The Beatles - Why Don't We Do It In The Road

Woke up the other morning (Tuesday) on what seemed to be a bed in the middle of traffic. It was that loud. This song immediately came to mind. Been listening to it here and there since...and it has drawn up a lot of fond memories that are in pieces. Putting them together is a task in itself.

And because we are Writing About It Wednesdays, I'll share some of it as one long tangent that may not make any sense to the person reading. Free form, whatever comes out as I type.

When I was around 20, I went to Spain (OK, it was IBIZA!!!) for a week with two close friends, left them, and then spent a bit more time meeting up in Italy (Tuscany) with about 10 other friends from NY. I think it was their graduation trip, but for me, I'm just good at tagging along.

One of them, our host, grew up in Pisa, and his family and a lot of friends were still there. Everyone was really warm and welcoming, so it was as though we were all one big, extended, nomadic family, moving in large groups, always. There was a lot of bonding between the Americans and the Italians, as well as within our own circles.
His best friend was having a big birthday party somewhere in the country, but sadly I cannot recall the town...But if can remember correctly, the home that his family just purchased, and where the birthday party took place, had once belonged to Napolean...It was grand. And we were having a party...with hundreds of people. One could compare it to a rave. You know how the Euro's do! It was so much fun, even if I couldn't understand a lot of the conversation around me.

Also during this trip, after the party, we even ended up on the island of Elba- the friend who had a birthday party also had a house here. My room was literally built into a cliff. You could jump from the rock to the water. If only I could swim. Instead, I just watched everyone else do it...

Anyway, this song specifically plays a major part of the memory of this trip, because all Italians love The Beatles, and on my first night of this trip, in Pisa, I was put in a bedroom with one of the best friends of my host, and he wouldn't stop singing, "Why don't we do it in the road...". With his Italian accent. We had just met earlier in the day for the first time. Amazing.

Sadly, the more time that has passed since this trip, the less I can remember. I still keep in touch with a few of the friends, but it's not something we could ever do again. Some are married, some are no longer friends, and some live in other places of the world, working jobs that would prevent such a reunion. But we'll always have the White Album, which played non-stop the entire trip.