Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (And Trams and School Buses)

Coming home turned in to more of an adventure than we anticipated!  But we made it here eventually . . . .

It all started with a 6:30 am breakfast in Milan--our last continental breakfast!--and a meeting time of 7:15 in the lobby to load the bus.  Our new bus driver was no Roberto, I can assure you.  This man spoke non-stop in rapid-fire Italian at our guide for the whole forty-five minutes it took us to get to the airport.  Oy.  My ears were tired, and I had no idea what he was saying--cannot imagine how Paola felt, as she was expected to keep up and respond with a si, si occasionally.  But.  He was good at loading the luggage and he got us there right on time.

I need you all to picture forty-three people wearing bright pink shirts before we go any further.  Michaelann insists on our matching shirts on the first and last days, and these shirts were our saving grace today, in ways I never anticipated.  We had on bright Pink-Out game shirts and other shades of fluorescent, raspberry, carnation and salmon pink, but we were definitely a long pink line of tired travelers that was impossible to miss by anyone anywhere.  Are you picturing this?  M'kay.  Then we may proceed.

We all said our teary goodbyes to Paola at our check-in spot, and I think we were all surprised at how much we'd bonded over our two weeks.  There were sniffles and promises to Snapchat as soon as she figures out how to work "the leetle ghost app."  She told us, and I believe her, that she could only remember one other group she loved as much as ours; she loved that we never complained, our kids were funny and fun and friendly, they sang on the bus, and they followed orders without questioning her or their sponsors.  It's true--there were some days we clocked 20,000 or more steps, up hills, up staircases, over miles; we denied them shopping in order to teach culture, we made them look at superold paintings and stuff, and the kids never, ever whined about it.  They approached every day as a new adventure, found fun in all of our excursions, and never behaved as some groups do--bored or blase or entitled.  Those kids were champs, and I love that our guide--seasoned over twenty years of leading groups--recognized and appreciated them.

Ciao, Paola, and hope to see you soon!!

So.  Onward to embark on our plane.  Sigh.  Buckle up for a long story, dear readers.  Michaelann, two other sponsors, and nine children stayed behind in Cuggiono for an extended stay, so the rest of us had to manage without the two people we'd leaned on most during the trip.  Lining up at the check-in desk was our first step--easy peasy, right?  Wrong!  The two people working two stations (out of six empty ones--ugh) were working at a glacial pace.  They were taking thirty minutes per customer!  Not even using hyperbole here; we were timing this process, and thirty minutes was as fast as they could go.  One family had spent the last thirty hours in Milano, having missed yesterday's flight, and it looked like they were going to miss this one.  The mom sat down and cried.  Right in the check-in line.

The thing to do here, we decided, was to get loud and panicky, and this indeed worked like a charm.  Finding people in uniforms was easy, and demanding with big eyes that we FOR SURE get on THIS flight, we caused quite a ruckus--it had been two hours at this point, and there was virtually no movement in the line.  As causing a ruckus seemed to be the best motivator, we did it again and again, climbing the chain of uniforms until we found name tags that declared "SUPERVISOR," and I extracted a promise that we would all--all 43 of us--make it to our plane, flight 207 to Miami together and on time.  "Promise?" "Promise," said Supervisor.  At this point, a terribly rude French man had tried to squeeze in to our group, having heard our promises, and I was beside myself.  "Do NOT separate me from my students, sir," I told him, "we are IN LINE.  Go to the back."  "You were NOT in line, the cheeldren are seeting on the ground and wandering all around," he said, lying through his teeth.  Those kids were not "wandering" anywhere.  UGH.  Now I'm not even pretending not to talk about him out loud and instruct people to close ranks and maneuver him out of our pink file.

Rudely using our suitcases and bodies to squeeze him out of the slow-moving line, he eventually, finally took his spot at the back again.  Hmph.  Good.  Jerkface.

So finally, FINALLY, more checker-inners were produced from somewhere, and we got moving toward our gate.  By the time I, the caboose of our long pink train, was getting a boarding pass, only Frenchie McRudepants was behind me, and Supervisor asked me if it was okay if he tagged along with our group--we were being escorted over and around security through the airport at this point, putting our plane a full 50 minute late--and I looked at him and narrowed my eyes.  I could have been a real heifer and said no.  I *could* have.  But with Paola's praise ringing in my ears of how good we'd all been, I said he could.  He sagged with relief, so I did get the pleasure of knowing he knew I could have made him wait for the next flight, and after that, we sort of made friends, and I found myself looking for him as I counted pink shirts when we turned corners and snaked through the other people in the airport.  Turns out he was headed to Argentina by way of Milano, Miami, and a squillion other places, and he was more tired than even we were.  And he apologized prettily.  Hmph.

When we finally got to our plane after sprinting through the airport, jumping lines and cutting in front of people with the permission of our guide, the, uh, other passengers were not as happy to see us coming as we were to get on the plane . . . turns out, they'd been sitting in the plane, buckled in, for nearly two hours, waiting for this mysterious pink group to arrive.  We tried to surreptitiously get into our seats, but how quiet can forty-three pink-shirted Americans be?  Not very.

Also.  Three of our people wound up in first class.  It has always been my dream that, at some point, I'd be told, "I'm so sorry, ma'am, there's simply no more room in the back of the plane over the wings and engines; you'll have to sit up here and enjoy steak and champagne and leg room.  So sorry."  But alas.  That did not happen to me.  It DID happen to Adam Restivo, but I'm not bitter about it.  Well.  Not much.  Anymore.  *Side eyes at Adam Restivo.*

Landing in Miami meant more lines and more waiting, until the people working there saw our wall of pink approaching--then, we started being herded through lines and under the drawn tapes and in front of other passengers!  It was great!  For us, anyway . . . not sure how everyone else perceived this, but I can guess . . . .

We had a three-hour layover that allowed me to find a greasy burger, a dulce de leche ice cream, and a book to replace the one I finished in Italy (What Alice Forgot, by Liane Moriarty--buy it today--it was SO GOOD!), and then we loaded the plane to St. Louis with no drama!  Yay!

But.

Four of our suitcases did not make the journey.  I feel pretty certain they simply were not ready to return, and took an extra day in beautiful Italy before coming home.  At any rate, the nice ladies in St. Louis got all our paperwork filled in, and the cases are right this minute making the trip from Miami to St. Louis, and will arrive tomorrow--no worries.  (Except that Mom's beautiful new Birkenstocks are in that case; kinda concerned about that . . . .)

And once we landed in St. Louis, we boarded our LAST BUS and came home!!  Most kids, I'm pretty sure, slept all the way here, as it was about 2:30 am by the time we got to the high school parking lot.  No matter.  Sleepy welcomes are still pretty great welcomes.

So today and yesterday have been a blur of laundry and sleeping and catching up to life here in Herrin, and I'm a happy returned traveler.  Now I can distribute the treasures I brought home for friends and sleep when I feel tired and eat when I'm hungry and try to re-acclimate to life without "quick, ten-minute walks" and counting my pod members and worries about whether my passport has grown legs and jumped out of my bag.

Now.  One question.  How long can I say things like, "Do excuse me, I've been out of the loop--I've been on vacation out of the country for the last two weeks . . ." before it becomes obnoxious?  Hmmmm . . . .  ;-)

Sleepy children

This leg of the trip brought to you by Starbucks

We Are Family

Okay--full disclosure--I'm composing this from my bed, in my house, because the wifi and the time for blogging never met at the same time on the way home, so this post comes to you in retrospect.

We'd been waiting for the Cuggiono day for three years!!  We've fully, officially established that Herrin and Cuggiono are sister cities, and both of our towns have decrees that legally proclaim this with signage on the edges of our towns that proclaim it there, as well.  Since then, we've been trying to make sure that we visit our sister citizens as often as possible and it's so important that our kids and Cuggiono's kids make connections as well.  So the last day of our trip was perhaps the most important of them all!

We arrived to a waiting town that showered us with affection--when the bus pulled up, there was a big sign to welcome us, the entire town was there, the band was playing, and two ladies passed out ribbons with Italian flag colors that were meant to be corsages for us to wear all day!  (Must admit, exiting a bus with a waiting welcome wagon and a band was the best greeting ever . . . kinda want to insist on that kind of greeting wherever I go now . . . . )

After pictures were taken for their newspapers and media in front of the Villa Annoni, we were given Italian ices and entertained with music, taken on tours of the Cuggiono museum (which now has memorabilia from Herrin), fed more refreshments, and visited with our old friends.  Oreste and Ernesto took us to their town hall, where they explained to the kids about our connection.  The citizens of Cuggiono came to America to find better economy and more opportunities during the 1900's at various times, and one place of high concentration was Herrin, where many of the Cuggionesi worked in the mines here.  As the families grew and became more comfortable on American soil, the ties back to the Italian homesteads became less binding, but in the past seventeen or so years, steps have been taken to reestablish the bonds we had before.  It is working!  Our kids and the Cuggionesi kids are fast friends, keeping in touch on their own through various social media and visiting back and forth as often as they can!  

To thank the city of Cuggiono for their warm welcome and kind treatment of us, we travelers prepared a concert, and the evening included this much-anticipated event.  The band students performed pieces on their own, then joined the town band for other songs, and those who do not play instruments performed a bit of a show choir act.  We sang typical American songs, tracing pop music from the fifties to the present day, and singing "Imagine" and "We Are Family" at the end, with much enthusiastic audience participation.  I knew Oreste would sing along with "Imagine," for sure, as he is a Beatles superfan, and "We Are Family" touched those who knew we were referencing the love we feel for our Cuggionesi friends--they are family to us!  Some are quite literally related, but everyone feels the bonds between our two towns.  While we were there, in fact, I got a chance to talk to Michele Loyd's Italian cousins--Silvia and Marta Porro and their father!  They've been to visit Michele's parents in Marion, and they very much want to come visit again--maybe even later this summer or next!

After the concert, which also featured a performance of "La Donna e Mobile" by a professional opera singer (and which inspired our kids and grownups to sing the refrain of that song over and over and over and over . . . ), we went to the town's pizzaria, and just like always, we were fed so. Much. Pizza.  There were cheese and pepperoni, four-cheese, French fry, mushroom, and so many more pizzas brought to the table--I don't even know how many slices I sampled, and I'm not sorry about the amount of calories consumed that night.  Totes worth all the miles on the elliptical I'm going to have to do to get them off.

That night, we parted ways with twelve of our fifty-five travelers as they stayed behind to enjoy an extended stay in Cuggiono.  They'd been the host brothers of the Cuggiono kids when they came to Herrin last summer, and now our kids got the chance to see their counterparts' lives and families.  Michaelann with bring the rest home on the 8th after they enjoy Italy just a little while longer!  It was really a lovely day, and we all felt the loving welcome of our sister city.  I'm so pleased I get to be a part of these connections, even though I'm not even a little bit Italian, and I look forward to future projects that cement the special relationship our towns have.  Someday soon, we'd love to start a museum of our own like the one at the Villa Annoni, and there are some other projects in the works that we're all excited about!  We really do want this family feeling to last far into the future. 

What a great way to conclude our tour of Europe!  Our guide, Paola, was touched as well--she'd never seen a day like this in her guiding career--most of her clients arrive as tourists and see sites that are completely new to them.  I'm glad she was with us to experience today, and our amazing bus driver, Roberto, also got in on some pizza!  They feel like our family now, too!  The kids were teaching them how to snapchat over dinner . . . I really hope they both made accounts . . . .

So stay tuned one more post (or two) as I relate our travels home, but not tonight, as I am falling asleep over the keyboard.  Ciao for now!!

How sweet!!

Does Herrin have a coat of arms??

A beautiful welcome

A gallery of photographs and paintings (and my finger)

Cuggiono's St. Georgio Church

The Cuggiono cemetery--with all the familiar family names

OMG PIZZA!!!

Milano!!!

The Last Supper

Buongiorno from Milan!  Today, we began with a bus ride in the morning that took us to Milan from Florence--the ride through the last of Tuscany is, of course, picturesque, but I must confess I spent my ride reading the book I brought--it's GRIPPING.  I do promise I paid close attention to our other activities today!!  We stopped at two Autogrilles, but there was no time to poke around to see what fun things they had, sadly.  We only had time to grab a quick sandwich and hit the road again, as we had an appointment at the museum that houses The Last Supper . . . so I suppose that's a pretty good reason to herd us along even when we wanted to explore better . . . .

We landed our bus at that big castle opposite the duomo, and I confess this is at least the third time I've seen this place, and I still don't quite understand what it is.  I know these things:  it has a lovely fountain out front, there is a moat around it, and it was used for military purposes a long time ago.  I will google this.

Aha.  Okay.  This structure is called the Castello Sforzesco, and was built in the 14th century and was used as a citadel until the 1600's.  Currently, it is used to house Milan's art collections and as a place to take lovely pictures and selfies.

Then, we took our place in line to see The Last Supper!  We were allowed to go in two groups-- one of 25, one of 30--in shifts, because the room with the fresco is very delicate.  Doors an special lighting ensure the work is not damaged by humidity or lighting that might fade the already aged paint; the result is that the room is quiet and shadowy, with the light softly focused on DaVinci's work.  The work is really quite amazing.  DaVinci captured a moment in time--the moment Jesus revealed that one of his disciples would betray him--and the twelve are all reacting to this new.  You will find consternation, disbelief, panic, and conniving looks on the men's faces (we all know the conniving one--DaVinci painted him as the darkest and ugliest one) as Christ calmly accepts His fate in the center of the table.  Everyone was hushed and awed by being in the presence of the painting, taking in the detail, the vibrant color, and the sheer amount of detail; clearly, no matter what DaVinci believed or did not believe, he knew his Bible, and created a gorgeous picture to illustrate one of the most important moments in the gospels.  The fact that this work survived a door being cut into it and the bombing of both the east and west walls is a blessing.

This visit was followed by a bus ride around town with a guide to explain what we found here, and then a trip to the Milano Duomo.  This church is the most beautiful one I have every seen--resplendent with lacy marble spires and glorious stained glass windows--and we had a guide to fully explain the significant parts.  --One of these significances is that the relic of this church is a nail that kept Christ on the cross, while another is the statue of Bartholomew, who is portrayed after his being flayed alive.  That statue is grotesque but fascinating--I cannot look away from the piece, and I find some new detail each time I visit.

Then we used our ticket to climb to the top of the church--from there, on clear days like today, we can see all the way to the Alps!  I must admit that our guide was not the best.  Her monotone and transparent boredom with her rehearsed words were really off-putting.  I'd rather have just googled what questions I had about the place.  The view, though, is perfect for taking arty pics through the buttresses and taking your breath away as you look down.  There are 2,000 statues on the top of the building, and 400 inside, and all of them were moved during WWII for their safety--thank goodness--and returned later.  Oy.  After finding my favorite gargoyles and taking pictures of the marble lace, we went down to get gelato, do a spot of shopping, and line up for the bus!

Dinner!!  Tonight, we feasted on ravioli, salad, vegetables, mozzarella, bread, and those scalloped pastries that look like clam shells.  The food was delicious, and as I sit here in a food coma, I'm fighting sleep, so I'll try to add pictures in the morning--the wifi here is pretty fast.  Fingers crossed!!

The painting opposite The Last Supper--the Crucifixion by Montorfano

The Milano Duomo

Inside the duomo--the nails are kept near the ceiling

From the top of the duomo--see the Alps?