i really do know the difference between a sea and a lake.

but that knowledge apparently lay dormant last weekend when cecilia, a swiss colleague, invited me to "go to the sea and have pesto" i must have gotten stuck on the "pesto" part (because i love that stuff) and didn't process the "sea" part. or blamed it on her imperfect english. i imagined a nice lunch downtown on the lake, sharing our cultures and broadening our minds.

at the italian border, i realized cecilia did, in fact, mean the "sea"...the mediterranean sea. and i went into panic mode. I HAVE NO PASSPORT! (or any euro for that matter...why would i need either for a lovely afternoon at the lake?)

now, i've crossed that border many times and never once had to show my passport and only occasionally even had to stop (and that was only because it was absolutely necessary to flirt with italian border control) but i just knew that THIS would be the time they would do a thorough passport check and i would not only not be allowed to go to the sea, but i would be deported.

my heart was a poundin' as we crept up to the window. there was nobody there. i was so relieved and had forgotten, in my panic, that the italian side of the station is rarely manned. they don't care who comes into their country. but then i thought of the trip home and cecilia voiced my fear, "the swiss side will be a different story."

we had a grand time in torino. (which is actually nowhere near any water at all, but 2 hours into the trip to genova, cecilia changed her mind) the second we got out of the car cecilia flirted with some guy by asking him for a cigarette. we explored torino and saw its winter light display and military parade and outdoor photo exhibit and ate ligurian focaccia, which, although it is only pizza without sauce was the best thing i had eaten in...days. (i will never be a food critic, i don't know the words that will convey the beauty of that cheesy, greasy goodness. how about this? i wanted to lick my paper wrapping.) it was super duper awesome to be in a city that had nothing to offer us tourism wise, and had to rely on its simple charms. and charming it was. a beautiful piazza or stunning architecture carefully hidden around nondescript corners. a weekend market bustling with local shoppers getting started on the holidays. there we bought italian hot chocolate, which is so thick you need a spoon to eat it.

on the way home, my anxiety returned. what if cecilia had to leave me at the border? it was dark and a long walk home and plus, i didn't know the way. we pulled up to the stop and cecilia took charge, "don't talk," she said. i sat like a mute while she nervously talked to the old man, who must have been italian, he was so indifferent about what we were doing there. we made it through and back home by 10 pm.

it was a nice lunch on the lake.