Day 24: Melt. Down.

Travel can really start to wear on you. Anyone who's travelled extensively would probably agree. Most people don't talk about it. You sort of sound like an asshole complaining about the stress of your world travels to your friend who has 4 kids and is covered in spit up, or your buddy who just lost his job. But I'm gonna be that asshole right now because travel can be a grind. Yesterday, I had my first meltdown in the middle of a 5 lane highway with carbineri and politizia yelling at me.

This is how it happened:

Start in Liechtenstein. Drive down scary mountain. Almost hit dog. Park in wrong parking spot at museum. Someone yells at me in German. I smile. Explain I don't speak German. More yelling. Move my car. Museums. Leave Liechtenstein. Switzerland won't give me a passport stamp. Boo.  Beautiful drive through mountains in Switzerland.

Delight at finding a Burger King.   Pay €14.20 ($19.45) for 6 chicken nuggets, a medium fry and medium Coke. No longer delighted.

Drive so high in the Alps that my ears are popping. Roads so twisty your muscles tense up. Keep climbing. Starts snowing.  Keep climbing. Snows harder. Cars on your ass the whole way. I ignore them. Repeat for 1.5 hours. Then down for 1.5 hours. Traffic jam at border into Italy. Sit in traffic for 30 minutes. No stamp for Italy either. Schengen sucks.  Drive past Lake Como in rain so heavy I can barely see. I picked this route specifically to see the lake. Rain doesn't care.

Easy drive to Milan. Straight roads. Fast drive. Hit Milan at 3:30, apparently rush hour. Here to hit 1 outlet shop. Fight through insane traffic for 30 minutes to get across Milan. Find the store. Rejoice! Cannot find parking. Search for 20 minutes. Almost hit a motorcyclist. Give up and leave Milan. Fight through more traffic to get out. Bird flies into my car window. I scream. Bird flies away.  Nerves are shot. Deep breath.

Autostrada. Straight, flat. I relax. Outlet shops. Don't find a purse. Buy a few gifts and some perfume. 7pm.  Exhausted. One more hour to Genoa where I'll find a hotel.  Buy a Coke. Spill 1/2 of Coke on car seat. Get out of car and scream expletives because I'm alone.  Not alone.  Mother and child staring at crazy American lady screaming in parking lot.  Autostrada. Now downhill entirely to sea level of Genoa port. Switchback pin turns. Stressful. Mom calling trying to help find hotel. Finds one by GPS can't locate. Toll booth. More rain. Finally in Genoa. Pull over. Find hotel on app.  Attempt to drive to hotel. Madness ensues. Traffic. Darkness. I'm in ghetto. Surrounded by dozens of mopeds. GPS tells me to go wrong way on one-way. Quick correction. Moped almost hits me.  Moped driver screams at me in Italian. Deep breath.

GPS is lost. Pull over again. Find 2nd hotel. GPS doesn't recognize street. Find 3rd hotel. Drive a few miles surrounded by dozens of mopeds cutting me off. I'm in a worse ghetto. Down a street so narrow I scrape my tire on the curb.  Insane traffic.  Darkness. GPS says turn left. There is line of traffic so long I could cry.  Turn right instead. Pull over.   Almost cry. Get it together, Jules. It's just driving. Deep breath.

Decide I hate Genoa. Problem is Genoa, not Jules.  Decide to leave Genoa and go ANYWHERE ELSE ON EARTH. En route to highway. Surrounded by dozens of mopeds so close I'm sure I'll kill one of them. Mopeds suddenly all turn right. I'm alone.  Yay!  I'm behind a bus. I see a hotel to my left across 10 lanes of traffic. Bus turns left towards hotel. I turn left. A traffic light somewhere I cannot see turns red. Bus goes straight.  Suddenly, I'm alone in the middle of the road. 5 lanes of traffic are facing me. Where did bus go?  I'm trapped.

To my left, 3 carabinieri (Italian military police) are walking towards me yelling.  To my right, polizia. Shouting. Hand gestures. Polizia walks up to my car, taps on window. He's saying I'm not authorized, I cannot be here.  I start to roll down window. Car stalls.  Window stuck halfway down.

I was saying "I'm sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak Italian."

And suddenly I'm crying like a little girl. The stress of the day has broken me. I'm in the middle of an intersection about to be arrested and all I can do is cry.  I'll rot in an Italian prison for the little known crime of "following a bus until it ditches you in a restricted area."
I keep repeating "I'm sorry" through my tears.

The polizia softens and waves off the two carabinieri officers to my left. He sticks his head in the window.   "Okay, signora, take easy. No eye water. Is okay. Where you go?"

I'm a blubbering mess.  I sniffle. Mopeds are honking from I don't know where and polizia holds up his hand to them. "I...I was just trying to find a hotel."

"Okay," he says, triumphantly.  He smiles and points to the hotel and says "This is easy. Hotel for Presidents...right there! Are you a President?"

"...what? No, I'm just a regular Ameri..."

"Please, signora!  I is joke with you. Is okay.  You go there, yes?   It's be alright. Just wait a moment. No need to eye water."

I sniff and say thank you.

Somehow, now there are 5 lanes of traffic BEHIND me now as well. Where are they going? There are still 5 lanes of traffic IN FRONT of me. And aren't I in a restricted area? I'm in the middle of a traffic riddle that resembles West Side story or the Thriller video. There's gonna be a face off right where I'm standing.

The polizia walks out into the traffic behind me, holds everyone back and waves me forward.
I tearfully shout my thank you and apologize again.  I turn left towards the hotel and he shouts,

"Is okay, signora. Just have a wine and a sleep."

I decide to do exactly that, right after I "eye water" for a while.

As I check in to the hotel, I cannot stop the tears. The stress of the day is just pouring out of me now and try as I might, I can't get it under control.  The very nice man who is a checking me in asks if I need help. I tell him I'm okay, just a rough day.  I explain about the mopeds and the polizia and he says "Oh yes, Genoa bikes are, how you say in English? Aggressive."

He gives me an upgraded room with a King bed and sends up a glass of wine on the house.

Italy amazes me. Even as it beats you down, it offers you a hand to help you back up. And a nice glass of Chianti.