Growing up in Richmond, Virginia, I never thought that I would ever say this, but: I HATE SNOW.
After a great night of acting silly and eating the most bizarre leftover combintations Daniela and I could conjur up, I woke up early for a relaxing morning before calling a cab to help me lug my two overstuffed suitcases to the bus stop. Well, last night's beautiful snowfall left the streets of Siena looking like a Winter Wonderland -- great for cozy days drinking coco, horrible for traveling.
As it truns out, cabs do not run in Siena in the snow; an unfortunate fact that I realized around 10am. Instead of the calm, reminisicent goodbye that I had planned, I rushed to get myself together, bounced my suitcases down 4 flights of stairs, and sprinted out the door after a quick hug with the girls.
The hilly, cobblsetone streets of Siena are treacherous enough by themselves; add in snow, an overweight backpack, adn two suitcases twice my weight and you're left with one loud, awkward, unpleasant hike. I'm not really sure why I rushed, though, because the bus was over 20 minutes late (you'd think that after nearly 4 months in Italy I'd learn to not be punctual...)
I met up with Rachel a the station and, after a 3 hour bus ride and a half an hour cab ride, we arrived at our hotel. As we stood in line to check-in, we saw Sarah and Molly (two friends from IES who were booked to depart yesterday) at the desk. Confused, we soon found out that both their flights had been cancelled, along with the flights of two other girls in our program. Not only that, but they were all unable to book new flights until Tuesday.
Immediate stomach sickness set in. Admist the frenzy of checking flights and calling parents, Rachel and I learned that a visit to the Sistine Chapel before close would be impossible, which means I've been to Rome three times and never seen its most famous ceiling.
Then, mid-dinner, I entered into an hour of panic after my mom sent an e-mail confirming that my flight had been cancelled. Somehow, somewhere along the way there was a miscommunication and, after a bit of frantic e-mailing, I went to bed knowing that my flight was still on...but when I woke up the next morning, Rachel's flight had been cancelled. I held my breath as I walked to the airport with Sarah and actually managed to get on an earlier flight to London with the hopes of hopping on to an earlier flight to D.C.
It's about 8am and the plane is gaining speed for take-ff. I suppose my last view of Italy would be a lot more sentimental if I could relax knowing that I definitely have a ride to the states. Fingers crossed!! Arrivederci, Italy!
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