Alive in Sicily.

We left on a direct train from Florence to Switzerland at 6am yesterday. 8 hours of beautiful mountains and great conversations with a German architect, and before we know it Carolina and I are back in the city we've called home for so long now. Pete--a tangential friend of my mom's--and his beautiful Thai wife and triple citizenship 2 year old son, provided us with a place to drop our bags, adorable toddler entertainment, delicioso vino rosso, and amazing home-cooked Thai food. Bags and bellies packed at almost 11p.m. we left for the station to catch the train to Pisa Centrale and then the mini-train to Pisa Airport. No trains would be running early enough for us to catch one in the morning for our 6a.m. flight, so we took the only option available--airport slumber party.

Carolina and I arrive at Pisa Centrale only to discover that despite it's online listing, and paper printed listing, the shuttle train to the airport decided to cancle. I snickered to myself, "Toto, I don't think we're in Switzerland anymore."

We wait outside in the pouring rain for an hour. A bus finally pulls up. We catch a ride to the airport hoping for a few hours of sleep. 12 disgruntled travelers sit in twos and threes on the cold pavement in front of the locked airport doors. It's just after midnight and the airport is closed until 4a.m. The cold pavement is lined with bags, a sad attempt at a make-shift mattress for the night. It's 3a.m. and I haven't slept a blink. One hour to go. I layer on more clothing and grunt at my dirty toes. "Damn midevil cobbled stone. Horrible when it rains," I mutter.

4a.m. the airport opens and we sleep on chairs for a half hour. 4:30. Go through check-in, luggage, customes. Sleep on the other end for 20 minutes. Drowned in grimey rain and apathy, we're the last ones to board the plane at 6a.m. I sleep for two hours. Wake up in Trapani at 8a.m. Buy a ticket for the 8:40 bus to Palermo that never comes. Encora...so it goes it Italy. Sit in the sun for two hours. It's 10a.m. and we're finally greeted by a bus to Palermo. An hour later, we reach the saving grace of our "odessy" as Carolina referred to it. Our place of refuge? Ennio's 8th story spare room balcony apartment, dedicated especially to us. Couchsurfing bliss. More to come on that... for now, no sleep... but food and "magic cafe" to fuel our withering bodies.

Pace e Amore,
Racholina... as the Italians have been calling me