Mum once bought me drugs from a Walmart in Mexico (please note that despite the rampant flu ravaging my body, I still refused to enter the store) when I was under the weather on a family trip we took. The only thing she told me was that the yellow pill was for day, green for night. I took a green and slept thirteen of the most solid hours of my life.

I was reminded of this moment as I stood inside the Farmacia at the train station trying to describe my symptoms (sadly, both 'Homesick' and 'Decongested' are not words listed in my Italian dictionary) to a tired looking lady. I pulled out of my pocket an empty pill package and asked for "This".

One of the other sick leaders in the house had given me the pill and the empty package was all I had left. That small pill gave me several hours of relief from the cold that has been tearing me apart for the last few days during the final lengthy work stretch in Italy. The fact that the Universe would bestow on me such a gnarly cold was poetic justice for my ending to my time here in Italy.

She produced the box of pills, and with regular drugging since last night I am happy to report I feel somewhat like a human again and not a robot although the last fourteen days have been a long haul. The two trips back to back finished without too much heartache, hassle or overall ruckus. My mental well-being took a serious nose dive mid way through the first trip and it became a crawl to the end, the finish line I crossed uneventfully yesterday at the leader house. I looked to my co- leader of the week. "We Good?" "Yup." And just like that, my fourth year of guiding comes to a close.

I took a train into Florence, discovered the joy of Actigrip and continue to pop the pills. Not a pill popper by habit, the thought of not treating a cold with lemon ginger honey tea, loads of vitamin c, sleep, and girly moves is outweighed by trying to have a fabulous time with the man I have missed like crazy for the last two months.

So pop the pill I do, out the door we step, into a petite Italian Holiday before the journey back home.