I've not left for the airport yet and there's all this blank time to fill in before I go. Attention ye gods, this is the sort of time I want to store in the time bank to retrieve upon old age.

I've still got last minute packing to do, and I remembered to pack my swiss army knife in my check-in luggage this time. It's one of a few I've got, but I don't bring it around for self defense: it only cuts paper and price tags when I travel.

Dave asked me to check my passport's expiry date (isn't it too late though?). He wondered if our passports will outlive us and I replied, probably in every case.

For the trip, I've got:
a magazine (an issue of First magazine I wanted to give to the Italians but then I wonder if that's really such a hot idea),
a book (Richard Nisbett's "Geography of Thought: How Asians and Westerners Think Differently and Why". I know, what kind of person brings this along for leisure travel reading, and will this book really help decipher what the angmos are trying to tell me?),
a pocket edition Italian-English dictionary (which didn't get me far the last time I've used it), and
the latest travel guide to Italy (which I've not started reading and is on loan from the library. I hope to bring this back in one piece).

I'm not worried about travelling alone, I've done enough of it. It's just the interim waiting at airports.. walking round in a daze with music blasting from earphones in my ears, and me leaving fingerprints on huge glass windows. That's when I wonder why airport time seems to pass so slow, and why I'm travelling alone again.

It seems like everything is at a standstill till I go. And still I'm not quite ready yet.