Arriving in Florence

Flying to Florence was probably the scariest day of my life. Armed with too much luggage and no confidence I left for the airport after everyone was gone. My father, my brother. My mother waited alone outside the airport to say good-bye after I checked in. This was new, a fresh experience, an adventure! Yet I could not explain the overwhelming sadness that engulfed me, that I was alienated from all I knew. After paying excessive over-weight baggage fees (who knew the requirements outside of the United States were that different?!? Twenty kilos for all your luggage as opposed to fifty pounds a piece. That’s more than double!!), getting through immigration and security, I boarded the plane.

The flight seemed never-ending. I looked back at all the things I’d forgotten to do – something that’s of little use when you’re sitting on the plane! I had brought the keys to my closet. I had left one glasses case. I had a random assortment of possessions that I had dumped into my bags, not knowing which I would need and which I would not. I was exhausted, my eyes dry from the crying (only partially due to sadness and partially due to stress). I slept for random intervals, waking up feeling worse than I started.

Upon arriving in Frankfurt I was running. My flight landed at 7:15, my next flight boarded at 7:20. I ran through the airport, having to go through European Union Security in order to get on my next flight. Fortunately it did not take off till 7:55. I reached the gate at 7:40. But I had no time to call home, a fact that was extremely upsetting to me. I was one of the last people to make it there. I got on a shuttle bus that took us to what seemed the end of the airport world. I finally got on the plane and collapsed.

Looking back, I realized it was familiarity I missed. This was all so new and terrifying. I was afraid of that which I did not know or understand. Too much change in too little time. I counseled myself to be strong. To be calm. I tried to open my mind and let it in. Tried to let this newness, this thing I was suspicious of. That took some time.

Upon arriving in Florence two things were apparent. One: although I was in Florence, my baggage wasn’t. Second, the Italian airport baggage claim did not seem in too much of a hurry to do anything about it. I stood in the three person line for what seemed like ages, while the person inside the booth switched between attending to us, attending to another booth that led outside, and disappearing completely for extended periods of time. When it was finally my turn, I filled out the paper work and pointed to what looked like my suitcase in the catalogue they showed to people. Finally I took my carry-on luggage and headed towards the door. The airport security official waved me by. But wait…I had waited to get this stupid visa at 6 am, I wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t exist now! I waved my passport at him as if to say, “You sure you don’t wanna see this?? I could be an illegal immigrant infiltrating your safe secure country! I could be a threat to national security!” He still wasn’t interested. I can’t remember now if he glanced at it or not, but whatever it was he took little or no interest in it at all.

A third thing was apparent as soon as I reached the door. I should have taken an Italian class before getting here. There was a pool of taxis outside and I did not know which of them I could get into. They were all empty and in some formation of a line, but I couldn’t make head or tail of it. I wandered around for a little while feeling lost. I finally found a woman in a taxi that pointed me to the front. I practiced what I had taught myself (Via Montebello, Numero Sette) – My first little piece of Italian. I felt like Carrie in Paris, at that point -ready to take on the world!