I hate this country.
While waiting for our luggage in Philly, a customs dog sniffed us for contraband. It was a cute little tail-wagging beagle. Shrewd manipulation on the part of our government, no doubt. They want me to think that dog is cute so I won't resent being smelled.
First sight upon entering US customs: a sign explaining the penalty for assaulting a customs officer.
And when I started unpacking my luggage this morning, I found a note from the Homeland Security folks explaining that they had searched my bags. For my own safety, of course.
I assume some homeland blog police will monitor my words and start a file on me. Perhaps none of you will get to read this before they delete it and close down the blog.
I miss Catania. Yes, filthy Catania, where by the time I woke up & showered & breakfasted & slurped my expresso, everything was closed until 4:30, when it was almost dark. I miss all the black leather jackets and boots. I miss the market and the purple cauliflower I never got to try. And brioches and baroque churches. And the beautiful fish! And that fizzy pink grapefruit drink at the organic grocery. Have I mentioned the black leather jackets?
In this country, I have to work for a living. In Italy, they just let me wander around spending money, climbing into volcanoes, and ogling tailored clothing. Now that's living!
I went to bed at 7:30 last night and slept 13 hours straight in my own wonderful bed. That bed is the only thing I like about the U.S. right now. Well, OK...hamburgers might pretty good, too. I'm craving one.
