First, let me explain that from now on Paul and I will be “dual-blogging” about our experiences here in Italy. We are not allowed to read each other’s postings. The hope is you get two unique accounts of the same life. One from a south Texan far away from home and one from a southern Italian returning home.
So on that note, I really wanted to bring over my cowboy hat for the final trip. After all, I’ll be doing a lot of work outside now, so it’s bound to come in handy. Knowing it might get crushed in transit, I decided to wear it. If a 6’3” guy didn’t get noticed before in Italy, I think the cowboy hat was like waving a giant US flag. But this being Italy, instead of riding in on my horse, we just had it for lunch.
The first few days, to be honest, were a little rough. It’s not easy moving away from anywhere after 15 years, much less to a foreign country. So I was a little worn out I think from the stress of the move. That, plus, I learned a horrible new Italian word: sciopero. The first day here, and all the truckers were on strike. Now we might not be able to fill a big order for Williams Sonoma for our products. Ugh.
Then there’s the list of stuff that I still have to do. Buy this. Organize that. Talk to this agency about that thing. It’s enough to stress out even the most organized German boy.
Luckily, as I was enjoying a wonderful sunny day last week, I quickly realized something. The same Puglia sun that has a way of melting your delicious gelato also has a melting away all your worries.
I think things are going to be just fine.