I kept on greeting my boyfriend from further and further away up to the moment before disappearing into the human flux of the check point at Venice airport. I did not feel too much sad though.
With the optimism that distinguishes me, I saw only the exciting part of the affair, and I was more than certain that my love-story would not have been badly affected by this choice to leave. My usual (bad-placed) optimism about love, people, and the love of people.
Anyway no, I wasn't feeling sad actually. My glass was half-full and I was flying towards a misterious country, which I had really never heard any news about before. Exception made for some anxiogene information learned from the Farnesina italian website, which I quickly checked before leaving. There they will tell you that there were maybe pirates in that Ocean, but not too many ones ... it's a tolerant country, but it's better not to offend their culture ...if you accidentally drive by with the traffic light on the red, you're 48 hours in jail! To put it all, facts count and Oman never gave me any of the three above, even though it took some time for me to get trained to the proper dress-code and to all the behavioral rules suited to a woman traveling alone. Which is me, as always.
I learned up on my personal experience the 'to do' and 'not to do' list...and when I made up my list, everything started to walk on easily for me.
But anyway I enjoyed the expository style adopted by that web-site. It's like the visual effect of a black tulle dress on somebody (we call it 'I can see I cannot see' in Italy) ...it will lead you to murmur yourself while looking to that black-transparency wrapped lady: "will she be beautiful or will she have crooked legs?" "will she be beautiful or will she have four buttocks down there?" "will she be beautiful or...?"
...on this doubt it is better to board her friend!
Well I couldn't have that choice: I was adventurously aproaching (yes, I called that an approach) a country that for me was all fluttering in a black tulle, and had no friend to b-plan onto. And I left my country perfectly conscious that what would have kept me mostly busy from that day and for a long time ahead would have been to be accepted and liked by that misterious place. To know it, understand it and please it as much as I could, even before I could get the chance to understand if I liked it as well or not. LOL
With the optimism that distinguishes me, I saw only the exciting part of the affair, and I was more than certain that my love-story would not have been badly affected by this choice to leave. My usual (bad-placed) optimism about love, people, and the love of people.
Anyway no, I wasn't feeling sad actually. My glass was half-full and I was flying towards a misterious country, which I had really never heard any news about before. Exception made for some anxiogene information learned from the Farnesina italian website, which I quickly checked before leaving. There they will tell you that there were maybe pirates in that Ocean, but not too many ones ... it's a tolerant country, but it's better not to offend their culture ...if you accidentally drive by with the traffic light on the red, you're 48 hours in jail! To put it all, facts count and Oman never gave me any of the three above, even though it took some time for me to get trained to the proper dress-code and to all the behavioral rules suited to a woman traveling alone. Which is me, as always.
I learned up on my personal experience the 'to do' and 'not to do' list...and when I made up my list, everything started to walk on easily for me.
But anyway I enjoyed the expository style adopted by that web-site. It's like the visual effect of a black tulle dress on somebody (we call it 'I can see I cannot see' in Italy) ...it will lead you to murmur yourself while looking to that black-transparency wrapped lady: "will she be beautiful or will she have crooked legs?" "will she be beautiful or will she have four buttocks down there?" "will she be beautiful or...?"
...on this doubt it is better to board her friend!
Well I couldn't have that choice: I was adventurously aproaching (yes, I called that an approach) a country that for me was all fluttering in a black tulle, and had no friend to b-plan onto. And I left my country perfectly conscious that what would have kept me mostly busy from that day and for a long time ahead would have been to be accepted and liked by that misterious place. To know it, understand it and please it as much as I could, even before I could get the chance to understand if I liked it as well or not. LOL
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