Tourist Trots
April 3
I’m pretty sure it was the huge balls . . . of rice & meat! But this morning, I’m not feeling good at all. It’s Sherine’s last day and I’m dropping her off at the airport this afternoon. I’ve spent a good portion of the night in the bathroom and Sherine’s taken pity on me and says we really don’t have to do anything this morning. So we take advantage of the late, noontime check-out and sit tight in the hotel. Truth be told, it’s raining, so not the most pleasant day to go out sight-seeing anyway.
I’m supposed to drive 1 ½ hours south after the airport drop to Vallelunga Pratanema, a little town in the mountains east of Palermo for my cooking school class. I decide, with Sherine’s support, that maybe this isn’t the best idea and get onto booking.com and find a little place near the airport where I can rest & be close to a bathroom!
We check-out and decide to head over for an early check-in at the “Tourist Trots Crash Pad” before heading to the airport to drop Sherine & exchange cars (I’ve been driving a mini-SUV / crossover thing that’s just too big for the narrow, small town streets so I’ve arranged to exchange it at the Palermo airport). The GPS does its usual – “I think I’ll take you off the beaten path and onto a side road that the ocean has washed up on” thing – and the airport trip takes about twice as long as it should have.
We pull into the lot and find out that I actually have to go into the terminal to get the paperwork from the “inside” guy! So Sherine & I walk over there, say our goodbyes, and I find the EuropeCar counter (except I’ve found the wrong one) and am directed to the “right” one. Finally – someone that knows I’m coming! I give him my song & dance (in English, because I’m just not thinking in Italian when I feel like I really want to be in bed) and he says that this VW Golf that I asked for is really about the same size. I’ve been seeing these things all over Italy and I think it’s smaller, so I sign the paperwork & go back to the lot. He’s right – it’s about the small size – length & width wise – but it is shorter. Big deal, shorter is NOT the problem when you’re dealing with narrow streets. I consider changing it. Then I notice that the plate ends in VR and I know it’s sign that Vince Rafello is watching over me & I decide to be on my way.
I spend the rest of the day & evening in a nice, but isolated apartment (no other guests & the host was VERY quick to give me the keys & run . . they do a lot of that in Italy . . very trusting indeed!). I’m eating yogurt, bananas and these fiber crackers that Sherine bought and trying to drink lots of water. I can’t find any English channels on TV and the WiFi (you guessed it) is not sufficient to watch Netflix – so I just hang out & think.
What am I doing in Italy, all by myself, in a strange town (that I didn’t plan for), feeling like crap?? I come to my senses – all good. I’m in Italy and I wanted to do this – it will be fine.
About that time, all hell breaks loose next door. First, it sounds like a guy is teasing this little kid and the kid is laughing and doing that fake, short scream thing, But - it doesn’t stop. And then - it escalates. And I’m thinking - what’s that number again, the one to call the police in Italy? Now the guy sounds like he’s chasing the kid around the house & terrorizing him. The kid is screaming, crying, yelling & pleading for the guy to stop and he just keeps going. It REALLY sounded like he was abusing the kid and that he wasn’t just doing it for fun anymore. This went on for over an hour and I really didn’t know what to do. FINALLY – it stops and they seem to settle into normal family noises & dinner time comes and it’s just talking & some clanking dishes. Thank GOD it didn’t start back up – but I did put ear plugs in that night. Thankfully, I slept pretty well, even with the thoughts of terror on the other side of the wall.
I set my alarm for 6am and plan to get out of there before 7am. I do – and leave the keys in the room and exit before the sun comes up and without seeing a soul since I’ve said good-bye to Sherine at the airport.
Weird night – but it’s a new day – and I’m on my way to cooking class at Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School in the hills of Vallelunga Pratanemo!
