Sunday 20 February – Church Ladies

I got a call before going down to breakfast that the ladies wanted to go to a church service at the Duomo, and was it okay if we got a late start? I asked if they wanted one in English or Italian and read off the times the Duomo holds Mass. They opted for the English one at 10am. I received the good word that they indeed had been seated the night before at Il Latini with minimal issue and they ate too much. They didn't see what the big deal was about the place and it was full of tourists, exactly as I had anticipated. Screw you, Rachel Ray. The place is a victim of years of too much promotion and what had been a good “locals” restaurant is now a shadow of what once was. Damned tourists (kidding!)

They went to Mass and I met them outside afterward. We walked back by way of the Basilica of Santa Croce, where we stopped in and I showed them the cloisters designed by Brunellschi (who designed the giant dome of the Duomo), the tombs of Michelangelo, Rossini, Galileo, Machiavelli, Dante, Ghiberti, Marconi and Fermi. Important works of art include funerary monuments by Luca and Andrea della Robbia, Canova, Vasari and Donatello, frescoes by Giotto and the cross by Cimabue was almost lost in the massive city-wide flood of 1966.

Out in the courtyard piazza I showed them the plaques on the wall listing the height of the floodwaters (or to be more accurate – the mud line) at 22 feet high. The damages from the flood reached northward past the Duomo (over a mile away) and all the way past the Accademia and the Monastery of San marco almost 2 kilometers away. Not only were 1.5 million books and manuscripts in the National Library and National Archives immersed in mud, heating oil, sewage and riverwater, but hundreds of paintings and frescoes in the storerooms of the vast de Medici storerooms of the Palazzo Pitti south of the river and the just north of the river at the Uffizi museum in the basement. Illuminated manuscripts were almost lost in the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo to the north. Yeah, and more than five thousand families were homeless. It took decades to restore the works of art and the manuscripts through the aid of volunteers from around the world.

We made our way to the Basilica of Santo Spirito, designed by Brunellschi in the early 15th century (to rebuild the 13th century original destroyed in a fire.) There are 38 side chapels in this church – whoo!

From there we hopped to the Carmine church to see the Capella Brancacci, considered the Sistine Chapel of the early renaissance, for the fresco cycle by Masaccio, Masolino and Lippi. The frescoes of Masacchio are some of the earliest works bridging the medieval and early renaissance, using mathematical components for perspective and chiaroscuro for two dimensional figures, rather than flat figural painting that had been the norm for centuries.

We picked up a taxi and headed north into the hills to Fiesole for lunch at Enoteca Pinchiorri and a beautiful view of Florence below us.

Dinner was a place of my choosing, a favorite – Antico Paoli. Waitstaff flirted, lots of delicious food was served and a great time was had by all. Walking back to the hotel, talk turned once again to the handsome and seemingly randy Italian men and the ladies (even after a day of visiting multiple churches) were all giggly in anticipation of the possibility of having a good time on their last night in town.

I just don't care.

They went to the bar and I went to my room. Called and talked to Mamma for a little while, then I watched some teevee via computer before hitting the sack.

Saturday 19 February – Intercranial Soundtracks and International Speaking Engagements

= = = = =
I can't believe I forgot to put it in the post for yesterday, I guess I was sidetracked by the Chicago Cougar Squad, but I received final word from the home office regarding the celebutard's tour. It has been canceled. While it means I don't get to see Giuseppe Giacobazzi again (for this trip anyway) it does mean that I don't have to deal with the headache of the LA folks. It changes my pay structure for this session of tours also, and yet I have additional free time. I can deal with this. However, if something crops up and the home office can book another group at the last minute they will be sure to let me know.
= = = = =

Walking over to meet Diana from La Diva Cucina at Mercato Centrale I heard the song “Gravity” by Sara Bareilles in a coffee shop. I keep hearing it over and over. Part of the refrain is what's doing it to me:

Set me free, leave me be
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall
Just the way I'm supposed to be

Bleargh. Earworm.

The menu today at Diva was a repeat for me, from the second day of my last group's session with Diana, but I am totally okay with watching it being prepared and eating it again. She mentioned that I looked lost in thought today. I guess I am in my head a bit more than usual today.

Besides, the group dynamic was different even if the menu was the same. These gals really get along well and you know they are the best of friends as well as comfortable working with each other in the kitchen. From the joking around apparently one of them did meet a prospect last night in the bar, but it doesn't seem like things came to fruition. Why exactly do I need to know this?

I put their man hunting out of my head and concentrated on lunch. So much good food!

While the ladies took the afternoon break to shop their feet off, I returned to the hotel to catch up on writing and fact check some dates and details. We wouldn't want the tour leader to give out incorrect information after all.

I've been using the computer to provide me with background noise while I write, usually an old tv program, but since I've had that song on a loop in my head I guess my brain is telling me it's starved for music right now. Since I don't like the pop-crap that permeates Italian radio I was listening to some old standbys: the soundtracks from Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar. It was beautiful outside and I had the windows open to the street below. I'm on the second floor (called the first floor in Europe for some reason) and I know I was absentmindedly singing at full blast. Every once in a while I would catch a snippet of someone singing the song from down below. No doubt they could hear me too. It was a very enjoyable and relaxing afternoon to myself

I collected the ladies to escort them over to Il Latini for dinner. There was the usual crowd outside for the first seating at 7:30. It's a crapshoot; I hope they have a better experience than I did. I walked up to the door and popped my head inside, to more than a couple of scowls from the mass in front of the door. They weren't open for business yet, but I told the guy at the that the “Strano” party of four was out there and pointed them out. He found my name in the book and told me they would be well taken care of. Good luck ladies, I'm off to find myself some pizza and beer. And the karaoke bar. Apparently I need to to sing, because I've been doing it all day.

At Trattoria da Leo I watched part of the Serie A futbol game of Cagliari against Inter. I don't follow them, but there were plenty of people in there who do. A “quattro stagioni” pizzetta was all mine – spicy salame, olives, mushrooms and artichoke hearts on a thin wood-fired crust. Yum!

I had seen a sign on a bar we passed by a few times that said “Karaoke! Ogni Sabato!” (every Saturday) so I headed over for the place and found it not incredibly crowded. It was still early. The singing started at nine, and I flipped through the books until I found the one I wanted: Me & Mrs Jones. It's one of a few standbys I have. Most of the songs were in English, so either they cater to an English speaking crowd or they don't have much of a selection for Italian karaoke distributors. My turn came and I did it. I actually prefer singing to a room full of strangers than people I know. It's not that I have a bad voice or anything; I just know I am not likely to see these people ever again, so I don't care how it turns out.

Returning to my seat, the people around me gave compliments and bought more drinks to fuel a return performance onstage. I went back up there about an hour later, after some truly “unique performances” from other patrons. Second song for me was Ray Charles' “You Don't Know Me.” More compliments and another round of drinks bestowed. I could get into this singing for booze. Whoo hoo!

It was getting late and I had given myself an 11pm curfew. If I start hanging out all night I will not be fresh as a daisy every day. Besides, I can keep myself awake all night on my own without hootch. The song selections were getting livelier as the evening wore on, not many slow torchsongs were being chosen, and I complied. I'm versatile. The DJ guy laughed when he saw my choice. “Proprio quando pensavo che cantare solo le canzoni tristi lenta, sorpresa me, signora!” Just when I think you only sing the slow and sad songs, you surprise me madam!

And I threw down the Beastie Boys' “Sabotage” - which turned into a yellfest with the crowd. A winner! Lots of fun, but I had to get going.

I arrived back at the hotel and found I had two telephone messages. From Giorgio back in Venice. I checked my phone and saw I had missed two calls from him. Whoops. Too much noise in the karaoke bar. Giorgio had emailed me an attachment. I called him to see what was up for opening it.

Aside from his everyday job of managing the bar and restaurant at the Europa Regina, Giorgio is the head of the Italian Barman Association, and sits on the board of the International Barman group too. He teaches courses at the trade schools, and speaks around the country and the world at conferences. A few years ago I helped edit the manual they use to teach with. Just managing the colloquialisms and transliteration issues that arise from non-native speakers writing for a common language presentation.

He apologized for the short notice and asked me to do him a huge favor. Giorgio has a keynote address to make next week in Athens and he asked me to look over the PowerPoint and edit anything that was glaringly awful. No problem! But I couldn't open it. I called him back again and asked if he would convert it to a PDF file I would make notes of anything and call him back to go over it page by page.

Good thing I hadn't gotten hammered while I was out. It was a simple enough task. His English is very good but there were some minor misspellings due to homonyms (week instead of weak) and prepositions getting jumbled. We took care of the changes, he sent another version the PDF and we were done by 1am.

I'm happy to help my friends out. They do more for me that I could ever ask for, so any chance I have to return the favor I am more than glad to do it. Giorgio never lets me pay for my drinks at the bar, he always says my money is no good, and being able to return the favor is welcomed. Plus it makes him look even better than he already does in his international community.

Lights out!

Friday 18 February – Goo Night

During breakfast I gave the ladies more Florentine historical overviews, focusing on the de Medici family, appropriate since we were going to the Uffizi this morning. All the works in the museum are from their personal collection and centuries ago their homes were littered with these now priceless objects. Everything was left to the city when the last one passed away. Most of the rooms are pretty much floor to ceiling crammed full of paintings, carvings, objets d'art. Other rooms, the ones with the really large canvases like the Botticellis are more spare. I could spend all day in there looking at his “Allegories of Spring” and “Uma Thurman on the halfshell.”

We spent a little over three hours there. I was quite surprised they wanted to hang out that long there. Good for them!

As we walked to lunch at Sostanza I asked how they arrived at making the requests for the restaurants they did. I had an inkling that somebody watches the now-defunct Food Network program (circa 2004 with Rachel Ray before she was super-annoying and overexposed) called “$40 A Day” because 3 of the 4 restaurants they listed -Sostanza, Il Latini, Acqua al 2 - were on that Florence episode. I didn't let on that I suspected, but one of the ladies confirmed it.

Oy.

Let me explain why this confuses me. This program was RR in some city somewhere getting all her food for one day for under $40. Mind you, the US dollar doesn't have nearly the power it did in 2004 so while it is possible to eat three meals in Florence for under 30Euros, but not at those three places on the show.

Here is the rub: these women have collectively paid WELL over 10 grand for this five day jaunt with a private guide, and they are eating at restaurants on the “$40 a day” show??? This doesn't square up to me. Do you get the fuzzy logic? Am I wrong?

But I'm smiling, smiling, smiling my Fantasy Island smile. Everything's fine. No worries. Whatever, it's your dime, people.

I did tell them that I wouldn't be going with them to Il Latini. I was quite careful not to try to dissuade them from going, but I was very honest in my experience there. In 2006 we had reservations there one night, and showed up to an absolute mess at the door. There's usually a lot of clamoring for a table, lots of people without reservations, but the guy at the door did not sort out who has a res and who didn't. There was shoving at the door like it was the day after Thanksgiving at Best Buy. This didn't sit well with us at all, because for a place with communal tables, if somebody shoved me out of the way at the door they had better not be seated anywhere near me or somebody's getting a fork in the eyesocket. We ended up leaving before we even got in the door and the experience soured me on the place. I don't recommend it for the seating mayhem alone, and by 95% of the accounts I continue to read, it's still messy. They are also victims of their own success; most of the patrons are not locals, which is always a bad sign in my book.

So after telling them the story(and leaving out the part about the food being tourist fare these days) the only warning I gave them is that they may have reservations but doesn't mean it will be smooth sailing getting through the doors. They could possibly all end up discouraged like we were, but all they have to do is walk down the street because there are many restaurants picking up Il Latini's frustrated would-be customers. They consider themselves well informed now.

As we were walking to dinner at Acqua Al 2 my phone buzzed. It was the house phone at Mamma's so I didn't know if it was her or Marco, but he usually calls on his mobile. There was no greeting from her, just the remarks that “Sono battaglia” - they are fighting. Oh boy, here it comes. I asked if he was okay and her response was,“La strega che sta facendo lui infelice.” That witch is making him miserable. I suggested that she remain out of it and she agreed, and she sounds just a little too happy about all this. “Goo-Night Kricka!”

Goo-Night, indeed.

Back inside at dinner, my brief explanation of the reason for the phone call was the catalyst to start a line of conversation I hadn't been expecting at all: these women are all kind of on the make. It's not as if they have bets going on who can get laid first, but none of them are ruling out the possibility of having a fling with an Italian man if opportunity presents itself. Great.

They asked me where I go for attention. Um what? “Men notice you, sweetie. We've been talking about this and want to know if you have one of those special perfumes that attract them all like flies. We walk through the door and the men are all smiling at you – we're chopped liver. Maybe we all need to gain 25 pounds because they are all about your curves, sweetie.” Guh. Sweetie. Irritating.

Mind you, these are all nice looking professional women, all in good shape and put together quite well. Some may have even had a little work done, I'm suspecting fillers or botox or something on that order. But I don't think it has much to do with how in-shape a woman is (because I'm not) it's always about how you carry yourself. I smile and try to be engaging with everyone and receive smiles in return. Anything beyond that I try not to notice. I confess in a group of women, I've never been the pretty one, but I'm always comfortable at being the outwardly-confident one (and the dry-humored smart-ass one), even if it's a facade sometimes.

One of the women managed to step up and take it a step further. “Where would you take us to meet someone?” Where in my employment paperwork did it say “procure temporary bed partners” for the clients? I told them to just go to a bar, but not one of the loud clubs, unless they are looking for a college student. Just go to the hotel bar at the Excelsior, something may turn up for you. I get that people leave themselves open for local flavor while the cat's away, etc.,but keep it to yourselves people. I don't need to know your ulterior motives. I guess they feel they can confide in me. I have that power.

Blech. Well this isn't uncomfortable at all. Goo Night, is right. Sticky and uncomfortable.

On the way back to the hotel my phone rang again, this time with Marco. He told me he and Donatella are through. “We are broken.” I told him I was sorry to hear that news, he said it was for the best. “The right woman will come for me one day, I am not worried.”

If only he could get himself down to Florence. There are four hungry women who could make him forget about his break up right about now.

Thursday 17 February – Over and Done and Doubling Back Again

First up, Happy Birthday to my brother Michael!!!!

I met up with my clients, checked them out of the hotel at 9am, and got into our awaiting taxi ready to transport us to the cruise ship port. They received their company comment cards to complete later and I received some fat little envelopes and notes of thanks. It's not required, but definitely appreciated.

We said our goodbyes and they took their luggage to the terminal check-in and I was free. First private tour compete!

I had the taxi drop me at the vaporetto stop near the house and went back to pack up for my next tour. I needed to take the train to Florence and arrive by 4pm, check back in to the Excelsior for a 5pm meet-up with my next group, a four night tour of the city. The clothes I'm taking with me makes me only need to take my weekender bag with me, so I am lucky to pack be able to pretty light.

Called Mamma and told her I was on my way over for a couple of hours before my train. She met me at the vap, which she has never done. I'm so happy to see her back to being energetic and wanting to get out of the house more, after the past year of heartache and mourning.

I asked her if she minded that I check some email on my netbook, since I was awaiting word from the home office about that damned LA-production company fiasco. Mamma was surprised to see my computer is blue. She didn't know that computers came so small and in colors. She asked me to show her how I watch tv on the computer, something we touched on at dinner a few days ago. I asked her if she wanted to watch an American tv show or an Italian; she responded with “Qualsiasi cosa tu voglia di mostrarmi, Kricka“ - whatever you want to show me, Kricka.

Survivor it is. The first episode of the new season was loaded onto the website I paid access for. We settled in, and I translated the bullet points for her. When the Survivor phenomenon began in 1999 (it was a Dutch show first, a year before it started in the US, you know) they had a couple of seasons of the European version shown in Italy so she understood the premise.

She is so fun to watch tv with. The eyes of wisdom cutting through the crap with one dry remark. She sums things up pretty quick. Watching tribal council, not understanding English except for a few phrases, this woman took one look at the goings on, the soundtrack music, the editing of faces cutting eyes to one another and whispering and called out a contestant. “Filippo e' pazzo. PAZZO!” Philip is crazy. Crazy! Which sent me into fits of giggles. Crazy is apparent whether you understand the language or not.

She asked me what I thought of the new girlfriend. I am trying my hardest to be diplomatic and not give any colorful opinions as I usually am readily available to. I don't want to make waves. I said she seems nice and seems like she likes him very much. What do you think of her?

Oh! The grimace she made! “Lei non è per lui.” She is not for him. Well that was that.

But I'm not making waves. Tell someone you don't like the significant other and they're more likely to dig in their heels and keep them around to spite you and show you how you're wrong... More importantly, Mamma doesn't know how this woman was trying to be domineering in everyone's relationships to each other. I figure that Mamma really doesn't need to know this. It will all become apparent soon enough.

We hugged and kissed goodbye a little later and I headed off for the train station. I worked on the computer the whole trip and got so much done, dear readers!

I was greeted Gregorio, the concierge at the Excelsior Firenze, who had checked me out only two days before. It's like sailors having a girl in every port... or something like that. Anyway, it's good to make friends with the hotel staff, they are wonderful people who help you out a lot.

I put my things in my room, freshened up a little and went down to the lobby to meet my new group. It consists of four women from Chicago, all friends in their 50s. They had come into the airport and checked in about an hour before I did. We made acquaintances, had a celebratory drink in the bar and went out for a walk around the city center, to the Duomo, the Baptistery and the Museo del Duomo. I've gone on at length before about how much I love this museum. The Magdalene by Donatello, the Ghilberti panels, a Pieta by Michelangelo. These women don't mind museums so I didn't have to truncate and get hustled out because they are museum-phobic. Things are looking up.

On the walk back to the hotel I told them about Cibreo, the restaurant we were scheduled to dine at. I wanted to make sure they knew the food they would encounter, just as I had with the tour before. Unlike the tour previous to them, these ladies are self-proclaimed foodies and are up to the organs and “uncommon” dishes served there. “We're from Chi, we eat meat, and we eat all parts” one stated. Well then. This will be interesting.

They had... lots of things. I had soup and salad.

Wednesday 16 February – Of Religion, Rebuilding and Rain

I called Mamma at a little past 7am and told her I could meet her for Mass at the Redentore church at 7:30 if she wanted to. This gave me the hour for Mass and time for the boat ride across the water in time to meet them. I was not meeting my clients until 9am at their hotel and the boat from the Giudecca lands directly in front of the Danieli. She said she would meet me there.

We sat in the services with her holding my hand clasped in both of hers the whole time. I prefer Italian Catholic masses more than in the US; less gymnastics. No kneeling, except if you want to after receiving the host wafer, which I don't do since I'm not officially Catholic.

Years ago during one family-attended Mass, Chiara, Marco's niece, who was then about 12, upon returning to her seat with the wafer on her tongue, asked me why I didn't have to go up and see the priest in the line with everyone else. In Italian: “Did you forget to confess this week and you can't go?” I told her “I'm not Catholic. I attend out of respect to your family and mine.” She rolled her eyes and responded “You are so very fortunate, you aren't forced...”

I miss that kid. We all do. Such a beautiful girl and such a short life.

After services, I kissed Mamma on the steps and caught the vaporetto over to San Zaccaria and flew into the Danieli with a few minutes to spare. My clients were ready for our trek through the streets over to the Rialto markets. We didn't buy anything, but it's always lovely to see the stalls all stacked beautifully with fruits, veg, and fish ready for sale. It's all incredibly artful. I love to hear the vendors calling out their wares for sale to the masses, their voices robust and loud, telling us what is fresh and on special.

From there we wound our way through the San Polo sestiere to the Frari church, where I showed them the tombs of the artists Titian and Canova and four Doges. I was technically sneaking a museum visit in, since the artwork of the church could be in any major museum anywhere in the world. But such is almost any renowned church in Italy; there is always at least one piece of art by a well known artist . This one has more than one: two figures of St John the Baptist, from Donatello and Sansovino, the painting over the high-altar of the Madonna's Ascension from Titian (along with another Madonna in a smaller side chapel), and yet another Madonna painting from Giovanni Bellini.

The basilica was first completed in 1320, but this expansion was finished in 1396 with the completion of the campanile (belltower) the second tallest in the city behind the one at Piazza San Marco. The Titian altarpiece is an example of art “in situ” - it was created specifically for this sitting; it melts into the surroundings and the borders of the painting show the church itself in its framing. It was always meant to be here, and always will be. It's the largest altarpiece in Venice.

From there we walked through the Dorsoduro district (my home turf) and I took them to my favorite church, Santa Maria della Salute. It's pretty spectacular, and how often do you see an octagonally-shaped church dedicated to the plague? Afterward, it was starting to sprinkle, so instead of an official gondola ride, we opted for a ride on a traghetto, which is a gondola that ferries you only across the Canale Grande. Yes it doesn't have as much romance, but you get the idea of how they work the oar and forcola for 1/100th of the price. Seriously. Gondola rides are really overrated. The only people you really see in them are Japanese tourists. If you want to spend 90Euros go for it, but a traghetto ride is only 50Eurocents. If it the forecast didn't call for an absolute deluge the rest of the day, they would have been happy taking that ride later on, but nobody wants to get wet and the gondoliers don't like to expose their incredibly expensive boats to the wet if they don't have to. The Japanese however, would be taking those rides come hell or highwater as scheduled, which happens quite often in Venice actually.

We stopped for lunch just outside the Fenice Opera House, at Ristorante Al Teatro, a personal favorite of mine. La Fenice was destroyed by fire for the second time in 1996 (arson!) and rebuilt ten years with the mandate of “com'era dov'era” (how it was, where it was) using the original architectural plans from 1790. La Fenice means “Phoenix” so being named for the bird rising from ashes is not lost to the people of Venice, who has twice had the theater rise from the ashes as well. Rigoletto and La Traviata had their original premieres here. We were not taking the tour inside, but the fact that the edifice is there once again is remarkable. John Behrendt (known for “Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil”) wrote a captivating book about the process of the rebuild – “The City of Falling Angels” - I highly recommend it. It gives great insight to the inner workings of municipal bureaucracy in an Italian city and the drive to rebuild an historical legacy to the world.

It was pouring by the time we left lunch, and we trotted over to “my consulate” (tm Mark Strange) to grab umbrellas, three minutes away. It's the sister hotel to the Danieli and all the umbrellas say “Westin Luxury Collection” so it's not as if we were stealing. The manager on duty recognized me and nodded when I mentioned the name of the tour operator as I grabbed four umbrellas. My group tours stay there during spring, summer and fall. I will bring the umbrellas back later after the rain, but they always have at least 20 on hand at the door for guests at any given time, so it's really not a big deal.

We walked on, now fortified with cover from the rain and made out way back to the Danieli so they could have a few hours rest. While we had plans to take another walk in the afternoon into the Ghetto and for shopping, the clients said they would rather wait out the rain and just go to dinner later. They are going on a cruise after this to Turkey and Greece and nobody wanted to take the risk of getting sick being out in the elements. I told them I would return at 7pm to escort them to our farewell dinner.

I made my way back to the house and had a nice afternoon to myself. It was storming pretty heartily but had subsided considerably by the time I left the house to pick them all up for dinner. We went to Da Fiore, one of the city's best restaurants (and one I hadn't been to yet) for our farewell meal. A great time was had by all. I stopped in at the Consulate to say hello to “uncle” Giorgio at the bar and “brother” Marco at the Concierge. I didn't give him the third degree about our family dinner the night before, only asking if Donatella had a good time. He said Mamma had a good time, but was pretty stoic about Donatella. This is telling...

Tuesday 15 February – Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

We met our driver for the day, Dario, to take us up to Venice. The car wasn't as fancy as Giuseppe Giacobazzi, but Dario wasn't as fancy either. No worries; it was just a fancier version of a cab ride anyway.

In talking with the clients over the past week I have gleaned the reason as to why they insisted on private cars rather than public transport – they are terrified of getting robbed. In Rome, I can totally see it. A very large and sprawling city, there is a lot of petty crime on metro trains and buses. It is a little different on the long-distance trains, but it has been known to happen.

I did take up the subject of championing the public transport in Venice, taking the vaporetto versus private taxiboats everywhere. We're not major movie stars, these people are physically fit and capable of walking around short distances without hopping in a taxi boat. Besides, you miss out on so much “slice of life” by not stepping foot on a vap at some point. Plus it's fun to watch the boatmen throw the ropes at every stop. They agreed to trust me and let go of the private taxi hires except for their arrival and departure. Yay me! I eventually bend them to my will with subtlety.

We arrived in Venice just before noon and we found our taxi to take us and our luggage to the Danieli hotel, where they are staying. They were going to have lunch at the hotel and I would be meeting up with them in two hours for a tour through Piazza San Marco. I had the driver wait while I checked them in and then he took me to my house, where the washing machine awaited me.

Threw a load in the washer and ran over to market to buy food for dinner. Ah, to be able to cook again for a few days!!! Started on a pot of soup and did dinner prep so all I needed to do was throw everything in the oven.

Back at the Danieli, I walked them up to Piazza San Marco and we toured the basilica and the campanile (the belltower.) We took the tour of the Doge's Palace and did a little souvenir shopping. And had gelato. Yay gelato!

I had them set up for dinner at Hostaria da Franz but I wasn't going with them as originally planned. I took them there and presented myself to the owner. I had called earlier and made arrangements for a pre-fixe menu for them (and wine selection) and to imprint my credit card and take the standard gratuity found at the finer dining establishments. I would come with them at the start of the meal, verify the charge to be made after the meal and return in the morning for the credit card receipt. It happens sometimes, and the restaurants that deal with lots of the luxury hotel clientele see things like this often enough. Another trick of the trade.

Their reservation was at 7pm, and I dropped my clients off then doubled back to the house to finish cooking before the fam arrived. They arrived and I opened the door to hugs and kisses from Mamma. I had decided to make an effort not to be as “familiar” with Marco as I usually am, keep the teasing and joking to a minimum since I was meeting the girlfriend. She seemed nice enough, but was stiff as expected. She speaks more English than Mamma and less than Marco but you can tell she isn't entirely comfortable with it. Mamma speaks almost no English so our communication has improved over the years as I learned more. And learned to gesticulate better in the hand-signs department.

I made roasted red pepper soup, a favorite of theirs. Mamma may teach me venetian dishes, but I teach them about soup. They love this one. I also had prosciutto-wrapped chicken florentine and roasted brussels sprouts. It's a favorite meal when I cook for them.

Does Donatella cook? Nope.

I wonder how this relationship is going to turn out, given how he loves to critique any cooking not exactly like his mother's. Maybe this is a point in her favor; just let the poor old doting mother cook everything until she dies...

Mamma sat next to me, patting my hand and smoothing my hair while she chattered away. “Kricka, Kricka, sweet Kricka. So good you are here again. You look so happy. So healthy. We miss you. We can go to Mass in the morning?” I told her that I could only go to church with her in the afternoon or evening, just depending on my touring schedules each day, but I couldn't say right then when I could go with her. I was trying to throw everyone a bone and keep it loose and comfortable. It couldn't be easy for Donatella to watch Mamma, who she is just getting to know, suddenly so open and vibrant about me, who she is thinking is a rival. And my dear “brother” looked like he could crawl out of his skin and under the table.

We cut it shorter than usual, since he was going to have to go to work at 10pm, and needed to escort Mamma home first. So we said our goodbyes and they were on their way by 9:30. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that trip home.

I don't think it will last for them; she is not his type or what he is looking for in the long-term, but I am going to keep my mouth shut.

Monday 14 February – 13 Hunchbacks and the Wicked Witch of the East

The breakfast talk was an overview of the Medici family and their contributions to Florence and the world. Between banking, raising Popes-to-be and being patrons of the arts, the world would be a much sadder and unenriched place.

Day two of our culinary fest with Diana started at the Mercato Centrale, where we strolled through the stalls and purchased out groceries and meats before heading back to her house for more recipes.

Preparing today, we have:
zuppa toscana di fagioli – tuscan bean soup
pappa al pomodoro – tomato and bread soup
cecina – flatbread with garbanzo bean flour
tuscan ragu with tagliatelle– soffritto, veal/ pork/ beef with pancetta, parsley and tomato puree
panzanella – bread and tomato salad
pomodoro ripieni -stuffed tomatoes with garlic, parmesan, breadcrumbs, basil, oregano, oil
pollo al marsala e peperoni rossi – marsala chicken with red peppers
fritelle di riso – fried rice balls

Soffritto is the term for the cooking triumvirate of carrots, celery and onion, by the way.

Again, an absolute feast! There was a little more liberal winetasting going on during the chopping stage and I started to worry if we were going to lose appendages in the process, but everyone survived intact. I think that it's Valentines Day everyone is feeling the spirit of love flowing through them and they are rather loose today. For me, not so much.

Afterward, the peeps went souvenir shopping in the open-air markets at San Lorenzo and I went back to the hotel. They all arrived at my hotel room door two hours later, presenting me with a rose and bottle of prosecco for a valentine offering. How sweet!

They are having dinner on their own at La Reggia Degli Estruschi, taking cabs up to Fiesole on the outskirts of the city, up in the hills overlooking Florence.

I knew I wasn't especially hungry, between stewing about the phonecall last night and all the food for lunch at Diana's, but I needed to pick something up to tide me over until breakfast. I saw them off in the cabs and walked around the corner to 13 Gobbi for some “peposo” - a thick, stick to your ribs, peppery stew. I asked for an order “per portare” - for takeaway. The hotel's room service kitchen would allow me to heat it up later on. Trade secret for tour operators in the know.

I settled in for a marathon viewing of “The Wire” on the computer. How did I miss this show when it was on HBO??? It's very addicting.

I received a call from Marco, and dreaded picking it up. What now? But it was an apology. He had thought about it and realized it was outrageous to ask this of me. He would just have to make Donatella understand some other way. I offered to cook for the three of them Tuesday evening. Come over to my house at 8pm. Bring them over so I can meet her. He sounded hesitant for sure, and I promised there would be no poisonings. I'm not Catherine di Medici, after all.

I felt better after the call. He was wrong. I win, just for that concession. And with that, I ate my peposo and enjoyed it.

Donatella and I may never be friends, and my friendship with him may end up falling away as a result of that, but nobody is going to dictate to me that I can't see Mamma.

Sunday 13 February – The Joys of A Full Stomach, Except When It Receives A Metaphysical Kick

We met at 8am and I gave a breakfast talk as we ate. Some Florentine history with religious torture and inquisitions, with some plague tossed in. It's just what everyone needs with their eggs and bacon. These folks seem to be spotty on their world history, so I kept it to bullet-points only and didn't go really in-depth.

Our appointment for the first day of cooking classes at La Diva Cucina was at 10, so we ambled over to Diana's home/ kitchen/ theater/ studio/ magic castle. I have been waiting to meet her since about 2003, when we became “buddies” on a travel posting board. She has been in Florence since 1983 when she arrived from Wisconsin for a semester at University and fell in love with a local. After deciding to stay in Florence to be with him, she began a culinary training school to pick up a trade to get work and be able to stay and worked for 15 years in restaurants, a very male-dominated career, especially over here. She's an amazing cook, and incredibly helpful whenever anyone online raises a question about tuscan cooking. Diana has been giving lessons and tuscan farm tours for more than ten years and she's a hero of mine. When I learned a few months ago that I would be getting to sit on lessons at her place I actually squealed a little.

Now because it's Sunday and the markets are closed, we cannot go for her usual tour of the Mercato Centrale to buy all the day's ingredients in the grocers' stalls, so the menu plan was more about using less perishable items, things you keep in stock regularly in the home and “reusable” items like stale bread or cooking with canned tomatoes.

Don't ever count canned tomatoes out, especially those whose origins are in Italy; San Marzano, for example. As with all commercial canning, it is done when the tomatoes are at their peak of freshness, so you are getting them at their best. San Marzanos are arguably the best in the world. Anyone who has read my yammerings about food grown in Italy knows that I am a huge fan of the volcanic soil here for the natural flavors of the vegetables grown here. Tomatoes taste different, cantaloupes taste different, basil tastes different. It's all in the soil. So when you can, pick up a can of real San Marzanos in a US grocery store for cooking – you pay a bit more, but it's worth it. Trust me.

What a great experience meeting Diana was! She gave me a great big hug upon meeting me and said “At last, face to face!” A very kind woman, and a beast in the kitchen. I am definitely inspired. The clients had a great time learning from her, as did I. And I didn't even have to chop anything. Fortune smiled on me today.

Diana and I were able to talk while all the food prep was going on and fingers were avoiding being sliced. I was able to get some advice on improving techniques and making some of my Italian-inspired dishes more authentic. We have had conversations about Giada de Laurentiis & Rachel Ray online before, and how to make their food more “official” Italian. They both may be of Italian heritage, but they Americanize their recipes and dumb them down for tv unnecessarily. The point of Italian cooking is that it is usually rustic, because it's Mamma's cooking and great grandma's recipes – that kind of thing – so even recipes that slow cook all day long, like a stew or braciole, while the flavors are complex, the techniques involved are usually incredibly simple. She knows I get most of my “family” recipes from the Veneto area (from Mamma in Venice) so I still need some assistance in tuscan cuisine, especially with game dishes and she's such a wealth of knowledge. She also knows I'm lost when it comes to pasta-making. I am not a fan of rolling out dough if I don't have to. She is like me in the belief that there are plenty of qualified people out there to make my pasta for me so I can buy it from them. I like this woman!

We were making a boatload of dishes for a tasting lunch for ourselves, or rather, they were cooking and I was taking copious notes. Just ask, I'll send you the recipes. Eventually!

Our menu del giorno:

crostini di fegato – liver pate on toasted bread
ribollita - soup with veggies and beans and thickened by reboiling with bread
rosticciana – bbq pork ribs
verdure alla griglia – grilled eggplant, zucchini, peppers
filetto al balsamico – beef steak with balsamic reduction glaze, and a little lemon & garlic
fagioli al fiasco – cannellini beans cooked in a glass flask until creamy with sage, oil, garlic
piselli fiorentino – peas with oil, parsley, garlic, pancetta
pecorino all'olio tartufo – sheepsmilk cheese with truffle oil

Oh my, there was a lot of food. It was all so good. We waddled across the city center afterward, making our way to the hotel, to rest up a bit.

We took a cab at 6 from the hotel through the Oltrarno area across the river, and up to Piazzale Michelangelo for a view of the city before dinner. Reservations at 7pm for 4 Leoni. During dinner I received a couple of text messages from Marco in Venice asking me to contact him. After the second one within the hour I started to get worried that something is wrong with Mamma. And then he called, so I excused myself and went outside to take the call.

He started dating a girl two months ago, I already knew this, and I am very happy for him. He works long hours and is always everyone's “go to” guy in his union, so he picks up extra hours and works his days off at other hotels when people are too ill (or lazy) to work. For him to take the time out and start a relationship is a huge deal. I also think he's also finally feeling the pressure to find someone and get married before too long. Good for him.

But he called to talk to me before I return to Venice to tell me that his girlfriend Donatella is not entirely comfortable with our friendship, and with my friendship with his mother. He asked me to ease up on visiting Mamma outside of going to church with her, until Donatella is more comfortable and more understanding of my relationship with this family.

Say what?

Now, I have more than eight years of history with this family. I have earned my place in this family with the years I have been coming here, building a foundation and support system in a foreign country. His parents opened their home to me, teaching me the family recipes, sharing family photos, and his parents who do not speak English have always gone out of their way to make me welcome and understand what's on the television or radio when we relax in the living room. In the years since his father passed away I have gone to the cemetery on religious days to tend his grave. I bring his mother medicines from the US. Last year when they were hit with the double whammy of his sister and his niece passing away in two months' time I was there for the funerals (and ultimately lost my job as a result, if truth be told.) I have mourned with them, and it brought his mother and I even closer, as she looks at me as if I'm another child of hers; she introduces me as such.

She left the greater Venice area for the first time in decades to come join my tour last fall in Rome and Florence, and she beamed like a proud mother watching me work. We are family.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

Of course it's natural to expect I would not be spending much of my free time with him, since he has someone new in his life. It happens with friends in your life sometimes. It's not particularly common in this country for adult men and women to be friends, I get that. I get that the new girlfriend may not be hep to him spending time with another woman. That he would ask me to put the brakes on my relationship with his mother is asking too much. He helped cultivate this relationship and this closeness that she and I share, and now he wants to pull the rug out from under me for someone who has been around a minute and a half, in the grand scheme of things.

Too much. Over the line.

I didn't absolutely flip out, but I did ask pointed questions: Are you serious about this??? Are you serious about this girl? Do you love her? Answers: yes, sort of, I don't know yet. Not good enough for me, sorry. I told him he needed to think about what he was asking me to do, and he needed to think about his mothers' feelings as well. Does SHE know he was asking this of me? No, she doesn't.

I asked him if Donatella was the one asking for this or was it his idea. She is not comfortable with the idea of me being closer to his mother than she is. And at this point I pretty much sent death rays into the phone. “Because she hasn't known her as long as I have. Have you lost your mind?”

All I could do was tell him that I would think about this, but I would not promise him anything. I also told him that I thought this was very wrong for him to ask this of me, and wrong of the new girlfriend to try and impose demands such as this on anyone. We agreed to talk when I arrive in Venice on Tuesday.

I called my mother afterward for some moral support. Am I wrong in being upset by this? Am I being unreasonable? I needed some emotional support to talk me off the ledge before walking back into the restaurant and acting “natural” again. Not to mention wanting to drive up to Venice and settle it all for good tonight. Moms are good for these kind of conversations. Especially my mom.

I can't wait to meet this woman. What a piece of work she must be. My foot can't wait to meet her ass, is more like it.

Made it through the dinner and got us back to the hotel, where I pretty much tossed and turned all night.

Saturday 12 February – Beautiful Humans, Real and Imagined

We left Rome after breakfast and checking out of the hotel. Giuseppe serenaded us with his rendition of “Arriverci Roma” as we pulled out onto the ring road and to the Autostrada heading for Siena. Arrived in Siena a little over two hours later, and our first stop was the house of St. Catherine of Siena.

Catherine was a remarkable woman, especially for the time she lived in. She was born in 1347 to a family of cloth dyers, just as the Black Death hit Siena. Her mother had birthed 22 children before her (and ultimately had 25) although more than half died in infancy. Catherine had her first in a series of visions of Christ when she was six, saying that Jesus smiled at her, blessed her, and left her in ecstasy. At age seven she vowed chastity.

At sixteen, her older sister Bonaventura died in childbirth and her father soon decided that Catherine should marry the widower. Catherine was opposed to this (and who wouldn't be... but women were chattel, after all) and Catherine went on a fast and also cut her hair off. A quote from her diaries gave insight into how she remained strong and steadfast: "Build a cell inside your mind, from which you can never flee." The greater the suffering, the larger your triumph. Her father eventually gave up and let Catherine decide how she wished to live her life. Catherine chose to enter the Dominican Order.

Catherine dedicated much of her life to helping the ill and the poor, where she took care of them in hospitals or homes. She attracted a group of followers and began traveling throughout northern and central Italy advocating reform of the clergy. She made her views known also through her letters and writings, where she begged for peace between the republics and principalities of Italy and for the return of the Papacy from Avignon, France to Rome. She carried on a long correspondence with Pope Gregory XI, also asking him to reform the clergy and the administration of the Papal States.

She actually traveled as an ambassador to Avignon to make peace with the Papal States, but was unsuccessful. She also tried to convince Pope Gregory XI to return to Rome and impressed the Pope so much that he returned his administration to Rome in January 1377. After Gregory's death she was summoned to Rome, and stayed at Pope Urban VI's court, living there until her death in 1380.

St Catherine's letters are considered one of the great works of early Tuscan literature, along with Dante and Machiavelli. More than 300 have survived.

She was buried in Rome in the cemetery of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, near the Pantheon. After miracles were reported to take place at her grave, she was moved inside the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, however her head was removed from her body and inserted in a golden & bronze bust. The bust was later taken to Siena, stolen by the citizens after a failed campaign to have her brought there to rest eternally. They only got the head. What is it about stealing saints' body parts? Creeps me out.

Catherine is one of two patron saints of Italy, along with St. Francis of Assisi. Definitely a remarkable woman.

We visited the Duomo cathedral and the Piazza del Campo, where the Palio races are held every year. Lunch at a local trattoria and we were on our way to Florence, about 45 minutes away.

Giuseppe dropped us at the Excelsior Florence and we said our goodbyes. He tells me he will haunt me by text and email until I see him again in a few weeks. Fantastic.

One major advantage to being with a tour operator is that you get better access to ticketing for museums, as one might expect. I now have a special number to call and make last minute reservations for places like the Uffizi and Accademia. For a lot of people coming on their own, you can get frustrated navigating the websites or trying to call for tickets for the museums and state-run operations or you are gouged by ticketing agencies for handling fees. Not for me, anymore. Yay! While we were in Pompeii I was able to call and get our tickets reserved for the Accademia for this afternoon at 5:00pm, and of course for group tour operator discounted rates to boot. Excellent turnaround time.

We checked in, and I gave them an hour to freshen up before we took a walk around the city center of Florence and make our way to our appointment with the David. After marveling at the wonders and glories of “the perfect man” Michelangelo created (from a flawed piece of marble, no less) the stalwart member of my group who had originally put the kibosh on museums thanked me for talking them all into going to see it. “You were absolutely right, he looks like he's breathing. In stone!” Yay, me!

The group had reservations to dine that night at Cibreo, which in my opinion is scary and over-rated. I am not a huge fan of organ meats and tendons, etc. which is the specialty of the place. They had requested it in their dossier because it is world-famous, and on the way into Florence from Siena I had to ask them what they knew about the place, since the ladies strike me as delicate in their eating habits and the men look like steak & potatoes kinds of guys. Daisy said she had read so much about it, that everyone has such a great experience, etc etc. I told them all what the normal menu items are usually like and some blanched expressions came back at me. You gotta know what you're in for or it could be an unpleasant experience. I told them I would check out what the menu was like and report back to them, and they could decide if they wanted to go somewhere else.

After giving them a run-down on what they were going to choose from, they unanimously decided they wanted something else, and thanked me for questioning their restaurant selection. Honestly, I'm not here to thwart them at every turn, but having an idea of what a celebrated place is about is good. Advanced intel is usually a good thing in the chi-chi food world. If you are going somewhere for their specialties and they aren't your cup of tea, you could do just as well at any other trattoria for soup and steak, regular style, you know?

We opted for Ristorante La Giostra instead and had a fantastic time with a meal full of Florentine favorites and hearty dishes.

Friday 11 February - Pompeii: Perversity, Plaster & Pooches Galore

We loaded ourselves into the Sprinter and made our way to points south of Rome and Naples to visit Pompeii and lunch in Ercolano, modern day Herculaneum.

The ride was not as long as expected, thanks to the effortless driving of Giuseppe. Instead of a 2.5 hour (plus) drive down there, we made it in a little over two hours, each way. It truly is like riding on a cloud in that vehicle. Smooth.

We met with Fabrizio, our contracted guide, for a four hour tour of the site. I was able to hang back a little and took frequent trips out to the coffee stand and cafeteria to hide my distaste of the place frm the clients, and to sneak some photos in to show you all why it's just not my cup of tea here, as evidenced in the plaster casts later in the post.

There's something for everyone here. You can see how people lived and what their proclivities were; the frescoes tell their stories.



The houses were decorated lavishly with frescoes of trompe l'oeil, the shops showing their wares in perpetuity, such as the photo above. The brothels had their "menus" up there for everyone to see what you got for your money and your choosing. This is one of the tame ones:



This particular fresco (below) is not in a brothel, but in a regular house dwelling. Phalluses (phalli?) were a symbol of your wealth, and right there in the vestibule this guy was saying to the world that he's got the world on a string, so to speak. So big he's got to weigh it and show you the heft and bulk of his estate.



Aren't you impressed? Just like the guy revving his Ferrari at the stoplight.

So what happens when the city gets covered in metric tons of ash? It dumps on the houses, on the people in the streets, just everywhere. Covers the bodies and later, after the bodies have decomposed there are spaces where they used to be, and usually the ash was so fitted against them, their features are still present in the ash itself.

Over a hundred years ago, someone came up with a brilliant idea, after discovering these pockets that were in the shapes of human form. So during excavations, they will drill down and pour plaster into the spaces, and render the forms of people caught in their last moments as the ash and gases choked them to death.

It's very sad to me, to capture their faced twisted in agony forever.













Doesn't this just make you all warm and fuzzy inside?

Pompeii bums me out, quite frankly. I've been to places with Roman ruins before, but this was a catastrophic end to a society in one fell swoop.

For my money, I'd rather see Ostia Antica, 45 minutes outside of Rome, on the coast. It is more intact, and there are no plaster cast bodies to be had. The city died out naturally, not by means of natural disaster. But it's Pompeii, people want to see it, even if they don't what they're in for.

On to less grisly subjects.

One thing in Pompeii that does make me smile a little are the dogs. There have always been dogs here. They are a mainstay. They are not starving, there is always someone feeding them. When a group of tourists come in it is almost as if they negotiate which one of them will follow and you're pretty much stuck with them during your time there.







We made it back to Rome without running into the horrible afternoon rush hour traffic. After freshening up we had dinner in the Trastevere neighborhood. It's our last night in the city before we head into Florence.

Thursday 10 February – I Fratelli Giacobazzi Stupefacente

We left the hotel to meet our licensed guide at the Colosseo for a tour of the ancient sites beginning at 9:00am. I had a happy reunion with Ilaria Ceccharelli, who I haven't seen since 2006. When the hub-unit and I were on vacation then (with his brother and wife) we had engaged her for the same tour we would be taking today. I was happy to see her name on the roster for contacts for this tour. I looooove Ilaria, and I love the name; I'd name a baby after her if I could. Maybe the next cockatiel we get.

After a few moments of hugs and lady-squees we managed to quickly tell the story of our meeting five years ago. We had long periods of correspondence before and after the trip in '06, and I'm so happy she remembers me as fondly as I do her. The clients were impressed with the coincidence that I had engaged her as a private guide and now get to work with her. Ilaria is impressed that I started as a client of the tour company and now work for them. The clients didn't know this fact; I toured with the company in 2002 (on a trip with my in-laws) and was encouraged by my tour leader to pursue this as a career. It took a few years and a few left turns along the way, but here I am.

She led us through the Colosseo, the Foro Romano, over to the Circo Maximo, back up the backside of the Campodoglio and walked the short distance through the streets to the Pantheon. It was a fun and fascinating three hours with her, just as before.

Since she is the guide I have contracted for the tour with the LA production people, I took her aside at one stop to feel her out on the whole situation of filming permissions at the ancient sites. “Noooooo Kristina, they would have to have the permissions in place for the specific dates and times the city film board will allot them. Not everyone gets the permissions immediately.” She said she would check with a friend she has in the film office to see if permits have been put through for those days in question, but she doubts it. Big news for me. If they can't film what's the use of this trip for this show?

We said our goodbyes at the restaurant we had reservations at – Ilaria promising to call me after she speaks with her friendly contact – and made our way in to Alfredo alla Scrofa. Hearty and delicious food abounds in this place and no one left disappointed or wanting for more.

In the car on the way back to the hotel Giuseppe opened a can of worms. He offered to drop us off at the hotel or take people shopping in the luxury designer district, along the Via Condotti. They had a few hours before dinner. I glanced at him with widened eyes. I mouthed “Non io.” (Not me.) Giuseppe laughed and said he would take those people who didn't want to shop back to the hotel and take those that were back out with him. It's not in my contract to watch people shop. Ugh. I'd rather watch paint dry.

So the ladies all giggled like schoolgirls and said they wanted to go and the men said they didn't and Giuseppe said “But you have to be there to hold the purses and use your wallets. It's the man's job.” There was actually the sound of a small groan in there from one of them. I told Giuseppe I could take the steps of the Metro back from Piazza di Spagna to the hotel on my own, no need to drive me all the way to the hotel if I'm the only one going. Whew! I lucked out on this one. I owe Giuseppe one. Before departing the vehicle I reminded everyone that they have dinner reservations at 8:00 at Brunello, two blocks away from the hotel, so rest up and don't be late.

I had the evening off and to myself. Or so I thought.

Giuseppe rang me up at 8 and told me that he was taking me for dinner and drinks, along with his brother. I had a hard time saying no, even though I tried making many excuses, including the fact that we had to leave at 7am for the long ride to Pompeii. “So? I have to drive us there, and I will be going out tonight.”

And so I went. I met his younger brother, Gianluca, who works for Giuseppe as a driver as well. These two guys. Are crazy. The Amazing Giacobazzi Brothers should be a program on tv. They are a laugh a minute, are very affectionate and absolute hound dogs. Every woman in proximity was eye-raped more than once. But they are actually very respectful, they just ogle from afar, and when a woman does make the acquaintance of having her hand shook by them, she tends to melt a little from the intense charisma oozing from these two. HOWEVER, I would just like to state that they are pocket pals as far as I'm concerned, neither are over 5' 7” and are too short to ride this ride. Even if I wasn't married.



We had dinner at a birraria: meat and beers. Mmm, sausages. The many comments along the lines of “Oh how I love to see you with a giant sausage in your mouth” and “Mamma would be so proud of how you do that” to each other made me almost choke more than once. We went cafe-hopping after that, and even though it was cold out, we were comfortable. Most cafes have heat lamps outside, so I remained toasty. Gianluca told me more than once that he loves me and wants to marry me so he can move to San Francisco. “Then I drive car service, like Steve McQueen. Bullitt. Yessss.” I told him to stand in line, pal.

What a fun night, but I did not look forward at all to the early start and long day ahead for Friday, but if Giuseppe can do it, so can I.

Wednesday 9 February - And So It Begins

Don't you haaaaaaate it when you spend a really long time writing something only to have the website leave you in some magical hang time so that when you refresh all that work is gone like * poof * even though it said you were saving it all along? Yeah, not my fave. Ugh.

>take two<

I got up and out the door by 6:30 so I could shuffle my belongings across the street to the Excelsior. They would be storing my bags until I returned from the airport to check my people in. Giuseppe Giacobazzi picked me up and we headed out for Fiumicino for out 7:30 pick up my group of six clients from the greater Atlanta area.

They are a group of four women and two men, all late 60s to early 70s. Two women (sisters) and their husbands, and the other two ladies are a cousin of the sisters and her best friend. They've all known each other all their lives and none of them have ever been to Italy. Most of them have never been outside of the US. They have been dreaming of this trip for years.

The leader of this merry band is named Dahlia and her sister is Daisy. I kid you not. Dahlia sounds dead on like my Grandma Fran, who passed away about five years ago, and I heard her before I saw her, and totally pictured my grandma. It stirred up an emotional response immediately and I was a little taken aback. It happens sometimes. I hear a voice that sounds like one of my grandparents or I smell the perfume one of them wore, and tears spring up unexpectedly. I told her what was happening, that my (step) Grandma was from Calhoun county and she sounds so very much like her it surprised me. She laughed and she hugged me and told me she and her sister were from Calhoun county too, isn't that something? (A later conversation with my mother tells me I need to ask if they know my grandma's sisters who are still alive... will have to remember to do that.) But her intonation and cadence sound exactly like Fran, who sounds a lot like Paula Deen on Food Network, and cooked just like she does (pound of butter in everything...) But it's a nice and comforting thing to have around again for a little while.

During the ride back into Rome, I took this ice-breaking bonding moment to ask everyone the questions I have had in my head since first reading their dossier months ago: Who is the one who hates museums? Did someone keep you locked in one overnight as a child?

It turns out as I suspected; the men are the reason behind the “No Museums” clause in their itinerary. I pushed the envelope a little and told them all I completely understand how nobody would like to be spending all day every day in museums during a trip, but this is essentially a once in a lifetime trip (as they all said it was) and there are a few things that are an absolute must see in life that are located in museums. One of them, most importantly, is Michaelangelo's David in the Accademia in Florence. Sure there is a copy outside of the Palazzo Vecchio but it is not the same thing seeing it outside. In all honesty, it only takes twenty minutes if that's all the time you want to spend. Unless you are a musical instrument historian, or hard-core scholar of sculpting there is not much else to see in the Accademia, but the David is sincerely a must-see. I offered that if there were some that did want to see it, we have a few hours of free time where I could either arrange tickets for them to go on their own, or I could take the interested parties. But honestly, people will hear you went to Florence and will have looks of shock on their faces when you tell them you didn't take the time to see this statue.

And all six agreed to go. Let's hear it for manipulation. Score!

The group had a lot of “oohs and ahhs” and “oh my lands, have you evers?” upon stepping into the Excelsior. It is a grand hotel in the old world tradition and pretty spectacular. I am taken aback every time I sit in the lounge and I've stayed there a half dozen times. I always feel like they are going to find out I'm a fraud and not as worldly as I seem and check my bag to see if I'm making off with the silverware or something. They all went to rest and freshen up after their flight. Lunch would be in the hotel restaurant and then Giuseppe would pick us up at 6:00pm outside.

I had a few hours to myself and wanted to tackle my television viewing issues. Having Comcast as my cable provider, I had been repeatedly assured by a customer service rep a few days before leaving that I would be able to access my tv shows as posted through their Xfinity/Fancast site. Worldwide. No problem. I was told repeatedly. Mmmmm, no dice. I got online into a chat with another CSR who told me that unfortunately, the site is not accessible outside of the US. I lamented that their commercials with Jane Lynch told me “anywhere I want.” I'm a little pissy that I pay them hundreds of dollars a month for their triple play services (for my home as well as my parents' that I foot the bill for) and can't have access and also asked that they go back to my previous chat with the other CSR and educate Ms. Sondria that she is giving customers misinformation. Poop! Foul language! Anger!

The hub-unit and I have gone round and round about me being able to sign in to our network at home via a VPN (virtual private network) and every time he shuts me out with the statement that it uses too much bandwidth and could slow down his network. I have also had the kibosh put on the Slingbox player that lays gathering dust in a closet since I won it five years ago at a charity event. Here I could be sitting in my room at night, safely ensconced and not causing trouble anywhere or being forced to find other entertainments, such as getting picked up my legions of male admirers who would like nothing more than to ravish me because I look like their mothers, but nooooooooo.

I kid, but it irritates the hell out of me that he's stingy with his precious bandwidth.

As my workaround I know a few sites where people put up their downloads of programs to a host site, megavideo or zshare. I've used megavideo before, when I got hooked on Breaking Bad a few months ago, but the downside to the site is that you can watch 72 minutes of program, then you are blocked for an hour before you can watch again. Annoying. However, if you pay for the premium access it's unlimited. So 19 Euros for three months of access is good for me. I checked it out before buying and they have all my “must see” shows posted, plus a lot of older ones I can revisit. La Femme Nikita (the late 90s USA series) is on in the background as I write this. Peta Wilson kicks ass again in my world, and Roy DuPuis has bad hair. I forgot how bad his hair was. Or that he cannot act his way out of a french paper bag. So I am content. No carousing for entertainment.

Anybody want a free Slingbox, never used? Apparently, I can't use it.

Giuseppe picked us up for a drive around the city before our dinner reservation to see the city lights at night. Most of the large monuments are floodlit at night: the Colosseo, St. Peters, Castel Sant'Angelo, the Vittorio (the “typewriter/dentures/wedding cake” I have mentioned before.)

We had reservations at La Pergola, one of the finest restaurants in the city, if not the world. A three-star Michelin rated place, located in the Cavalieri, A Waldorf Hotel. Pretty amazing. I can now say that I've dined in a 3-star Michelin restaurant, and paid the bill for it. I managed not to swallow my tongue when presented with the bill I had to sign for on the corporate card, but after all these people were paying for it in actuality. But damn... it was the most expensive meal I have been presented the bill for. Not all our meals will be like this. They specially requested this restaurant so it's on their dime.

We went for a second dessert (one was included in our Pre-Fixe dinner) at Tre Scalini at Piazza Navona. The ladies simply HAD to have the “Death By Chocolate” tartufo there. It's world famous, and rightly so. What is tartufo, you ask? Tartufo means truffle, but this isn't like the confection truffles we know and love. In this case, tartufo is a dessert, chocolate gelato that's molded into a rough sphere and dredged in cocoa powder (to resemble the gourmet funghi). Imbedded in tartufo are bits of chocolate. It's served with whipped cream and a sweet crunchy pirouette cookie. And it's full of yum!

However, I do advise against eating one at 11pm and trying to get to sleep any time soon thereafter.

Giuseppe Giacobazzi is a fantastic driver. I felt like we were in the movies – I would just call him and say “we're on our way out” of the restaurant or the gelateria and there he would be, idling the engine and opening the doors for us. He manages to find a place to park the car while we go in places and magically appears as needed.

Tuesday 8 February - The Thrill of Victory

There is nothing more rewarding than working for a company or for a person within that company that has your back in a sticky situation. I am usually very good at toeing the company line, but knowing that they entrust me to make my own decisions is a good thing. I've had management that didn't care about your own personal well-being and it sucks. A lot.

Being new to any organization brings trepidation in that you feel you need to say yes to anything and everything, especially when you are dealing with the bottom line, which is of course bringing commerce to add to their bottom line. The money is where it's at, so to speak.

Frank and I heard back from the head office regarding what these additional documents I was expected to sign off on with a particular tour. The clients are a production company in LA, with a film crew. For a television show and one of its stars who is taking a trip they would be filming for the show. The client dossier didn't mention this, and the home office was surprised to learn this so far into the planning. The fact that the home office had to inquire after receiving the paperwork from the clients is an unusual situation.

We were originally contracted for a group of seven, one of which was a personal security detail, I had known this much to this point. I wasn't going to find out who it was until close to the tour time for the possibility of disclosure reasons. The home office does this with high-profile clients: sports stars, hollywood types, politicians, media moguls, etc. It's understandable. I could have been blabbing on a blog or something (who me?) that I'm leading the Brangelina child army around Pinocchio World or something.

Frank and I were on a conference call learning about this. He's shaking his head and I'm trying not to crawl out of my own skin. I didn't sign up for this to be filmed. I am early into this career and am not comfortable with the idea of being filmed doing my job in the least. Doing group tours, there was always someone filming my morning breakfast mini-lectures, but it wasn't a "lights camera action" professional set-up. Somebody and their home video camera capturing it for their own posterity and to bore their friends and neighbors back home was more like it.

I told the home office that I wasn't comfortable with this and that if I have the choice I want to opt out, but I understood if it was a part of my job even though I didn't see it in my actual job description.

To my delight and surprise they completely agreed and told me it was my choice. If I don't want to do it I don't have to and if need be they would ask Frank if he was interested. Frank and I could switch tours for the month of March. And on the spot Frank said no, right then and there. This man is a seasoned professional, has been doing this for decades and even he isn't cool with it.

"Sounds like an ambush. I don't know this show but I am not much interested in finding out later that I am edited to look like a fool doing a job I love."

Well said, my friend. I asked if it was possible to still guide and lead them around without filming, but they could film on their own when we aren't around. I might be willing to do that. I still had a sick feeling about acquiescing to this; if these people were being slick and trying to slide a camera crew in as private client touring members, who knows if they would just film with a hand-held or a spy cam instead?

I have seen this show in passing, and I am not interested in this person. I can feel my IQ dropping just thinking about it. I envision the film crew consists of the security guy, boom mic guy, a camera guy, producer, hair/makeup (lots and lots of makeup) person along with the star and friend/relative/boyfriend as the travel companion.

Ack. Blech. Vomit.

At the risk of sounding like an intellectual snob, this person doesn't have two brain cells to rub together and trying to educate the history of Italy and its works of art would be a waste of my time. This may be the only time I get the chance to turn down a client based on my own preference and reasoning, and I would like to exercise this opportunity. I am sure the person is very nice but I am wary of my scheduled events and appointments involving the tour would not be met due to their histrionics, tardiness and fluffy demands. Just because you make millions does not mean your time is more important than mine, is all I'm saying.

For being in this business all of a minute and a half, I sound like I have serious standards, don't I? I just don't want to waste my time and efforts for a few soundbites on a crappy tv show. Take that, Seacrest! I didn't express my personal distaste for the person or the show, only stated that I was familiar with it and their editing of events may swing toward possibly showing us in a bad light.

Frank and I also brought up the fact that filming permissions would also need to be okayed by the locations I am going to. Unless the production company already did their homework and received the ok from the local film boards for Rome, Florence and Venice there was no point in this. You just can't show up to the Uffizi with a camera crew and expect to be let in. Special dispensations need to be obtained and usually those go to travelogue shows, not celebrity reality type stuff. (Can't wait to see how they film Jersey Shore over here. Oy.) Home office says they will be back in touch with the production company for some answers ASAP.

It just creeps me out and pisses me off, quite frankly.

The home office completely agrees with us. They won't make us take on the client if they don't straighten everything out in advance.

Frank says he doesn't like the celebrity clients and I completely understand why. They usually make you end up spinning your wheels in some way. He told me he has had quite a few that were absolute gems, but they are usually doing family trips between location movie shoots, or it is the family alone while the star is shooting on set somewhere nearby.

But enough about that mess. It will sort itself out. I have made my stance clear. Let's just see how it goes.

I am still adjusting to the time difference and am thankful I had a few days of lead time before starting a tour. I needed it. I don't feel quite as beat up thanks to a long night of very good sleep.

Frank and I had dinner together. I won't see him again during this stint, most likely, unless some emergency arises, but he's always available to me for consult by phone. Or unles we happen to be in the same city at the same time by some change in our itineraries. He has a private tour beginning on Friday, and mine begins Wednesday morning. Giuseppe is picking me up at 6:40 to go meet the clients at the airport for their 7:30 arrival from Atlanta. I also have to move my belongings across the street to the Excelsior before we leave for the airport.

Monday 7 February - Giuseppe Giaccobazzi & His Cloud of Luxury Protection

We landed at 9:30 am local time and after bidding adieu to my babyfriend and collecting my luggage I walked out to see my new friend Giuseppe Giacobazzi holding up a “STRANGE” sign. Giuseppe is the owner of the livery service we contract with when the private clients want car service instead of using public transportation or taxicabs. It's all in the billing; do whatever you want, people.

Giuseppe had made himself known to me before I left. We had a phone meeting so he could introduce himself. Joo-SEP-ee Jah-ko-BAT-zee he repeatedly told me. What a hoot this guy is going to be. He told me he has a number of luxury vehicles, including the luxury Mercedes Sprinter van for 8 people, and likened it to having sex on a cloud. With him. That and the bulletproof glass and siding of the vehicle means if we are in some kind of ambush, the sex on a cloud with him is also protected. Fantastic.

Needless to say, he is going to be a character. Frank assures me he is very professional with the clients and not to worry. Giuseppe was picking me up at no charge so that I could see the van we will be using for the first tour, and for a later tour in March.

The exterior of the Mercedes Sprinter looks like a cross between a minivan and shuttle bus for the car rental places at an airport. But it is plush. The inside is like a stretch limousine including a minibar, not your standard two rows of bench seats and the bucket seats in the front. Sweet. There is also plenty of room in a separate rear section for luggage. Hopefully everyone doesn't bring four suitcases each with them, otherwise we are okay.

Giuseppe brought me to my mentor and senior colleague Frank. We are staying until Wednesday morning at the Hotel Eden, then I transfer across the street to The Excelsior when my tour arrives. Frank has his own tour starting on Friday. We will be able to meet in a conference room as needed for going over things and finishing up my getting started documents for the home office. Last minute training and setting the ground rules and then I am all set. Most importantly, he will be presenting me with a corporate credit card to use from now on. Whoo!

It was a very happy reunion with Frank. I want to be him when I grow up, except I would like to remain a female. He's wonderful.

We went over the ground rules about the differences in expectations as a leader for private tours vs. group tours. We had gone over them before during a web meeting with the home office, but repeating it was okay. The most impact for me is pictures. I won't be able to take photos during work time, unless it's a photo with the client's camera. It's really not such a big deal, but there will be a few new things for me on these tours, specifically cooking lessons and wine education sessions. I asked Frank what he thought of me proposing to my clients that I take video or photos of them during the sessions, since I won't be actively participating but on the sidelines watching, and then email them or give them to the clients via a jumpdrive or something on that order. Frank brightened up and told me I'm brilliant for thinking of that. But of course, get the client's okay for any filming beforehand. It's purely in my own self-interest; I have been wanting to meet the instructors giving the cooking lessons for years and now I get my chance. Even if I'm not the one actually cooking with these fabulous ladies, I will be there for the experience taking copious notes. Hopefully, my Flip camera will be getting a workout. Whoo!

Why do I keep saying whoo?

Finished up my paperwork, but there is a question on some of the documents. I understand needing to sign non-disclosure statements (so all my clients will remain nameless, my dear readers) but there is an additional form even Frank has never seen, specific to a tour in March, and it is for the use of my image in filming, broadcast and publication. More on that later.

Frank and I went for lunch over by the Termini train station to a place I have been dying to see and to eat something I have been dying to try. To “Er Buchetto” for porchetta! Porchetta are sandwiches of roasted pork that are local to the Lazio region. Whole pigs are gutted and deboned, then layered with pork fat, garlic, rosemary, fennel, salt & pepper. The pig is rolled up tightly and trussed then roasted over wood. It is savory, it is not fat-free, and it is delicious. They slap slabs of the meat between fresh bread and you eat it up quick. There are vans that go to festivals or the day markets throughout Rome that serve porchetta but I am never there are the same time. There are salumi (delicatessens, essentially) that serve it, but I have never had the opportunity as yet to try it.

This place, Er Buchetto, has been serving porchetta since 1890 out of their tiny little hole in the wall establishment. All they serve is porchetta. There are three tiny tables but people line up around the block to take it away in a lovely paper-wrapped package. They are open from 11AM until they run out of pork for the day. Get there after 1pm and you are taking your chances. It was phenomenal! And it was definitely a good way to start off my stay here.

Rome is pretty damned cold. I expect it to be cold this time of year in Venice, since it's up in the north, but Rome is usually like being in LA. This is c-c-cold weather these days. I have gloves, but still feel like I could lose my fingers if I'm not careful. I am seriously rethinking not bringing my giant coat.

I also feel like I've been beat up with a bag of nickles. But a good night of sleep should mitigate that.

Sunday 6 February- What A Waste of Business Class

Here we go, off into the unknown. When I accepted this position as a tour leader last year I was super stoked at the idea of being able to show people around this country that has become a second home to me. I've enjoyed leading the group tours; I am a fan of rituals - I attend Mass even though I am not Catholic, I have my own little rituals at home (such as Papa Murphy's pizza and Amazing Race/Survivor) and am very comfortable with schedules and lists of checks and balances. I am a creature of habit when it comes to working standards, and group tours fit perfectly into that. You have a daily schedule and although each tour has minor hiccups and changes along the way due to unforeseen circumstances like weather and local red tape, I am able to adapt quickly and think on my feet with relative ease. Dispatching for years in an "emergency" capacity has prepared me well for this type of thing. But all in all, there is a schedule and that is what I looked forward to. Someone else prepared the schedule and I'm just following it. No problem.

This time out, however, I am leading private tours for the next two months, as is the norm in the winter months when the natural flow to the industry is slower. The cost of keeping the regular group tours is not possible, since there is a minimum number of clients needed per tour (usually it is 12) so it is the season of private tours. People are still welcome to take the same tours, but it will cost them more, kind of like ordering off the menu or "a la cart" at a restaurant instead of the "pre-fixe" or combo menu. Which is interesting to me because I tend to travel in the off-season to save money, however I am a do-it-yourself girl and not looking for a guide to lead me around usually. As a result of the private touring game, the clients are a bit different, since they are paying a premium for your undivided attention and tailoring the tours specifically to their wants and desires. A dossier is built through their contact with the home office, a travel consultant obtaining or suggesting a lists of "wants" months in advance. Conversely there are also their "dealbreakers" and "do not wants" to meet. Paying the extra for a private tour ensures the client they will have exactly the type of tour they are looking for. Through the consultant at the home office they arrange how many days, which cities, arrange for accommodations and their “must see” lists, including the specific sites they want to see, if there are any restaurants they need to go to, etc. then send the information to the tour leader (me) to fill in the rest of the blanks to make complete daily itineraries. As a result, I will be spending much more time with the clients in the course of a day than with group tours, which usually have me spending half days with the group and they are off on their own to explore at will. Private tours are a different animal – they are paying the premium and I am expected to hold their collective hands a lot more. Yay for togetherness.

I sent back itinerary proposals well in advance of leaving, and all were deemed acceptable, but additional tailoring may come up with each group. No problem. For the ancient sites, like the Colosseo, Foro Romano, and trips to Pompeii, an official Italian licensed guide is necessary, just as with the group tours. This is the cost of doing business and it is justified; the Italian government doesn't want Italians missing out on opportunities to earn a living showing the ancient sites. Essentially, any place where you have to pay an entrance fee for a ticket must be guided by an Italian licensed guide. We have many that we work with on a regular basis, we are a large operation and pay above the normal cost for guides to get the best ones and have them hold their schedules open for us.

Some of the requests the clients have are boggling to me, but it's not my dime. I can't imagine going all the way to Italy and not wanting to set foot in a single museum, as my first group insists upon, but after all it's not my dream trip, it's theirs. They want to miss seeing the beauty of The David? That's on them.

Okay, back to the present, as this is all prologue.

I was set up to fly business class this time around, as an apology for a few accounting errors on the part of the home office last fall. I accept their apology and my rear-end will be happy to accept the cushy seats. Finally set for take-off on Superbowl Sunday from SFO through JFK and into Rome FCO.

My flight was leaving SFO at 6:30 am, so of course I expected to have no sleep. I get really keyed up and usually don't sleep before a flight. It's not nerves, I am just ready to go! Hub-unit and I left the house with my belongings at 4am arrived 27 minutes later at SFO. A long kiss goodbye and a “Knock 'em dead, Sweetheart!” was his rallying send-off. I approached the check-in line and the woman ahead of me was pitching a hissyfit with the agent over the weight of her luggage. She was at 53 pounds, three over the acceptable limit. She would either need to put three pounds in her carry on or pay $75 for overweight fees. The trouble was the agent already let her other bag go on the conveyor, so she didn't have the opportunity to offload into that bag, and her carry on was pretty full apparently. The agent was trying to diffuse the situation and the woman was freaking out with the “don't put your hand in my face!” nonsense. It's 4:34 am, too early for a xanax. Calm the hell down, lady.

I was shaking my head when I got up to the next agent, right next to her, and I greeted him with a smile and a “Whoa!” expression. We plopped my bigger suitcase on the scale and it was also 53 pounds. Oh yay. I knew I was cutting it close, but I could easily transfer a few things if necessary. The agent smiled at me and in a low voice said “I would advise you to be careful on your return not to have this happen. They are much stricter on weight in European airports. Have a nice flight madame.” The things that a smile and a non-combative attitude will bring you... It's very possible that he was letting me slide because I was in business class and a gold-medallion frequent flyer, but I like to think it was because I wasn't looking to pop him in the head after looking at the scales. No matter. I have no worries about weight on the way back. I'll pretty much be bringing only my clothes back. I have toiletries that will be used up or left behind, and there are some export items in there too. I'm usually a mule for particular American products my Italian friends clamor for. Like mouthwash and glucosamine chondroitin. Really.

Got on the plane with no problems and settled into my uber-cushy seat, but could tell it was going to be a waste of seat. The coach section was only 1/3 full. Part of the joy of an upgrade is knowing you have it better than cattle in coach. However in this case, people were able to stretch out across their rows easily. I could have taken up a row and saved the office the money, but hey! I get free breakfast in business class. Whoo! I slept most of the way, but it wasn't uninterrupted so it wasn't entirely restful. I'm not complaining; it was a comfy flight nonetheless.

JFK was not as crazy as I had anticipated. The recent blizzards and shutdowns led me to believe there would be mass confusion and people trying to pay me for my seat on the plane, but other than announcements for delayed flights to Atlanta and Detroit, not much was happening. Such a letdown.

The coach section was again 1/3 full, so again, a waste of a business class seat. I did like the upgrade in the quality of the meals served and the headphones were much better. I watched three films: The Town with Ben Affleck and The Hamm, The King's Speech with my beloved Colin Firth (forever Mr. Darcy!) and The Social Network. Give them all the Academy Awards – all three. Very good films.

Interspersed with my film watching, I got to “babysit” an adorable 15 month old girl named Gisela. The parents were moved up to our section on the proviso that the baby didn't cause disruption. The father sat next to me and his daughter and wife were across the aisle. They were having a rough day. They were the last ones on the plane, they are moving overseas onto a military base for the first time in family housing, the baby was off schedule and they were both absolutely exhausted. Mama was trying to get some zzzs so Papa had the baby and he was nodding off but the baby was wide awake. I told him that if he would let me hold her, I would keep her entertained quietly so he could rest. She was very comfortable and happy with me and fell asleep on me within about 20 minutes. I am soft and built for being a pillow I have been told. I went back to watching a movie. Mama woke up and was confused about where the baby was, but I waved at her and she went back to sleep after seeing that her husband was sawing logs as well.

An easy and enjoyable flight, all in all.