The day had finally
come. My parents still couldn’t believe I was really going. I tried to comfort
my dad telling him that now I could at last track our ancestors in Italy. But
still he wasn’t convinced and asked me many times during our trip to São Paulo
if I didn’t want to reconsider. The
fact that I was going to meet my older sister in London and spend the weekend
with her made things a bit easier, although it didn’t stop the recommendations.
Hehe. Fathers… I
think they are all the same anywhere in the world.
Our flight was scheduled for 16:15 and Lisa wasn’t at the airport yet, as usual.
Argh, does she always have to be
late?? I was there, so anxious, biting my nails, listening to all the
announcements at the airport, trying to catch something like ‘the British
Airways flight to London has been cancelled forever’ etc. But nothing. I had a
really bad belly. I don’t know if it was fear of flying or just fear of what I
was about to do: leave my degree behind, not apply for a residency anywhere,
and try my luck making a living in Euros, teaching English in a foreign country,
which language I only knew the basics. Too
late to change my mind, I thought. Let’s go and do it. The only thing
comforting me was that I’d see Clara and she
always had encouraging things to say. Nothing like some “older sister’s
therapy”.
Time passed quickly, and Lisa arrived. My
parents, Laura, with her family, and I said our goodbyes, with lots of promises
of writing every day, phoning every weekend bla bla bla. I promised I would be
very careful and wouldn’t be naïve and wouldn’t walk in dangerous places and
wouldn’t be alone with boys I didn’t know.
And so Lisa and I went on that flight.
0 comments:
Post a Comment