Monday, pill number 10

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le storie di silvia

Lesson n.4: contract a travel package

Apart from the arrival a bit ‘stormy, the awakening in the room was the most relaxing and beautiful of those last weeks

I slept for almost twelve hours and it was about one o’clock..

I had opened my eyes and I had magically found myself in that huge king-size double bed, one of those four-squares that you have to walk almost inside to go from side to side. It was my Jamaican lodging, a bungalow of about twenty square meters, which climbed up a wall of dark rocks overlooking the sea.

I stared at the white ceiling, comfortably lying in the middle of the bed, the air was less rarefied than when I arrived at the airport, maybe the sea made it more humid or simply, I was used to. I began to peer around. I would have had some things to do before starting this thirty day vacation, such as unpacking the suitcases and storing all the clothes in the wardrobes before they were completely crumpled..

I always hated those hit and run vacations, where for a week you leave everything in your suitcase because you do not have a place to store stuff or because you simply do not have time..

For me, the concept of relaxation has always been very simple: having nothing to think about and to worry about, including not having to stretch the long dress because it is crumpled or crumpled in a suitcase.

No! I like putting everything in the closets, divide them by color and above all have two choices for each evening and one alternative for the afternoon.

This actually explains why I always have more suitcases than my friends. Sometimes they make fun of me, maybe they have a trolley while I have two, but it’s their choice.

For me the holiday is relaxation in every sense, that is not having to think about which bag is better with the only pairs of shoes I have worn, or always dress the same way, because as I often hear, at the sea is the tan the best garment of the body. Now, except that I am white cadaveric, so to get a tan that I dress I should at least spend two months as close as possible to the equator to get the color that my friends have in just one week at sea and, then considering the my white complexion in fact, in a month I would not do anything but become red lobster and if all goes well, I could resemble the cover of the red shrimp, dressed up to party of course!

So no, I can not afford to underestimate the stylistic effect given the dermatological difference between me, my friends and the rest of the people of the earth.

Of course, if I had to be honest with myself, sometimes they make it a matter of practicality and, all in all, I can not blame them. I’m always the last one to arrive at the destination because I have to drag more suitcases that fortunately have wheels, but every time you face a climb or a couple of stairs in front of me, I can not help but invoke their help, thus starting the race of insults against me. A little like those who gave me last night on the bus, but certainly with less rancor. The thing that always repeats me is “Why me that I brought only a bag, I also have to carry your suitcase?”. Actually they are right, but they know very well that eventually they will end up using something they are carrying up the stairs, whether it is Chanel’s clutch bag or a couple of my Saint Lauren sandals.

 It’s a little mutual aid, they decide not to waste time organizing the suitcase for outfits and be so carefree, while I instead spend a whole evening bending clothes and to calculate every minimum match. 

In the end, however, I will always have some of my outfits, as often happens with my friend Easter, lovingly called Ina to avoid the use of her ecclesiastical name.

Ina is also nicknamed mono-outfit, after that time we went to Portofino. I remember that it was she who, at the moment of departure, faced the platform and asked me, “But will not that bag be too big for four days?”.

Indeed, the question seemed more than justified! Her suitcase compared to mine was not even a third big, indeed, her was a simple and modest shoulder bag ruby ​​red and this allowed her to move sinuously inside the train station, with a light and carelessness that to me, unlike her, she did not belong. While she struggled through the crowd with a stealthy step and slipped into every corner that was created between people, I followed her desperately dragging my trolley with wheels and balancing on the other side of the shoulder bag packed with handles in coconut, totally inconvenient to this type of fast trend. For this reason, she arrived at the taxi station rested, fresh and fragrant. That time she wore a blue and white striped chemisieur, which she insisted on calling a shirt despite several times I had explained that it was called chemisieur! In life she had tied a vintage beige leather strap, war booty from her mother’s closet. The whole outfit was completed by the single bag that was brought with it.

She only had that one! ONLY a duffle bag for four days in Portofino!

 See you on next monday 

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