My Kind of Place

Now that my luggage had arrived and Christmas was over, I figured it would be a good time to call my cousin and arrange a time to visit.

I was not sure how my cell phone worked over here. It is an American phone with an American number roaming in Italy. It was suffering from a technological identity crisis.

I first tried her number from an International standpoint—country code (011), then region code (39), then her number.


I then tried the number without the region code.


I tried dialing without the country code, but with the region code.

BANT! Although that time I did get an answer. I hope that that man understood my apology! I also have no idea what country I called.

This time I figured I would try the number just as she gave it to me.

TADA! Contact!

“Pronto”, she said

“Uh, uh, Ivana? It is Mikki”, I stuttered.

“Mikki! Ciao! Come stai?” she replied.

“Bene! E tu?” I answered.

That was as far as we could get. She then rattled off some Italian. I heard “amico” and “inglese”. She handed me off to her friend Aldo, who spoke English better than I did!

Through Aldo, my cousin and I decided that I would come down Saturday morning, and stay until Monday afternoon, sightseeing in Ragusa, Ragusa Marina and Ragusa Ibla, plus celebrating the New Year’s festivities with her and her family and friends.

Aldo gave me directions from Catania to Ragusa. He said Ivana would meet me at the McDonalds right off the exit.


McDonalds? Was he serious? I traveled 9,000 miles and 3 generations to meet my cousin at…McDONALDS?

As it turned out it was the perfect place to meet. I could recognize it, and she already knew it.

McDonalds is my kind of place.

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