I decided to take one small suitcase about the size of a carry-on. I had two or three outfits, only the sneakers on my feet, my Kindle (a sneaky way to take a whole library with me), my smartphone, and some things for watercoloring postcards.
As long as I was alone, I had no problem wearing clothes again and again. But during breakfast and dinner (kind of elegant in that hotel), I noticed my ego creeping up on me. I kept imagining the guests and waiters wondering why I wore sneakers to dinner, when my sweater was going to disintegrate, and didn't I know that you dress up for four-course dinners. Heady business.
My itenerary was simple, too. DRIFT. Since I generally go on some tour with groups of odd people (not including me of course), I am constantly on the go. It amuses me how some people can hardly take their eyes off their guidebook to check out the real thing!
This time, I just sat on my little terrace watching the clouds and enjoying the warm rays of sun. I read four books, knitted half of a sweater for myself while learning Italian sentences (which I tried out on every poor Italian there). Late afternoons, I picked out some motiv and painted a little postcard.
Only on one day did I venture beyond the walls of the hotel. I rented a car, stretching past my apprehension about driving in a strange country and drove over 400 kilometers around the top of the island. It was a beautiful day and I got a kick out of the amazing scenery, the various blues of the water, the clouds drifting lazily. I ordered some hot chocolate which was actually hot pudding. You could almost stand up the spoon in it!
When I packed to leave, it was no problem closing the little suitcase because I had bought NOTHING!! I did get caught at the airport - just had to have a beautiful mythology book in Italian. Now when am I going to read THAT?! (Shades of unused purchases past...)
Back at home I reactivated my Amazon seller's account and hope that I can give at least 400 books new homes (no, not the Italian mythology book yet...). Amazon has some sort of strange policy where you have to give them your birth date, passport numbers, old utility bills, etc. I don't feel comfortable with it and have no idea why they are doing this.
Now it's time to zip to the gym. Four course dinners in the evening, sitting around alot and no training has added at least two pounds to my bottom.
