The first leg of our trip is a non stop flight from Boston to Rome. Most transatlantic flight from the US are red eye. You lose 5-6 hours flying to Europe and the flight time is 7-8 hours, so if you leave at 6pm you will arrive sometime around 7am the next morning. The key is to sleep on the plane so you can stay awake the next day and not fall into a jet lag cycle where you are exhausted by 8pm and can't go out at night an enjoy a late dinner with Europeans instead of a 5pm dinner with tourists.
On the plane, Karen slept like a baby while I could not. I read my book "Christ Stopped at Eboli" and was enlightened by all the things that were in the book but not the movie. Once in Rome, we head to the passport checkpoint. Americans expect lines and order at our official checkpoints, but lines, like using your turn signal in Rhode Island, are merely a suggestion in Italy. The phrase "every man for himself" comes to mind. Dazed from no sleep and a backpack to weigh us down, we were pushed and shoved every minute of the 1 1/2 hours we waited to get our passport stamped.
Once through the checkpoint, we head to our connecting flight to Brindisi. Luckily, the gate number is on the ticket as none of the departure screens list our flight. While waiting for our flight, I notice several your men wearing identical track suits with the crest of the Lecce Futbol (Soccer) Club. Some call Futbol the national pastime of Italy. National obsession is more like it. This futbol frenzy was well rewarded in 2006 when Italy won the World Cup. Karen and I have enjoyed watching futbol since the '02 World Cup and really became fans when we visited Spain and saw the excitement surrounding Barcalona FC. Their best player, Ronaldhino, was the '05 FIFA Player of the Year and you couldn't go more than 50 feet in Barcalona without seeing something for sale with his image on it. Everything from coffee mugs to refrigerator magnets to women's underwear were plastered with his perpetually smiling face. Ronaldhino rewarded people of Catalonia that year with a Spanish Championship and a European Championship.
Knowing we were going to Italy during Futbol season, we brushed up on our Seria A Futbol (the top league in Italy). Much to our delight, Ronaldhino is now on AC Milan, though injuries had slowed Brazil's best player in recent years. Leaving Barcelona had left Spanish fans bitter, saying he only signed for the money (think Roger Clemens leaving the Red Sox to play for Toronto) and was a traitor (how could he be a traitor when he was Brazilian, not Spanish). Many Spanish fans feel vindicated by Ronadhino's perceived struggles since leaving Barcalona, but every time I have seen him he is still his same smiling self, obviously loving just to play the game.
Futbol has several levels in Italy like minor league baseball in the US. Unlike baseball, players don't move up the levels in Italian Futbol, teams do. So, for example, if a team wins Serie B one year, they play in Serie A the next. For years, Lecce had been mired in Serie B, but this year they were playing with the big boys in Serie A. In fact, in the 80 plus years of Serie A play, Lecce had only completed in Serie A 14 seasons. For 2010-11, Leece sits in 16th place out of 20 teams and is in danger of dropping back to Serie B next year. Lecce fared poorly in the game we watched in the states, losing 4-0 to the high powered offense of Juventus.
Seeing a top futbol team, waiting in the terminal and flying economy class, taking the same puddle jumper to Brindisi seemed strange. Imagine sitting next to Tom Brady on a flight from Chicago to Boston after he just threw three touchdowns to beat the Bears. Even though Lecce had just lost to Roma (one of the top teams in Serie A) kids still posed for pictures with their heroes while their smiling fathers worked the camera.
I had felt a little queasy landing in Rome, but attributed it to airline food and lack of sleep. By the time I got on the connecting flight, I broke out in a flop sweat and started to shake from chills. The plane was still on the ground, but I asked the flight attendant if I could use the bathroom, knowing the answer. I had to wait, he apologized. Apparently sensing my discomfort, he moved me to a vacant row and handed me a stack of airline sickness bags (how much vomit did he expect to come out of me?) and napkins. Momentarily settled, I fell asleep.
Upon approach, the plane hit turbulence and, try as I might, I lost my lunch in one of the heretofore provided airsickness bags. Every drop in the bag, I wiped my mouth and tried to fold the bag as neatly as possible and placed it on the unoccupied seat next to me. By now, the plane is stopped and passengers are deplaning. We waiting until everyone got off the plane, I got our bags and left the plane apologizing to everyone who met my gaze, including the pilot.
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