Countdown to Rome

In about two weeks, God willing, Lou and I will be in Italy. This means that I need to put more thought into preparations than I have in awhile. I'm hanging on little decisions like 'Should I bring along a pair of jeans, even though they're bulkier and heavier than slacks?' and 'Am I going to be too warm if I take mostly long-sleeved shirts?' Not to mention 'If I pack a little laundry detergent in a zip-lock bag, will airport security think it is drugs?'

I am making a concession to style by wearing my office boots, which are slightly less comfortable than my old walking shoes but far more attractive. Briana tells me that Italian women wear stiletto heels while pushing baby carriages on cobbled streets. Brave souls, in whose veins the blood of martyrs flows! There is not a chance that I will walk all over Italy in stilettos--not one. Sadistic, painful shoes.

Jet lag worries me a bit; it only takes two time zones to throw me off and we're going nine. The only thing I've seen that looks like it might help is Donna's Sure-Fire Jet Lag Remedy:

"Force yourself to stay up the entire flight. Then, at your destination and before you hit the sack, down two sleeping pills and two Melatonin with a double scotch chaser. You'll be out like a light in no time and pretty chipper in the morning. Do this three nights in a row eliminating the sleeping pills on the third night. Works for me!

Note: SlowTrav.com does not endorse this jetlag cure but thinks it sounds fun."

Unfortunately, I think that as Martin Short once put it, that would be like "bye-bye, George, see you next Thursday!"

All the talk on travel sites of how to avoid pickpockets makes me a little paranoid. I plan on taking a day bag, and my NaNoWriMo notebook will be in there. I'll be guarding that with my life ... and the karate chop I used to use on my sisters when they'd walk past me and poke a finger into my ribs.

Preparatory concerns aside, the thought of Rome thrills me straight through. I want to worship at the altars in St. Peter's and pray in the church St. Francis built and walk among the tombs of the martyrs and throw a penny in the Trevi fountain and write my novel with a statue reading over my shoulder.