Getting almost no sleep at all, I got up at 5am! Having to pack everything last minute (for a change...or not), making breakfast and waking up Pedro who always seems to be a rock at the early hours - when the sun wasn't even up - everything was a confusion from the start. Still, I got us out the door on time(miracle!). Got the tram, and the metro and after a little run we got the train on time. This time we weren't late, but the flight was, ruining the plan we had to spend a few hours in Milan. We took-off super late but we still believed we could visit something in Milan - naive us! As we were landing, Pedro was sleeping like a baby and I, afraid as I am of flying - started waking him up as I looked outside the window and saw something weird: it was fog - but I THOUGHT THE WING WAS ON FIRE!
We made a stop at McDonalds to have lunch but ended up staying there a little longer than expected because we were tired and hungry. After we decided to go take a walk. I had this one simple goal: to go to Milan, Duomo and visit the Cathedral, which pretty much didn't happen since we discover it was far from where we were and didn't have time to go there anyway - stupid late flight!
After finding out Milan is HUGE - from the reviews on other people I always had the idea Milan would be the size of a single avenue or something close to that -, we hit some avenue on foot just to kill some time. We sat at a little park and talked about the end of our journey. We had spent 3 months living together in Lugano, Switzerland - managing not to kill each other during the process - and after 6 days in Rome that was our last stop until we landed home again. I was sad as you can imagine. I was leaving Switzerland and Italy and a life living with the person I most love and all that amazing adventure was now ending and everything seemed sad about this to me. How was I going back to a place I no longer called home and how could I go to a house where he wasn't there to give me good morning and goodnight day after day? It was emotional to me, but eventually we had to get up and go back or we would miss our flight - I remember that wasn't such a bad idea, to simply loose the flight and having to stay in Italy a while longer.
On our way to catch the bus to the airport I remember we were in such a hurry - as always - and we were really close to the bus station when my stupid foot gave in and I TWISTED MY ANKLE. I'm so clumsy and this things always happen to me at the worst time possible! Pedro looked at me and kinda laughed at the situation - as he always does when something ridiculous like this happens to me - as I was crying with pain. He told me to sit down for a while but all I could think was we needed to get on that bus and it was right there, on the other side of the street!! I walked with so much pain but we couldn't stop, I couldn't stop! As much as I wanted to stay in Italy, and this seemed like fate telling me I should stay there, it was time to got and I was NOT going to miss that flight! Got on the bus on time and during the 45 minutes of travel I could see my ankle getting bigger and bigger. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!!
To help the situation, as we went to Rome we had left our bagage at terminal 1 because we didn't need it and it was more expensive to take them with us, and our flight was on terminal 2! So we got off the bus (and we realized we were REALLY late!) and tried to run to the place to get the bags, Pedro trying to help me and trying to hurry at the same time! OH SHIT THIS HURTS LIKE HELL! Got our bags - Off to terminal 2 we go! Stupid bus late! YEY to us! "We are so gonna miss the flight this time!"
Arrived at terminal 2 and with 2 huge bags weighting 40kg and another stroller and 2 backpacks we were screwed since I could barely walked on my own and Pedro couldn't take all bags with him.
And then we remember WE NEED TO SEND THE BAGS INTO HOLD BAGGAGE. Went to weight the bags and they were WAY OVER what they could.
Twisted ankle, late and with too much weight on our bags. NOW we really are screwed!
Somehow we managed to get both bags weighting exactly what they could - 20kg each - and now all we had to do was take a run, get through security and take another run to the gate! Easy if I wasn't with a twisted ankle obviously. Got to security and my foot was hurting like hell at the moment because I was forcing it in order to walk fast and not miss the flight. At the security check I looked at the departure's screen and saw our plane was already embarking and the security guy probably saw my panic face because he let us cut the queue!
As we passed I said to Pedro "RUN!!! RUN AND TELL THEM TO WAIT" and off we went running through the terminal to get to the gate before it closed. I cried, cried and cried more, everything was going horribly wrong! Lucky me - NOT - OUR FATE WAS THE LAST ONE OF THE TERMINAL. Really it was on the opposite side of the terminal - luck, luck, luck I'm telling you from the beginning it was a big hot mess! - and as I got there i got the relief of seeing everyone was still at the gate waiting.
To help, because I wasn't nervous enough, this time me and Pedro didn't have seats together! I ended up between two weird big guys, didn't get any sleep and was uncomfortable the entire time, but to my surprise our because my hurting ankle took my mind out of the situation, I didn't cry during departure this time!
So, our return was a big hot mess! I believe this was a sign, a punishment, because I had fallen in love with Rome and I was feeling regret for not deciding to do my Erasmus there. I believe this was a punishment and something bigger telling me I need to stick to my decisions and not regret them cause it would serve me no good. What's done is done and there was no way of going back and doing it differently.