As of today, we're three months away from leaving for our next European adventure. Ninety days. It seems so far away until I realize I've been planning this trip for more than seven months . . . Two hundred and ten days. It makes the ninety seem like tomorrow in some ways.
My original idea was to spend six months living in Italy. The expense got in the way of that idea, so I agreed that maybe three months was okay. Much discussion (and someone's election to the HOA board) later, we're down to a little over two months.
"MY GOD!" a friend recently exclaimed. "You're going to be there for nine weeks?"
"I know," I replied, "It's not as long as I wanted, but what can I do?"
I don't consider most of this trip a vacation (at least for me). My plan from the beginning was to *live* in Sulmona, Italy for the entire time we were there. I want to live where my grandmother grew up, experience life in Abruzzo, learn to speak Italian more fluently. AND, darn it, I want to write every single day and finish my book. Mike, however, is a bit more concerned about getting bored and thought we should move around a bit. So, we decided to move around a bit.
I'm not complaining. I get frustrated, and I get quiet and consider throwing the computer through the window. When things resolve themselves, I'm happy and grateful that I didn't destroy my laptop. ;-)
At any rate, with three months to go, our main itinerary is set (The stars mark the spots.), all lodging is booked, and I've redeemed my frequent flyer miles so we can get there and home. I'm still working on train reservations, but the European train companies don't open reservations until they're 90 days out, so I'll be working on those through February.
A huge sign of relief escapes, and I'm looking forward to figuring out the relatively small things – making my journal and figuring out what to pack, for example. Pieces of cake. Pieces of cake. ;-)
Next time: What the heck is an arrondissement, and why should I care?