Italy Day 1 – Arrival in Italy

As I fell asleep last night I remember thinking, “Did I pack all my cards – visa, driver's license, bank card?” Normally I would crawl out of bed to check right away, but I was so close to sleeping that I guess the thought became part of my dreams and I drifted off.

This morning I started walking to the train and when I was about a block away from the house I thought, “I'm forgetting something. I know I'm forgetting something.” It suddenly clicked and I patted down my pockets, quickly realizing that forgetting the cards wasn't a dream. I ran back to the house, raced up to my room, and I arrived at the train station very warm and out of breath but I made it there in time.

I've never caught the train to Gatwick Airport before and I've run into trouble with trains running late on other trips so I decided to get to the airport early, just in case anything went wrong. Nothing went wrong. In fact, it went so perfectly that the train arrived and I was checked in and through security in twenty minutes. Not what I had planned for so I had plenty of time to people-watch. The dolled-up girls, the backpacking guys, the businessmen with their cell phones glued to their ears, and the people whose apparel tells you what kind of vacation they're headed to: flip flops with tank tops or parkas with heavy boots.

When I arrived at the car rental counter I asked if there was any way I could get a better rate than what I booked online. Turns out there's a pay-with-cash option which saved me over 100 euros! I ended up with a silver Fiat Panda and I thought it was rather fitting! (My nickname since I was a toddler has been “Panda Bear”.)

My Travel Buddy.

It was interesting driving on the highway. I'm glad I read some articles online about Italian drivers before I came here – I was prepared for the flashing headlights and cars seemingly darting in and out of traffic. So far I'm fine with driving here, but my suspicions before I came here were correct; it's taking concerted effort for me to stay on the right side of the road. When I came to the first round-about I almost went through it clockwise, but another car was coming and I was able to catch my mistake by watching it drive around counter-clockwise. Driving the smaller country roads through little towns made me second-guess myself a few times... it's a weird feeling.

I arrived at Panicale (sort of pronounced pan-ee-call-eh) around 8:30 p.m. after driving through mostly pouring rain to get here. The town is surrounded by a wall and the instructions I was given indicated that I was supposed to park in a particular piazza (which turned out to be a street, not a big open area like I was expecting), and enter the town by walking through a particular gate, but I got completely lost driving around the town as I tried to find the right area. I finally drove past a big, arched gateway and I decided to grab a parking spot to walk closer and see if I could find some kind of label to see if it was the gate I was looking for. I got out of the car and noticed a sign which let me know I was in the correct piazza, but the gate didn't have a sign on it.


I walked through the archway and my jaw dropped. This place is like some crazy movie set. It doesn't seem real. A maze of winding, narrow streets begging to be explored and photographed.

The piazza where I parked and the archway where I entered Panicale.

A woman was walking down the road towards me and as I looked at her, every Italian word I've been trying to memorize emptied out of my head. I asked if she spoke English and held up the paper with instructions for reaching the cottage. I pointed to the name of the gate and I can't remember if I said something in Italian, Spanish, or English. She confirmed that this was the right gate, so I showed her the name of the street and she said something in Italian with a couple of English words and started walking me back up the hill, up a side stairway, a little ways along a side street, and pointed out the doorway to the place where I'm staying. She asked who will give me the key (knowing a bit of Spanish is definitely helping!) and I told her, so she took me up a little further to Claudia's house. She knocked on the door and then jabbered away with Claudia's mom, who gave me the key. I just wanted to laugh at how ridiculous I felt about not knowing the language. At least I remembered how to say “Thank you” in Italian.

The stairway to Number 27, the place where I'm staying.

The place where I'm staying is simple and clean with modern fixtures and brick floors with old beam ceilings. The windows are tall and narrow with solid inside shutters, glass shutters, and an outside set of slat shutters. Through the narrow front door there's an immediate flight of steps up to the living area with open kitchen and dining area, two large bedrooms, and bathroom. It was warm and cozy when I arrived and I feel incredibly spoiled to get to stay here.

Number 27 is the middle doorway.