The Arrival (Rome)

You ask and I deliver!

Arriving in Rome. I flew out of PDX, via Lufhansa to Frankfurt. A long flight, on which I sat, watched Bolt and Transporter 3, failed to sleep, and ate airplane food. I sat next to an elderly Indian man who seemed nice, but not chatty. The view was quite incredible. Flying over the glaciers everthing was so blue, that the few clouds that I could see looked like perfect cotton balls that someone had simple dropped from above.

I arrived in Frankfurt…managed to find the right terminal for my flight to Rome. Yay go me. They did take the waterbottle I had bought in PDX…no water containers over 3oz, never mind if you got them in a bloody airport, AFTER the security check. But other than that it was easy.

The flight to Rome was short, and uneventful. I didn’t have anyone in the seat next to me so I actually dozed a bit. But arriving in Rome…whoa…

I didn’t actually have to go through customs or anything…which was odd. I did wait for literally 45 minutes to get my luggage. I was definitely freaked, thinking it was lost, I was at the wrong terminal, AND that I was going to miss the taxi that had been arranged to meet me and the 4 other people in my program that were arriving at similar times.

Well my things finally came through. My huge suitcase was one of the last things to come out. So that was a relief. Then it got worse.

I walked out of the baggage claim area, through the customs area and into chaos. I was told that there would be someone holding a sign with my program name on it, and that would be my taxi that would take me to my apartment. Well. There were MASSES of people with signs, more masses of people milling about, and the most incredible din. There was no space anywhere, I had two checked bags and two carry-ons. Nervs went through the roof.

I wandered around, made about 8 circuts of the entry area looking for the man with the AIRC sign. Didn’t find him. So I hauled out my Italian cell phone (orderd in advance as per the suggestion of my program), figured out how to turn it on and unlock it, and called our “emergency number.” The guy who answered offered the singularly unhelpful suggestion of “keep looking” and “try by the information booth” (which I was standing about 10 feet from). He said he’d call back in ten minutes to see if I found it.

Curbing utter panic and dispair I did another circuit. To my shock, relief, and utter amazement there it was! It was a short man in a striped shirt, chatting aimiably to another man in a suit with a sign for a hotel shuttle. He was very helpfully holding the AIRC sign in the “highly visible” area that was his navel. If I hadn’t been at the right angle, or standing straight in front of him I never would have found it.

I go rushing up in relief, point to my name on his list and am told to stand and wait…by the information booth…ha. Apparently I was first to arrive. But shortly after I was joined by a girl from New York, two guys from Ohio, and a boy from London. The brit had had just as much trouble as I had, and been told the same thing by the man at the other end of the emergency number (who I later worked out might have been our program directior Dar…). He had gone to a different information booth.

So. We all pick all our stuff back up, and tote it off to the taxi. It was about a half-hour, forty minute drive into the city. We dropped all the boys off first, then us two girls got dropped on our street. She lives in an apartment building right next to mine. We were met there by our program coordinator Lynda. She let us in, gave us keys, maps, and was generally amazing. The other apartment, the other girls were all in, so we left my taxi-friend with her new roommates.

I was the last to arrive for my apartment, so I go the last bed. A double yes, but it’s a fold out couch…in the dining/living room. Sigh. All of my roomies were out and about, so Lynda took me to a bank-o-mat (atm), showed me how to get to the institute where we were all meeting for dinner in a few hours, and headed off. I went and bought a sandwich, tried not to fall asleep, and started to unpack.

The roomies came back, we all got acquainted (there are four of ‘em, two from Oregon…quite shocking actually…one from Maryland, and one from Milan), and headed off to the welcome dinner. Which was nice, but went on too long for a poor jet-lagged Lucy. Thus endeth the arrival.

I don’t know how my other arrival will go. The study abroad in France one, we are supposed to be met at the station by a program leader, who will take us to wherever we will be staying for the week of orientation. It will be a train station rather than an international airport, it will be a smaller city, and I will speak some of the language, so I’m hoping for slightly less trauma. But…we shall see.

…is this what you were looking for? Or shall I have another go?



OH: and if you want to read about the dig, another new post is just below. Two in one day. Will wonders never cease?