Touchdown

Arrived in Frankfurt with little time to catch connecting flight. With a 40 pound backpack on my back and the beginnings of dehydration in my body, I ran almost 1km to gate A32 to catch my flight. The odd moving sidewalk gave me a boost, like nitrous oxide. I made it to A32, heaving, a little desperate, and the polite German lady told me I needed to go to A16. Can I still make it?....Yes, but you must hurry! I don't skip a beat. Turn around, and dash back, beginning to retrace my footsteps. Dodging bodies here and there, (A 30) with minds obviously far off (A25), tagging along like balloons on long, thin strings. Excuse me! (A22) Excuse me! I applied agility to avoid bulldozing. (A16) My mouth like the bottom of a dumptruck previously full of sand. No Euros in my pocket, only Canadianeros. Ameros, my conspiracy prophetic advisors foresee. Ameros after collapse. Anyways, I stop at a stand to buy water: liquid bliss. Only US dollars and Euros, says the sweet little Pilipino lady. Or Credit Card! My mind, on a very low gear at this point, recalls the VISA in my pocket. It is whipped out and inserted in the reader. PIN number please! Oh shit, I forgot about these new cards with the chip in them. Insert instead of swipe, and enter PIN number. I try the last 4 digits of my cell phone number. ERR. I look at her, smiling to feign non-nervousness (subconsciously acknowledging how comprehensive the security forces are in this Western airport in the land of diligent, hard-working, efficiency). Birthday and year! ERR. I pause, trying to think for the final try. ERR.

So I board the plane, stowaway my bag, sit down, and doze into halfsleep. At the end of the flight, I empty 3 little plastic cups of aqua frizzante (bubbly water!). Arrive in Roma. Wait 1 hour for papa to arrive, wait half hour for his luggage, get ride home at 160km per hour winding between crazy Roman charioteers from a heavily caffeinated middle aged Romanian bloke. Arrive at papa's apartment. Stay awake, make successful connections between regions of brain, senses and body, is what I would say to myself if I habitually spoke to myself. I was hungry. Exhausted too, was exhausted the day before I boarded the plane, too. Shower. Put away luggage. drink un cafe. eat chocolate. slow conversation. Wonderful pasta vegetable soup dinner with omelete! Add too much African ground hot pepper (pepperoncino) to the soup, stimulates this Kapha body, but rapes the back of my throat. 15 minutes to recovery, then I can eat the omelete (how do you spell this word?).

Back to the airport to fetch stepmother Elisabetta and Alice, half-sister at 9pm (2100). Everyone has had many hours of delay at airports. Alice back to school at 7am, Elisabetta and papa (father in Italian) back to work at 8 and 9am, respectively.

I awake Thursday morning after 13 hours of sleep...