Last full day in Italy, as tomorrow we’re packing early and heading to Naples to catch our flight to Brussels. To celebrate the end of our vacations, we elected to do something neither Karine nor I ever done in Italy or anywhere else. We’re getting our brains washed. OK, it’s not our brains, and there’s no washing. We’re driving to Foggia to get a COVID PCR test, so we’ll be allowed in Belgium and then Canada.
The experience of explaining to an Italian nurse that Karine isn’t my sister but my girlfriend wasn’t easy. I’m not entirely sure she understood, for there seemed to be quite a bit of judgment after we tried to explain. But the awkwardness of negotiating our tests is nothing compared to getting your first-ever COVID PCR test without getting any warning about how this might feel. As the first one going, the only thing I could think of was to stay still and not to sneeze. It felt like it was the safest move. Also, while the technician taking the sample is no proctologist, it must be as weird for him as it is for us. Not moving has a good chance of not making things weirder. I must have done it right, as only one sample was needed. Karine followed my example, and we’re promised test results around 18:00.
We raced back from Foggia and headed to the beach for a couple of hours of rest, relaxation and our last chance to swim in the Mediterranean for the year.
Although we didn’t get our results at the promised time (we’re in the south of Italy after all, punctuality is a vague concept), we did get them around 20:30, and both are negative. We’re heading home.