In one week and a few hours from now I will be sitting on KLM flight 6030, Boston to Venice with a connection in Amsterdam. One week in Venice; one week in Florence. All alone. Can't wait.
I can't remember if I've ever traveled two weeks straight by myself. I don't think I have. I've spent weekends alone: Three days of yoga in the Berkshires. Three days in Manhattan, when nobody I knew wanted to pay the exorbitant cost of a Sting ticket at St. John's Cathedral in Harlem and so I went on my own and enjoyed every second.
Other than 3 firm commitments to meet friends and acquaintances, and the ever-present Sting concert (he performs in Florence) I have no set itinerary for these two weeks. I have been to both cities twice and have seen the tourist-musts. The Doge's Palace, Bridge of Sighs, Santa Maria Salute, Rialto Market. Ponte Vecchio, the David, the Duomo, the Uffizzi. This time, I will wander.
I will practice my paltry Italian in cafes and street markets. I will eat pasta and panini and drink red wine. I will chat up the staff at both hotels to get the scoop on where to really go and what to really do and see. I will try on boots and ignore the snickers of the salesgirl when I tell her my size. I will make new Italian friends and invite myself back to visit them next year.
As my friend Susan says, It's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it.
