We met our driver for the day, Dario, to take us up to Venice. The car wasn't as fancy as Giuseppe Giacobazzi, but Dario wasn't as fancy either. No worries; it was just a fancier version of a cab ride anyway.
In talking with the clients over the past week I have gleaned the reason as to why they insisted on private cars rather than public transport – they are terrified of getting robbed. In Rome, I can totally see it. A very large and sprawling city, there is a lot of petty crime on metro trains and buses. It is a little different on the long-distance trains, but it has been known to happen.
I did take up the subject of championing the public transport in Venice, taking the vaporetto versus private taxiboats everywhere. We're not major movie stars, these people are physically fit and capable of walking around short distances without hopping in a taxi boat. Besides, you miss out on so much “slice of life” by not stepping foot on a vap at some point. Plus it's fun to watch the boatmen throw the ropes at every stop. They agreed to trust me and let go of the private taxi hires except for their arrival and departure. Yay me! I eventually bend them to my will with subtlety.
We arrived in Venice just before noon and we found our taxi to take us and our luggage to the Danieli hotel, where they are staying. They were going to have lunch at the hotel and I would be meeting up with them in two hours for a tour through Piazza San Marco. I had the driver wait while I checked them in and then he took me to my house, where the washing machine awaited me.
Threw a load in the washer and ran over to market to buy food for dinner. Ah, to be able to cook again for a few days!!! Started on a pot of soup and did dinner prep so all I needed to do was throw everything in the oven.
Back at the Danieli, I walked them up to Piazza San Marco and we toured the basilica and the campanile (the belltower.) We took the tour of the Doge's Palace and did a little souvenir shopping. And had gelato. Yay gelato!
I had them set up for dinner at Hostaria da Franz but I wasn't going with them as originally planned. I took them there and presented myself to the owner. I had called earlier and made arrangements for a pre-fixe menu for them (and wine selection) and to imprint my credit card and take the standard gratuity found at the finer dining establishments. I would come with them at the start of the meal, verify the charge to be made after the meal and return in the morning for the credit card receipt. It happens sometimes, and the restaurants that deal with lots of the luxury hotel clientele see things like this often enough. Another trick of the trade.
Their reservation was at 7pm, and I dropped my clients off then doubled back to the house to finish cooking before the fam arrived. They arrived and I opened the door to hugs and kisses from Mamma. I had decided to make an effort not to be as “familiar” with Marco as I usually am, keep the teasing and joking to a minimum since I was meeting the girlfriend. She seemed nice enough, but was stiff as expected. She speaks more English than Mamma and less than Marco but you can tell she isn't entirely comfortable with it. Mamma speaks almost no English so our communication has improved over the years as I learned more. And learned to gesticulate better in the hand-signs department.
I made roasted red pepper soup, a favorite of theirs. Mamma may teach me venetian dishes, but I teach them about soup. They love this one. I also had prosciutto-wrapped chicken florentine and roasted brussels sprouts. It's a favorite meal when I cook for them.
Does Donatella cook? Nope.
I wonder how this relationship is going to turn out, given how he loves to critique any cooking not exactly like his mother's. Maybe this is a point in her favor; just let the poor old doting mother cook everything until she dies...
Mamma sat next to me, patting my hand and smoothing my hair while she chattered away. “Kricka, Kricka, sweet Kricka. So good you are here again. You look so happy. So healthy. We miss you. We can go to Mass in the morning?” I told her that I could only go to church with her in the afternoon or evening, just depending on my touring schedules each day, but I couldn't say right then when I could go with her. I was trying to throw everyone a bone and keep it loose and comfortable. It couldn't be easy for Donatella to watch Mamma, who she is just getting to know, suddenly so open and vibrant about me, who she is thinking is a rival. And my dear “brother” looked like he could crawl out of his skin and under the table.
We cut it shorter than usual, since he was going to have to go to work at 10pm, and needed to escort Mamma home first. So we said our goodbyes and they were on their way by 9:30. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that trip home.
I don't think it will last for them; she is not his type or what he is looking for in the long-term, but I am going to keep my mouth shut.
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