I was very excited to bring my new suitcases with me on this latest trip. Described as maple in color, the matching carry-on and small suitcase are easy to hook together and roll into the airport. However, nowhere in the description of these bags on the website was their proclivity to wander or their inability to keep up in fast airport transitions. Had I known that, all would have been easier on this trip. A friend has suggested that somewhere in the design are embedded the instructions “Lose me.”
I thought I was done with lost bags after my trip to Dubrovnik where I was notified by the courier that he would be at the road near our airbnb to drop off the bag in 10 to 15 minutes. This while my colleague Jay and I were getting coffees a mere 10 flights of stairs below. I was thrilled to be reunited with Maple and left poor Jay to carry piping hot coffees up those 10 flights of stairs from the main square. (He made it, intrepid soul that he is). Maple wasn’t the least bit apologetic for the worry caused. I got my coffee and my bag.
On the way to Rome, I flew via Munich and we had an hour and four minute lay over. When we landed in Munich, I’m happy to report the airport was more navigable than Frankfurt, however with the hour long delay we had incurred in Croatia due to no runway availability in Munich, we arrived with about a half hour to spare to my next flight. Arrived at gate H something and needed to get to gate K something. By this time, I’m quite comfortable lugging the unwheeled maple accessory bag which is somewhere between a bowling ball weight and Mary Poppin’s bag so in spite of the impossibly tight connection, I started off to the K gate. When I saw that it required a train ride, I thought, “I’ll never make it” but kept moving with intentionality toward the other terminal and my gate. When I got there, with about 6 minutes left before take off, I scanned my boarding pass, and miraculously the gate opened for me and I tromped into the plane and took my seat, putting my maple accessory bag up in the overhead. I literally couldn’t believe I’d made it to the point that I was texting to change my plane on the way to the gate with the Lufthansa app. When I sank into my seat, I texted the (presumably a bot) app that I’d made it. They said “Ok.”
We arrived in Rome at about 9:30, and just as I was making my way to the baggage carousel, I got a message that Maple had been rerouted to another flight the next morning at 11:00AM (She has never been one to wake early enough to be helpful.) I went to the lost luggage counter and waited about an hour reading the board of all the airlines they helped but not seeing Lufthansa. When I finally thought I better ask if they helped Lufthansa passengers, a helpful American behind me said, “I just came from there.” And she pointed over my shoulder to another desk where I quickly went. No line. Helpful clerk. Automated system. In the meantime, I had gotten from my hosts in Scopietto their host’s address in Civitella for the bag to be delivered to. The clerk said it would be two days (at least) because the destination wasn’t in Rome. All I could think was “Thank goodness I made it.” I was going to meet my friend Bob the next morning back at the airport when he picked up his Canadian friends and I knew that I could be there.
Naked Hijinks in the Hilton
I got into the Hilton at about 11:00PM, without a toothbrush or nightie (I’ll be rethinking how I pack in future) and I was sweaty and hot. The bathroom was renovated to be handicapped accessible but my feet barely touched the ground when I sat on the toilet and I couldn’t find the flusher. I looked over my shoulder and saw an extremely long cord to pull with the word Alarm on it. Being nothing but butt naked at the time, I thought this through. Alarm certainly wasn’t what I wanted to do at that particular moment and pictured a team of good looking Italian firemen showing up at my hotel room. As appealing as that was, I climbed down off the toilet and looked more carefully until I found the push button under the cord of the hair dryer. Dignity preserved. Well at least until now.
Off to bed with the hope that there wouldn’t be a fire or earthquake in the city of Rome that night. I ended up wearing the dress as pajamas.
The next morning, I made my way to the airport again in the dress which was fortunately floral and very comfortable and miraculously found Bob and his friends. Soon we were cheerily tooting up the autostrada to Civitella del Lago. Umbria is magnificent. Much better than Tuscany. We arrived by 10:30 or so, and were greeted by Sally at Casalone in nearby Scopietto. We had a marvelous lunch of cantelope, cheese, bread, Cinghiale (wild boar) sausages and prosciutto and finally fresh cherries out in the arbor-covered pergola overlooking the valley and Civitella. The last time I’d been here, I’d scattered some of my husband’s ashes into the olive grove below the house, so I slipped over to say a quick hello before lunch.
That evening, we split our party up and Sally and I went to nearby Todi to hear a concert in the palazzo of our host Marina’s Uncle Carlo while Bob went off for Pizza with Ouida and the Frasers. We had come here five years ago and the choirmaster was the same person who had shepherded the teen choir to sing in the grand room of the Palazzo. This time it was a group of about thirty adult singers and the power of their voices was notable in the room which is decorated with late nineteenth century representations of fantastical and imaginary Italian scenes. I didn’t take as many shots this time as I did in 2019 but you can see more in my blog from that time.
By now the dress I was wearing had become a running gag at Casalone. Every time I would emerge in the morning or afternoon, someone would graciously say, “What a nice dress!” I hoped that Maple was having a good time wherever she’d gotten off to because the receipt which I looked at on day two said the bag had gotten lost between Monaco and Roma. At any rate, how could I complain with sights to see and people to be with as entertaining as Bob and Sally and their Canadian guests? Maple didn’t know what she was missing.
Off we went to Orvieto for the day and saw the Orvieto Duomo and had a lovely lunch after some light shopping.
We had drinks then dinner last night with Ouida, and in typical fashion, she invited me to come grab some clothes to wear until mine arrived.
Meanwhile, nothing was heard from the baggage folks. Finally, I reached out and used the file ID and asked about the lost bag. I received an email saying that the bag had been found and was on it’s way to its location. Stay tuned (or basically something like that). I trodded along in my functional dress, and the city of Orvieto took my mind off missing Maple.
I have never been so grateful for a change of clothes and here was the view right outside the Belvedere Ristorante last night moments before the clouds let go and the rains came down for the second time that day. Dinner was delicious and the next morning, Sally and I popped over to Ouida’s beautiful house and I got some black pants, a white lacy top and some sandals that saved the day. As soon as our group got back from our little trip to nearby Montecchio, who should pop up, but Maple, tail between her legs, sporting about five new tags. We’ll see if she can stick with the program on the way back home at the end of the week. Look at everything she missed.
lifeinthethe8tre 