We home

The jet from Munich touched down at 18.40 hours at San Francisco (SFO). The trip through immigration was quick, although the agent kept turning over my card and thumbing through my passport looking at all the stamps of arrivals and departures. Funny, the agent in Munich did the same thing. This must be the day for checking all the past trips. In the end the immigration agent asked me: "How long have you been away?"

"Three weeks," say I.

"And where you in Italy the whole time?" he asks.

"Yes," say I, "I was in Rome the whole time."

Then he smiles and says. "It must have been beautiful," and he gives me my passport.

Tired as I am from this long and cramped flight, I laugh and say, "Oh yes, Italy is always beautiful!"

It took another 40 minutes before I could get my luggage, and when I came out of immigration and customs, John Rasor was there to meet me and to bring me back to Berkeley. I came straight up to my room, took a quick shower, and checked my messages. There were only two, and the latest was from my brother Sal, who phoned this morning to say "Welcome home!" Nice gesture. I just made a quick phone call to my mom in Bellflower… and now, I'm crazily adding this memory as my body is telling me: "get some sleep".

Okay, so I will. Another portion of my Roman adventures seem to be closing, but there is more to come: and that's the truth.