A year ago today my family and I trudged off the Alitalia flight from Toronto into the Rome airport trying to manage all of our bags with attached airplane pillows. I was exhausted. Although it was an expansive plane, I did not get to stretch out across seats on the seemingly endless flight that left at near midnight. I don’t sleep anywhere except my own bed, so I was destined for hours of turning from side to side, trying to prop my legs somewhere where my restless legs would find a moment’s peace.
My newly teen daughter though, snuck out from next to her younger sister to find an open stretch of 3 seats where she could lay her bones for the next 8 hours. Despite the space, she later insisted she couldn’t sleep due to the “creepy guy” across the aisle who kept staring at her. Doubtless, a teenage dramatization.
None of that mattered though, when we stepped out into the hustle and bustle of Rome’s airport. We were headed right out to fly into Venezia ( the city I insisted on visiting, although it was definitely geographically on the fringe of the other must-see destinations.). I have been to Europe before, regrettably only once, to Spain. I remembered that feeling, though, of excitement. The foreign voices, exotic food, and dear god, all the women dressed up, complete with high heels (we’re not talkin’ kitten heels ) in the airport! We grabbed a superb espresso and some panini to try and shake our grogginess, but I really didn’t care how tired I was. In a few short hours I was going to be in the magical city of Venice and regardless of how I felt, I had no doubts it wouldn’t disappoint.
Two short weeks of traveling in Italy. Five cities. A trip of a lifetime that my kids still talk about. I wish I could be granted another lifetime….