It's about 5pm local time, and at last local means Ho Chi Minh. My body would prefer to be in Rome, where it's about noon. I'm feeling not too bad right now, as we've both just had a couple of hours' nap - just as we would have on a normal day in the afternoon. The transit at Bangkok was the tough one: we got in early, at about 7.30, then had to kill time till the next departure at 11.30. So if you're following the maths, that was 2.30 - 6.30 body-clock time. We'd had a bit of a doze on the flights before, and a bit more snooze on the final leg, but it will be good to get to bed tonight.
Our final morning in Rome went according to plan, and we even had a few minutes for a walk around the block of the hotel, in a direction we hadn't been before. It was more interesting, being a Monday morning, with the businesses waking up. The walking on the Sunday hadn't been particularly illuminating. (Valentina told me that in Milan the city council is thinking of banning Sunday trading. But the many shops that choose to open are thriving: Milan is a happening city. In Rome, apart from tourist shops and half the cafes and restaurants, traders don't open anyway. Or maybe they can't, I don't know)
Our taxi to the airport stopped while still in the city to let us out and change to another taxi, because he'd developed an oil problem, and because the airport run is a set price (48Euros) we didn't pay him but the next guy. The normal turnoff to the airport was closed, so we continued for another 5 minutes or more down what seemed to be a country road before getting on the the autostrada and finally picking up some speed. Luckily there were no queues at all at the Emirates counter, even though we were on two full flights. But again, we had to pick up our bags and go through Immigration, before checking in and going out, again. Still, it filled in time. And the Immigration officer was impressed by the San Marino visas which we'd bought for 5Euros each: they're a paper stamp with a hologram and then a perfectly-placed date stamp. "Beautiful!" he said.
Skipping back to arrival home (because all else was uneventful) and Whittaker was pleased to see us and didn't bear a grudge for very long at all. He appeared on the stairs when we came inside, and then came down meowing when we called. He was purring within a minute or two of ear-scratching. He was nudging my fingers as I started to type this, but now he's sprawled on the computer desk, only very slightly in the way. Our house-sitters have left a bit of food - sauces and condiments and the like - that we're not likely to use, and the house seems fine, although the bedroom is pretty musty after a month . Now I have to start working on lesson plans for the rest of the week, starting with a whole new book, and therefore a completely new style of lesson, for tomorrow night.
Sorry, no photos today. I took one of a Costa's coffee shop evening snack in Dubai, but it's not worth remembering. Again, thank you for reading. I hope some of you are now considering Italy as a destination. It's a long way from NZ and Australia, but it's such a rewarding place to visit that it's worth the time and money. There's so much in a single country - I'm not sure that any other European country would be quite such great value as a single-destination holiday.
There is just one final group of observations. Partway through, Stephen and I started wondering what personalities the cities had, and this is how we felt:
Rome - is a sophisticated, well-travelled uncle, intimidating, but you're proud to be related.
Naples - is a drunk uncle, belligerent, dishevelled, who doesn't care what anybody thinks. This is what he does, and this is how he's gonna do it, and the rest of you can get stuffed.
San Marino - is a great-uncle who wears tweeds and uses a cane and a monocle, but he doesn't need them, he can get along perfectly well without any help.
Florence - is an aristocratic great-aunt, unaware and unconcerned that it's the 21st century, and insisting on keeping up appearances. She's Miss Haversham or the Dowager Countess of Downton.
Venice - is your big-talking, flashy mate, who always knows everything about everything, but is not entirely reliable. He looks good, but is there anything of substance to him?
Verona - is a country cousin with hidden depths. You're surprised to discover a deep literary streak in her.
Milan - is your cool big brother. He's got a few contradictions, like anyone: sometimes forward-thinking, sometimes conservative; sometimes nice, sometimes not. He is confident enough to do his own thing, and not (outwardly) worry about what other people think.
Fratticciola - is a sweet little old grandmother, pottering along doing her own thing as she has done forever.
Camucia - is just another name in the phone-book. Of course there's a whole personal history there, but who cares.
Cortona on the other hand, is your favourite history teacher, who brings old stories to life and shows fascinating glimpses of the old days.
Well, that's what we reckon, anyway.
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