I honestly feel like I am in a real life version of Fawlty Towers except Basil Fawlty is a woman and the poor stressed out caretaker is Manuel! For Australians it is a bit like being in that improv show “Thank God You’re Here”!
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When I worked in the music business in Canada many years ago one of the managers of a large record store chain after agreeing to display a bunch of punk rock Epitaph CD titles at the very entrance to the store said to me that I could sell ice to the eskimos, but could I sell gelato to the Italians? Well that remains to be seen and it is just a dream right now although a perfect location has opened up almost opposite my home in Lucca, so let’s just say preliminary investigations are underway.
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With the light starting to fade I wondered if was ever going to make it to Torbel. Suddenly announcements in German, French, Italian then English that anyone going on to Visp or Bern could get off the train and jump on the train beside us which was leaving in 3 minutes. That Swiss train was palatial in its space and legroom with giant windows and such comfort, however as I put my small backpack on my shoulder I felt a ping in my left shoulder and was suddenly in excruciating pain and my arm felt stuck. How I managed to get off that train with my little carry on and backpack was a miracle.
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The nearest beach is in the town of Viareggio which sits on the Tyrennhian sea bordered by the Massa Carrara mountains making for the most spectacular view ever from a beach. I honestly am amazed every time I see it, and it changes completely with the weather, sometimes these massive clouds roll in and it briefly rains and then the sun comes out again and no matter the weather it is absolutely magnificent with an ever-changing scenery for a backdrop while in the waves.
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I started thinking of contingency escape plans mainly for mum as the smoke in the air was worsening. I contacted my friend Alison in Ireland through Whatsapp and told her she might get a couple of climate change refugees turning up, and where was the nearest airport and where exactly does she live? She rang me in. a panic, wondering what on earth was going on as as she does not watch the news anymore and lives blissfully unaware of the terrible shenanigans going on in the world and had no idea Europe was burning.
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I then have to hang out of my window, once again like a mad woman waving frantically at them because I can usually see the courier truck just down the road at the wrong building, bloody Google maps! As my lovely new friend Cristina says, “That’s Italy” whenever something funny or quirky happens and indeed it puts a light spin on things for sure, not that I’m complaining, I love it here quirks and all!
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I am just amazed at how wonderful people have been to us, rallying around, enquiring about our well-being when we were sick, and asking if we need anything, dropping off loaves of bread, offers to walk Pandy. It has further strengthened my view that there are far more kind and beautiful people in this world than the nasty ones that always seem to monopolise the airwaves these days.
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I called the shipping guy to ask if there is any chance the container could just get off in Genoa. He told me its not like a bus where you can hop on or off and said he had to go as he was at Milan train station trying to buy a panini and he would call me later! God forbid that anyone should interrupt panini-buying!!
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When I came towards him and asked him through the glass shield he put his hands up like I had the bubonic plague or something and still ranted and raved despite my pleas of “non capisco”, “mi. dispiace”, “tranquila” (I don’t understand, I’m sorry, take it easy) interspersed silently in my head with some choice Quebecois swear words at this point.
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There have been a few times in my life when I am convinced that Google Maps is trying to get me killed, and this was one of them. It proceeded to take me down some backstreets. and alleys that I had never seen before, down the side of a church squeezing my way down an extremely narrow alleyway where I thought I could be murdered right now and no one would know where I was and then down a street and back up it again.
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I looked so bedraggled, my legs were aching, I was feeling sweaty, dying of thirst and needing to go to the bathroom. My Fitbit was almost smoking as I had walked so many steps. We found our way to the ground floor and spied a ladies bathroom in some abandoned hallway and popped in. We laughed deliriously at the space where a sink should have been and just felt that it perfectly summed up the whole Cargo City experience.
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My passport was stamped with barely a glance, the masses of paperwork not even sniffed at, and then the magical doors into the arrivals area swept open and there I was walking in slow motion, like in some glamorous shampoo advertisement officially in Italy. I was so surprised by the non-existent customs screening that my first thought was darn it, I should have packed those boxes of Dilmah tea bags after all!
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It did not help when the washing machine in the little Airbnb I am staying in got stuck mid-cycle with most of my clothes in it, and so I have been wearing the same jeans and sweater for almost a week, until the plumber finally came and rescued them. I’m dressing them up with different scarves to create a different outfit each day
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