Day 123 Aug 2006
first
the flight is an hour and a half late and we're practically prisoners in the waiting room of the tiny Treviso airport: there's only a bar. and the tea tastes of nothing. to be continued...
The story · 5 days
A week among the clouds, hot dogs, repeated half pints and a nice new pair of shoes.
Day 223 Aug 2006
second
... on the plane the air conditioning is on full blast, hitting me on the head and feet, but the stewardesses are all delightful, even the sturdy mulatto Spanish one who sways dangerously on her stiletto heels as she shuttles from one end of the cabin to the other: she has the step of an elephant but the smile of a fairy. I've always dreamed of being a stewardess. I doze off, and these remnants of wakefulness enter REM sleep. to be continued...
Day 323 Aug 2006
third
on landing a thick, cold drizzle is falling. we run across the runway. Stansted airport is big and full of carpet. typically British. another hour of waiting at the baggage carousel and off on the coach waiting for us at the exit, like a sheepdog. air conditioning. but what do the English who come to Calabria in July do? peel off their first layer of skin?
Day 423 Aug 2006
fourth
in the city the weather doesn't improve and to avoid further stress, worn out as we are from sleep and the harsh climate, we think of taking a taxi. a nice taxi, to take us straight to the hotel without having to worry about anything other than paying the fare, which we know will be quite steep. taxi! and taxi it is. the driver looks like a cocaine addict, and maybe, who knows, he is: he's in top form and goes like a rocket through the deserted, slippery streets of the capital. he's fast as a train.. but.. he doesn't really know where he's going: he drops us with a "sorry" a block from the West Cromwell Hotel, and we even have to fork out 20 pounds. good night and good luck.
Day 523 Aug 2006
fifth
here we are. utterly exhausted. in the small hours everything looks uglier, made worse by the poor state of the perceptive system: the entrance is cramped and the room faces directly onto the very busy West Cromwell Road. no king size double bed, but two single beds pushed together, covered with dusty and somewhat dirty fleece blankets. the bathroom... thank goodness.. the bathroom is clean. room number: G7. it's already tomorrow.
The journey's photographs
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