The Things They Carried

One evening while watching TV I saw an ad for Philadelphia cream cheese. Philadelphia brand, mind you, not some generic Romanian knock off. The real stuff. The same cream cheese we haul in and out of cars, trains and airports.
I jumped off the couch shouting "Oh no you didn't!" at the screen.

Thus, with one TV ad, ends our overpacking mania. A box or two of Ziplock bags? Sure. A container of ibuprofen? Yeah. But that's it. No more. Everything else we can get when we arrive.
I've seen the ad to prove it.

So say I.

The overpacking wasn't all for naught: with the extra luggage space we were able to bring home 5 bottles of Italian wine, 1 liter of honey, 2 liters of palincă, 3 bottles of homemade liquor, chocolates from various European countries, some jewelry and pottery from Italy.

However even the aforementioned items, heavy and numerous though they were, did not require the max allotment of luggage. The wine we could obtain in the States. "It's not the same thing" you protest. Oh no it's not. A leisurely stroll downtown to Zoccoli's is not at all the same as the drama of trying to find bubble wrap, pack and weigh 8 suitcases followed by unpacking and redistributing everything until you finally get it all properly proportioned, trying to find two taxis with trunks big enough to hold everything, watching the suitcases get tossed about during check-in, hoping the bottles don't break in transit and saturate all of your shoes and clothes with wine by the time you arrive in San Francisco (yeah, we've been through that before).

In short, we need to remember that it's not 1996 any longer. It's time to leave the cases of deodorant and power tools at home and enjoy the freedom of luggage that's light enough not to require strapping on a weight-belt to lift.

Along with the availability of Philadelphia cream cheese, there were a few other discoveries this time around.

We learned that Mircea can grow a beard.

We learned that there really is such a thing as too much of a good thing, even if that thing is Italian food.

We learned that Italian road safety is much like Romanian road safety. ("Sure it's ok to drive by, it hasn't exploded yet so you're probably safe.")

We learned that there are some "roads" our van simply cannot fit through. (Ok we actually learned that last time we were in Italy but we sort of forgot)

We learned that my phone takes horrible pictures and that I cannot be trusted to remember to bring the good camera with me to the meetings. Apparently I get so emotional and excited that all I can manage are photos of butts and the sides of noses. This was the cream of a very pathetic crop.

We learned that Romanian taxi drivers are versatile. (Or as I told my boys: this is what it means when you know how to hustle).

We learned that I still have to take the stairs to Vali and Simona's apartment on the 7th floor.

We learned that we have wonderful friends and that it doesn't matter how long we have, it's never enough time to be with them. (Ok that one we already knew).

We learned that going home to Romania is not the same without Pia there.

It was over too soon.

So we return, carrying extra pounds of fat on our bodies (all nicely distributed in flattering places of course), and souvenirs to give to beloved friends. Most of all we carry the memories of a lovely holiday and the warmth in our hearts that comes from once again being with those we love on the continent so far away.
Imi va fi dor.