I'm wiped out

I've had an exhausting weekend to start off what looks to be an exhausting couple of weeks. This weekend, the base sponsored a camping trip to a national park off the east coast of Italy (Parco Nationale di Gargano). Which meant that Friday evening, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning, I was forced to live in a tent ten feet from the beach and lay around on the beach and drink and swim and eat Italian food. And by "camping," I mean a campsite with a beach bar and grill (or the Italian equivalent) right next to it on the beach, and with showers and toilets and all that good stuff. We did sleep in tents though, so it sort of counts.

Then today, I had to fly to Oslo where I'll be until Wednesday evening for work. It's 11 p.m. and the sun is just now starting to set on the legions of blue-eyed blonde Scandinavian women teeming outside my window. I might have to console myself with a massage or something tomorrow. Of course, the plane rides up here, while more than ample in terms of legroom, left a lot to be desired in width-room. (Which could also be a function of my own size and shape, but I don't think so, since when I flew Alitalia the other weekend I fit just fine.) Had to sit at the hotel bar to watch the crazy finish to the Italy-Australia World Cup game (I know, it's a commie sport, but when you live over here you just can't help but get into it) and then go and have some Norwegian shark for dinner.

But wait--the exhaustion gets even more difficult. After my meetings tomorrow and Wednesday, I have to endure a ridiculously long multi-city, multi-day plane trip to Vegas (stopping overnight in London), where I'll be attending my high school reunion on Saturday, and where I'll probably have to subject myself to endless gambling and drinking. (Well, probably not endless...just until I'm broke, crying in a gutter, not able to remember where I left my pants.) And I'm going to somehow have to muster up the energy to go to a Pearl Jam concert the night before I leave.

Two weeks out of the office? I don't know how I'll manage.

Only the best for me

This weekend, something happened to me that I never thought was possible. That's right--I actually had a GOOD experience with Alitalia. Not crappy, like usual, and not even mediocre or satisfactory in the "amazingly enough we didn't lose your luggage this time" sense, but actually GOOD. I flew up to Turin for the weekend to see "Laura" (we'll call her that to protect her true identity), had a nice time up there, watched the USA-Italy World Cup Game with a bunch of Italian and international college students, and flew back. On the flight back, the airline checked me in promptly and effeciently, and they decided that I should fly first class. And not have anybody in the seat next to me. Best hour-and-a-half flight I've ever had. Too bad it'll probably never happen again.

Happy anniversary

So in all the excitement of getting my credit card stolen and getting my car broken into and all that other good stuff, I let the one year anniversary of my arrival in Italy slip by without mention. This means, sadly, that I'm now halfway done my time here (unless I can get them to extend me two more months, which would be ideal so I can stay employed and making money and living it up in Italy until just before I start law school; otherwise I'll have to go home and paint houses for the summer or something).

One consequence of having been here for a year is that it's now time to re-register my car. Which means having a safety inspection done on base. Which means that I took my car in to a garage this week, and for the first time since owning it, every single light on the car actually works (well, I don't count foglights, because they're not required). So before they could break again, I took the car and got the inspection done yesterday. Of note, apparently you don't actually need to have a rearview mirror attached to pass the inspection.

Anyone know if the Italians have a Witness Protection Program?

Finally got around to reporting the credit card fraud of which I was a victim a couple weeks ago. Went to base security, who took my report and sent me to the Italian law enforcement liaison office. They took me out in town to the local polizia to file another report out there. The liaison (a retired police LtCol, so he knows what he's talking about) was pretty certain that the government would be investigating it because it was so much money and because it was almost certainly "gang" related. Which made me a little nervous, because around here, "gang" generally refers to some sort of organized crime syndicate...which in southern Italy is not something you really want to get too mixed up in. The cops asked me if I'd be able to identify the waiter who stole my card if I saw him again, and I (somewhat reluctantly) told them yes (although I'd really rather him not see that I pointed him out). I showed them the receipt I had kept from the restaraunt, to point out the restaraunt's name and address, which caused them all to start talking things over in Italian. Granted, my Italian's not that great, but I did catch when they were referring to the restaraunt that it belongs to a "molte importante famiglia" (very important family) (emphasis on the word FAMILY). So it didn't take too long for me to connect the dots: Southern Italy...family...gang...crime.... hmm....

Yeah, I just can't wait for that investigator to call. Always wanted to be a witness in a mob case.

After a year here, I was due...

So I got in my car yesterday morning to go to church (because I'm good like that). Put the key in the ignition, looked over, and thought to myself, "hey, that's funny--I don't remember bare wires sticking out of where my stereo was last night." Then I though, "I don't remember leaving the glove compartment open and empty, either."

Losses: one car stereo, fifteen or so CDs (including a couple of my favorites--Lyle Lovett and Norah Jones among them), 30 liters of gas coupons, and the new linen suit that I had just bought the previous afternoon and only left in the car because I was going to take it in to get the pants hemmed yesterday.

At first I felt stupid because I had left the car unlocked in my carport (the guy apparently jumped the fence). However, I felt significantly less stupid when I found out that he drilled out the lock on my landlord's Mercedes to try and break in to that car. At least I saved myself the cost of a new lock or a new window.