What a ceremonious start to three weeks in Italy. I leave it until the last minute to pack my bags (literally. I went out the night before, not getting home until about 5am...by 6.30 it was barely worth going to sleep but i try anyway.) My packing philosophy was to put everything I wanted to take with me onto the bed, quick eyeball, and then if it all fitted into the case dammit it was all coming. Including the latest h&m wardrobe additions. I tried so hard to do the maths on what time I needed to be at the airport, thus what time i needed to leave home, but it was actually impossible: my little gin-addled tete couldn't figure it out. Erring on the side of caution, then, I arrived rather early, especially for a flight that was delayed by an hour.
Unfortunately, the last minute rush meant I forgot a couple of things. Like one of my guide books. And my italian-english phrase book. Dammit. All the more embarassing because I'm not holidaying alone, I'm gallavanting with my mother for 3 weeks. Upon arrival at venice airport the meet-mum back up plan kicked into action. Despite having 3 simcards at my disposal, it seemed i couldn't get the correct combination of credit/network reception/general functionability. So as planned, I waited at the tourist desk. For half an hour. Given mum arrived well before me, and i was running late, this concerned me a little. Apparently, after doodling around trying to problem solve, the water taxi dsk is not also the tourist desk. The tourist desk, just a few booths away is. And sure enough, there was mumma, waiting patiently. We rolled off to our waiting water taxi and our Venice escape began.
No comments:
Post a Comment