LESSONS GLEANED. LESSONS LEARNED?

I woke up ealy this morning, fretting about mailing the big box of items we are sending back to the States. Around 7:45, I went downstairs to address it and tape it up, expecting the post office to open at 8:00 am. Massimo at the reception desk helped me, and I headed out about 8:05. By 8:10, I was at the post office, only to find it opens at 8:30. So I whiled away the time, thinking about on all  my previous trips to Europe, I would be amazed at the little differences that define Western Europe to me. The USA and Western Europe have roads, buildings, signs... But here in Italy (like in France and Germany) the streets and sidewalks are smaller, narrower, and constructed on the star basis developed centuries ago, as opposed to the grid basis in the States developed within the past 250 years, where the pavement is asphalt or concrete, wider and just plain larger to accommodate our larger vehicles operating in a vaster landscape.

The signs, too, communicate similar messages, but their designs and coloring give them a distinction from their American counter parts. There are sounds on the street that are uniquely European, such as the vroom of the motor scooters zipping through traffic, the ringing of bicycle bells and of course the shouts in Italian. When people greet one another on the street, they embrace and kiss both cheeks. Me personally, I am often reluctant to shake hands in these days of contagion! And the smells are different. There is, to me, something definingly European about the odors one detects on the street, from the much more widely used scent of diesel mixing with omnipresent cigarette smoke, wafts emanating from restaurants and bakeries to the strange, disorienting mix of perfumed men and women with the malodorous stench of sewerage.

The lesson learned is that this time abroad, all those differences I would be enlargening in mind as an outsider, I am not feeling. Sure, IQ have now been to Europe many times now, but even in 2006 before I met up with Lex and we travelled, I felt an excitement or anxiety about these things. This time, I do not, and I attribute this sense of ease and security to Andrea, of being part of a couple rather than a lone outsider.
While I was the first person outside the door of the small, neighborhood post office, I let the others who arrived after me go in first; partly because I knew my business would take longer than simply buying stamps, but also so I could observe the routine inside.

With some help from an older gentleman, I realized everyone goes first to an automated machine that dispatches a number based on the service being requested. For instance, I ended up getting #1 because I was shipping a package. I ad it to being confused about this, and again the gent had to push me up to the window. Had an Italian with as much English as I have Italian language skills gone to the Chippewa USPS branch in South Bend, thw transaction would have never been completed. However, the cute woman behind the counter not only understood my butchered Italian, she was able to respond in English far superior to my Italian. The box weighed almost 13 Kg, slightly more than 28 pounds, and cost 73€ (about what I would have estimated for the package to arrive in about 20 days). I then ordered 40 gli francobigli (stamps) for Andrea's postcards, and they cost 64€!

Per usual, we were running behind schedule and ordered a taxi to the train station. Because we are getting low on Euros, I wantedto stop by the ATM on Via El Prato. But, there was ridiculous, abnormal traffic (probably due to an accident) that had traffic backed up like I have never seen on this continent. That, along with my mistimed request to go by the ATM, jeopardized our making the train. As Andrea often says of me, "penny wise, pound foolish." The cab ride ended up costing 22€ and taking 25 minutes. In that period of time, even with our bags, we could have walked it! All because I wanted to save the ATM service fee of $5-10 by going to the BNL D'Italia bancomat!

We are on the train to Venice as I write this. We just pulled away from Bologna and are in the flat farmlands of north cental Italy.