Twenty hours with almost no sleep. Jet lag or mere excitement from the travel? I really don’t know. It was a long trip. Seven-hour wait at the Frankfurt airport, then two-hour flight to Rome, then a two-hour train from Rome to Fara Sabina, and then still a fifty-minute bus ride to the small village where I will be staying for the next weeks. Why? I really don’t know for sure.
After the cold efficiency of the Germans, here trains are overcrowded, phones do not work, and the bus driver runs like crazy through narrow roads on the edge of precipices. Toto, I think we are not in Deutschland anymore.
Still, I have to say i enjoyed it so far. People were kind and on the bus a group of old ladies talked and laughed like schoolgirls, very far from the serious German faces and the completely silent Canadians. We are in Italy all right, in the good and in the bad.
Italy for me is a bittersweet place. It is part of my life, for personal reasons that I won’t go into right now, but it’s mostly the past, and sometimes it makes me happy and sometimes it makes me sad. At some point in my life I could have lived here forever, and sometimes I still wonder why it didn’t happen. On the other hand, maybe it was for the best. It’s not good for young Italians right now. jobs are scarce and people are leaving – many of them to Germany, in fact.
I’ll try to get some sleep and continue later with the journal – and, hopefully, with more serious writing at some point.
(In the meantime, I am reading Yeats’ autobiography, a book about I’d like to write about later too). Arrivederci.