Where in the World is Dakota?

The jet lag and time change are no joke. I thought I’d be fine, but they’re kicking my gluteus maximus more than I anticipated. This is exactly why I planned to arrive earlier than when I’ll be teaching—to give myself time to adjust. The big adventure for the 25th? Tracking down my luggage, which had decided to take an extra ride to Munich.

I walked to the train station easily enough—only had to check my GPS twice to confirm my turns (and I was right both times!). At the station, I bought a ticket to the airport. Knowing the airport name helped, and thankfully the woman at the ticket counter spoke English. Still, somewhere along the line I misunderstood… because I ended up on the wrong train.

Yep. I hopped on a train going in the opposite direction! 😅 Once I realized, I got off, admitted to a Polizia officer that I was lost, and he kindly pointed me toward the correct train—telling me to “just get on.” That one did take me to the airport, where the next chapter of this saga began.

The airport looked like DIA—under construction. I don’t remember it being that way when I first arrived… was I really that sleep deprived? I found signs for “Lost and Found,” but they also said “Staff and Crew,” so I assumed it wasn’t for me. I trekked across the airport searching for another Lost and Found. Nothing. Getting annoyed, I re-read my email: Terminal 1, Lost and Found. The only one I’d seen was the staff door. Finally, I asked for help at a currency exchange desk. The woman kindly explained that the frosted glass door was, in fact, for me—it would have opened automatically if I’d walked closer. 🤦‍♀️

So back I went, retracing my steps. Sure enough, the door opened when I got near. Inside, I went through security (like TSA—no problem), but couldn’t find Air Canada on any of the boards. I saw United, so since I’d booked through them, I thought that was my best bet. Fifteen minutes later, I was told nope—wrong line. Air Canada was in the other (much longer) line. United wasn’t even there anymore!

So, into the long line I went. I waited at least an hour and a half. I felt especially bad for moms wrangling little ones while trying to claim lost luggage. Honestly, I considered myself lucky to only have one missing bag. While waiting, I practiced Italian on my Kindle app—every little bit helps!

Finally, my turn. Based on how long others had taken, I braced for at least 30 minutes. But I was finished in under 10! Filing a claim right away had cut down the process, and I still had my luggage tag sticker, which matched my bag exactly. Huge time saver.

WOOHOO—reunited at last! 🎉 My bag and I had a long walk back across the airport (of course, the exit was right by the currency exchange desk I’d asked at earlier 🙃). Then it was back on the train to Busto, followed by a 10–15 minute walk with my VERY loud suitcase—wheels clattering over cobblestones late at night. (Pro tip: not recommended!)

At last, I reached my gate, hauled my 70-pound suitcase up two flights of stairs, and collapsed with pride. A year ago, I was still rebuilding strength after cancer treatment and surgeries. To carry all that—umbrella dangling from my wrist, just in case of rain—and make it home felt like such a win.

The “lost” is lost no more, and my tired feet got the rest they deserved that night.

Arriving with one less bag than I took off with….