Travelin'

All packed and ready to go, it was now time to actually begin my journey. We headed off to the airport where we had to deal with some lines but nothing too bad. I got past security without any problems and was sitting at my gate with plenty of time. As to be predicted for such a popular destination as Italy (and Greece and any other connecting flights from the area), it was a packed flight, but there were a lot more Italians on the flight than I would expect to be flying out of Detroit. True, they may have been waiting on a connection from more popular destinations out west or possibly visiting family in the area, but Detroit and the Michigan area does not strike me as a must-see for European travelers, especially as a final destination on a cross-country tour. Many of them fit right in, with the only thing giving their nationality away being their bright red passports. I was able to amuse myself speculating on the identities of those around me. I was struck in particular by a few passengers: a man wearing an Italian Military Pilot jacket (Milatare Pilote) and an older couple sitting near me that fulfilled the stereotype I was expecting. The man was fascinated with everything in the airport, at one point even snapping pictures of the moving walkway as we waited to board. The woman started nagging him loudly in Italian, though she was speaking way too fast for me to pick out what she was saying other than a couple of out of context words. The man wandered off and came back with two of the biggest burgers I think I’ve ever seen at an airport, complete with a large helping of fries. It made me proud to send them off with a humongous beefy slice of Americana, and set the stage quite nicely for the beginning of my exploration into Italian culture. Dr. Ruth would be proud of such a clever turn of plot to begin a narrative, even more so that I would be “writing about what I know” as well.

Having mentally prepared myself for 8 hours of me, my music, and iPod solitaire, I was greatly relieved to find that everyone had their own screens in the seatback. It blissfully took me back to playing Space Invaders (the first time I had ever encountered the game) into the wee hours of the morning/late in the night/in time zone bullshittery limbo. As my luck would have it, I was also had a window seat, only one neighbor – a sweet middle aged woman travelling to Greece who insisted on offering everything she had and was incredibly polite – and no screaming babies in earshot, plus a Delta blanket to boot. The flight was a great experience. I knew there would be dinner served, but I didn’t have high hopes. Now it was no gourmet, but it was still a pleasant surprise. A sealed dish of pasta, a tiny salad, a roll, a brownie, cheese & crackers, and multiple drinks were served. On top of all of that, one of the free movies on demand was one that I had some interest in when it came out but forgot about, The Adjustment Bureau with Matt Damon. It was a pretty good movie, albeit an extremely lame ending…but no spoilers.

Reality finally set in as I viewed the flight information and saw the origin time of 10:30 and the remaining flight time of a little over 5 hours, and visions of jet lag began to pop in my head. I wasn’t tired and was still looking at maybe 4 hours of sleep all things considered. Try as I might, I could not fall asleep for the life of me. Despite actually being tired eventually, I still was unable to drift off. I finally gave up and turned back to the free movies. I would soon see the greatest example of circadian rhythm I had ever experienced. As soon as there was enough light outside for me to see the wing, I snapped awake instantly as if I had a full night’s rest before. Continued passing of time, along with further propelling against the time zones, and all hope for any sleep was dashed. Knowing there would be hell to pay later, I turned my attention to the sights. We never caught sight of shore on Ireland, but I knew we were close as we sped along, and I could feel the Irish beauty all around me, especially in a view of the clouds and horizon over the sea that I just had to snap a picture of. I also spotted a glare in the sea that upon closer inspection was a gigantic tanker chugging along. It was an amazing sight that unfortunately did not translate to digital imagery. Oh well. Our first land since St. John’s in Newfoundland was the north coast of France. It was amazing seeing the sprawls of so many towns around what I assume are or at one point were ports and harbors. I never caught a glimpse of Paris, but I believe I did see the Seine, although I do not know my French geography very well so it could have been just any old sizable river. Then before I knew it, the Alps are right in my face. Maybe that is a stretch as we were still comfortably soaring above them, but it is amazing how tall they really are in person, complete with snowcaps in July. Though that has always been a strange concept for me to wrap my head around, when the external temperature at cruising altitude is -75 degrees Fahrenheit, it’s clear how quickly the heat drops off.

Eight and a half hours later, we touched down in Rome around 9:45 local time. With a brain convinced that was the case based on the sun, and my body presumably believing it was closer to four in the morning but not questioning things or putting up a fight, I had arrived. To say passing through customs was a breeze is an understatement. Faced with an onslaught of American tourists every day, I was waved through with hardly a glance at my picture and not even an official Republicca di Italia stamp to show for it…total bummer! I picked up my luggage and wandered off to meet up with the poor souls who had been waiting in the airport longer than I. It was nice to take the time to talk to everyone but the passing of time along with the crankiness brought on by confused bodies seemed to take its toll. Add on to that a harking café worker who would have REALLY enjoyed it if he could have his table back from orange clad Americans with just a few small drink or sandwich orders and no signs of leaving and the unwarranted alerts that, yes, it had been just 15 minutes since the last time we checked the time, and we were delighted when the last of us had landed and we could board the bus for Perugia. It was a rather uneventful ride, with just a few low key hands of card games and the realization that American DVDs won’t work on Italian DVD players. My resolve to not further mess up my internal clock and desire to get a view on the way kept me from taking a nap, though drowsiness was creeping up for the first time. But after arriving in Perugia, getting a brief orientation and moving into our apartment, I was once again fully awake and ready to start the night, pushing 27 hours without sleep. Despite completing two years of college, this had been my first all-nighter, if you can call it that, since manhunt games with a side of nostalgia the summer after senior year. Though to be fair, in those college years there have been many a late night, for various reasons, but never without any sleep in such a long period.