Wanderings

At the end of our stay in Sorrento, a very bittersweet parting took place. No, not between me and Miguel. Well, I suppose that was a little bittersweet as well. But between me and my suitcase. Old Bertha. I think it was Miguel's innocent "Are you carrying another person in there?" upon check-in that finally proved the last straw. I decided I was NOT leaving Sorrento with Bertha, even if it meant leaving her on a corner somewhere, or in the middle of the street. My parents, after getting over the initial parental concern about me abandoning my expensive Samsonite, suggested that I try to pawn it off alongside the men on the sidewalks selling fake Louis Vuittons and Guccis.

But everything fell into place once we consulted Miguel; I knew it would.

"Hmm," Miguel thought about it, furrowing his brow. "There is a man named Fernando, who is Sri Lankan. He lives in Naples, and he works here during the summertime. He has a large family to support."

"Perfect!" I said. "Bertha is going to Fernando!" 

And so on the last day I dragged her- empty but still heavy, with a bow tied around her handle- down to the lobby. A grand celebration ensued, and then the Canadians and I were off to Athens. Not two minutes out the doorway, my new suitcase started to wobble. But that's a story for another time...