Ready or not, here I come
Thirty days from today, I leave for Italy to cover the 2006 Winter Olympics; afterward, I will travel the countryside with my wife for another two weeks.
I don’t feel as prepared as I should. That has thrown me into a funk of major proportions.
I am anal retentive. I am a planner. I don’t much enjoy “flying by the seat of my pants” unless I am in the mood.
And I’m going to have to be in the mood.
The Olympics are one thing. I know that I’m covering alpine, snowboard and freestyle skiing events; luge; skeleton; bobsled; Nordic combined. I know who my roommate will be and that we will stay in a mountain apartment some 62 miles from Turin.
I do not, however, know where the apartment is located. I don’t know if my laptop will work, or what I’ll need to make sure it works at the various media centers in the Alps. If I want cell phone service, I need to rent a phone (which I have yet to do).
I figure my editor will tell me when I need to know these things. So I’m not really sweating the coverage. I know, since I covered the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City, that I will work 16 days straight. I will file at least two stories a day, plus blog for my newspaper (www.redding.com)that will double as a column for the front page of the print edition.
I know that Turin is 10 hours ahead of the West Coast. I know that I’m going to adjust my coverage to more columns and features, and have been saving interesting bits and pieces of trivia for weeks.
I know my wife will arrive in Turin on Feb. 26 (“I’m going to be in Paris, at the Paris airport for how long? You mean I don’t get to see Paris?” she asks).
No. Two weeks in Italy and we’re not going to see all that we (I) mapped out. In the past 36 hours, I have come up with a plan: Take the train from Turin to Venice and stay a couple of days. Pick up a rental cad and drive to Tuscany. Spend a week kicking around the countryside. Drive to Rome, get rid of the rental and spend the last four days taking in a city that became an empire.
I did empower myself more today. I got an International Driving Permit and bought really good maps. I’ve been emailing B&Bs in Tuscany seeking out the best rates.
Still, I’m uneasy. There’s so much to do _ my wife will have to make arrangements for the kids, the business, the house and dogs by herself _ that I just have this ache in my belly. Not dread, but certainly fear and loathing (the self kind).
So tonight, I’m going to cook dinner, pop a bottle of wine (Chianti anyone?) and pour over my maps. Listen to my Italian language CDs. Get into the spirit, the joy of playing it fast and loose in a foreign land.
I don’t feel as prepared as I should. That has thrown me into a funk of major proportions.
I am anal retentive. I am a planner. I don’t much enjoy “flying by the seat of my pants” unless I am in the mood.
And I’m going to have to be in the mood.
The Olympics are one thing. I know that I’m covering alpine, snowboard and freestyle skiing events; luge; skeleton; bobsled; Nordic combined. I know who my roommate will be and that we will stay in a mountain apartment some 62 miles from Turin.
I do not, however, know where the apartment is located. I don’t know if my laptop will work, or what I’ll need to make sure it works at the various media centers in the Alps. If I want cell phone service, I need to rent a phone (which I have yet to do).
I figure my editor will tell me when I need to know these things. So I’m not really sweating the coverage. I know, since I covered the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City, that I will work 16 days straight. I will file at least two stories a day, plus blog for my newspaper (www.redding.com)that will double as a column for the front page of the print edition.
I know that Turin is 10 hours ahead of the West Coast. I know that I’m going to adjust my coverage to more columns and features, and have been saving interesting bits and pieces of trivia for weeks.
I know my wife will arrive in Turin on Feb. 26 (“I’m going to be in Paris, at the Paris airport for how long? You mean I don’t get to see Paris?” she asks).
No. Two weeks in Italy and we’re not going to see all that we (I) mapped out. In the past 36 hours, I have come up with a plan: Take the train from Turin to Venice and stay a couple of days. Pick up a rental cad and drive to Tuscany. Spend a week kicking around the countryside. Drive to Rome, get rid of the rental and spend the last four days taking in a city that became an empire.
I did empower myself more today. I got an International Driving Permit and bought really good maps. I’ve been emailing B&Bs in Tuscany seeking out the best rates.
Still, I’m uneasy. There’s so much to do _ my wife will have to make arrangements for the kids, the business, the house and dogs by herself _ that I just have this ache in my belly. Not dread, but certainly fear and loathing (the self kind).
So tonight, I’m going to cook dinner, pop a bottle of wine (Chianti anyone?) and pour over my maps. Listen to my Italian language CDs. Get into the spirit, the joy of playing it fast and loose in a foreign land.
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