New Plans

As I announced previsouly, I planned to return to Italy for one month in October, which would mean that I would return to Texas in November, rather than December 1st as originally planned. I called American Airlines and was told there was no availability for a flight back until November 26th, but I was welcome to keep calling back to see if seats opened up. That call cost me $10 and fortunately I wasn't placed on hold at all. I decided that I am not going to keep throwing money away on long distance calls with no guarantee of success, so I called dear Maria back and asked her if I could come back from October 9- November 30. She seems happy to have me coming back and gave me a break on November's rent which will help me quite a lot. She also indicated she would be willing to pick me up from the Camucia train station when I arrive as it will be around 9 PM or so. Way too late for the last bus, and there are no taxis in Camucia. Such a wonderful, kind woman is Maria!

I booked my tickets from Strasbourg to Florence, and was rather annoyed to find out that I will be driven 3 hours by bus to Frankfurt, then flown to Florence. I guess that's whay the ticket was half the price of any other travel website. The bus is fine...hope I don't need to use "the facilities" on the way though!

Walking to the internet point tonight, I heard the swirl of Celtic music trickling down the street so trotted up to the Marktplatz in time to hear a duo playing Celtic music. A dark haired man was playing an uilleann pipe (an Irish bagpipe) or it could have been a zampogna, which is an Italian bagpipe, as I did hear the word Italy being bandied about in German. The other man, with a long, long ponytail of straight hair stretching down his back, played what appeared to be a bass drum. I was surprised not to see a bodhran, which is a thin Celtic drum, but then if the pipes were actually from Italy perhaps the drum was too. At any rate the duo were very good. Celtic music calls to my Scottish roots and the urge to kick up my heels or at least tap my foot was hard to resist.

Speaking of Scottish music, I walked past the music school the other night to hear the lonesome sound of a trombone squeezing out "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean" with no discernable errors. Good stuff, that.

I am really beginning to feel at home at my coffee shop. It's quite new, large, and brightly lit with wooden tables and modern glass lamps and chandeliers. Large rounds of brown bread, pale circular baskets, and wood piles lean against brick walls for atmosphere, and each table has a fresh rose floating in a glass dish placed inside a metal circlet shaped liked a small crown. There are all sorts of breads, rolls, sweet rolls, croissants, and tortes to eat in or take away, and wonderful smelling omelettes are prepared for the breakfast crowd. The handsome Italian man is usually preparing pasta with a choice of sauces for the lunch crowd, but I have not yet tried any of them. He is sure to greet me in Italian each day now, and the ladies have warmed up and several know my drink of choice, milchkaffee. I even have my favorite little table where I sit and read for 45 minutes or an hour, however long I can manage to nurse my coffee along...I am such a creature of habit! But it feels good to begin to fit in and to establish a routine of sorts. Rothenburg is still not home yet though!

An ancient fellow, leaning heavily on a cane, stopped me and addressed me in unintelligible German the other day. Ever polite, I stopped to greet him and shake his proferred hand, but was alarmed to feel him rub my breast with his other outflung arm. Sheesh! You know, for as much as you hear about Italian men coming on strong, other than a bit of ogling in Florence, I found them to be gentlemen. No one in Cortona was ever inappropriate with me, but here in Germany I have experienced both the come on of the internet man and have now been felt up by an old codger. Yikes!