Some people retire and play golf, volunteer for worthy causes, spend time with the grandkids.  None of these are for me.  What calls me is The Beach.  Since putting my house on the market, I have begun to yearn for life on the beach. Beach being everywhere from Hawaii to Florida and back to Texas.  However, somehow I have come to fantasize about the beach in Italy.  A steady diet of reading books set in Naples, Amalfi and Southern Italy in general has me dreaming of sun, sea and pasta, and the lovely music of people speaking Italian. So, once I began voicing this fantasy, people actually believed I intend to actually do it.  Now it is morphing from fantasy into Plan.

That is kind of scary.  I am no stranger to travelling, travelling alone even, but travelling alone in a country in which I do not speak the language is another thing altogether.  The Internet provides hours of research, leading one to believe it is No Big Deal to wander across the planet, but the reality (seared into memory by earlier trips to foreign lands) of being in a place where not only can I not communicate in the language of the land, but people there cannot speak my language either, is a bit daunting.  The obvious solution of course is to learn Italian.  I have not shown an aptitude for any language other than English. Through four semesters of Spanish in college, a year in The Netherlands, and several vacations to Mexico I have learned about myself that I can learn to read a language and sometimes understand a few words, but I am not quick to pick up the conversational aspects.  That will be my challenge.  Memorize all the Italian words and phrases I can, then SPEAK! We shall see.