22 Novembre Tue – Il Giro di Addio

Took myself on my goodbye tour of the city. I packed my bag, took half my clothes in a space-bag over to Giudecca to Mamma's to store in a closet. This way I don't have to carry around an extra bag and I don't have to worry about weight limits on the plane. Went to my restaurants and said goodbye, went to the hotel and said goodbye. Called Frank and said goodbye. He was very happy to hear that things will work out and I will be back. Hopefully. I don't have that check in my possession yet, do I? They haven't given me a ”go” date for the next departure yet, have they? He laughed. It'll be fine, kiddo.

And I've been crying throughout the day, unexpectedly. Not unprovoked. I love these people. I love it here. I wish I could meld the two parts of my life together into one place that had both right there in my grasp.

Spent the evening with Mamma. She is happy to see me go home but sad that she won't get to see me daily, or weekly. We sat watching television, with her hand periodically patting mine while she chattered. She went to bed and she thanked me over and over for everything and I promised to call often, or write Marco and he could read the emails to her. “Cara Cara, Mia Kricka.”

Marco came home and we went back to my house. I gave him money to give to Signora Ferri for the utilities. I asked him if he thought I should give her more. When I contacted her she said we would work out the bills later. Marco said when the utility bill comes he will pay it to her directly. If anything more is owed he will take care of it. “It's the least I can can do for your help.”

We drank up the rest of the wine in the house and my limoncello. I hardly spent any time here, I didn't really drink anything, but you can't let it go to waste, no can you? I kicked him out at midnight. I told him that I'm terrified that the next time I come it will be for her funeral. And I was crying again. Dammit. Can't blame hormones either. He said “No no, we don't think it that way. You helped her. You made her go back to the hospital. You gave her your blood to make her better. She will be living when I am dead and buried.” Keep working like you do and it'll happen, pal. I told him he needs a vacation. ASAP. Come to California. It's not so damp and cold.

“Only if I come by boat. I don't like the flying.”

We really need that teleportation thing to get worked out soon. Come on, scientists, it's almost 2012 for pete's sake.

21 Novembre – Here's to Your Health

Today is a religious holiday in Venice. No other place in Italy, just Venice. Festa della Madonna delle Salute celebrates the church of Santa Maria delle Salute and the Virgin Mary. Feel a history lesson c oming on? Here it is... 

In the 1630 yet another plague wave broke out in Northern Italy. The city of Mantova was particularly devastated, both by the disease - and a famine, as the city had been isolated by the surrounding peoples. The Duke of Mantova was faced with the total extermination of the city. In an act of desperation he sent ambassadors by river to Venice to seek help, since the cities held allegiances to each other.

Venice honored the pact of mutual need, and received the ambassadors, but quarantined them on the uninhabited island of San Servolo. Unfortunately, one of the carpenters sent ahead to prepare accommodations for the dignitaries brought the plague with him. The spread of the infection was phenomenal. In the week following the death of the carpenter - and all his family - there were ten more deaths in the immediate neighborhood, and a hundred in the city itself. In a very short time, in spite of the restrictions set by the authorities, the population was decimated, over forty percent of the city was wiped out. The Doge and most of his family perished, as the disease did not distinguish aristocrats from commoners, not forgiving monks and priests.

The failure of every medicine and known method to ward off the disease drove the government and people to look to religion to save them. A procession was organized in which almost all 10,000 survivors participated. They walked incessantly around Piazza San Marco for three days and nights, with torches and votive statues. Finally a pronouncement was made that, if the city escaped total devastation, they would build a temple of a size and beauty never seen before.

In the following week the progress of the epidemic slowed, and within two weeks it diminished altogether. Now, in this day and age we know that the disease was just running its course and there are always a group of people who find themselves immune to disease, but not so long ago it was easily believed that their vigils and prayers had stopped the deaths from progressing.

November 21^st is the anniversary of the consecration of the church in 1687. Every year it is celebrated with a pilgrimage to the church and by lighting candles in prayer and reverence to the Virgin Mary for everyone's health.

These days it's a children's festival, with sweets and snacks for sale (along with a lamb dish, castradine, that is found only here and only on this festival day.) Perhaps because it is a tradition that Venetians are used to follow since childhood, perhaps because health is an important issue for everybody, the Salute is appreciated regardless of religion or philosophy, and the procession to the Salute continues from morning to night.

So they erect a votive bridge, a temporary bridge on pontoons from Santa Maria del Giglio across the Grand Canal to Salute. Masses are said every hour from 6AM to 10PM and thousands of people walk over the bridge to the church.

I met Marco and Mamma at San Zaccaria at 7:30AM. There was no need for me to go over to Giudecca when we were just coming back to this side of the canal. We wheeled her over to the votive bridge. Where there were bridges to cross at San Moise and Giglio, she carefully climbed the stairs. The votive bridge didn't have steps so he wheeled her across that and up the ramps to the church. The smell of warm wax was everywhere. This is a big, octagonal shaped church and it's usually chilly, but the amount of candles (big ones, two to three feet in length, purchased outside the church in the stalls and campos nearby) burning has created heat. That and all the bodies inside.

Since I have known them, they have bought and lit candles for me and prayed for my health of and that of my family. I now did the same for them.

We made our way back across the votive bridge and I took my leave at the hotel. I had to meet up with the Florida gals. I told them I would see them at dinner. Marco said he would provide it, no cooking for me today. I hoped it would be pizza or rotisserie chicken again, I don't want the castradine mutton so much.

Interesting day with the ladies, Carrie and Gail. Completely opposite in how they live their lives and in temperament, in likes and dislikes of every kind. But they've been friends since they were twelve and they have a bond that can't be broken. I completely relate.

I took them through the San Marco and Cannaregio areas for souvenir shopping and beads, then out the northern part of the city on the vap to Murano and Burano. They were so happy to see areas that weren't wall to wall tourists, you get that when you step away from the main drag. We ate at the Gatto Nero for the wonderful seafood risotto and John Dory fish. Fabulous. We came back through Rialto and I took them in a few churches to see the altarpieces and art. I walked their feet off.

Came back to the hotel about 6PM and had a glass of wine to celebrate the day together. We exchanged email addresses and phone numbers, as Carrie comes to San Francisco once a year to see her family there. Excellent. She's the fun one with the free spirit. We'll get along fine. Gail was a bit... needy and persnickety.

While we were waiting for the boat on Burano to come back, I got a phone call from HQ in Connecticut. It was the CEO, who had called me a few weeks ago after the Cinque Terre flooding. She wanted apologize first and foremost and promised that they are rectifying the situation. I told her I appreciate that and I appreciate her being hands-on in this, but it's past the point for me. I explained that I have worked for large and medium sized organizations in their payroll department and in HR and I have never seen a situation where this couldn't be fixed pretty much immediately. When I worked for Kaiser and CSAA they could cut a check that day for someone. I've seen at CSAA where a high level manager wrote a personal check to an employee. This organization is not that large. If it was a client dispute, they would be able to credit them or cut a check immediately. I just don't understand. They could cut me a check for part of the payroll owed and I would be satisfied, but it shouldn't have to come to ultimatums.

She completely agreed. I told her I really don't want to leave, but I think it would be best. She told me there is absolutely no hard feelings on their side, and she would like me to consider coming back. Go home for the holidays and they will recall me in the new year.

She explained that they won't consider this a termination of any kind, unless I want that. Usually for the first year or two until a guide gets fully-seasoned with this company, they work them only two months overseas, and one month at home. They offered me the longer stint after only my interview trip and one stint on my own, because they really thought I was doing a good job. They still think I'm doing a great job, but we all agree that it's okay for me to go home for the holidays since I wasn't really expected to be coming over here for more than two months until well into the future. They are going to delete me from the payroll system as a termination and pay me out, then put me back in. And why couldn't we do this before????? Dunno. But, everything is copacetic as far as all parties are concerned.

So that's that. She handed me off to the travel department and they gave me an itinerary for my flights home. Through London again. Ugh.

Called Hub-Unit and rambled a little information into his voicemail, then called my parents. Then went and told the famiglia here. Mamma cried a little but she's happy I get to go home and see my people. "It's been difficult for you. You need no stress in the life for some time now, Kricka."

My mental outlook has brightened immediately at the news. I ordered a turkey immediately online.

20 Novembre – Barstool Tour Guide, Available Cheap

The remainder of Saturday was spent with the famiglia, either shopping, cooking or eating. I hadn't told Mamma yet that I was most likely leaving; I wanted to wait until I had everything confirmed. Besides, she'd just start clucking like the mother hen that she is as soon as she knew about departure. Marco went to work the overnight so I stayed until she was asleep and went home just after midnight.

Sunday morning. Stopped in at the hotel on my way to the boat to Giudecca. Marco was getting off his shift so I waited for him to change into street clothes and we went together. We stopped for pastries and a coffee. A few days ago I suggested we drink coffee outside of the house so Mamma doesn't smell it and get a craving working. Sixty years of coffee drinking is hard to stop suddenly. She may eventually be able to drink it again, but not so soon after heart surgery. Stefania made googoo eyes in his direction but he acts so unaware. Hand him the award, people.

To the house, where Mamma awaits. She's ready for church. Of course she is. “Non non non. Devi fare colazione prima. E tua pastiglie.” No, you have to have breakfast first. And your pills. She sighed and went to the kitchen. I told Marco she's going to slip tight back into her old routine of no breakfast until after Mass as soon as I leave. He made the “what can you do?” face. At least she's eating more for breakfast, more than she ever has in her life. Oh, this land of coffee and cornetto. I want a stack of pancakes right about now, in my world. And eggs and bacon. And hash browns, dammit.

Mid-morning Marco went off to hibernate in his room for a few hours. I started on a pot of ragu, and Mamma and I went back to church at 1PM. When we returned we found him sitting in the kitchen with a bowl of ragu and dipping bread into it, like it was chips and dip. Hey buddy, just help yourself why don't you? I gave him the series of pantomiming hand motions which got my point across that I wasn't happy with this development, so he finished up and got out of there.

After dinner I stopped in at the hotel to see Giorgio for what I thought would just be a few moments. Spoke with a couple from Connecticut about opening times for the sites in San Marco and how to get the secret itinerary tour reservations. Another man nearby, from London, had taken a photograph of a bell tower while out walking earlier and wanted to know which church it was. I told him which one I thought it was, and confirmed on a map it was the area of town I suspected. A couple who was now seated next to me, from San Francisco, didn't believe I was from Oakland. We chatted for a while, she's a former chef so they wanted to ask me about recommendations they had been given. They were at the chi-chi types of places I take my private groups. They wanted to know where I would go for Thanksgiving dinner. Well, not a turkey dinner, but a place in lieu of one. I told them Hostaria da Franz or Paradiso. “You should be a tour guide, you know everything about this town.”

Yes, but if I do this in a bar I get free drinks from y'all out of appreciation.

Giorgio was also busy since he was working by himself. So busy he couldn't stop to eat the food waiting for him from the kitchen. I told him to go. I would stall people for fifteen minutes, tell them the barman would be right back. If they wanted to pay their bills, I would take their room numbers down to charge to their bills. If they wanted to pay cash or use a credit card, they could wait until he came back.

“Kristina you are peach. But you cannot come behind the bar.” I know this. I told him to go, I would watch over the place for a few minutes.

On his return, I had a list of guests with their room numbers and names. I also had listed which table or seat they had been at and the what type of glasses were on the table, just to jog his memory. I took care of six tables for him. Apparently they all wanted to leave at once. Cleared the tables and the top of the bar and stacked everything in the tray to be put in the washer/steamer behind the bar. So while I was behind the bar, I was out of sight, off to the side. Giorgio was extremely happy with the assistance. Cheek kisses, hugs and pronouncements that he was going to marry me one day. I told him to just give me a job and teach me everything he knows. “You would make an excellent bartender and manager Kristina. We know this already.” Yep.

Two women came in and seated themselves next to me just before Giorgio returned and were talking amongst themselves. They weren't paying attention to Giorgio's and my conversation since it was in Italian, but they stopped and watched when he was singing to me “Kristina bella...(and a lot of nonsense words) ” which he always does. The ladies were talking about the rude concierge up front. One said “What was his name because I'm going to make a complaint.”

“I think it was Marco.” Oy, I don't think I want to hear this.

“No, he was the super nice one from last night. This one was... Stefano.” Whew.

One of them turned to me and said “Scooosa may. English?” Yes, I speak English. “Do you know this city at all? Can we ask you some questions about where to go?”

Giorgio responded for me. “Kristina is the best tourguide in the city. And the prettiest.” Awww. But they were disrupting my lovefest with squeals. Mind you these are women in their early 50s. Squeals like teenagers at a boyband concert.

For the next hour I marked out a map for them, made notes on the bar's paper tablet, wrote an itinerary, gave prices for the sites they were going to see and tried to give a little bit of history to them. But they were in trouble, it was obvious. These women came completely unprepared. No research done in advance at all. They are a bit on the ditzy side, but sweet. One is a social worker and the other is a stay at home mother and the wife of a doctor. Both from Ft. Lauderdale. They didn't know enough to know that Venice is an island and renting a car wasn't necessary. So they rented a car at the airport, and the GPS directed them to the carpark in Piazzale Roma and kept saying “You are here. You are here.” They then took a “limo” boat - meaning they took a boat to the hotel that was even more expensive than the highway robbery of a taxi.

They wanted to go to Murano and Burano in the afternoon and wanted to know how much the taxi would be. I asked them if they were diametrically opposed to the bus or they just wanted to spend a lot of money, A social worker can't make that much money, after all. They said they didn't know there was public transportation, just thought there were taxis and limo-boats.

Really, people? You can't take ten minutes to look up some information on the cities you're going to visit? Honestly. If you “plan” something six months in advance, like these two did, would it kill you to maybe watch a travelogue show? Pick up a book or a magazine for a few articles? I'm not saying you have to go full bore and learn everything there is to know, but spend a modicum of time so you have an idea where you are on the damned map.

Oy. And they're doing this trip all by themselves. It's amazing they made it out of the airport.

“Would you like me to show you around tomorrow?” Squeals.

“Okay, no more of that and it's a deal.” They offered to buy me lunch and pay for my transport pass on the vaporetto if I showed them how to buy theirs. We set a time for 10AM to meet in the lobby.

I bet I could make a living sitting in that hotel bar and collecting customers for day tours and information services. I could at least feed myself and stay hydrated, or pickled to the gills.

19 Novembre – Difficult Decisions

Met the clients at the hotel to check them out and say goodbye. Their boat arrived and whisked them away. I waited for Marco to finish work so we could take the vap together. While I was waiting I used Andreas' office and completed my paperwork, emailed and faxed the receipts and expense reports back to Connecticut HQ. I called and talked to Frank. “I am done with this tour now and turned in the papers. HQ hasn't rectified my issue. I gave them an ultimatum. I need to follow through on it, but I don't want to.” He told me he understands it's a difficult decision but he would stand his ground if it was him.

“I agree, but I don't want to leave this job. Yes it's difficult to be away from home for long periods of time, the communication capabilities can be spotty, the clients can be batshit, situations turn sideways without anything you can do about it but hang on by your fingernails, but I like this job. I am working in a profession that suits me, in a situation that suits me (for the most part) and I am able to spend time with people who have become a very important part of my life. And I get paid to do it.”

Only I haven't. That's the crux of it. They haven't paid me. And I had my decision. I told him I would let him know how it works out – he told me he'd know without me calling him. The next tour is in Florence on the 22^nd – guess who would take it if I resign? I apologized for taking more of his free time from him, he's been more than generous to me.

“Kiddo. You do what you need to do. I don't know what is going on in that office, but nobody is expected to ever work for free. Ever.”

I called the HQ hotline for tour leaders and told them that I will need a call from HR as soon as possible. I am tendering my resignation unless my payroll is rectified immediately.

Marco popped his head in the office telling me was ready to go. “Che succeso?” What happened?

“I just quit.”

I am really hoping they fix this. I don't want this all to end this way.

18 Novembre – Shopping Shopping Shopping

Morning routine on Giudecca. I didn't tell Mamma about my episode last night, but I did tell Marco. In a happy singsong voice so I didn't sound like I was telling him about a stalker so as not to alert her to subject matter. It's like when you talk to a baby or an animal – as long as the tone of the voice is lilting, everything's fine. He made a suggestion that was a great idea. “Doesn't Davide go to a caffe near Rialto after working?” Of course, that's the answer. Davide is usually at Caffe Torino near the Rialto bridge after work until midnight, listening to the dj play music. I will see if will meet me and walk with me. Brilliant. I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem. Excellent problem solving skills, sir. I would talk to Davide later when I saw him at the hotel in the afternoon.

Back to the hotel to reconnoiter with my peeps. It's their last full day. The order of the day: tours of the Frari church, San Rocco, Accademia and Santa Maria delle Salute. And shopping.

I don't like watching people shop. Especially if it's shopping that I'm not interested in, like designer clothes shopping. Or shoe shopping. I spend the least amount of time in shoes as possible, and even less in buying them. I have seven pairs of shoes. I know... I need to turn in my “girl” card to the authorities. To be honest, I have found two shoe manufacturers that I like with shoes that fit me perfectly with no questions and I can use to walk around all day in while touring. If I have to buy shoes, which is not often, I buy them online through Nordstrom and have them shipped to me. Try them on and if they fit then I'm golden. Done. If not, I send them back. Shoe shopping at the minimum.

But during our touring today I did have to stand around while the ladies went into Tods, Blumarine, Ferragamo, Missoni and the like in between our stops. The men had me for company standing around outside. I could care less about a name on a piece of fabric. They also were getting their souvenirs taken care of. I don't mind that so much. Who doesn't like souvenirs? I buy souvenirs. I don't buy $500 designer dresses. It's that simple.

We came back in late afternoon to the hotel. They had reservations for their farewell dinner, and they asked me to please join them as their guest. “It's been so nice having you show us around. We really want to show our appreciation.” Aww, thanks. Okay. We would meet back at the hotel at 7PM.

I found Davide in the luggage room and told him of my predicament with my weirdo. Not a problem. He would be waiting for my call. We would meet at Caffe Torino and walk together through Rialto. I told him I may not need it tonight since I would probably be staying on Giudecca, but I would message him if I was going home.

I had a few hours to kill so I went to Giudecca to visit. Marco was sleeping, getting ready for night shift, so Mamma and I went to Mass, watched some tv and chatted. She is getting her routine back – more than one trip to church a day. She told me I don't need to spend tonight with her. She will see me in the morning. Have a fun night.

We ate at Paradiso and had a lovely meal. So much fantastic fish! I walked them back and deposited them at the hotel bar, where we had a nightcap, and I caught up with Giorgio. I haven't seen him in a week. I bid the clients goodnight. I would see them in the morning at 7AM to see them off in their taxi boat.

Messaged Davide that I was heading toward Torino. We stayed there listening to music for a while. Friday nights are mostly reggae music, his favorite. He just sits and drinks his Coke and gets his groove on. About 11:30 I asked if we could go. As we descended the bridge I saw Samuele. What a weirdo. “Kristina. Please. I want to talk to you.”

“Samuele, this is my friend Davide. We cannot stay. Goodbye.” And he walked away. For good, I hope.

17 Novembre – Islands In the Stream

Thursday morning and no word yet from HQ on rectifying my payroll issues. Ugh. I hate this kind of thing. Called to check on Mamma. Marco was on swing shift again so he was with her in the morning. Since being given a good report she wanted to resume morning and afternoon church services, dependent of course on our schedules.

We had a private taxi booked for most of the day to take us to Murano, Burano and Torcello out in the lagoon. One of the couples is very keen on picking up some nice glass pieces to bring home, so Murano would be our last stop. Torcello first, then Burano. Lunch at Gatto Nero, home of the most amazing seafood risotto ever. On Murano after seeing the churches and sites I took them to see a number of galleries and artisans. One couple fell in love with a framed mosaic piece and the other bought a boatload of glass sculpture pieces. They arranged with the gallery for shipping. They don't need to worry about it not arriving in perfect condition, these people are top-notch in packing and sending glass safely. It would arrive home just days after they do.

I left them at the hotel. They had reservations at Da Fiore which is close to the hotel. I had a map marked up for them. Ta ta until tomorrow, folks.

Made it to Giudecca and escorted Mamma to evening services at church. We dinner and watched tv until Marco got home so I could take my leave.

As I was walking home, right at the top of the Rialto bridge, as I looked down on the landing in front of me I saw someone waving at me and calling “Kristina Kristina!” It was Samuele. The cherry stem guy from the other night.

“I am so pleased to see you again. Would you like to go for a drink with me?” No thank you. I'm tired.

“I want to apologize for upsetting you when I met you.” Okay, apology accepted. I have to go now.

“Just sit with me and have one drink. We will toast to being new friends.” No. Thank you.

“I will get a bottle of wine and we can sit on the molo (dock) and talk.” I'm cold. No, Samuele.

But at this point I had stopped in my tracks and wasn't walking any longer. I don't want this guy to know where I live, and it's just a short 2 minute walk from where we were standing. It's close to midnight. It's not like I can run into a store and go shopping to get away from him. He wasn't taking the hint that it's just not going to happen with us. Ugh. Sometimes you just need a to smack people in the head with a two-by-four to get your point across, I suppose.

“Samuele. I am going to leave you now. Please leave me be. It was interesting to meet you, but I have to go. Alone. By myself. Do not come with me.”

“You don't have to be angry with me Kristina. I only want to properly make your acquaintance. I have seen you pass by every night since I met you but now I am able to talk with you.” I said goodnight again and started walking, phone in my hand and poised to dial “113” for the polizia. I couldn't hear him behind me but I didn't trust that. This is normally a really safe place for a woman to walk at night. I just have a new and special friend who is wreaking havoc with that statement at the moment.

I turned and looked behind me. He was back there, walking.

“You change your mind?” No. Thank you. Cripes.

I made it to the Chinese restaurant around the corner from my apartment and went inside. Thank goodness the door was still open. They are open until midnight and they have seen me eating there quite a few times so they recognized me. The staff were all at one table eating, and there were no more diners in there. “Signora, it will have to be 'to go' for you. What would you like?”

I told them that I actually didn't want to order anything. There was a man out there who is a problem and I don't want him following me to my door. He's in a green jacket and striped scarf. Curly hair. Please see if he's there and if he is, may I just wait inside a few minutes?

“Of course!” All the staff went outside and stood looking for him. That must have been a sight. Suddenly six Chinese people come out and stand at the doorway at midnight, peering into the darkness. They came back in. The owner told me “He has walked away. I will go with you. Let us go now.”

Sweet. He took me out the back door and I popped across the alley into my apartment.

I feel a little silly about it. But really. This guy is a little too aggressive and a bit of a loose cannon as far as I'm concerned. I'm going to start packing that retractable scalpel in my bag.

16 Novembre – I Used to Have Kidneys

As agreed, there wasn't any need for me to go to Giudecca this morning since Marco was home. They had a 9AM appointment at the hospital and then he would be going to work at 2PM. I would be back from Padova & Verona around 6PM so I would have dinner and spend the evening with her until he returned at 11PM.

We took a taxi boat at 8AM from the hotel to Piazzale Roma to meet with our driver Alex Pironi. He had a snazzy luxury SUV for us to climb into. A few minutes in I was really wishing we were on a train, or a bus, or a pack mule. This guy's driving style immediately got on my nerves. One of those types who rides the tail of the car on front of him, makes herky jerky lane changes and stomps on the brakes a little too hard. Also managed to hit every lane divider bump on the road. My kidneys were feeling rather pummeled. There was traffic, as is the norm in the mornings in most places in the world. There was also a lot of fog, as is normal in November and December on the pianura. The clients' faces told me all I needed. They didn't like it either. I was turned around in my seat to talk with them and pre-orient them about what we were seeing today. My normal talky talk stuff and I was getting absolutely nauseated with his stop, speed, jerk left jerk right motions. It was awful.

I have never met this guy before, but I would be certain to not ever see him again if I can help it. Once we hit Padova I asked to get off the Autostrada and find a farmacia. I needed the ginger gum like I use in Sorrento for the Amalfi bus ride. It was that bad.

When I returned to the car I took Alex aside and had a few words with him. “Please, we are not in a race. Drive... smoother.” He looked at me like I had thumbs growing out of my forehead.

Verona: San Zeno, San Fermo, Palazzo de Comuni, Piazza Erbe, Palazzo Dante. Lunch.

Padova: Palazzo delle Ragione, Basilica Santa Giustina, Scrovegni chapel, Basilica di Sant'Antonio and Oratorio di San Gregorio. A lovely time was had by all, except when we were in the car.

Worst hired driver in the world.

Back in Venice with my peeps safely ensconced at the hotel (they would be venturing out on their own for dinner with some recommendations I had given them) I checked in with my friend at the concierge desk. Mamma's appointment went very well. Yay!

Took the boat to Giudecca and had dinner with her. We had the last of the Contessa's food, second day in a row for her dinner. Mamma was not complaining. Me either. Especially the tiramisu. I left when Marco got back from work. It is exceptionally foggy tonight in the city, At least it's not too cold. That will change though. Weather prediction is that it's going to start dipping down to the freezing point this week. Yay. Winter is upon us.

15 Novembre – Cooking with the Contessa

Before meeting my clients I went to Giudecca and helped Mamma in and out of the shower and changed her dressings. She is capable of showering by herself now that she's not heavily medicated any more, but we agree it's good to have me standing by and watching over in case she's unstable in any way in the bathroom. Marco had an early shift and was already at work at 6AM. She dressed and ate. I took off, telling her I would be back briefly in the afternoon, between the cooking class and the wine tasting classes my clients have scheduled for today. “Okay cara. Ci vediamo” See you later. She would be alone until Marco came home around 3PM, but I'm sure her ladyfriends would stop in see her after church. I had a plate of food already in the microwave for her. Just press Start. And of course, she could eat soup until her eyes bulge out.

Met up with the peeps in the lobby of the hotel and before we departed I told Marco to get ready to be pounced on the second he got home. She wants out of the house. He nodded and agreed. “A presto.” She has a doctor's appointment tomorrow for her post surgery check up. I think she's going to get a good report from the docs. We certainly have good things to report to them. I won't be going with them as I have a day on the mainland with my clients in Padova and Verona tomorrow.

I led my clients through the streets along the way to the Rialto Market where we were meeting Contessa Nani for shopping and then back to her palazzo for the cooking session. She is a wonderful character, very vibrant and full of life. The clients fell in love with her, as I'm sure most everyone who meets her does.

We made more food than we could possibly possibly eat, and at the end of lunch she insisted on packaging it up to take with us. For six people we had made food or at least fifteen. Seriously. My kind of cooking. However, these folks are not staying in an apartment, they're at a hotel so they don't have access to eating this meal again. Oh well... I had to take it with me. Damn shame. They all insisted.

Mamma and Marco reap the rewards of this. When I got everything over to their house Mamma was beyond tickled. A contessa cooked for her. Pan fried peppers, spareribs, seafood linguine with shrimp, mussels and calamari, shrimp risotto with mushrooms, slices of roast duck with a port wine and ginger glaze and tiramisu. So much food.

I got back to the hotel at five to take them to meet with Nan, the sommolier giving their wine class at an osteria near San Marco. She greeted me with a big hug and cheek kisses. I didn't partake in the tasting, but the clients had a great time. Afterward I walked them outside for an hour to clear their heads and make room in their stomachs before dinner. We wound our way down past Arsenale to Giardini and to Hostaria da Franz for dinner. I left them in good hands and departed to get back and check on Mamma before sacking out for the night.

14 Novembre – Good Morning Lamorindans!

Arrived a little later than usual at Mamma's. Marco would be available all day to her anyway, so there was no rush. I texted to let him know I was waiting for the grocery store to open be coming over. I wouldn't be able to get everything at the Rialto market, since I was making lasagne and a batch of red pepper soup. I find it best to use the jarred peppers rather than roast my own. Takes a lot of the work out of the equation and I didn't have a whole lot of time today, as I needed to get out to the airport for pickup before the group arrived at 2PM.

But even getting there at 8:30 she was just getting up. She was a little pooped from yesterday, but decided she didn't want a shot today, she would see how the day was without one. More self-tapering off the pain meds. This woman would never be an addict.

It reminds me of my Grandma Ilene. She had a tremor that made her hands shake very badly, her head as well, and created a shaky timbre to her voice. Think of Katharine Hepburn and you have a good picture. It wasn't Parkinson's but I'm sure people who saw her thought it was that. It was a pretty early onset, became noticeable at some point in her 50s. I don't remember a time when she didn't have it and grew very pronounced as the decades progressed. In the 80s a doctor “prescribed” that she soak a jar full of golden raisins in gin and have a handful daily. It did soothe the shakes temporarily. Or she would also make the weakest “cooler” with white wine and diet 7-up. But then she worried about becoming an alcoholic. Grandma worried about everything there was to worry about and would worry if she wasn't worrying about things enough she didn't even know to worry about. She was just like that. Even in her last years, she avoided pain medications because she didn't want to become an addict. In her last weeks, when my father and I were caring for her with end-stage cancer and he would pull out the compounding cream with morphine the rub into her forearms and ease her pain she would balefully look into his eyes and shake her head a little as if saying “not too much.”

Mamma reminds me so much of Grandma Ilene. She spent her life doing everything for others yet it is so difficult to let others do for her. It's her identity, doing everything for her family.

I took shortcuts and used jarred sauce for a pan of lasagne, but I doctored it up quite a bit. Added sausage, red wine, onions and rosemary for a depth of flavors. One thing I love about the grocery stores here is you can buy besciamelle sauce right in the dairy case. Saves so much time when slapping a lasagne together. The soup came together nicely as well. They now had at least three days of meals with this batch of food, and there was plenty of meat in the sauce to count it as protein for Mister Man.

I said my goodbyes, told them I would be back for dinner at 7PM and took off to get to the airport. I took the public pullman-type ATVO bus over, but we would be coming back in a water taxi. Because we're fancy like that. All part of the service, folks. While I was waiting at the airport I had to call HQ. It was call I didn't want to make, but it was necessary. I have a problem with my payroll and despite talking with them repeatedly, it hasn't been resolved yet. It has become a problem. I have had conversations with Frank about it and while he isn't able to do anything on my behalf he's my cheerleader to take it up the ladder, which I have done, but it's now time for more pressure. Hub-unit agrees with me when I speak with him about it.

I spoke to the head of the payroll department and told them the problem was still unresolved. She wasn't able to give me an answer as to when it would be. I spoke to the HR Manager and essentially gave an ultimatum – I need this resolved by the end of this tour or I will have to tender my resignation. The ball is in their court. I don't want to quit. I don't want to look for another job in this economy. But I can't be working for free; as lovely as the perks are, the utility companies don't care that I'm eating well and staying in fancy hotels when the bills are due back home. You know?

But for the next few days, my focus was my new set of clients. Four people, two couples, all retired but apparently active kind of folks. From Orinda & Moraga! So close to home for me, just the other side of the Caldecott Tunnel from my house. I may smell them on arrival to see if there's anything recognizable from home in their jackets. Okay, maybe that's not the way to greet them.

Met them at Arrivals and got them in a shuttle down to the boat dock and we zoomed off to the hotel. First thing out of my mouth was “I grew up in Albany and Martinez. I live in North Oakland and I haven't been home in two months. Before we delve into all things Venetian, please talk to me about Bay Area news for a few minutes!” They all cracked up at that. I like these folks, and not just because they are from home. They are really nice people. Relaxed. No sense of histrionics at this point. I need a break from that for a moment.

We arrived at the hotel and they got checked in. I told them to take an hour and freshen up from the plane, I would be waiting in the bar. I chatted with Luana who was working, had a coffee and some cookies.

Spent the rest of the afternoon in Piazza San Marco touring the basilica and the campanile (Cal grads, all of them, and they recognized the similarity to the one on campus at Berkeley before I could mention it – whoo!) We also did the Clock Tower and Doge's Palace. They were ready for a nap by the time we were through. I had reservations for them for dinner at the hotel so they wouldn't have to go far. La Cusina is a fantastic restaurant, but it's difficult for large groups for dinner, which is why we only book it for the private tours. I dropped them at the hotel, and told them I would see them at 9AM in the lobby. They know that if they need me they just call the concierge desk and they will put a call through to me. No problem, no problem. See you tomorrow.

Hopped on a boat to Giudecca. Had dinner and some tv with the fam and went home. Near Rialto I saw that the “encampment” with the Occupy folks is gone. I asked in the caffe across from where they were parked when they left. They gave up earlier in the afternoon.

Occupy Venice is no more. Slow clap for them.

13 Novembre – Not Much of A Day of Rest

Daily routine of obtaining fresh pastries and setting out breakfast. Caught the boat and crossed over from Guidecca. Arrived at the hotel just after 7AM. Marco was still behind the desk, making a little bit of a sour face at me. Oh, get over it, tough guy. Get your knickers out of their twist. I made my way to the breakfast room and said hello to those who were present.

I went back up to the concierge desk to make certain the boats were all ordered for everyone's trips to the airport. I didn't doubt that Marco had done it, but it's part of the check out process ending the tour and discharging the clients. He asked how Mamma was. I told him she wasn't up when I left. I told him that I had left breakfast out for her, and the decaf coffee is ready to be made when he got there, but I could probably be finished with the clients and just come back with him to go to church after he was off work. My people were all leaving for the airport within the next 30 minutes. Okay, that will be nice, he said. He reported that she had gone very slow and deliberate on the stairs when they went out yesterday to church.

The formerly (?) smitten woman came up to the desk then and said goodbye to him. Oh man, here it comes, I was thinking. She thanked him for being so helpful and nice to her and thanked me as well. “You two are very good friends, aren't you?” He smiled at her and told her we are best friends, like family. Awwww. But I know I'm still going to hear it later from him.

Twenty minutes later everyone was out of there and I was free to head out. While he changed into his street clothes I used Andreas' office and printed out dossier information for my private group who would be arriving tomorrow and staying here. Only four people. From the Bay Area. Oh, how I need this. People from my end of the world.

We made our way to San Zaccaria via Piazza San Marco and caught the boat to Giudecca. He put his arm around my shoulder, leaned in and told me I was a terrible woman for telling that guest that lie about him. He was smiling when he did it, so I had to laugh at him. “I would rather you call me a brat. Would you have taken her up on her offer if she made a pass at you? Be honest.” He said his days of running around the hallways at nights are long over. “I am an old man now.” Riiiight. I told him he just didn't want to get caught on camera. “No. People are a lot of crazy. They say anything and put it on the internet.” Wow – somebody not only has a conscience but is mildly self-aware. I'm so proud. But he was still a little mad at me for that trick. “You apologize to me for the other day and I will apologize to you. But never EVER mess around with one of my clients. Inside or outside the hotel. Promise?” Okay. Agreed. Done. Over it. Settled. We did talk a little more about the root of our disagreement a few days before. It really is settled now. Too much stress and confined quarters aided in us getting on each others' nerves.

We arrived back at the house to Mamma dressed and ready for church. She didn't want the decaf. She doesn't like it at all so she made herself some herbal tea instead. Ok, no more decaf. I never can see the point in drinking it either. She slowly descended the stairs and we slowly got to the church. I remembered that it is my Grandma Norma's birthday today. She would have been 91. Wow. Once the Mass was over, we waited while she visited with all her friends and caught up. Since they hadn't spoken in less than a day I can't imagine that too much had happened, but this is their thing. We slowly made our way back from church and she very carefully got herself up the stairs. She wasn't winded or straining in any way. Good job!

I stuck around for an hour and a half and said my goodbye. They had the last of the leftovers awaiting them for lunch. I had to meet Carolina so we could finishing touring and hit the Biennale installations at Giardini. Her train leaves at 7 so I would come back and make us all some dinner after seeing her off. Marco said to come on over, but he would be in charge of dinner tonight. Mamma piped up with “Pizza!”

Best moment of my day, right there.

He walked me downstairs and gave me a hug and a kiss on the top of my head. “Thank you Kricka. You are very important to us. Have a good day with your friend.”

I crossed over to San Marco and met up with Carolina at the appointed place and time. We walked down to Arsenale. The Biennale is in international contemporary art exhibition that takes place in odd-numbered years, from June to November. Thirty countries have their own pavilions in the Giardini, and others are housed together in sections of warehousing at Arsenale. Still others are located in palazzi and galleries around town. We were hitting the majority of the countries' exhibits by going to Giardini and Arsenale today. It was going to be a lot of contemporary art to be viewed in one day. I readied myself.

I can be rather indifferent to modern and contemporary art. I don't like things done simply for shock value. I don't generally like performace art either. I hope there wasn't a lot of either.

However in this climate of war, revolutions and the bad economy I knew to expect otherwise. I was overwhelmed by the amount of things related to these themes. I am still processing some of it, days later when writing this; the installation from Sweden especially. It was disturbing and painful. I will post pictures (not of Sweden's though – did not take photos of that one) at a later time when I'm caught up more and can give words to things. We had a tranquil day, discussing all sorts of topics and things in a language not native to either of us. I'm pretty proud of us for being able to spent a weekend together and communicate like that. Bonded!

But whoa, was I worn out by the time we were done! We made our way back on the boat to collect her bag at the house. She got on the boat on her her own to get to the station. She hugged me goodbye and thanked me for showing her “my” beautiful city. I am welcome in Santiago Chile anytime to come and stay with her family. Hub-unit too. Very sweet to offer.

I went back to Giudecca. Called along the way to see if I needed to pick anything up. Marco said no, it would be ready and waiting when I arrived. I was quite surprised – no pizza! He had gone to the supermarket and at the hot foods counter had picked up rotisserie chicken, roasted potatoes and put together a green salad. All by himself. Somebody is trying hard to make up for being a butthead. So he didn't cook it himself, it was the effort that is appreciated. I cleaned up afterward and the three of us had a nice evening in front of the television. I left just after 11PM to take the boat back. My group doesn't arrive until 2PM at the airport, but I needed to do laundry in the morning, shopping and make some meals for the next few days for Mamma before taking off to pick up my peeps.

12 Novembre - Triple Duty

Taking care of Mamma, my group and touring the city with my friend Carolina. Three times the hostessing gigs for me today.

I ran out to the caffe bar at 6:30 for pastries and set everything up for breakfast, except making the coffee. I wanted to be over at the hotel for breakfast before 7:30AM, and knew there would be a short gap between my leaving and Marco's arrival home. I called his telefonino to see if I could get a read from him on when he'd be there. He answered and told me he was leaving. I reported she wasn't up yet but would want a shot when she did. I wouldn't be back until after he left for the evening since I was showing Carolina around and meeting Sere & Robi. Have a good day. Get some sleep. We rang off. I left a note for Mamma wishing her a good day and would be back to the house around midnight, don't wait up! She would be getting out of “jail” today and taking the stairs for the first time since she came home.

I got to the hotel and went to the breakfast room. Made my way around the room talking with everyone and assisting in their plans before we went out for our walk after eating. One of the ladies was giggly like a teenager and told me she wanted a word with me. She asked me how well I know the concierge, the one with the salt & pepper hair. Very well, I answered. Why?

“I think he's just so very handsome and he seems kind of flirty. Oh he's professional, don't get me wrong, but I think he was flirting with me when I received my key from him last night. And this morning the way he smiled at me, I don't know. He's just... If he's working tonight... I don't know... last night on the trip and all. Who knows? Is he married? You know, I don't even think I care if he's married. When in Rome, right? I mean, it's Venice, I know. But, you know what I mean? Oh gosh, you don't know me from Adam, so please don't think I'm a slut or something. It just seems so romantic. I'm sure it's happened before in a romantic place like this. What do you know about him? He's not gay, is he?”

Yep. He's gay. Flaming. His boyfriend works here too but it's very hush-hush. Sorry. Anyway, they also have cameras all over the hotel. If someone spies a worker going into a guest's room they have to answer for it. Staff has been fired over things like this.

Yeah, complete lies. Actually, they do have cameras in the halls, but I have no idea if staff gets looked at and timed for how long they're in a room. I'm sure they have other things to do. Yes, I'm a horrible person. But listening to her gush like a smitten lovesick kid was starting to get annoying.

“Oh. Thank you! I could have really embarrassed myself later on after a few drinks to get my courage up. Wow, I'm glad I talked to you.”

No problem! Glad to be of assistance. Yeah, I'm going to hell. If I believed in it, anyway.

We went out for our walk to Rialto and Accademia. When we arrived at the market, one of the vendors called out to me. “Kristina? Bella! Non e compri la zucca oggi?” No, no zucca today for me. The vendors are very animated and loud. It's to keep themselves and each other occupied, but also it's a bit of a production for the customers. Lively people mean better produce? They're interesting to watch in any case. They sing to one another, holler out mock obscenities and just stay loud all day to keep it lively. The vendor who called out to me had begun singing to the stall across from his. Her name is Delila, and I have heard everyone on the vicinity in the past four or five years sing the song to her at one time or another. It's an old Tom Jones song from the mid-60s. I know it so well. Saturday mornings as a child my mother and I always cleaned the house to a Tom Jones album. The chorus is what he was singing over and over to her: “My My My Delilah. Why Why Why Delilah?”

I couldn't help it and jumped in. We finished it together, he and I. “So before they come to break down the door, forgive me Delilah I just couldn't take anymore...” Laughing and clapping from my group, market customers and vendors alike. Fun in the Rialto market stalls. On to the Frari church and Dorsoduro. Once we were back in the hotel and I had thawed out with a coffee, the smitten woman came up to me in the bar. “Thanks so much for setting me straight, oh ha ha ha, wrong word, huh? I really really appreciate it. That would have really been embarrassing to make a move like that and get rejected because I have the wrong equipment. You're a lifesaver.” I told her he gets mistaken all the time for a straight guy. It's the whole George Clooney thing. No worries. Oh, how I have to get away from this woman. Serena cocked an eyebrow at me from behind the bar and mouthed “Marco?” I nodded and she snorted in laughter. I set them up and they dated about five years ago for a brief time. She's also actually had an actual date with THE George Clooney before that, and Nic Cage before he was entirely creepy. It didn't work out with Marco, but they are friendly toward each other. She just kept smiling and shaking her head at me. “Krix, perchè hai detto questo?” Why would you tell her that?

“Mi sto prendendo cura della madre durante la notte. Non ha bisogno di essere pasticciare con gli ospiti, mentre sta lavorando.” I'm taking care of his mother at night. He doesn't need to be messing about with guests when he should be working.

My feelings, in a nutshell. She nodded her approval. I asked her not to tell anyone what I had done. Word gets around with these people. She put the finger to her lips and acted as if she was turning the key to the lock. Tossed the key over her shoulder. We laughed. “Cattiva Krix...” Yes, I'm naughty.

I had to get up to the train station to meet Carolina, so I said goodbye to Serena – we would meet at the bottom of the Rialto bridge at 10PM, her with Roberta, me with Carolina. Kiss kiss goodbye.

Got up to the station just as the train pulled in and found Carolina. Her Italian is much improved since I saw her. The week we had together in class she spoke 80% Spanish when she should have been speaking Italian but for some reason the teacher never called her on it. They sound so similar that Katarina the instructor may have thought she was just mispronouncing things. I could understand it no matter what, since I speak Spanish too. Well, it definitely won't be a problem conversing with her, if I forget something in Italian I can switch to Spanish. We dropped her bag at the house and I made sure she had her own map with her, then marked the house on the map in case she wasn't with me and got lost.

I noticed on a wall around the corner from the magazzino there was a sign for the Occupy Venice “demonstration” and stopped to take a picture of it. They had changed the date in masking tape to show the meeting up was on the 12^th, today. So Friday was just a trial run or something? They also had replaced the location of the “tent city” and I could see it was still the street where I had seen them last. When we walked by I would have to see how many had joined them now that they had better advertising. Organization is key to your public demonstrations, folks. Remember this.

We made a big circle of the city. Rialto Market was still open. My vendor singing to me when he saw me. I guess it's my new theme song too? Could be worse. Campo San Polo, Frari Church, San Pantalon, Campo San Barnaba, Accademia, Salute, across in a traghetto (for that gondola “experience” at 1/100^th of the cost) and to San Stefano, San Marco to the Basilica, the Campanile and the Piazza. Walked back to Rialto and found “Occupy” was still three people in a tent, but perhaps the minions were out causing destruction elsewhere in the city?. We strode through the dizzy maze of the streets and up into Cannaregio along the Strada Nova to the Ferrovia train station and back across the canal into Santa Croce and finally returned to Rialto and the house. We walked for hours, talking the whole time in Italian. Once in a while we'd have to break into Spanish, but only for a sentence or two, to make sure our point was made or that the word we were trying to find was understood. But I didn't speak English at all for about six hours straight, and here I was actually tour guiding someone, even if it was a friend and I'm sure some of the tenses were incorrect, but she understood everything I was saying. I felt it was a major accomplishment. I had to get back to my people for their farewell dinner. I told her I could show her a wonderful restaurant and she could make her way back, or she could find somewhere on her own. She let me lead her to Francesco's and he told me he would take care of her. Okay, don't get her drunk! I need her later... “No problem. We treat her very well here for you. Lasagne!”

I rushed back to the hotel to pick up my peeps for their farewell dinner. We got in our taxiboats and headed to the palazzo for dinner. Couple hours later we finished. A good time was had by all, but it was a little different since they were telling stories of things I didn't witness on a tour I didn't take. No big deal. I called Carolina to see how she was. She had been treated like a princess and ate too much, but she found her way home by herself. She told me she could find her way to meet me without me having to go back home and pick her up. I told her go to the Rialto bridge, but don't cross it. Stay at the foot of it. I would be there in 20 minutes. Okay!

I arrived at the bridge to find Carolina already engaged with two young men talking to her and having a smoke and a drink. Well surprise surprise. She was standing on the step of the bridge, not even at a bar, mind you. She told me they had started talking with her and she said she was waiting for me and we were going to drink, so they brought her one and gave her a cigarette. Well how nice. Hope they dindn't bring her back a spiked drink. Never have people you just met bring you a drink from somewhere out of your line of vision. Ah, youth... The guys scattered after Sere and Robi arrived. They were out numbered by females who were also older and presumably more wiser than they were. We're not here to be chatted up, boys, move along. We made our way over to where the bars were and people were gathered. It was chilly, but not too much, and of course the alcohol would soon make us all warmer anyway. Drinks in hand, we found a pillar to stand around in the campo and set about to chattering. I went to get another round of drinks with Sere and on return found the two guys from earlier talking with Carolina and Robi. They had a friend with them, a bit older, mid 30s. He introduced himself as Samuele. “I have been seeing you from across the campo. Your hair is beautiful. You are tall and corposa.” Full-bodied. (Oh yay.) I responded with “And my makeup is flawless and no I'm not an opera singer.” Yeah, I was the only one who understood that statement, but that's okay. He leaned in to talk in my ear. “Do you have a boyfriend?” I have a husband, that's even better!

Oh Samuele. He gets an A for effort. He tried all the tricks I'm sure he snags all the ladies with. Compliments galore. Offering me drinks every three minutes. Enticing me with that cherry stem knot tying that only 19 year old “come hither” blonde coeds or full-on cougar divorcees perform to show the guys their tongue agility. Suggestively licking his lips at me. Guh. Bleargh.

But then he got a little aggressive. Maybe he thought he needed to show me exactly how interested he was in me. He spoke very good English so there should not be a problem in communicating or understanding that I was not interested in him in that way. But no. He kept leaning in, touching my arm, touching my shoulder as he was speaking. Almost kissing my ear when he was talking. I stopped him mid-sentence, looked at him straight in the face and said “Stop. Touching. Me. I am not going anywhere with you. I am not interested in that. Basta.” Okay okay. Sorry. I say goodnight to you now. Goodnight.

Well, it was a slight damper on the evening, but damn. It got old pretty quick. Anyway, I needed to get to Giudecca. It was getting close to midnight and I was going to turn into a pumpkin soon. Carolina said she was going to leave to turn in. I told her I would meet her at noon at the Vallaresso vaporetto stop. Okay. Kiss kiss goodnight. Sere & Robi were staying out for a while longer.

I got a text from Marco asking to call the hotel. I was only a few minutes away at that point so I diverted and went there. He was shaking his head at me. “What did you do?” Huh? And then he told me that woman in my group told him when she was getting her key that he was a lucky man to find love at work. So much for keeping it to herself. Good ol' liquid courage making her spill the beans.  “When I asked her what she was talking about she said Kris told her about my boyfriend, but not to worry, the secret was safe with her. Now, what did you do?” And I burst out in laughter. I said it was a joke, she just didn't know it was a joke. And don't screw around with MY clients, buddy. Get back to work. I'm going to go take care of your mother now. Goodnight!

He wrote me a few text messages while I was on the way to Giudecca. Let's just say he doesn't think the joke is nearly as funny as I do.

11 Novembre – Nice Try, Occupy

I was meeting my group at the train station at 12:30 but had some things to get completed beforehand with regard to Mamma-care. My little studio apartment, I call it the “magazzino” because it really is a converted storage space, and magazzino means warehouse, is 30 seconds away from the Rialto Market, home of fish and produce commerce for more than thirteen hundred years. I can stop and buy all the veggies I need for a soup at 6AM before the stores open. The butchers and fish markets are also open at 6AM down there so as long as I don't need too many pantry-type items, I can pick up most everything I need for a meal. The vendors have gotten used to me walking past on my way to the vap or the Rialto bridge and they call out good morning to me now. When you're “neighborhood” they give you a bit of a discount too. Or they don't put their thumbs on the scales to add weight... kidding. If I can just master the venetian dialect they'd probably give me even more of a locals only “sconto.” In any regard, it's nice to pick up groceries at a bit of a discount, and still get over to Giudecca before the chain-supermarkets are even open.

Stopped and picked up the makings of a minestrone with a fennel sausage they have here (not spicy but really flavorful.) The little alimentaria inside the butcher shop even had the beans and the broth on hand. I love not having to go to fifty places to buy everything for a meal. The alimentaria have some varities of pastas and jarred sauces too, all for the homemaker on the go. Not everyone has time make a sauce and simmer it all day like Grandma does. I also got a huge pork loin which I intended to fill with an artichoke & mushroom breadcrumb stuffing, and a light gravy for the top. It's getting close to Thanksgiving so I am all about dressings and stuffings. Thinking about missing Thanksgiving back home makes me want to cry. I want some of my pumpkin cheesecake so bad I can taste it. I would make it, I know the recipe by heart, but you can't find graham crackers here to save your life. It is a must for the crust.

Oh, yeah, the stuffed pork loin. So, my plan was to make up a big pot of soup and the pork loin with some veggies so Marco could just heat them up for her at meal times for the next couple of days, since I'm back with a group. If I get any guff from him about meat on a Friday I will smack him in the head. Most Italians don't eat meat on Fridays, even when it isn't Lent, Fridays are always very heavy on the fish. But fish doesn't lend itself well to re-heating. Deal with it buddy, or cook your own fish. At least I'm giving you protein-laden meals, Mister Man. I can just see it now... if he opens his mouth for a critique he's getting a size 11W in the middle of his head.

Got over to Giudecca just after 7AM and stopped for pastries. The girl at the caffe bar smiles and wishes me good morning, now that she knows I am the American sister of the unofficial mayor of Venice. She saw me walking up to the storefront and began placing cornetti in a bag for me. Smiley smiley. “Per la signora, prego!” Well, if Marco is the unofficial mayor of Venice, then Mamma is the Queen of Giudecca, along with her pack of church ladies. I'm just a handmaiden of the court when it comes to this crowd.

The girl asked me if Marco is ok – he hasn't been in for coffee in a few days – is he sick? No, no I don't think so. He has been taking his coffee with his mother when I make her breakfast. I told her I would give him her salutations. Her eyes got a little wide, she nodded and asked me to say hello to “la signora” as well. So that's it... somebody has a little crush on a customer it seems. He is sooooo going to get teased now.

Got to their house and set out breakfast. She was just getting up and dressed. He wasn't up yet and I didn't expect him to right away. He would be working the night shift so a late rising and a nap in the mid-afternoon were probably the order of the day. Mamma told me she slept last night without having a pain shot before bed. Good for her! But she needed a little bit now. I told her I would get Marco up to administer it. I'm happy to see she's ready to start tapering off the heavy meds. She really is on the mend. I knocked on his door and told him he was needed for a shot please. Mumbled garble from the other side of the door. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Please come out soon and you can go back to bed.” Mumble mumble garble. “Don't make me come in there and drag you out.” I heard him chuckle so I know he is coherent and heard me. I'm still a bit angry about our previous argument but I am capable of compartmentalizing and being around him in front of his mother and remaining civil.

I sat and had coffee and yogurt with Mamma. She has a problem with me not eating with her. She is used to doing everything in the kitchen, like she has for a thousand years, so when she sits down to eat she prefers I not be rushing around and making things. If it makes her feel better, okay fine. I was telling her of my exploits of last night in the bar, the opera singer comment. She laughed. “Kricka, ho sentito cantare. Potresti essere nell'opera.” Kricka, I have heard you sing. You could be in the opera.

Mmmm, no. I can sing, but not opera. Not in the slightest. That's a mother for you, though. Show the slightest capability or aptitude in something and they have you out there winning awards in their minds.

Marco came in with the syringe in his hand, grinning. “No, non un cantante d'opera. Fa i cani ululano in calli, quando lei si siede al piano bar. Gatti stridente è meglio di questa voce. A meno che lei ha una bottiglia di vino a se stessa, o avete una bottiglia di vino per yourself. Poi lei è tollerabile.” No, not an opera singer. She makes the dogs howl in the calles when she sits at the piano bar. Cats screeching is better than this voice. Unless she has a bottle of wine to herself, or you have a bottle of wine for yourself. Then she's tolerable.

Well somebody is in a spunky mood. He needs to watch what he's saying when he has a sharp objects in his hand. I have a brutal left fist that comes out of nowhere. It's been known to happen. Keep it up, pal.

I told him his girlfriend at the cafe asked if he had been sick. She misses your morning visits. He laughed. “Stefania? Sweet girl, but she is a child. She makes big cow eyes at me in the morning. How can the eyes get so large? I have never seen eyes so wide.” He translated for Mamma. She nodded. “Lei? Bambina.” She's a baby. Well that's settled.

Breakfast over, I started on setting up the soup. Chop chop chop, saute the veggies, brown up the sausage for flavor, add in the broth and herbs, bring it to a boil and then simmer. Keep it on a low flame until lunchtime. Reheat as needed for serving.

Now the pork. Butterflied the loin. Sauteed artichoke hearts, garlic, mushrooms and green onions in butter and parsley until tender, added broth simmered a few minutes, then made it into a stuffing with seasoned breadcrumbs. Plopped it in the middle of pork loin and tied it up with twine. In the roasting pan, in the oven at 220C / 400F for 45 minutes. The drippings were made into a light gravy to go over the top. By 10AM the house smelled like dinner. I blanched a pot of green beans for the side dish. They could get reheated without getting mushy now. I used some of the lemon pepper mix I brought over to mix in with butter and placed dabs of it in the pot for when they reheated it. I now have Mamma addicted to the lemon pepper, since introducing it to her on a past visit. I wrote instructions for reheating and assembly on a post it for Mister Man, removed the twine and cut the loin into slices for them. All they have to do is reheat the slices, warm up the gravy to top it and melt the butter with the green beans. They are set for at least two days with this. And don't forget the soup.

Made sure he knew what I had written instructions for him and his only response was “Where is the bread?  Did you forget to buy bread?” You have two legs. Walk on down to the shop and buy all the bread you need, Marcolino. You poor thing.

Changed the bedding in Mamma's room and put it in the washing machine, pointed a finger at him and said “Don't even think of asking me to change and wash yours.” He laughed. What about my clothes? You will do those? Idiot. He was kind enough to take it upon himself to to the dishes I had soaking and mop the floor in the kitchen. Miracles never cease. He promised to hang the sheets when they were done. No problem.

Kiss kiss bye bye Mamma. I will come over in the evening to stay over while Marco works tonight. See you then. I needed to get back to the magazzino and change my clothes before heading up to the station.

Once I cross from Giudecca to San Zaccaria/San Marco I have choices on how to get home. I can either walk to the landing for another boatline that takes me up the Grand Canal, or I can walk it. It takes longer to transfer to the other boat line and snake up the canal to Rialto than it does to walk it and in the middle of the day the boats are jammed with tourists at most times of the year. They wouldn't be jammed with tourists today, most likely, and I wasn't in any particular rush but I decided to walk it anyway. It's a 15 minute walk including hiking over the Rialto bridge, the biggest in the city. I hate that bridge at night when I'm tired. All those stairs. Can't I have a ramp? Or a jetpack? It's also difficult for me to walk at a leisurely pace in these streets with all the shops for some reason. I walk with a purpose in general, I can't usually meander around. There are two speeds in this town – those people rushing through the streets to get somewhere and those piddling stop and gape at everything in the window even though you are three people deep in street and blocking everyone around you. Some people have no sense of their surroundings. You see something remotely interesting in a window? Go inside. Stop gaping out front and causing a bottleneck in these narrow streets. Guh.

Life in a nutshell right there.

Just before the Rialto bridge was a crowd of people staring at a few people who were in the process of setting up a tent. On the cement paving stones. There were a couple of policemen standing near, just watching them. They had a sign in front of their “encampment” that said OCCUPY VENICE. Oh goody. My first Occupy demonstration. I have been missing out on all the fun since I'm not in Oakland. Riots, vandalism, port takeovers. Somehow I don't see that happening here. Three people, a sign, a boombox and a tent. In the midst of a touristic and overly commercial disneyland. In the middle of souvenir stands. Literally. And the tourists just walk past without hardly a glance. This demonstration may not have much of an impact, I predict. This might be fun to keep tabs on.

I got a call on my telefonino from my other classmate in Florence. Carolina. I forgot she was coming up for the weekend. She is a youngster, 19, from Chile. We had our conversation classes together and she had written me a week before asking if she could come up. At the time it had looked like I would be in Rome but I had made an arrangement to where she would be able to pick up a key with one of my friends at the hotel bar to stay in my place. Yet here I was, not only able to give her a place to stay but show her around when I wasn't working or cooking on Giudecca. No problem. I told her I would be busy on Saturday morning until about noon, had to check in on Mamma, possibly stay overnight with her, but I had the afternoon and evening to show her the city. On Sunday I was open after my group left in the morning. She was more than welcome to come to place to sleep for the weekend. She would arrive on the 12:30 train on Saturday and leave Sunday night. Alrighty then. All this and hosting duties too. I called Serena to see if she and Roberta wanted to come out on Saturday night for a drink with us. They both speak Spanish and love the chance to practice with native speakers. Sere said yes for her and she would check with Robi but it was probably a yes. Okay, until later. Girls night tomorrow. I could go out with them for a few hours and make my way back to check on Mamma after Marco left for work and stay overnight with her. Carolina would be fine at my place by herself. Venice's streets are confusing, but it's a straight shot from Rialto where we would most likely be having drinks. She'd be able to find her way home just fine.

Back at the magazzino I changed and made myself presentable and struck out for the train station. I realized in the notes from Frank that he hadn't ordered the taxis for us, so I called the taxi service and gave them the information, how many arriving so how many boats we need and that our destination is the Europa Regina hotel. Gave them the company billing information. Okay okay, that's settled. Whew. Almost a mishap. Called the hotel to let them know that Frank was off the list for a room and that I wouldn't need one. I could have waited until I arrived, but assumed they would want that information as soon as possible in case they could fill it. I also called directly to Andreas' office to let him know, bypassing the front desk where it could have been confusing to them. He made the changes in the computer and released the open room into the system. No problem. Thank you Kristina I will see you shortly when you all arrive. He tacked my phone number as an emergency/contact number to all the guestrooms since I wouldn't be on site. Any questions go directly to me. Yay. I am an authority figure.

Met the group at the station. I knew which car they were in and stood outside. As they came off I said “Frank's group? Over here, right this way...” Got everyone to the taxis and we were off to the hotel.

Check in went very well considering I hadn't placed faces to names yet, but I used that opportunity to do exactly that. During the lunch buffet in the restaurant I went around to each table and chatted with everyone in mini get-to-know-you sessions.

We took our walk to San Marco and into the Basilica. Then we met our guide at the Doge's Palace. I usually hand them off and sit out the tour, since I've been on it plenty of times. But I felt the need to be around these folks as much as possible since I was coming in as the pinch hitter. So I took the tour. Smiled at the people. Gave small asides as we went from room to room in addition to the official tour guide. But I drew the line at taking the gondolas with them. Back at the hotel I helped them with decisions for dinner, pointing them in directions they showed interest in. Finished up my office hours in the bar and talked with Serena. I hung out a little later than usual after office hours just in case someone needed me at the last minute, even though they all know they can call the concierge desk and have their call put through to my mobile phone since I wasn't sleeping there.

I needed to get a change of clothes since I was sleeping on Giudecca and returning to the hotel early in the morning. Back to Rialto I go. I should just carry a backpack full if clothes with me at all times these days. As I made my way up the bridge I realized the “Occupy” tent wasn't there. I went back down the bridge to one of the souvenir vendors and asked “Che succendo?” What happened? They moved them to the next street over. Ha. I went to the next street over, they weren't there. Asked a shop owner. Moved them to the next street over. Popped my head around the corner again. Still one tent, still three people. Moved twice. Hmmm, not going too well so far, is it?

Clothes and essentials grabbed. Slice of pizza around the corner for dinner. I am glamorous. Back to Giudecca I go, after one more quick stop at the hotel to check on things. As I was coming off the vaporetto Marco was arriving to the stop. We stopped and talked for a few minutes, waiting for his boat. Mamma had a good day. Loved the soup, loved the pork. He hung the bedding once out of the wash and then folded it up and put it away. She wasn't in bed yet, and said she didn't want a shot before bed tonight, just like last night. He thanked me for everything I have been doing to help out, yet never mentioned the earlier argument. I asked him if we were going to talk about that or just continue to ignore it. He told me he didn't want to discuss things right now, he needed to go to work. Okey dokey. Enjoy your night. Don't get beat up by rowdy drunks.

Mamma was very chatty when I arrived. We watched some tv and she went to bed around 10. I stayed up for a bit longer, watching some computer tv and sacked out. Long day, but very satisfying.

10 Novembre – Am I WHAT?

Had another frustrating and crappy day with trying to communicate. The telephone situation has deteriorated. My magicjack doesn't want to work when I'm trying to talk to my Mom, whether on her cell or landline, but hub-unit can hear me. I don't know. But a bunch of phonecalls where I can only hear my mother shouting “hello hello?” at me is disheartening. And this was AFTER I purchased a new phone and cord. Maybe it's just them... no, it's not, but I wonder why hub-unit can hear me.

Another day with Mamma. Cooking, eating and entertaining. Laundry, shopping. She bathed by herself and we changed her dressings . She's doing very well. On the other hand, I feel like an Italian housewife. Mister man is here to help of course, I'm not doing all the household chores on my own. He may speak out of turn when it comes to my cooking, but he is no stranger to cleaning up when his mother is out of commission. His head would be placed on a stake by yours truly, otherwise.

But he and I have been around each other too much and he's getting on my nerves. We're friends but we've never spent this much time together in a stretch. He can go back to work any time as far as I'm concerned. Got into a spat when having a conversation and he mistranslated what he was saying into English. What? Come again? You said what? He kept repeating the statement and I kept questioning it, trying to ascertain that it was what he really meant. He got irritated with me. I translated it back into Italian to be sure that was what he was saying and he got angry that I kept questioning him. “Kricka, my English is much better than your Italian. We know this.”

Turns out he was wrong in his use of the phrase in English. Hmm. Imagine that. But we had a fairly animated blowup nonetheless. Things were said. Ugh.

He still owes me an apology though.

Yeah, I'm happy I'm going back to work. I'm happy he's going back to work. I stopped in at the hotel to print out client dossier information for my group tomorrow. Sure, I'm coming in at the tail end of the tour, for just the last two nights, but I can still try and know names and relationships, etc for the short time I have them. Frank said he would send me some notes too.

Stopped in at the bar to see Aldo. There was a loud group of six Texans in the corner. If I am twenty-five feet away and can hear every word of your conversation, you're loud. You always know they are from Texas because every other sentence begins with “Well, in the state of Texas...” These folks were discussing medical marijuana. And none of them had ever smoked it in their lives. Ah, informed and authoritative discussions. Yay.

So when the one charming southern belle plaintively asked “Why can't the cancer patients just drink? Drinking makes you relaxed and feel better.” I piped up and said “Excuse me... cancer patients don't usually want a drink. When you're beyond nauseated from chemo and radiation and you can't keep anything down and you have no appetite whatsoever, having a glass of sparkling wine is not going to help the situation.”

“Oh.”

They got quiet after that. Gah. Shut up if you have no idea what you're talking about in public. Or just shut up in general.

Aldo smiled at me. “Ah, Kristina. You are wonderful. I have heard them talk for three days now about nothing. Now – they are saying nothing.” I told him I need to stop piping up in the bar and verbally assaulting paying guests. They'll throw me out eventually. “Not me. I never will. You are the security lady of the bar. Keep it civilized.” Ha! Thanks Aldo.

This darling couple ended the evening for me. Gay couple, from New York, just married. Honeymoon in Venice. Adorable. John and James. They heard the exchange with the Texans after coming in from the terrace from their cigarettes and wanted to give me an “atta girl.”

“Honey, they have been yammering forever about all kinds of things. Somebody finally shut them up. Let us buy you a drink.” No, that isn't necessary. But thanks.

They came closer and the younger of the two stopped and touched my hair all of a sudden. “Oh my, I'm so happy I came up close. You are so beautiful. Are you an opera singer?”

Ok, cue the sound of the record scraaaaaatch. WHAT??? (internal, of course)

Uh, no. I'm a tour guide.

“You're just so... full... of life. You're hair is so shiny and bright. Your eyes are gorgeous. Your makeup is flawless and I thought you had on a stage costume!”

My embroidered velvet jacket is now part a stage ensemble, I surmised. But hey, I have flawless makeup. Whoo for me! The opera singer thing though? I have a tough time with that. I guess “opera singer” is a gentler euphemism to say than fat lady. But it's not such a downer I suppose, no matter what size I may be, my hair is shiny and bright and my eyes are gorgeous.

Things could be worse.

9 Novembre – Tropes

Why did I entitle this with this particular word, you ask? Well, a trope is a commonly recurring motif or plot device in literature (or more obviously, in tv & movie writing.) Today I pondered if a student of Fellini is following me around with a camera, because the tropes abound in my real life at the moment.

Trope #1 - The Always Animated Italian Conversation: Mamma is starting to get restless, so I guess that's a good sign of her recovery. She was fidgety at breakfast. She wants to go to church. She wants to get out of the house. She complained that she needs fresh air. It's mildly cold out now that it's November, that much fresh air is not what she needs, but I am not here to make an argument. I completely understand the cooped up feeling she must have, but I told her that the doctor said she needs to rest from climbing stairs for one week. You don't want to be back in that hospital with the horrible food, do you? A few more days. “Io prometto.” I promise.

And then it happened. Rigo called to see how she is feeling. I knew as soon as she greeted him on the phone with “Rigo! Tesoro!” (Rigo, my treasure – tesoro is like saying dear or darling here) what was going to happen. She's telling him everything is fine but she wants to get out of the house and go out in the fresh air. Marco and I are shaking our heads at each other. Oh great. Of course Rigo offers to carry her up and down the stairs, no problem. She's light as a feather for him so it really is no problem. Don't get me wrong, this is not a calculating and manipulative woman. But she is determined. She will get inside that church as soon as she can.

Marco begins vocalizing “Mamma mamma dammelo.” Give me the phone. He gets on the phone with Rigo and tells him she doesn't need to go to church. Thank you so much for offering, but she can wait a few more days. Lots of listening while Rigo speaks, oh now they're doing the rapid venetian dialect. And the hand gestures. Oh, the hand gestures. Even on a phonecall, where one cannot see you, you are still expressing with the hands. Can't tell if it's heating up or not, too much garbled oatmeal talk. Mamma is talking too. Too much Venetian for me. They aren't angry voices, so that's good. It is not even 8AM and there's so much talking going on in here. But the conversation I hear is just one sided: Marco talking to Rigo, Mamma talking to empty air because Marco is listening and talking to Rigo. I'm going to get a headache soon.

He hangs up the phone. The gist is that she will agree that if she gets to go outside and go to church today, she will not do this again until Saturday, when she can try going down the stairs on her own. Rigo is not her personal elevator, please don't ask him to do this again. She responds that she didn't ask – he offered. Sure, after you complained to him. In any event, she agrees that this will be the only request for the services of Rigo. Fingers flying. Arms flailing. Eyes rolling up to heaven. Hands in the praying position. This is hilarious.

Rigo arrives a little before 9 and she is waiting in the seat next to the door. Coat on, hat, scarf, the whole deal. He scoops her up and takes her down, Marco takes the chair, I take the cane. We all go to Mass. After, we wait while she visits with her friends, one of whom is Rigo's mother. So he's just scoring points right and left with the church lady crowd. All the chatter they give is extending praise on him. Such a good boy, so caring, he looks out and helps everyone. Marco and I just smile and shake our heads. Rigo winks at us. Ha!

When she was ready to go we made our way back and he carried her up the stairs, no problem. Strong like bull. It really was a kind gesture. I am not knocking him in the slightest. I also happen to love that Marco The Golden Child got booted off his pedestal for a minute or two. But I'm sort of evil in that way. Suffice to say, any conversation had isn't worth it if it doesn't include the animated gestures and at least one facial expression.

Trope #2 – Any Show on Television Needs the Sexy: It's bizarre to me that a tv show needs a break for dancing girls in scant tops and no pants. Here, it happens. So often.

Game show, we're talking something on the lines of Jeopardy and suddenly... dance break! Four chickadees pop out in metallic lame and spangles to half-heartedly spin around and perform roundhouse kicks. Back to the game. Whoo?

Their “Daily Show” type satirically fake news programs. There is one on every channel, except those channels owned by Berlusconi. Interesting? Yes, I think so. Anyway, on “Strizia La Notizia” or “Le Iene” they will have dance breaks interspersed. I find it weird.

Their competition shows. I can see them bringing out the dance routines in the background for “X Factor” possibly even “Io Canto” - although, sexy dancers for a child/young adult singing competition is pushing it for me. What I don't understand is a dance break for the Italian version of Big Brother... if they had a Survivor or Amazing Race I would expect a dance break just before the elimination at the end.

Their variety shows. Okay, we expect a dance break in between skits here. Not a big deal here. The thing about these shows is that there are three hosts on them: “Colorado!” or “Zelig” both have two dudes- comedic actors, and then the hot babe barely dressed as the straightman, so to speak, to introduce and transition the skits. It's just weird. And obvious.

Trope #3 – All African Immigrants Are Up To No Good: I've written before about my friend Davide who works as a porter at the hotel; an immigrant from Senegal. He is fully documented and legal, but it wasn't always the case. There are thousands of African immigrants here in Italy, and a great percentage of them are not documented so their employment prospects are limited. Most of them work in the syndicate of “venditore ambulante” or the “vous-comprai” - those street sellers of knockoff handbags. There is a whole hierarchy of the street salespeople in the country, not just Venice. The Algerians & Moroccans sell the toys for the kids – plastic rubbery toys you can throw at the ground and they go flat, then regain their round ball-like shape, or the flying toys, like a lit-up reverse spinning top. The Ethiopians sell the sunglasses and camera tripods. The West and Central Africans sell the handbags.

One of the things I enjoy about our friendship is his openness to talk about his life. When he was undocumented and was a bag seller he would have to take the train down to Naples and pick up bags from the knockoff factory (run by the mafia, go figure) every week to ten days. Night train down there, buy bags, night train back up, sell them to tourists and when you're about to run out of bags, you hand them off to your buddy (selling to him, of course) and make the trip again to re-up. In the meantime, all the money you earn goes to the rent, where you share a tiny apartment with 8 other “ambulante” people, your food, clothing, and sending all remaining money back home. This guy is a trained and accredited CPA who was selling fake designer purses. He got popped four times in his four years as a seller, but was never actually deported. This is interesting to me. It's because Italy doesn't want to spend the money to deport when they know they will just come right on back. There's a difference between how far they're willing to go versus the US on this point., I see.

Now that he's documented I don't know how much better it is for him, to tell the truth. He went to a university for accounting and was on a traveling national sports team, yet he's a porter in a luxury hotel. At the drop of a hat or the whim of someone in a uniform, he has to produce documents to prove he has the right to be here.

Tonight after returning from Giudecca I met up with Davide for a drink. He doesn't drink and I wasn't either tonight, so we were going to have a soda in actuality. I had my totebag with my computer and purse in it. He was kind enough to offer to carry it for me as we were walking from the vaporetto. Well, it was ten at night and we were in an animated conversation walking across Piazza San Marco. Two policemen came over to us and asked to see his documents. He produced them, no problem, but one of the policemen was giving him a hard time about the bag. I excused myself and asked the other policeman if I could have my bag back, since it has my computer in it. I am respectful in situations with authority. I don't want to end up in jail overseas or at home. But this struck me as harassment. (a) If Davide had been a bag seller, he would have taken off at the whiff of a policeman in the vicinity, like they all do. (b) my totebag by NO means looks like a designer bag, fake or otherwise. It's nice, but not THAT nice, and certainly not fancy. (c ) he couldn't have been engaged in selling it to me when my belongings were already in it. I didn't give them this litany of reasons, but I did say my belongings were in it and I had brought it from the US. I did not buy it here. It has no designer label.

The policemen gave me my bag back. And as a parting shot, told Davide to leave the nice lady alone. That seriously pissed me off. An African immigrant can't be friends with anyone, apparently. Asshats.

Open your minds, Italy. Your tv is atrocious and your civil servants need diversity training. But your hand gestures and eye rolling are kind of fun to watch.

8 Novembre – Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

So since I was already on Giudecca I didn't need to make the trek over. I went down the street and picked up fresh pastries again. Marco came with me. Somebody needed a coffee to clear the cobwebs from last nights drinking. Ha. The girl behind the counter was the same who assisted me before and of course she knew Marco, because its down the street from the house, but when she saw we were there together she got a flash of confusion across her face. “Mia sorella Americana” he told her. Confusion again in her face. Hey, no need to explain who I am. I just want pastries. She put a half dozen of the mini croissant-like items in the bag and then picked one out of the stacks with the crema inside and said “Per la signora. A sua buona bennessere!” For the lady (meaning Mamma). Good health! I don't know what that was all about, I suppose him walking about with a woman in his neighborhood is not normal. Or maybe she has a crush? Whatever.

After breakfast I received a call from Frank. He wanted to talk about the schedule and propose yet another change, so I could stay in Venice a couple more days. I was supposed to be taking his private tour for Rome and Florence, starting on Friday. He suggested I take the group tour when they hit Venice on Friday instead, and then I could take the private group on Monday which is a Venice & Veneto tour of five days. It gives me another week based in Venice, so I can be around and help out with Mamma's recovery.

That guy is amazing. What a sweetheart. It's also incredibly generous of him, but advantageous to him as well. He's based out of Rome, so he doesn't mind in the least taking back his tour there. I asked him if he thought there would be a problem for the group itself – they have been with him for what, 11 days and suddenly they are getting handed off to someone else for the few. “Nope. Good crowd. And they were your group originally anyway.” Okay, but all the tips will be coming to Frank, I promised him. “Do what you want, kiddo. Get her better.” So it had been decided. On Friday, he would put them on the train in Florence and I would pick them up in Venice. He would make his way to Rome to meet his private group, and I would have my private group start on Monday.

Came back into the living room after my call and gave them the news that I was going to be around in town all next week. Mamma's face told me that it was best thing to be happening; she looked so happy. Marco was starting back at work on Friday night for his regular two-night graveyard stint, his weekend, and then three days on dayshift. His normal schedule after more than a month of nights. Finally.

I got out my calendar agenda and we went over our schedules for the next week to note times without “coverage” for her. I wasn't 100% positive about mine because I needed the itinerary for the private group, and opened my mail to send off a message to Frank to send it ASAP. Lo and behold, he already sent it to me, as soon as we were off the phone it seems. Excellent. I would be able to stay with her on Friday and Saturday night while he was at the hotel. No problem there. Sunday and Monday he would be around all day. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday she would be alone for a few hours in the mornings, but she's getting stronger every day, and she promises not to go running out to church when we aren't around. Whew. She also has her little friends to come and visit in the mornings while we were gone.

The remainder of the afternoon was relaxing for me. The schedule change really relieved a lot of anxiety and I felt a load had been taken off my conscience and my mind. I prepared dinner for them to eat later and begged off staying and eating with them. I felt the need to go to one of my regular places to eat. They all must think I have abandoned them. I've hardly been around. I had dinner at Francesco's in San Silvestro, home of my favorite lasagne on earth. “Kristina Kristina, where have you been?” Taking care of a sick friend.

“Now, we take care of you.”

Oh yes. Please do.