Notes from Your Correspondent on the Ground
Around the Corner in Castiglione Messer Raimondo
The Journey:
I am heading back to Italy. Americans are not allowed in at this point. But I am an Italian citizen and officially registered as a resident in my little town. There is a house to care for. There is my soul to heal. I go.
Curbside at HIA
Harrisburg
Wide open, empty space in an airport? I've rarely flown out of Harrisburg "International" so I can't say how different this is. All I can say is that I've never seen any airport I've been in so empty.
The staff was so relaxed, friendly, and REAL (as in - like real people-to-people interaction not official veneer mode) - you almost felt like you were at a spa instead of an airport. Yes - that surreal!
The plane was so empty the flight attendant actually said "Go ahead and sit wherever you want so you can maintain social distance." Everyone moved to optimize the space. Everyone wore a mask.
And then.....
Dulles!
I thought having my second stop in a small-ish airport would also make this leg somewhat laid back. I thought I could ease my way gradually up to the larger airport that was my last layover in Frankfurt.
But NO!
It was chaos.
It felt like the airport and United staff were caught off guard with a renewed crush of travelers (or Europeans trying to get the heck out of Dodge) and they were making stuff up as they went along. There was a crowd of people going every which way, trying to determine which line they should be in. There were at least 4:
2 for boarding
1 for a "document check" for people holding American passports
1 (or so) for a document check for people holding non-American passports.
And some scattered milling about between all of them.
It was hard to tell which line was which. You couldn't board without the "document check". So even if your seat number was called for boarding, if you got to the front of the boarding line without the stamp on your boarding pass that verified you'd been "checked", you were sent to the back of the "document check" line.
Like me.
As a result, I was the VERY last one to board the plane.
The check-in guy turned to the gate attendant and said,
"We're good to go. Master-bruno is here."
"Mastr-oh-bwon-oh", I corrected him.
He was still looking at the gate attendant.
"Yeah. Master-bruno is the last one."
But I have to say, once we were high in the air and I looked out the window into the clouds, the joy of being airborne was delicious.
The Plane
Full. Packed. No possible social distancing. The only thing about it that looked COVID-minded was that everyone was wearing masks. Most properly.
Of course, United DID give me the option to re-book if this situation didn't suit my taste.
Right.
From one mess to another.
United had already nearly sabotaged the trip by re-routing my return journey with an impossible connection. Without telling me.
Anyone for a 10:20 AM flight out of Rome, with a connection in Brussels at 10:10 AM?
i didn't realize I had booked time travel.
I was not initially allowed to check in because of this impossibility. An unhappy Italian woman is not a pleasant Italian woman. The travel agent with whom I'd booked changed my return itinerary within an hour.
So - I subjected myself to the sardine can that was UA flight 989 and sat in an aisle seat facing the aisle, creating as much breathing room as possible between me and my fellow passengers.
I didn't eat or drink anything during the flight. I'd brought my own, thank you. I ate when no one else did, pulling up my mask just to put food in my mouth and then pulling it down to chew. When the rest of the passengers ate, all simultaneously with their faces uncovered, I tried to hold my breath for as long as possible between taking in air. Could they not have staggered the feeding so that 200+ people did not go naked faced in a small metal box all at once?
In no time I stunk to high heaven of alcohol wipes and hand sanitizer.
Shortly after the feeding ended, the flight attendants passed our forms we were required to fill out that asked for our names, destinations, contact information, and certifying that we had no COVID symptoms and hadn't had any for the past 14 days. Um. Shouldn't that have been asked BEFORE we boarded the plane? What if I said, "Yeah, I have a fever and chills and have had a dry cough for the past week."? What were they going to do? Issue me a parachute and oxygen mask and boot me out the door?
Usually I nod off shortly after the plane reaches cruising altitude. Not this time. Difficult to sleep with a continuously screaming baby (how do they have the stamina to do that for 7 hours?) and an unhappy dog somewhere within 5 rows of mine. Plus, I didn't want to chance slumping over onto the giant man sitting next to me in the middle seat. He should have had his own plane, never mind his own row! He might have been a little peeved if I'd drooled on him in my sleep, as well. I didn't want to chance it. My only choice was to lean away, into the din. I did finally fall into a deep sleep. Only to be nudged shortly after by this same man so his travel companion in the window seat could exit to go to the bathroom. Timing is everything.
Frankfurt
Ahhhh....Europe. They've been dealing with this COVID thing longer and with more organization than the US. Everyone at the airport was masked, except those eating.Most even wore them properly - covering both mouth AND nose.Some people even wore both masks and face shields. I gave that piece of equipment a D-, though. I ditched them early on. They're ok if you enjoy the feeling of walking through thick fog, guessing what was a foot in front of you.
Marks for standing 1 1/2 meters apart were everywhere. Seats sealed off so you could not sit directly next to anyone.
Every 15 minutes or so there was an announcement about travel safety:
"We would like to remind you that it is obligatory to wear a covering over your nose and mouth at all times. And to remain 1.5 meters distant from other travelers. Thank you for your cooperation."
No one pointed an automatic weapon at the loudspeaker and threatened to blow it to bits for taking away their liberty. How quaint.
I allowed myself to purchase food and drink at an airport eatery. Then found a secluded place where I could eat. Airport food never tasted so scrumptious. I realized I had eaten only a plastic container of rice and broccoli and a few cherries since I'd left home 16 hours ago.
I settled in to wait for my flight to Rome to board.
And waited. And waited. And waited. For 4 hours at Gate A62 - the departure gate listed on my boarding pass and all the departures boards throughout the airport.
1:30 PM. local time. Boarding time for my 2 PM flight.
I listened for my group to be called.
But,wait. They're giving boarding instructions in German and....not Italian. Some language I don't understand. ???? And there are too many numbers for this flight to match my flight number. I walk to the gate counter. The flight listed on the board above it is going to Warsaw, Poland.
Whaaaaaaaa..............???
Frantically, I try to open the United app I've just installed on my phone. It is taking forever to access flight information. So I hoist my backpack on aching shoulders, put the rolling suitcase wheels into 5th gear, and race to find the nearest flight departure board. And race. And race. Putting every bit of conditioning of thrice weekly, 3 1/2 mile runs to maximum use. Think it's hard shopping in a mask? Try running with a 15 -16 pound weight on your back pulling an equal or greater amount of weight behind you. And this gal ain't no spring chicken, honey.
Finally -like the Lady of the Lake - a departure board appears ahead of me. My flight is listed - leaving from Gate A1.
It is now 1:40. More running. But is it a straight line down the terminal to A1? Heck, no! There are at least 2 turn-offs into new, loooooong corridors. Speedier running.
At 1:50 I finally see people gathered up ahead. Through the glasses which have now slipped down to my upper lip, I can barely make out the sign above the check-in counter. I think it says "A1". And I think the destination is Roma Fiumicino.
Yes!
I scoot into the first line I see. It's raining like crazy outside. And gusty. Will we even take off?
Yes, again!
As soon as we do, I close my eyes. When I open them again, I look out the oval window to see it framing the red terracotta rooftops and ochre fields of the Italian countryside.
I'm home!
When I enter my actual home 2 1/2 hours later, I unmask myself for the first time in over 24 hours. There are deep grooves behind my ears and red crescents under my eyes.I strip naked and throw my clothes into a plastic garbage bag, including my shoes. I never want to see them again. I shower, then march straight to the kitchen and gorge myself on the salami, cheese, and fresh tomatoes my property manager has left for me. After which I collapse in bed.
The next morning I part the shutters of the front bedroom to open the scene on the Gran Sasso Mountains glowing purple-grey in the new sun. Birds glide on the updrafts rising from the valley below them. Olive groves on their slopes shine silver-green in full leaf.
The church bells start to ring.
My hungry soul begins to be sated.
I would walk through fire for this.
The Gran Sasso Mountains (un photo-shopped)
