This morning, in Antibes, I was startled by a loud burst of jet blast and looked up to see colored streaks of the French flag spread across the sky. By the time I got the camera out, the smoked had smudged, but still it was cool to see. It’s funny that I find French displays of nationalism charming, because in general I find nationalism the opposite – but rhyming! – alarming.
As I waited in Nice for the flight to Palerme/Palermo, things didn’t look good. For one, there was no plane at the gate, never good sign. Also, there was only one airline employee behind the counter; how would she process all the passengers by herself? I was sure that at any second we would learn that the flight was late or cancelled. But no, a plane did roll up eventually, and even though the solitary attendant had to check both boarding passes and ID at the gate, things were done quickly and efficiently; we were on the tarmac fast as heck. The flight attendants had to give the safety instructions three times, once in Italian, then in French, then English – ending with, “And now let’s fly!” – but we were up in the air quickly and landed 25 minutes early. And, FYI, at a quarter of the price and oodles more efficiently than my regional airline.
Anyway, now it is time to switch up my brain: time for Italian! Au revoir, ma belle France, à bientôt. Ciao, Italia!
Live all you can. It’s a mistake not to.