The Journey Home

After five and half wonderful weeks in Italy, it was time to go home. It should have been simple. OAT had made my flight arrangements. I had a reservation to fly back from Florence to Washington Dulles Airport with a connection at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. As it turned out, it was anything but. 

 

A couple of days before my scheduled departure date, I realized that something very strange was going on with my reservation. I received an email from Air France confirming that I’d cancelled my flight to Washington. Well, I certainly hadn't done that. When I couldn't get through to Air France on the phone, I called OAT (it was midnight in Boston) and they were able to get me back on the flight. That seemed to solve the problem, or so I thought. 

 

But about 24 hours before my departure, when I tried to check in on the Air France app, I faced another problem. According to the app, I’d already checked in for the flight. And the name of the passenger on my reservation wasn’t me! It was a person with the same last name but a different first name. I already knew I couldn’t get in touch with Air France over the phone so my only hope was to straighten out this confusion at the airport in Florence. 

 

The flight from Florence was scheduled to leave at 10am. I got to the airport at 6:30am and waited in line about 45 minutes before a couple of Air France agents showed up. When it was my turn, I handed over my passport with a smile and as much confidence as I could muster. The agent smiled back, but several seconds later, she looked up at me in confusion. Didn't you fly to Nairobi? she asked. I tried my best to explain that Air France had made an error, somehow putting another passenger’s information into my reservation. 

 

Of course, she had to start making phone calls to supervisors to find out what to do. After half an hour or so, they came up with a partial solution. They would check my luggage all the way through to Washington Dulles. However, they would only give me a boarding pass for the flight to Paris. Once I got to Charles de Gaulle airport, I’d have to go to the Air France ticket counter, explain the situation all over again and hope they would give me a boarding pass for the flight to Washington. 

 

Well, that was better than nothing. Once I landed in Paris, I rushed off the plane and followed the signs for passengers with connecting flights. The flight from Paris to Washington was supposed to leave in a little less than two hours. Right away, I ran into a problem. In order to access the transit area, I had to scan the boarding pass for my connecting flight, which is exactly what I didn’t have. Thank goodness there was an airport official at the turnstile who believed my garbled explanation and let me pass through. 

 

I checked the departures board for the gate for the flight to Washington and ran in that direction. Along the way, I wasn’t surprised to encounter multiple turnstiles where I was required to scan my nonexistent boarding pass again. Somehow, I talked my way through each one, and finally reached the gate. 

Almost completely out of breath, I presented myself to the Air France agent and gasped out what I hoped was a coherent explanation of my situation. Perhaps I looked and sounded so pathetic that she took pity on me. In any case, she gave me a boarding pass for the flight. Clutching it tightly, I collapsed into a chair in the waiting area until it was time to board. Finally, I could relax. 

 

The flight itself was uneventful. I was looking forward to getting home in the evening and sleeping in my own bed. Since I had Global Entry, I was pretty certain that the only possible delay might be waiting for my luggage. Sure enough, it took only a few seconds for the Global Entry machine to recognize me. Happy that my journey home was almost over, I then walked up to the Passport Control officer in the glass booth and handed over my passport. 

 

- Where have been? he asked. 

- Italy, I said with a weary smile. 

- Grimly, he asked, Where else? 

- Just Italy, I replied, somewhat shocked at the question. 

 

Looking at me suspiciously, he asked, Where have you been in Africa? 

 

Oh, no. I realized what was happening. This was about the Ebola outbreak. Passengers coming from Africa were subject to special screening. Some weren’t being allowed to enter the country. Some had to be quarantined. And the person whose information was mixed up with mine had flown to or from Nairobi. 

 

- Wait here, he commanded. 

 

A few minutes later, a tall figure completely enclosed in hazmat gear strode up to the booth and led me to a CDC (Center for Disease Control) interview area. Exhausted beyond belief, I explained for what seemed like the 1000^th time that I hadn’t been to Africa. Thank goodness he understood that an Air France agent had made an error. At last, I was free to leave the airport and I could put all thoughts of the past 24 hours behind me. 

 

But not quite.

 

Less than 48 hours after I set foot on U.S. soil, a text message from the U.S. Public Health Service appeared on my phone.

 

It said: 

US Public Health: Welcome!

You are receiving this message because you recently arrived in the US from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) or Uganda, where there is an Ebola outbreak, or from South Sudan, a neighboring country which is geographically considered at risk for Ebola.

Please watch for these Ebola symptoms until 21 days AFTER you left DRC, Uganda, or South Sudan: fever, chills, headache, muscle aches, rash, chest pain, sore throat, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or unexplained bleeding or bruising (late stage of illness).

  

Now the U.S. government believed I’d just arrived from Africa! Would this never end? Desperate to get my name out of whatever database they were using, I spent many hours over the next few days trying to get through to a human being at the U.S. Public Health Service, the Department of Health and Human Services, and the CDC. It was a complete waste of time, of course, and I eventually gave up. 

 

A few weeks later, I received another text from the Public Health Service telling me that my 21 days of monitoring for signs of Ebola were over. 

 

I even spent some time trying to track down the individual whose name appeared as the passenger on my reservation. (I’m not naming her here since it wasn’t her fault that this fiasco occurred.) After a little searching, I identified her profile on LinkedIn. She is an American who works in the field of public health and previously lived in Africa. She never responded to the message I sent her inquiring if she had run into any difficulty with Air France flights recently. 

 

The last thing I did was to email Air France’s Data Protection Officer asking them to correct the erroneous information in their database. A few weeks after I sent the email, I received a reply that noted the high volume of requests they received and informed me that it would be a while before they could address my concerns. That was several weeks ago. I’m still waiting.  

A Final Day in Italy

Our final day in Italy arrived on a Sunday, May 24. The plan was to travel out in the Chianti countryside for a cooking lesson and lunch. First, though, since this was Memorial Day weekend in the U.S., Lodo arranged for us to make a stop at the American Cemetery just south of Florence. The peaceful 70-acre site is the final resting place of about 4400 members of the United States military who lost their lives in Italy between June 1944 and May 1945. 

It was very moving to walk among the rows of headstones, where Italian scouts had placed both Italian and American flags. Taps and the Star Spangled Banner rang out as part of a commemorative service that coincided with our visit. 

 

By late morning, we were on our way to the Villa Il Leccio in the Chianti countryside. Located between Florence to the north and Siena to the south, Chianti is a wine-producing region in the heart of Tuscany. Chianti Classico, whose symbol is the black rooster (gallo nero), is produced here from the Sangiovese grape under very strict controls. The weather was ideal as we made our way through the gently rolling green hills dotted with vineyards, olive groves, and medieval villages. 

Villa Il Leccio is an 18^th century estate that is owned and operated as an agriturismo by Cristina and Mauro. A member of the family has owned the villa for nine generations. The property includes 500 olive trees, a medieval stone tower, and a house that is 1000 years old. Before they could move in, the couple spent eight years fixing up the abandoned house. Cristina, a chef, does catering and gives cooking lessons here throughout the year. 

Before we got to work in the kitchen, we spent some time in the sunny yard, sipping wine and looking out over the countryside. 

Then we went inside, donned aprons, and began preparing lunch under Cristina’s direction. I was a tomato and basil chopper. 

Other members of my group cut up vegetables, and seasoned the pork. 

 

The menu included tomato basil bruschetta, fresh orecchiette pasta with vegetables, roast pork, green salad, rustic bread, and, of course Chianti wine. 

Cristina was in charge of making the dessert, a simple but luscious blend of mascarpone cheese, sugar, and whole milk. After the ingredients are blended with an electric mixer, the dessert is refrigerated until serving time. It has the consistency of soft gelato and tastes divine. (In case you’re tempted to make this yourself, she gave us the proportions: 500 grams mascarpone, 100 grams sugar, 200 milliliters whole milk.) 

 

With full tummies, we set off for the drive back to Montecatini. Along the way, I looked longingly at the Tuscan countryside, wondering whether I’d ever find myself in this beautiful part of Italy again.

Actually, after 5 ½ weeks in Italy, I couldn’t help wondering how it was possible for such a small country to have not only so many treasures but such a variety of treasures. 

 

In the remaining hours of the day, I finished packing, attended our farewell dinner, and exchanged contact information with my fellow travelers. I tried once again to check in for the next day’s 10am Air France flight from Florence – and once again there was a problem with the passenger name on the reservation and the notification that I’d already checked in. My only hope was to show up as early as possible at the airport tomorrow and try to untangle a very complicated situation.  

A Lovely Day in Lucca

Lucca was the last of the Tuscan cities we visited on this trip. I knew nothing about Lucca until I did a little research before I left home and discovered that the city was founded by the Romans in 180 BCE. From the 11^th to the 14^thcenturies, Lucca’s main industries were silk production and trade. During the Renaissance, international merchant banking became important as well. Lucca’s well-preserved encircling walls, which date back to the Renaissance era, were built to defend the city from the power-hungry Medici of Florence, located about 58 miles (94 kilometers) to the east. Since Lucca wasn’t a bombing target during the war, it’s retained much of its character as a Tuscan Renaissance town and its historic center is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Nowadays, Lucca has a population of about 80,000. Since it isn’t primarily a tourist town, it was described as “relaxed and charming,” which sounded very appealing. 

 

It only took half an hour to travel the approximately 20 miles (32.4 kilometers) from Montecatini to Lucca by bus. On the way through the flat landscape, we passed many paper factories. Lodo told us that the main industry of the area is paper production and he joked that people call Lucca the toilet paper capital of Italy.

 

Our local guide, Consuelo, met us where our bus had to park outside the walls. Then we set out on foot for the historic center.   

About 9000 people still live in the old city center, i.e. within the walls. Since it was a Saturday, many local people from the surrounding area had come to spend the day here, enjoying the markets, shopping, dining, and recreational activities. Of course, there were some tourists as well. 

We began our walking tour at the Basilica of San Paulino. Its official name is the Church of Saints Paulinus and Donatus, the city’s two patron saints. The Renaissance style church, rebuilt in 1515, sits on an 8^th century sacred site. Inside the church, Consuelo called our attention to the Coronation of the Virgin, a 1475 painting by Baldassarre di Biagio. In the lower part of painting, the artist depicted Lucca as it appeared during Middle Ages, with all of its defensive towers and its limestone covered walls.

We moved on to the Piazza Cittadella where we saw the house where Giacomo Puccini, my favorite opera composer, was born. A statue in the center of the piazza shows him sitting and smoking a cigar. From Consuelo, I learned that he was a real ladies’ man as well as a cigar smoker who died of throat cancer. 

At the Piazza San Michele, the former site of a Roman forum, we admired the Church of San Michele. The Romanesque and Gothic style church dates back to 1370. The façade is richly decorated and sculpted with scenes showing the struggle between good and evil. We all noticed how the columns differed in terms of color and decoration. 

Many attractive restaurants, cafes, and shops were located in the broad square.

 

It was a one-minute walk from the Piazza San Michele to the smaller Piazza Salvatore.  

Then it was time to explore Lucca’s defensive walls. The original walls were built in 180 BCE, during Roman times, but they were significantly enlarged during the Middle Ages. They were expanded again and rebuilt during the Renaissance, in 1513, forming a 2.6 mile (4.2 kilometer) ring around the city. Due to changes in warfare, such as the development of powerful cannons, the thickness of the new walls was increased to 20 meters (66 feet) and platforms 50 meters (164 feet) wide were added. When the French took control of Lucca around the year 1800, they planted trees along the top of the earthen ramparts. 

 

A short climb brought us up to the top of the walls on the north side of the city. The defensive structure has been transformed into a delightful park-like promenade that loops around the historic city center. Judging by what we witnessed, the tree-lined promenade is a popular destination for people of all ages. We saw people strolling, pushing baby carriages, biking, picnicking, playing music, and even dancing. And looking out over the historic center, we saw the bell tower of the Basilica of San Frediano. It’s one of the oldest buildings in Lucca.

on top of the walls, looking away from the city center

 

One noticeable building right inside that walls was the Pfanner Palace. This private home was built in 1670 by an Italian who later sold it to the German Pfanner family who got rich when they opened a beer garden.  

 

After enjoying some time on the walls, we descended back into the city center. 

Consuelo led us down Lucca’s longest shopping street, Via Fillungo. When we reached the 12^th century Basilica of San Frediano, I paused to admire the beautiful mosaic above the main entrance to the church. 

A few minutes later, we arrived at the site where a Roman anfiteatro, i.e. a circular theater or coliseum, once stood. After the collapse of Roman empire, the coliseum was turned into an open-air quarry and eventually just the brick skeleton remained. In modern times, the ruins have been turned into apartments and shops.

Behind the buildings is a sprawling market square where one of Lucca’s historical festivals was going on. Lucca Historiae Fest (aka Rievocando Lucca or Recalling Lucca) celebrates 2000 years of the city’s history. Colorfully costumed participants paraded through the square as locals and tourists looked on.  

Historical festivals aren’t the only gatherings that take place in Lucca. Every year, the city hosts Europe’s largest Comicon event. 

 

As we continued our walk, we approached another one of Lucca’s famous towers, the Guinigi Tower. It was commissioned by the wealthy Guinigi family of silk merchants and bankers. Consuelo told us that at one time there were 110 towers in the city. What makes the Guinigi Tower unique is the garden at the top. The three tallest trees are 200-year old oaks. If you’re willing to climb 230 steps, you can visit the garden. 

We walked past the Boccherini music school where Puccini began his music studies. His father was a teacher there. School is named for the late 18^th century cellist and composer Luigi Boccherini who was born in Lucca. 

 

Shortly before noon, just when I thought our sightseeing was over, Consuelo brought us to Lucca’s Duomo, the Cathedral of San Martino. Its façade, with columns of different designs, was reminiscent of the Church of San Michele, which we’d seen earlier in the day. Distracted by hunger pangs, I neglected to take photos of the columns. 

 

However, one interesting feature that I documented was the Maze of Lucca, which was carved into the façade in the 11^th or 12^th century. The Latin inscription next to it refers to a Greek myth about a labyrinth built by Daedalus. To pilgrims visiting the church in the Middle Ages, the message would have been clear: Life is very dangerous; it’s easy to get lost in the maze so follow the teachings of the Church and you’ll stay on the right path. 

Also from the façade of Lucca’s Duomo is a depiction of a panther, one of the symbols of the city.

A few minutes later, we ended our guided tour at Piazza Napoleon, the biggest square in Lucca, which was bustling with activity. The plaza is surrounded by a 19^th century theater, various shops, and numerous restaurants and cafés with outdoor tables. Fortunately, a small group of us located a free table in shady spot. I was hoping to find some local specialties on the menu. At one point, Consuelo had mentioned that we should look for tortelli (smaller ravioli filled with meat and served with ragù) and a popular summer salad of spelt with chopped tomatoes, white onions, olive oil, and basil. However, almost all the offerings on the menu were generic Italian dishes.  

 

After lunch, I set out in search of local gelato. Despite Consuelo’s warning that Lucca’s version of gelato wasn’t as creamy or sweet as the gelato in other cities, I found my cone of dark chocolate and amareno (small dark cherries in syrup) absolutely delicious. It was the perfect way to cool off on a hot and sunny afternoon. 

During the rest of my free time in Lucca, I visited an exhibition of paintings by Giovanni Boldini, an Italian painter who lived from 1842 to 1931. He spent most of his career in Paris, doing portraits and genre paintings (paintings of daily life). Most of his portraits feature members of Parisian high society. There was something about his style that reminded me of John Singer Sargent, the American portrait painter who was also based in Paris.

Back in Montecatini, I contemplated my upcoming return to the U.S. In two days, I was supposed to fly from Florence to Paris CDG and then on to Washington’s Dulles Airport. But in the morning, just before we left for Lucca, I’d received an email from Air France informing me that they’d canceled my reservation – at my request! However, when I checked the app, I could still see part of my reservation. There was surely some mix-up to straighten out. I tried for over an hour to reach Air France by phone. When that wasn’t successful, I wasn’t sure what to do next. 

 

In any case, I had dinner plans for my final night in Montecatini. Lauren, Carol, Steve, and I had a reservation at the Antica Osteria Toscana, a restaurant Lodo had recommended for its excellent Tuscan cuisine. We started by sharing a generous appetizer platter. (and thanks to one of my dinner partners for a few of the following photos)

Since Tuscany is known for its beef, two of my friends decided to order a large steak to share. Our server brought the piece of meat to the table for their approval before it was cooked. I knew I wouldn’t appreciate a steak so I chose homemade pappardelle with meat sauce of wild boar and juniper berries. The pasta dish was delicious. And I also sampled the gnudi (ricotta and spinach dumplings with butter and sage) that Carol ordered. 

All in all, it was a great day, except for the fact that Air France cancelled part of my reservation! As much as I love Italy, after five and half weeks, I was ready to get back home.