Julie and Aryn are here

Travel-wise, my family reunion has been blessedly uneventful. Our worst fears were not realized, of course, and Julie and Aryn’s flight to Rome was on time and delivered all their bags. They would have had a row to themselves except a woman thought Aryn was so cute and sat with them, promising to move when it was time for her to sleep. Well, the woman fell asleep long before Aryn did and stayed in the open seat. Alas for Julie (though Aryn slept more than four hours).

The drive up to Rome and back was easy. It was about eleven Euro in tolls each way, but it was the kind of toll road where you pick up the ticket and pay at the end, so I won’t be buying the little Autopass for the car. There’s a monthly fee, and I’ll probably only be paying tolls a few times a month since I don’t pay one to get to and from work.

But it was amazing, that Sunday morning, to see the bleary-eyed girls emerge from security, Julie holding nine bags on her back and pushing a cart with about a billion more. Aryn ran to me (didn’t trip like last summer on the pier). We loaded up the car and started the torturous ride to our new home.

If you can avoid it, don’t plan a long car ride right after an international flight. Spend a night where you land, or fly directly into your final destination. Also, land in Europe in the evening, so you only have to make it a few hours before crashing and waking up the next morning on a new schedule.

Since their arrival we’ve been getting reacquainted, readjusting to life together. They’ve been licking their wounds and (mostly) beating jetlag. Julie went to see the house I picked out, met the landlord and gave her blessing. Now, once it stops raining long enough for the city electricians to come and hook up the electricity, we should be able to move in. Pray it’s soon.

Tuesday was Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, or, as we say here, Carnevale. Masks, parades, raucous parties, and lasagna. As it turns out, lasagna isn’t a common dish in Italy (it takes about five hours to make), and in Naples you can only find it on Carnevale. I’ve heard other places will serve it year-round, but maybe only the touristy places?

What I do know is that at any restaurant in Italy on Carnevale you can buy lasagna, and ours was amazing. I didn’t expect to like it, actually, because I haven’t liked every other “authentic” Italian lasagna I’ve had before (at nicer Italian restaurants, made by immigrants or the children of immigrants).

But the simplicity of the sauce, the freshness of the cheese, the silky smooth texture… I could’ve eaten ten helpings. Now that’s a Fat Tuesday tradition I can get behind.

When the sun comes out in the afternoons and some of the rain puddles dry up, we are hopeful that nicer weather and a house from which to have adventures are coming soon. Stay tuned as we venture out together into the great city of Naples and the lands beyond…