Fiumicino and Amsterdam

A day of airports. 

FCO has better food. I bought a porchetta with artichoke pesto panino for the flight, telling the vendor I can’t get enough of d’Ariccia porchetta, but also I didn’t want to eat schifezza on the flight. He laughed; “Hai ragione,” he said, and stuffed a few more slices of porchetta into my sandwich. 

Schiphol is streamlined and attractive. Our flight from Amsterdam is delayed an hour. Beer?

Rome to Amsterdam

Schiphol had a few surprises; I am always grabbed from the line and frisked at this airport, dating back to pre-TSA times. Invariably! Today, Joe was also pulled aside and patted down. And patted down. And…. at one point, the agent kept feeling Joe’s right thigh, saying there’s something in his pants. Ummmmmm…. I could see what was happening, and I caught Joe’s eye, trying very hard not to dissolve into a fit of laughter. Long story short, I’m a lucky woman hahahahaha!!!!!

Finally in air, I’ve got to say this Delta partner (KLM) could teach Delta USA a thing or two. I applaud all flight attendants, but KLM’s food, insofar as airplane food goes, is so much better! It’s edible!

An older (70s) woman and a young man sat behind us. He helped her with her bags, sat down, and began talking. And talking. And talking. Not sotto voce. I heard everything, even with plugged ears, from his family history, to his career projection, to his opinions on wine, his preferred bike paths… I marveled at how, after nearly two hours, he never ran out of things to say. No pause for air! We had our meal, lights were dimming—still going strong. It was at that 115-minute mark in flight, where we’d been up for hours and hours with little sleep the night before, that I hit the brick wall. I had my eye mask on, headphones with soft white noise music going, and still… Joe looked at me. “I just want him to shut up,” I said, in a really unproud moment. I didn’t say it loudly, but I think the older woman heard me and maybe gestured something, because he finally stopped talking. Hey; I held out nearly two hours. If you’ve ever been with me when I’m beyond exhausted, you’d know I put forth Herculean efforts to make it that long. And, sorry, but he was not practicing polite passenger etiquette.

Global Entry is a beautiful thing. We landed in Minneapolis, easily collected our bags, and took a good old-fashioned taxi home.

I made a simple pasta gricia from what I had stuck in the freezer to preserve, and opened a bottle of inzolia. 

Now to stay awake at least until 8 pm. 

Ciao until our next several-month junket in Sicilia!