I've had it. Done. Finito.

After a day in Capri, lounging by the sea, enjoying a fresh Caprese salad a glass of vino al fresco I am starting to feel better and more relaxed. I had arranged with the ferry service I used to get to Capri to meet them at 4PM get my bags and transfer to the larger ferry heading to Napoli.

Getting my stuff and finding the other ferry was easy, although it was the only time I was charged a "bag fee" in all my travels. I guess the Italians will do anything to make a buck.

The ride to Naples was sun-filled and enjoyable. With my ipod I could drown out all the tourists, and pretend I was elsewhere. From the port in Naples I found a taxi to my hotel and went inside its dingy exterior.

I had read that tourism in Napoli left a lot to be desired. The guidebooks were not lying. Outside my hotel was a 'market' resembling those you would find in Chinatown or Broadway. Lots of black market goods, electronic equipment, etc. I won't say I wasn't a little weireded out by this, but one night wouldn't be so bad, right?

Checking in was what it was. The guy was not the most helpful, and as he gave me the overweight key chain, he told me to 'be careful'. Seriously, if I dropped the keychain on my toe I would end up in the hospital!

His warning, I realized later, had nothing to do with the keychain. Nor my room, which was a borderline dump, but that is 3 stars in Italy for you!

The guy had been referring to Naples itself. Yes, it was sketchy. But I had no idea that I would need an escort to walk outside the hotel door. Yep, when I inquired about an electronic store to find a blackberry battery the receptionist motioned for the bellman to accompany me. I initially thought he was just giving me directions, but no he led me to every stop in my search. We stopped in five electronics stores, which were in a 100 ft radius of the hotel. One place eventually turned up an AFTER MARKET battery, which I bought for 25 Euro.

Back in the hotel, I realized there was no kitchenette or mini-fridge or area to buy even a bottle of water which I need to take with my medicine... not to mention, avoid dying from thirst. When I inquired about an ATM, or a market, the guy looked startled that I was going out -- again. "ATTENZIONE!" he warned. God, this place was giving me the creeps.

FINALLY, back in my dingy habitat for the night, it was time to get down to business and blog about my most recent adventures. It was 7PM and I had the whole evening to write, as I was prohibited from venturing out. Not that there seemed to be anything worth taking in.

When I turn on my computer, nothing happens. No lights. No screen. No nothing. I try again, and no such luck. I plug in my machine, and again, nothing changes. This had already happened once before, and I could not bear a repeat. Nothing changed the fact that my computer was once again down for the count.

I was pissed. Irritated. Beyond frustrated. All I wanted to do was write and yet I had nothing to allow such to happen. Sure, I could go old-fashioned with pen and paper, but with only 10 pages left in my journal there was no way I could catalog all the thoughts from the past few weeks. Without my computer, I felt lost. In my travels I had learned to love recording my thoughts at the end of the day. And for the next 10 days all I wanted to do was write, see new things, but most importantly put my thoughts down.

In frustration I called my mom, who has an ability to calm me down when the trivialness of life seems to wear me down. She let me vent about Italy and how much fun I WAS NOT having. The people were awful. The prices steep. The scenery beautiful, but so what? I wanted to do more than look at things in my travels. I wanted to interact and experience life and since getting to Italy there was very little I found intriguing except why I wanted to stay there.

Her letting me vent and get out the frustration of the... my God, had it only been 3 days since I left Sevilla? Three days and I was already in a state of frustration that was ruining the relaxed vibe I had when I left? Ruining the happy-go-lucky attitude I had adopted? It was very clear that Italy was not the place for me... at least now. I had been to 18 of its cities, they were lovely to look at but nothing to hold me there. I had sampled all of its culinary offerings and while they were all divine, living in NYC left nothing really to be desired. And the people, well, I knew where the good people were, and they were not in this boot-shaped country.

I got off the phone with my Mom, to call Eline to see what they were up to for the next few days, when it dawned on me I did not have her phone number. And upon further search in my phone, I realized that my contacts had been wiped out when my blackberry was stolen. I only had one name and number in the contact list. Saber.

I don't know why I pondered the decision to call him as long as I did. A good 20 minutes past before I actually dialed. The rationale behind such a lengthy decision-making process couldn't really be explained in logical terms. I knew he would be happy to get my call, I knew he would be happy to provide me with Eline's number, and knowing him he would probably offer his house to me vs. going to the beach with Eline and Miguel. It wasn't his reaction I struggled with. It was asking for help, it was admitting I needed it, and admitting for once I did not want this journey to be about always tackling issues and going somewhere new... alone. I didn't want to seem weak. I wanted to be back in Sevilla more than anything. I wanted to be with the people I now called friends. I wanted to drink overly strong cafe con leche, and drink rioja til 4AM. I wanted to sleep until 10AM, enjoy long runs in the park and write until my heart was content. I wanted to sit in Jonata's cafe and watch the world go by. I wanted to be there. And yet, I was here. In a dump of a hotel room. In a waste of a city, surrounded by crooks and villians and the sketchiest of the sketch. I wasn't where I wanted to be, and I knew until I made the phone call I couldn't be.

The phone rang twice, and Saber answered. "Hey Paige, how are you? You okay?" The events of the past three days spill forward. From not feeling well, to my computer breaking, from needing an escort to leave my hotel, to the fact there was somewhere else I had rather be. In his crazy accent he told me. "Italy's shit. Fuck it. Come back where the people love you. It's no problem. You stay with me. We fix your computer. I take you to the hospital. (obviously something was lost in translation...) Boom. Boom. Boom. And your happy again, okay? Call me when you get to the airport and I will meet you at the bus station. We will figure it out, okay?"

He gave me Eline and Miguel's numbers, and I promised to call him when my flight and such was booked.

Eline and Miguel were not surprised I was returning. Knowing the two of them, they probably had a bet going on how many days I would stay in Italy before returning. Whenever I had told them I was buying a ticket to Italy, they always asked why I bothered. Who really wants to leave Sevilla?

To streamline this process, Miguel booked my flight from Rome to Sevilla leaving at 10:40AM the next morning. The only problem with this is that I was in Naples, two hours from Rome. The only way to get there was by train. If you did the math I needed to be on a 5AM train from Naples to Rome to get to Rome by 7AM, I had to take a train to the airport from the train station that would take another hour, and I would be in Fiumicaro around 8AM, plenty of time for my flight. It was alot of travel, but who cares? The sooner I could get out of this place the happier I would be. 12 hours of travel was nothing!