TO ROME!

I'm starting this post from the guest room/dining room/living room of Leonardo. Through the single window behind the glass table I see a beige and brick building with red letters reading "centro di riabilitazione & fisioterapia."

Goodness, I love Italian. I love that I can make sense out of that sentence when my real Italian vocabulary is just a few words from the agritourismo way back when.

Life in Rome starts early for a Mediterranean city. It's seven o'clock and the streets already produce a cacophonous din. I enjoy hearing the sounds of so many motorbikes, whizzing this way and that -- honking horns, revving engines, squealing brakes. There's something about the energy of cities built around vespas that resonates with me. 

Due to our fun night out, I woke up extraordinarily late on Sunday morning. I blearily rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and tiptoed to the kitchen to scrounge up my breakfast yogurt.

Honey and yogurt... that always makes me feel better. Just... resist... the mocha and it will all be okay. 

Martin woke around ten and after he'd made tea for the both of us, was gracious enough to give me an interview on my last morning in Munich. The cozy kitchen and his tall figure made it a challenge to get the entirety of his blonde head in the frame, but I think I got a really interesting video out of it. Some of Martin's answers were drastically different from any I'd heard before.

Even if I never do anything with this project, these mementos will be priceless. I clicked off the camera and thanked Martin for the interview. I have videos of most of the people I've stayed with since 2011. That's something special. 

I love being a tourist while I couchsurf. I don't get to participate in the touristic activities while volunteering (I know it's silly, but most people don't travel to Ireland to toil on farms or to Germany to care for alpacas), so I relish the opportunity to take pictures, see the sights, do the tours, and munch on roasted hazelnuts.

Martin took me on a brief bike ride into the city center to see the glockenspiel figures dance at 11:00 on Sunday morning. The performance itself was a bit of a letdown (as tripadviser warned it would be), but the company was stupdendous and it was fantastic to be on a bicycle, feeling the brisk air brush my face and the rapid pumping of my heart.

My fingers were cold. F*cking *****. 

I finished packing my bags (which are significantly lighter (thank god) as I got rid of a third of my clothes at Englischhausen) and Martin rode with me to the station where I'd board my train for the airport.

"If you ever need a place to stay in Munich --"

"I'm sure we'll travel together someday -- "

"I'll miss you."

"I'll see you again."

And after a big, awkward, backpack hug, I was on the train and bound for Munich airport, Terminal One.

Munich airport is massive. By the way.  I'm not sure why, but I had expected something much smaller, so its gargantuan, intimidating size was an extremely unpleasant surprise. I'm glad I always give myself at least two hours to mess things up. I had to walk fifteen-twenty minutes just to find where I could check in for Air Berlin -- something I've never had to do before. However, the Germans made up for all that inefficient walking by having a very efficient security system. I believe I was through in five minutes, which is a record for me.

My first flight took off on time, nary a hitch. I was more than a little concerned that they wouldn't allow me to keep my carry-on bag in the overhead (I'm very protective of my carry-on bag), but I retrieved it safe and sound in Dusseldorf. This city of 1.5 million people also has a humongous airport, and I got very lost indeed in my search for my gate. There was even a bit of last-minute sprinting going on.

However, I needn't have worried. My flight was half an hour late in boarding and fifteen minutes late in taking off. Due to inclement weather (crazy-ass lighting storms) the plane was also delayed in landing. This was all quite distressing to me as I had arranged via facebook to meet my host at 21:25 at Termini station in the center of Rome. If I couldn't make the 20:35 bus, there was no way I could meet him at 21:25 and I would have to borrow someone's phone to contact him to tell the poor guy I'd be late. But I didn't have the bus timetable, so I wasn't sure which bus I'd be on or how late I'd be.

Why the hell don't I have a phone? This needs to change. Next time I'm in Europe, I will have a working phone. I don't care how much it costs -- the peace of mind would be worth it.

20:20. I fly to the luggage belt and anxiously scan for my backpack. The sign overhead reads that luggage from Dusseldorf will not circulate until 20:35.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. There's no way I'm getting to the bus on time. 

I meekly approached an elderly gentleman and asked if he spoke English. He immediately deferred me to his wife, to whom I explained my situation, "I'm supposed to meet a friend at the Termini station in Rome, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it in time because the plane landed so late. Would you let me borrow your phone to contact him? Mine doesn't work here."

I'm lucky that people are so nice, I thought as she handed over her husband's phone and helped me dial the correct number.

"Leonardo? This is Aimee. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm be able to make it to the station by 9:25. My flight was really late and I'm still waiting for my luggage. No... I'm... I'm really not sure where I am. You could pick me up? From the airport? My goodness, that would be amazing. Yes, the International Terminal is probably where I'm at. Great, so I'll see you in half an hour to forty minutes. Wow, thanks so much!"

And after a bit more confusion regarding which terminal I was at, I saw my host strolling through the brightly lit walkway to meet me.

His whole persona immediately made me feel good, even though I was tired, temperamental and stressed from the day of travel. Warm, quiet, respectful, intelligent, welcoming -- Aimee, when you get lucky, you get really lucky. All the refreshing people you've met through couchsurfing this year... Hanne, Eddie, Jeremy, Patrick, Tessa, Danilo, Stefan, Martin, Daniel and now Leonardo. So many marvelous experiences. Ahh... I'm the luckiest of ladies. 

We chatted all the way back to his flat as the storm continued to rage outside his car.

"I'm sorry that you came this week. The weather was perfect just before. People were even going to the beach," Leonardo apologized for the deluge

"Yup, I definitely brought this with me. The weather was dreadful in Munich, it followed me to the Black Forest, then back to Munich, and has now followed me to Rome."

Once we arrived, Leonardo showed me how to work everything in his apartment -- the shower, the lights, the kitchen, the curtains and the door. He told me to help myself to anything in the fridge and gave me the keys to the flat. 

"This is for the door to the flat and this is for the main door."

Aimee... when you get lucky, you get --

"Are you hungry? Here is some dinner that my mother sent for you."


-- really lucky. 

We conversed as I demolished his mother's spinach, mozzarella dish, and I quickly realized that I was going to have a very good time with Leonardo. With couchsurfing, there's always the fear that you'll end up staying with a person you find difficult to speak to or around whom you just feel on edge. Nervous. Uncomfortable sharing the same space.

But Leonardo made me feel completely at ease. Conversation flows naturally and I love listening to him speak -- the way he incorporates Italian into English is just so musical and playful. I have a feeling that a few Italian words will find their way into my vocabulary, due to my short stay with Leonardo.

"Allora..."

"Questo qui..."

"Ciao!"

After chatting for a few more minutes we collapsed into our respective beds.


"Buonanotte, Aimee."

"Buonanotte, Leonardo."

I love all the different places I get to say goodnight.  I snuggled up in the spare bed, appreciating the stiffness of the pillow and the mattress. I'm so lucky that I have a body that can sleep most anywhere. I don't need a specific bed, specific sounds, or to be facing due north like Bob Wiley in "What About Bob".  As long as I'm horizontal, I'm golden. *sigh* I love the all the different ways I get to say goodnight. In France, it was bonne nuit. In Germany, it was guten Nacht. Here, I get to say buonanotte. I rolled over on my side to face the window. I love the different sounds every morning, the different foods, the different routines. What day is tomorrow? Tuesday? Wednesday? Nope. It's Monday. I love that I had to really think about that.

 Preconceptions: none today

Challenges: none today