Change In Plans

This short post is about arriving back at our cabin in the Catskills, after the first eight weeks of our trip. It is a sunny and crisp fall day, the foliage is simply spectacular, and we are all glad to be back.

The flight from Madrid to New York seemed to take forever: left a little late, strong headwinds, long delay in starting the kid-distraction movies. Mostly, I think we were just eager to get here.

Once we landed, everything was almost unbelievably smooth. The flight touched down at 7:30, by 7:55 we had all of our luggage and had cleared customs, and by 8:20 we had taken the Air Train out to the remotest parking lot and gotten in the car. Lu was even courteous enough to pee in a dark corner of the parking lot, and save us a stop.

We pulled into the driveway of our darkened Catskills cabin before 11:30, having travelled a total of 20 hours door to door from Positano.

Everyone was up before 5am, confused and jet lagged. The night sky was exceptionally clear, and the stars were bright and beautiful.

At dawn, we went up to look at our pond, and to admire the brilliant foliage up and down the valley. It is a truly spectacular fall day, like Robert Frost would write about, or state tourism boards would photograph feverishly for next year’s brochures. India went for a run in the mountains (carrying her “bear bell”), and was gone so long that we went looking for her. She said that it was so beautiful, and that she felt so good, that she just kep on going.

We have a lot to to do in the few days we are here, starting with about ten loads of laundry. For the time being, though, the kids are playing happily with their long-forgotten toys, and we are just enjoying being in our own place.

This post is about our long day of travel yesterday, taking us from the gulet boat on the Turkish coast to a seaside hotel in Positano, Italy.

We got into the gulet’s launch a few minutes after 8am, after saying goodbye to the crew (kisses on both cheeks for all of us). By 8:30 we had transferred our bags to a minivan, and were on our way to Dalaman airport.

For the first time on this trip, we cut it a little close at the airport. There were long lines at seurity check #1 (x-ray and metal detector to get into the airport), baggage check in, passport control, security check #2 (to get into the departure gates). For some reason, our seats were scattered all over the plane, and even getting us seated in two groups of two (ie, not having the three year old sit by herself) put additional strain on the system. It is nearly the end of the 9-day post-Ramadan holiday,and Dalaman airport and Turkish Airways were not coping.

The layover in Istanbul was about three hours, which gave us enough time to wander around, spend money on magazines, look for a few gifts, and get the kids lunch.
Even without our checked baggage, I was hauling three heavy daypacks and a big steel drum (souvenir of Morocco). A better man would have borne these burdens stoically, but as I got sweatier and more frustrated with our rambling, I was pretty grouchy company. We definitely need to drop ballast when we get back to the US next week.

When we boarded the flight for Rome, the cultural change was immediately evident. Most of the plane was filled with Italians in their 60s and 70s, on their way home from a package tour of Turkey. The chatter, in sing-song Italian was comically loud throughout the flight. When we landed, everyone applauded wildly, and half of the passengers jumped out of their seats and started for the exits while we were still taxiing. Reinforcing wonderful cultural stereotypes.

Our 45-minute flight from Rome to Naples would have required another 4-hour layover, so we cancelled that, and rented a car. After a week on the boat, we felt as though we were seizing back control of our destinies.

The 250-kilometer drive from Rome to Naples was fast and very easy (unlike my last driving experience in Rome, which was horrendous), and included a dinner stop at the Italian equivalent of a Howard Johnson’s. Our kids fell on the pasta and pizza as if they had been starved during our five weeks in Islamic countries. Zola said, “Finally this meat is from a pig, isn’t it?” At least he learned something about Islamic dietary restrictions.

The 50-kilometer drive from Naples south to Positano is hairy. Narrow, twisty roads perched hundreds of feet above the sea.

Finally, we arrived at our hotel in Positano at about 10:30pm, almost 15 hours after we started moving. Aside from my sweaty grouchiness in Istanbul, and a couple of raucous-kid moments, everyone was on good form throughout a long day.

We woke up to see the spectacular views of rugged mountains and of the sea several hundred feet below our hotel balcony. The sun is bright, and the temperature is perfect. We are off to explore the Adriatic Coast, the last segment in our Mediterranean circle.