rivals Venice as the worst pick-pocketing capitol. No, we didn't get robbed. We walked the four blocks to the mobile store, and a nice gentleman, after admiring Steve's watch, promptly told him to put it in his pocket if he wanted to keep it. So, no strolling in Naples for us. Went straight back to the ferry and waited to get on.
The ferry was interesting. Couldn't figure out whether they use it for longer passages in the "season" or whether the economy has just taken it's toll. There was an emptied pool, unopened restaurant, kid's area and entertainment lounge with no entertainment. A bit eerie really. But, the cabin seemed clean and there was a bed with my name on it. After a quick bite in the cafeteria served by the guys who had led the cars onto the ferry, we took our boxes of wine and headed to the cabin for some sleep. Morning came without any interruptions. A quick spritz in the mini-shower (not luxury but I was happy) and then we were docking in Catania on the east side of Sicily. Nearly home!
This should be a breeze now that we have directions on my iPhone. Oops...except for the fact that my phone has cleverly retyped Ilea instead of Ikea, unbeknownst to me. So off we head to Ilea. Through the city traffic and then halfway down the sea road before I realize that we're going the wrong way. Back through the city traffic and finally to Ikea, where Steve is now in no mood to shop. Boo!
Well, for once I didn't load the cart up. Maybe it's a sign that we're really settling into our new home. Or, maybe I listened to the voice of reason (aka Steve) that said, "there's no way you're gonna get that in the car". At least I thought of a way to squeeze a pressure cooker into our rental car!
It couldn't have been a prettier day for the last leg of our trip. Two hours of countryside driving that ends with a 50 km road sloping straight down to the ocean where At Last was waiting patiently among her other marina friends. It was a coming home as good as any I had ever felt. Coming down the pontoon, friends would greet us and welcome us back with a quick chat of our time in the states. At the end of the pontoon we were finally here, at At Last. When we opened her door, it was as if there was a gentle sigh of relief, either from her or from me, I don't know which. "Welcome Home!", she whispered.