16 Ottobre – Mamma Time

I was downstairs in the restaurant at 6AM to see that people were grabbing a bite to eat before the airport boats, and making sure there were no problems with them checking out. Extra room charges are the clients' responsibility but I need to make sure there's no need to run interference. By 7AM all were off in their boats and I was out the door with Marco when he was off-shift, to pick up Mamma and go to Mass at Redentore at 8AM. My bag was stowed away in their luggage hold so I could pick it up after church and breakfast with the fam.

Mamma greeted us outside of their apartment building, waiting eagerly. “Miei bambini! Un c'e fresca e l'altro c'e rotto.” My children. One is fresh and the other is broken. Guess which one is freshfaced? That'd be me. Is it wrong that I feel a sibling rivalry with someone who isn't really a sibling? I have to dissect this problem on my own.

Mass over, we walked back to the house and Marco & I fixed breakfast. Fruit, yogurt, toast and cornetti, coffees for Mamma and me. We ate, made sure she took her pills and he went off to sleep. I told her I would return in two hours at noon. I needed to get my bag from the hotel, wash a load of laundry and hang it in my studio, then I would be back with groceries. Soup for lunch and then stuffed meatballs for dinner with pasta. Ok? Kisses on the cheek and thank yous trailed me out the door.

Errands complete, I returned to Giudecca. She presented me with a set of house keys so I don't have to ring the bell. I'll take them, but I will still ring the bell. I am not coming and going at their house unannounced, especially if Marco is at home. Don't need to surprise him and make a situation weird or uncomfortable. However, they have a set of keys to the apartment I'm in, just in case of emergency. But it does her good to get up and answer the door. That's exercise, right?

We're having minestrone for lunch, and toasted panini with coldcuts and scamorza cheese, a smoked mozzarella. I love scamorza. I had also started on the sauce for dinner tonight. The smell woke Mister Man, because he came groggily out to the kitchen around 2 and sat down at the table. I told him he'd better make it himself, his arms aren't broken. Big brown puppy eyes batted in my direction, but doesn't work with me. Dude, you are 44 years old, you can dish up a bowl of soup and make a sandwich for yourself. My hub-unit is at home fending for himself and he can do it. Mamma asked what we were talking about, since I was chastising him in English. He just laughed and told her “she is reminding me why I can never marry an independent American woman.” More like marry ANY woman, I corrected. Who puts up with this crap? Mamma does.

He fended for himself and even did all the dishes then went back to bed for a few hours. Mamma and I went to church again. This is her thing, not mine, but I am happy to accompany her. It makes her happy to go to services more than once a day and it takes the responsibility off her son of escorting her, so he gets as much sleep as possible. I'm okay with that. I don't mind going to Mass. I like the singing and I tune out the homily, whether in Italy or in the US. I escort her up for communion, refuse it for myself, and walk her back.

The house smelled amazing. I could have taken a loaf of bread and just sat there dipping it into the sauce for my dinner, and I could see that some of the bread had been broken off already. Marco had been up obviously and had to do a taste test. He may make fun of my non-Italian ways of putting a meal together, like not putting the “right” pasta with the “correct” meat or veg, or my love of making one-pot meals, but one thing he never makes fun of are my soups or sauces. This girl can put a pot together that tastes good. Besides, when he starts actually cooking from scratch then I will start to take his criticisms with more validity. Armchair cooking is not a respectable vocation.

A couple more hours until dinner, so Mamma and I watched a movie on tv, some piece of nonsense. I don't like this particular brand of Italian comedy. I've watched a few films with this comedians. These three guys are an Italian institution but they are buffoons. I guess I'm just not a fan of farce. In the middle of it Marco wandered out, and started his day after a good “night's” sleep. I remember graveyard shift, so I completely understand what it's like to wake up in the middle of the afternoon to a house full of people and your internal clock is opposite from them all.

We dished up and had a great meal. Mamma relayed in detail to her son what the homily was, even though it was the same one from the morning service. He probably wasn't paying attention, just like I wasn't. Mamma asked me about my next tour, what were the people going to be like? I have no idea about that but I could tell her how many there were and where they are from. I will meet them in the afternoon at the airport. Marco did the dishes again – there's hope for him yet. There was enough left for another meal for the two of them tomorrow so I squared it away in the fridge for them to reheat at a later time.

I gathered my things and gave Mamma kisses goodbye, told her I'd call her every morning to check on her and I'd see her ten days. Lots of hugs from her. Marco & I left to catch the boat, him to work and me to pack my things back up. On the boat he handed me some cash for the groceries. I told him it wasn't necessary but he insisted. “You are so good to her. You spend your one day off cooking for us and taking care of her. I do not have the words to thank you all the time.” That's okay, I'm just glad I can help. Hand squeeze, peck on the forehead. And he was off to work.

In the morning I would be too.

15 Ottobre – Rotten Tricks and Happy Goodbyes

So imagine my surprise when my room's phone rang at 5AM. I picked it up expecting to hear that a doctor or the police was on the way for one of my clients. What?

“Good morning, Signora Strange. This is your concierge Marco downstairs. This is the wake up call as you requested. At the time of Whenever. Have a good day madame.” Click. I am going to kill him.

Went back to sleep. My alarm went off an hour later at 6. Got myself ready and was watching the morning news while waiting to get downstairs. Breakfast starts at 7 so I had about 15 minutes. Knock at the door. Huh? There stands my idiot friend with a tray in his hands and a newspaper under his arm. “Your newspaper and coffee, madame.” I let him in and proceeded to whack him in the head with the newspaper. His shift relief must have come if he was able to get away from the desk in the morning. It's usually a happening place after 6AM. He nodded that Sergio was down there. I poured a cup for both of us and we grimaced. American style coffee – not used to it anymore. I thanked him for his service but it is not necessary, and he needed to go to sleep in an hour anyway. Go away now. “What? No tip?” Idiot.

After breakfast we met out in the courtyard and we took our walk. It's much better at 8AM than at 9AM, much less tourists, only people on their way to work, and some straggling teenagers on the their way to not getting to school on time for their half-day session on Saturdays. Through Piazza San Marco, along the Frezzaria, to the Rialto bridge and over, into the mercato (I bought fresh sage, thyme and rosemary which they wrapped in wet paper towels for me until I could get to my apartment tomorrow) and then through San Polo to the Frari church, down through Dorsoduro past the Accademia, and to Santa Maria della Salute. We spent a few minutes inside the church and headed back to the hotel via the Accademia bridge. They were free for the day but I reminded them we have our group dinner tonight – the big sendoff. We meet at 7PM in the hallway outside the bar. Don't be late!

I had pretty much taken care of helping everyone with their daily plans at breakfast so I only needed to hang around for a short time. I've found that going around to every table at breakfast and discussing it directly helps the clients to make decisions on what they want to do and how to go about it. If you leave it up to them to come to you, they might not. And it frees me up sooner. It's all about me, after all.

I called Mamma and told her that my friend and her mother were coming today, so I wouldn't be able to come for lunch. She asked where we were going to eat. I calculated time and said “Casin dei Nobili” on the Zattere. It would be a very nice day for lunch on the Zattere. Meet us there? I did not expect her to agree, since she doesn't usually eat out in restaurants, yet she did. I asked her if she would like to ask a friend to accompany her, as she doesn't usually head out of the house alone these days, but she said she would wake Marco up. Yes – do that! He deserves to be woken up after his stunt this morning, and she doesn't even know about it yet. Meet us at 2PM. Perfetto.

I walked to the vaporetto stop that Fraucka would be stopping at just past San Marco and the Doge's Palace at San Zaccaria, just in case I caught them early, and I did. She met me with a big hug and introduced me to her mother Carolla. And off we went in a whirlwind...

Basically, it was the same walk I did this morning with my group but we stopped to linger in places. And the added bonus of the Vizio Virtu chocolatier shop. Mmmmm. The thick cioccolato caldo is to die for - like drinking the river in WIlly WOnka's factory, but actual chocolate, not the brown water Augustus Gloop falls into. We made it to the Zattere before two and got a table at Casin dei Nobili just as “the family” arrived and all parties were introduced. Mister Man gave me fake-angry glares for a few minutes and I told him I would not feel sorry for him after he woke me up this morning. I explained the story to Mamma and the Pjetres, well actually, I explained in Italian to Mamma but what Fraucka couldn't understand I filled in English. She translated everything to German to her mother. Carolla speaks perfect English but it was faster for Fraucka to tell the whole thing in German to her since I was telling the story mostly in Italian. Our teacher would be so proud of our comprehension skills. It was an interesting lunch. Three different nationalities, three different generations, but all were part of the conversations and everyone helped each other to bridge language gaps.

Mamma and Marco made their way back to Giudecca and we went to the Doge's Palace for their last location of the day. We took the #1 vaporetto up the Grand Canal and sat outside in the back, with me pointing out and giving histories of the various palazzi and the families that lived there. I had them back at the train station at 5:45 for their 6PM train to Padova, where they are staying. I gave them an itinerary for spending Sunday in Padova, hitting the highlights of town before they head back to Munich tomorrow evening.

Back at the hotel I changed quickly for the dinner, placed a couple of phonecalls to ensure everything was set for tonight. No problems and everything is a go. The dinner is in a palazzo on the Grand Canal, the Palazzo Nani Balbi. We arrive by taxi boats to actors in Commedia dell'Arte costumes and a string trio playing in the garden. Drinks flow, a classic Venetian meal, story telling, “what was your favorite part” roundtable questions, a short list of superlatives for the clients - best use of hand gestures, most adventurous eater, and others. Just fun and silly titles they can bring home to bore their friends to tears when retelling. Pictures, hugs and cheek kisses abound. I don't have to grit my teeth through these pictures. The goodbye photos are fun to take with everyone. Best part of my job is seeing the clients having a great time and being sorry to leave. The taxis come to pick us up at 10PM and we return to the hotel, where I remind them of their departure times, to have their bags by the door one last time and arrange wake up calls for all rooms. Nobody is staying on extra days, so they will leave en masse in the morning, all on the same flight to JFK at 10:15AM, so they will be leaving the hotel at 7AM. I just need to get them out of the hotel, I do not need to escort them to the airport. Whew.

I stopped into the bar for a glass of water and chatted with Giorgio and Nicolo for a few minutes. There were a few of my folks in there having a last hurrah. I spent about a half hour there and then went up front to use the administrative manager's office, as Andreas has given me permission to do. I needed to finish up final paperwork, fax receipts and print out the client dossier for the next tour on Monday afternoon. I could have waited until tomorrow morning, but there are less people in the offices at 11 at night, and it gave me the chance to sit with Marco for a bit. Andreas' office is just beyond the front desk, so he could pop around and talk when people weren't needing him out front.

No matter what the terrible jokes we play on each other, I appreciate that he sacrificed his sleep for mamma to come out for lunch. I thanked him for waking up and bringing her. He told me “niente” - it is nothing, and that he was pleased to escort her somewhere than church or the grocery store or to a doctor appointment. When she has social time with her friends it's always at one of their houses. So he likes to see her wanting to go somewhere. And he thanked me. We're just a regular mutual admiration society, he and I.

I asked him when her next doctor appointment is and I am glad I did. He was able to explain to me in detail what had happened while she was in hospital a few weeks ago. She went in because she wasn't feeling well. Faint, headaches. It was her blood pressure. So they kept her in for a week while they got medication sorted out for her. They were not able to run any tests on her due to scheduling. Socialized medicine definitely has pitfalls. Even if you are in a hospital it can take days or weeks to schedule tests on machines that they would bring to your bedside in the US. She hadn't had anything other than an EEG. She was scheduled for a dye test next week. Keeping fingers crossed she doesn't have blockages. Can you imagine waiting weeks? The anticipation would cause me to collapse in the meantime. But maybe she's completely in the dark about what could be waiting for her. I won't bring it up for fear she starts worrying. Just take the medication in the meantime. We'll do all the worrying for her.

I finished up, said goodnight and no, I don't need a wake up call!

14 Ottobre – Spoiled

One thing I completely appreciate in working for a top shelf tour company is that I do not have to schlep my bags anywhere when I am with a group. In between tours, sure. But from the moment I meet the bus driver in Rome to head out to meet the group to the departure of the people in Venice by private launch, I don't have to carry my suitcase. The bags magically appear in our rooms and on days we depart they are magically removed from our rooms and taken to the bus by porters. I have to constantly remind people to have their bags ready and inside their door before coming to breakfast, otherwise they have to bring them all by themselves. In Florence, where we say goodbye to our bus and driver, the bags are all transported to Venice in a van while we take the train. The bags arrive and get on a boat to the hotel before we are even off the train at the other end of the city. Porters take them to our assigned rooms and are there when we turn the room key in the lock. The porterage charges are all built into your tour price, believe me, as I'm the one who hands over tipping to the staff for baggage on the way in and out of a hotel.

We had our reservations on the train to Venice at 10:30.We reserve them well in advance for the maximum number of people we have in a group – 26, so sometimes we have extra seats. It keeps us in the same carozza and with seats near one another. I usually give a short talk at breakfast at the hotel and then a short talk when we first get going on board. When I interviewed for a job in this industry the first time, with another company back in 2002, my “final” was giving a lecture on board the train from Florence to Venice. It's nostalgic for me now.

Arriving by train we divided the group and jumped into four taxiboats waiting for us. It's a flashy arrival to the hotel on the boat dock. I always feel like a rock star being assisted with disembarking and coming down the long terrazzo flooring in the halls to the front desk. As I checked everyone off in the back hall I glanced in the bar and saw Giorgio in there. He came out into the hall and hugged and kissed me, telling those on my boat they are the luckiest clients to have me as their leader. “No, I am serious. I have known Kristina since before she was a guide, when she was a tourist just as you are. We love her. She is like my daughter. We are always happy to see her here. She makes the hotel even more beautiful.”

Aw shucks.

I got everyone checked in and then found which room is mine this trip. Room 110. I have had this room before. It is one floor up, right over the front desk and faces into the courtyard outside of the street entrance. I can open the doors and call out to people if I so choose. As a matter of fact, this used to be Giorgio's room many years ago. It isn't the usual guide room, which are smaller than single rooms, but the magic of my connections here usually gets me a larger room if any are available. Marco has it coded in the computer to put me in a larger room if at all possible at all when staying withing this hotel chain- four of the six places we stay on this particular group tour. I headed upstairs and found a bottle of prosecco and a small array of dessert cakes courtesy of Giorgio. “Welcome back” the card read.

Aw shucks. These guys really treat me like a princess when I'm working. I called down to the bar and thanked him for his generosity. “Just come down and visit me. Sit and talk for a bit. I have missed you Kristina. That is my payment.”

My group was to check in, get their rooms and get to the restaurant for a light lunch. An American-style brunch buffet was set out for us with a combination of breads, coldcuts, omelets made to order, and roast beef and turkey breast hof brau style with all the trimmings. While it isn't classic Venetian or Italian fare, it is certainly welcome on this last leg of the trip. And of course, there is enough shrimp to kill you, cheese and fruits, salad and a dessert bar. I did some damage with the shrimp – don't call it a cocktail, I was not shy and helped myself to the equivalent of a small punchbowl.

I told everyone we would be leaving for our walking tour of the Piazza San Marco, the Basilica di San Marco and the Palazzo Ducale in one hour. Freshen up and stuff. Meet in the courtyard outside. I went to visit Giorgio in the bar. I made a quick call to Mamma and told her I would be available after six and I would bring food with me to make dinner. “No no no, io cucino per te, cara! Insistio.” She insists on cooking for us today. I told her to wake her son up and have him cook dinner. “Ma, non voglio una pizza.” No, I don't want a pizza. Ha! She knows that's the usual thing he makes – a trip out for take-away pizza. Too funny.

Giorgio just smiled broadly at me while I was on the phone with Mamma. He asked if she is ok. I don't go into the personal details of Marco's life with other people at the hotel. He strives for privacy, since the hotel is like any other place of business with nosy folks, he keeps things close to the vest. He and Giorgio have a history of not always getting along well, personality differences, and since they are in different departments they don't interact much, and especially not outside of work. I made the mistake once of having both of them and two others over for dinner once and it was a disaster. Just because I get along and am friends with each of them, it doesn't automatically mean they are friends too. But since Giorgio knows the family had rough times last year, he went to the funerals along with a lot of the hotel staff, it isn't too much to say that she has health concerns.

Caught up with Giorgio on the goings on for the past two weeks. I asked about the night of the crazy rampaging drunk who beat up Luigi. He told me the guy had tried to break into the bar after they closed up. There are no doors to the bar, but they have metal enclosures for the liquor walls and the fridges all lock up. He had busted up Luigi and then broke things in the bar trying to access the booze. That was where the police found him, busting things up in the bar in his efforts to get at it. Idiot. The damage to the bar was a shelf full of glasses, a mirror and a chair.

Met the group in the courtyard and then walked over to Piazza San Marco. I talked about the history of the church and the journey of the saint's bones to their resting place here. We went inside for the walk through but I told them the best way to see the church was during a service. It's odd for me to walk in the herd of folks single file. I am much more used to going to Mass, sitting there and being enveloped by my surroundings. I then handed them off at the Palazzo Ducale for a 90 minute tour while I went to the cafe in the bowels of the building and watched the gondolas gliding by. Received a call from Fraucka, my little German friend from school. She and her mother were going to be in Venice on Saturday and Sunday, could we meet up? I told her I was available after 11AM tomorrow until 6PM but Sunday would be a little more difficult with church, laundry and getting ready for the next group. We agreed on Saturday afternoon for me to show them around. Their train gets in at 10:30, they will take the #2 boat to San Marco and I will meet them at the left side of the Basilica where the happy lions are – there will be children climbing all over them – there's no worry they won't find them. Excellent!

Returning to the hotel we stopped short of the entrance at the gondolier station and they piled into five gondole for their appointment with the men in the striped shirts. All part of the tour. They get a caravan of boats, a singer and accordion player and for 50 minutes they have the opportunity to be stared at by passers-by. After they left, the gondola captain joked with me about why I don't go with them. I told him I've been on a gondola before, it doesn't change much. “You were not with the right man if you feel that way.” Yep, I was on a gondola with four other women. “You can be sure you'd remember a ride if I was on it.” Oh gosh, thanks. Smile nicely, move away.

Bleargh.

My peeps were safely returned to me and I was able to leave them for the remainder of the evening. I grabbed my little dessert tray from my room and made my way to Giudecca to have dinner with Mamma and share my goodies. She has more color in her cheeks since I saw her last, and she told me she doesn't mind taking the pills. “Non ti preocupes, non ti preocupes.” Don't worry, don't worry. I told her I would see her for lunch tomorrow and left with Marco when he departed for work at 10:30. I made the joke that we were commuting together but it was lost on him.

I stopped in at the bar to see Aldo and Serena, and was offered drinks from a number of my group who were in there. I declined. Aldo was engaged with my Indiana ladies at the end of the bar who were telling him about me taking them on my personal time not once but twice. He told them I am very kind, but that I spend all of my free time in Venice with the family of a friend, so they would not see me much in the streets. I told them he was lying, I just come to Venice to do my laundry. “Kristina, sei molta cattiva!” Yes I'm naughty.

As I stopped at the front desk to collect my key Marco asked what time I wanted my wake up call... and the pot of coffee sent up in the morning...and my newspaper. “Whenever. Surprise me.” Dork. He knows I don't need wake up service. I have my trusty alarm clock and a huge breakfast buffet awaits me in the restaurant. No need for a private pot of coffee. Ah, I collapsed in the bed. This hotel has the best beds. Truly.

13 Ottobre - Uffizi Day in Siena

I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to blow and cough all this gunk out of my face. Pretty! At least my voice hasn't left me. I will have to conserve it. If it goes I will be sunk – I am pretty good with hand signals but we don't want to resort to that. I gave Part II of my MediciWorld talk – this one involving the family's contributions to the world from their patronage of artists (and subsequently when they left EVERYTHING to the city of Florence, thus giving us everything in the Uffizi), the rise of Savanarola, the Bonfires of The Vanities and a warning to remember the past so it doesn't repeat in our future... the German poet Heinrich Heine said “When they start by burning books, they'll end by burning people.” Words to live by in dangerously conservative times.

We would be heading to the Galleria degli Uffizi this morning and I let them know that I was passing them off to a local licensed guide as required for national historic sites (like the Colosseum, Pompeii, etc.) Whew – it saves my voice!

When I came to Italy the first time this was the biggest day of the tour for me. Uffizi Day! Uffizi Day! I could have led my own parade. If I come here with my friends I always call the day we have the ticket reservation “Uffizi Day.” One morning when I here a couple of weeks ago going to the Italian school I asked my classmates if they had gone to see the museum yet. The German couple in my grammar section, Werner and Kristina told me they had reservations the next afternoon. “Oh boy, it's Uffizi Day for you!” Yes, I get excited for other people. I'm a dork, okay? Werner in complete seriousness, leaned over and asked me “How exactly must this be celebrated? My Uffizi Day?” By going and enjoying it, of course. And a coffee on the roof overlooking the piazza, marveling at the Palazzo Vecchio behind you and the Duomo in the near distance.

Just call me Renaissance Nerdgirl.

I could spend all day long just in the Botticelli Room with “La Primavera” and “Birth of Venus” (Or “Uma on Half Shell” as I like to call it) but what I like most about this museum is that the rooms are arranged in chronological order. The progression of the history of art is spelled out and readily understood by even the least knowledgeable person. From Byzantine to Medieval to Gothic to Renaissance and Baroque. Rooms of religious paintings and crosses with two dimensional, flat figures in static poses eventually give way to dabblings in perspective scenes created with mathematical equations for foreshortening and the illusion of depth, then rounded lifelike figures with shading, shadow and light. Color mixing progressed, technique progressed, detail progressed as one era passed into another.

It seems my excitement was infectious looking around the room after my talk. Unless they added extra caffeine into the coffee. Doubtful. I also passed out copies of their guidebook to the Uffizi. We have our own publication for all our tours. It's rather comprehensive. I'm sure other companies use it too and have their logo slapped on the cover as well, but it's a great keepsake from a tour. I still have mine from my tour a decade ago. The Uffizi doesn't have signage in any language other than Italian and even then it doesn't have explanation, just artist, title, year and materials, so any guide is a must have.

We made our way over and met our guide, Barbara San Pietro for our 8:30 entrance. They tour with her for 90 minutes for the highlights of the museum and then they are on their own to spend as much time (or as little) as they like. I am in the cafe on the rooftop two hours after our entrance if anyone wants me to take their photos from 10:30 to 11:00. This is my job. I open water bottles on the bus for older folks and assist in photo ops. And talk and stuff.

But they have the rest of the day completely open to them. Which means I am completely open as well. What to do after the museum – or should I just sit in here all day? It's a lovely day, no rain in sight in the region. And it hit me... I want to take a bus to Siena. I have photos to take of Sienna the dog in Siena the city. The stuffed animal pictures! It's an hour on the public bus, and I can make my way around town and be back by dinner. It's not on our group tour itinerary and at times I go there with private tours so it's all work-related, right? (Expense account.) Gotta find the good shopping spots and places to eat, right? (Expense account.) All in the name of research. Expense account!

I was planning on getting out of the city on the bus at 11:20, so I'd have to hustle after leaving the Uffizi and my ducklings. My two Indiana ladies were the first ones up at the cafe and they asked about the surrounding towns that would be good for a day trip. Well look at them! Venturing out of the city. How things have changed in a week. I told them that within an hour by train or bus are Arezzo, Siena, Lucca, Pisa and all are worth a few hours of their time, well except Pisa. The Tower and Baptistery are about an hour's worth and the rest isn't very interesting. Plus, they really need reservations if they are going there. I asked if they had brought a guidebook with them? Yes, one has Rick Steves and the other has Fodors. I told them they are all set, both books have comprehensive self-guiding tours for the daytripper for any of those towns, but they should get on their way soon so they could catch an intercity bus or a train and make the most of their day.

Of course they said “Let's do Siena!” I hadn't said a word about my plans for the day. That made me laugh out loud and I told them I was going to there. They were welcome to come along with me, but I wasn't going to be doing any official tour guiding. I don't want the other clients thinking they are getting special treatment now. I'm going for photo ops, “un giro della citta” - a lap around town, and lunch somewhere in the middle. I'll hit the high points: the Campo, the synagogue, the Duomo / Cathedral and the Sanctuary of St. Catherine. But I'm leaving straight from here – not going back to the hotel first, did they have their books? Yep. Okay, fifteen minutes more to see of anyone needs a photo or help with maps or plans and I'm out of here.

Duties over, we made the fifteen minute walk to the train station. The bus station is adjacent. We purchased our tickets round trip and climbed aboard. The scenery is the beautiful landscape one expects whilst wending their way through Tuscany. Pop around a corner and there is a farmhouse on a hill with rows of farmland crops spreading out in all directions. Cypress trees standing as sentinels. The sun was out on a warm autumn day. It was like a golden hued postcard at every turn. Fifty-five minutes later we disembarked at Piazza Gramschi to begin our walk in this lovely town of red bricks.

All around town are poles with small bronzed statues of the she-wolf suckling the babies, just as in Rome, to symbolize their Roman beginnings. While these are Romulus and Remus, same as in Rome, it is because Siena was founded by Senio, the son of Remus.

Florence and Siena throughout history have battled for dominance over one another. Siena had a golden heyday after a “capture the flag” skirmish (literally, they took Florence's flag away from them even though the Sienese were outnumbered 2-to-1, thanks to an undercover agent who attacked the Florentines from behind the lines. Sneaky.) Ultimately Florence has won out, but for a short period of time Siena dominated the banking and trade routes, just before the de'Medici family came into power in Florence. From the mid-1200s to mid-1300s everything came through Siena rather than Florence on the way to Rome. They had a population of over 60,000 – more than Paris at the time. The Plague swept through the city in 1348 and they lost 40% of their population. Siena never recovered. Wars with Florence were brought to an end when they were conquered at last in the 1550s, when they gave up their city-state status and were annexed into the duchy of Firenze. On the plus side, because the city didn't grow larger, a visit here is encapsulated in medieval times. They still have all the iron rings on the sides of buildings where you tie your horses up to, usually in the form of the animal mascot of the contrade.

One story I find fascinating about the two cities' rivalry: the once was a statue of Venus in the Campo. After the Plague hit in 1348, the monks decided it was the pagan statue's fault and blamed Venus for bringing on the deaths. The people in the city destroyed the statue, broke it into small pieces and carried it to Florence, burying the pieces outside the walls of the city, hoping they would soon be suffering the same fate as the Sienese citizens. I assure you, they already were.

Siena is widely known for their Palio races every summer. There are 17 neighborhoods in the city, known as “contrade” and each has an animal mascot, from snake and goose to elephant and giraffe to unicorn and wolf. Every year ten contrade are selected in a drawing to race. The horses can only be all black or all white, as they are symbolizing the colors of the city, just like their flag, the city seal, and the cathedral. These days professional riders are brought in to race the horses, they are not local boys. It's dangerous ground, and people have died even as recently as a few years ago.

The Campo is irregularly shaped – like a Chinese fan fully extended. The horses race around the three times in about one minute. There are over 100,000 people in the square, lining the inside and outside of the track. The crush is incredible, I would imagine. Two of the turns are acute angles and are lined with mattresses for safety. More often than not, the horses and riders take spills. The rules state that the horse needs to cross, not the rider. It has happened a lot where the horse makes it to the end without a rider on its back, not surprising considering they are riding bareback. The winning contrade gets bragging rights until the race next year. Huge celebrations happen in the city before, during and after Il Palio, and one neighborhood will sport their bandiera di contrade- their flags – from all corners of their zone in the city. And the commemorative plaques go up as well.

Beforehand the horses and the riders are brought to the Duomo for a blessing. They open the giant center-front doors and walk the horses right in. It's considered good luck if the horse leave droppings behind.

We traipsed around for a few hours and headed back. I found a charming restaurant to bring clients to and it's one of those semi-underground caverous places with hearty food and communal dining. Perfect for a cold day. I picked up some ricciarelli cookies (almond flavor, powdered sugar, how can you go wrong with that?) for the way home.

We arrived back right around 7:30 and made tracks for the hotel. I went around the corner and found a giant bowl of ribollita soup with my name on it and chowed down. A good day!

12 Ottobre – All Shopping, All the Time (If That's Your Thing)

I've noticed that I haven't been drinking much wine at all. What's wrong with me? It's not a conscientious decision, I just haven't felt much like having alcoholic beverages since I've been over here. When we have group lunches or dinners there always is a bottle of red and a bottle of white on each table but I've just been having water. It's not that I'm not allowed to drink while working, it's perfectly acceptable for the guides to have a glass with a meal in any social setting, just not to where it would compromise one's ability to have a conversation or make decisions of any kind. But aside from three beers the night I went out with the Flying Giacobazzi Brothers I've had a few sips when wine tasting in Torgiano and maybe two glasses in total with all my meals. Just a phase, I suppose. I've been concentrating a lot on getting into my groove with the job.

After breakfast with my mini lecture about the Medici family I took them all out for our morning walkabout in MediciWorld (tm The Hub Unit.) I led my ducklings around Piazza Signoria and Piazza Repubblica, across the Ponte Vecchio and to the Oltrarno neighborhoods surrounding the churches of Santo Spirito and the Carmelites to the Palazzo Pitti and back to the Excelsior. A lovely morning.

They were off on their own to explore the city until five, when we would meet to walk to the Accademia to see the David and the works there. I occupied myself by catching up on my television via computer and eating a giant salad from Boccadama.

I created a couple of monsters, I think. The two ladies from Indiana who were so timid in Sorrento and Rome to go anywhere on their own have flourished. They told me they spent the entire day walking around window shopping. I asked of they bought anything – not yet, they were looking for more economical prices since they were looking in designer store windows. I asked if they had found the Mercato della Paglia or Mercato San Lorenzo – they didn't know them. We were actually only one block away from the Paglia so I steered all of us up that block. I know I had told them and showed them all on the map, but I guess sometimes you have to lead the horses to water. These are the open-air (under umbrellas actually) markets with vendor stalls selling leather goods, scarves, various souvenir textiles for the home. Not cheap and not designer. They are decent quality. I have only bought coin purses and wallets in the leather goods department, and I get all my scarves at San Lorenzo where there are three times as many vendors and lots more selection. This is also where the Porcellino is found – a large brass statue of a wild pig. It's kind of like in Rome where people toss coins in the Trevi Fountain, except here you rub the snout of a boar in hopes of returning to Florence. Exact same thing only a little different.

While the ladies are happy to have the shopping pointed out, the men in the group look a little crestfallen. I assured them we are not stopping to shop, just pointing it out. They still don't look entirely thrilled that they know they will have to return there later. Further up the road is San Lorenzo, one block north of the Duomo complex, which is much larger than the Straw market (Paglia) and open everyday. Some of the ladies wanted to stop and shop and I told them they were certainly welcome to but they would be missing out on their reservation with a large, pale, handsome, naked guy a couple of blocks away. The market was open until seven at night at least, so they could definitely stop in on the way back.

Really, the Accademia doesn't take much time. Most of it is spent gaping at the marvelous statue and everything else is pretty extraneous and not nearly as interesting. For me personally, I like the unfinished “Prisoner” series by Michelangelo as well as one of his Pietas, and the musical instruments from the Renaissance period. Ferdinando de'Medici fancied himself a musician and commissioned instruments for himself and his friends. There were many more sizes of violins, viols, and cellos back then, at least eight, and the amount of brass horns is immeasurable since there was no standardization. Some with crude valve systems, some not, just creating a different tone based on the size of the bell and the length of the brass tubing. Early versions of what came to be clarinets and other reed instruments lost to time and other better working inventiveness, along with harpsichords and dulcimers abound. Even with gaping over The David and studying the instruments and unfinished Michelangelo statues, I spend an hour maximum in there. Plenty of time for the ladies to get to shopping afterward. I only lead them and get them inside. They can choose to stay until the place closes, or they can hightail it after five minutes. I lead back as many as want to come with me, but it's completely at their own speed when they want to leave once they're there. They are all warned before we enter that I will be in the bookshop in 45 minutes and will wait another 15 for anyone that wants to gather up and walk back with me.

Back at the hotel by 7pm and I retired early for the evening. My sinuses are all blocked up and the drainage is starting to turn to phlegm in my throat and chest. I will have to consult with a pharmacist and get medicines in me before this festers and turns into bronchitis or walking pneumonia. That would be most definitely a bad thing. It's happened before at home and I certainly would not want it to happen here. Grrr.

11 Ottobre – And We're Walking...

We are only in Viareggio to sleep, essentially. We check out of the hotel first thing in the morning. There isn't much to see in Viareggio, a beach resort town on the west coast of Italy, especially when it isn't summer. So why are we here? Because it's a jumping-off point for our jaunt to the Cinque Terre.

The Cinque Terre are five little hamlets nestled in the Ligurian Sea (it's still the Mediterranean, don''t worry.) For hundreds of years they were completely isolated – the only access was by sea, and this access was fiercely defended by the inhabitants. They were so isolated that they developed their own dialects from each other, let alone the rest of the Italian peninsula.

Nowadays they are five little niches of terraced coastline that are accessed by various boats and ferry lines, as well as a tiny little train system and by hiking in and out. It's lovely. Thirty years ago nobody outside of Italy had ever heard of the area, but thanks to every travel show known to man, everyone has access. The Comunes of the CT need to erect a statue to Rick Steves, the godfather of their burgeoned economies. Don't get me wrong, they are worth seeing, but never at the height of summer. You'd need to walk on stilts to get above the fray for any breathing room.

It takes about 4-1/2 hours to walk between the five towns without doing any sightseeing in them. We spend a little more time than that, but we split it between walking and riding the train and leaving time to look around a little and have lunch. The weather was gorgeous and clear, not too crisp and perfect for a nice walk above the water.

After our lovely day outdoors we get back on the bus for the last time. After Ettore drops us in Florence he heads back to Rome to go about his business of driving another tour. We don't need the bus in Florence since everything we do is within the walkable city center, and we train it up to Venice as our last stop, in a few days.

The city center of Florence is closed to traffic these days. There are public buses that traverse, and they are cute little electrical guys with seats for 8 and standing room for 12. Taxis can only enter at certain times, mornings and late afternoons, but they have many taxi stands at strategic points on the outskirts of the “yellowzone.” Our giant coach bus is able to leave us next to the Arno River about 20 meters from the hotel. The luggage is carried off by porters to be deposited in their rooms. We bade Ettore goodbye and after sorting the rooms out at check-in I whisk them away for a short walk to catch their first glimpse of the Duomo.

Insert the appropriate oohs and aahs. After seeing it a couple dozen times I still am awed by the massive size of the dome. And the mathematical genius it took for Brunelleschi to design it and actually build it. The facade of the church and the belltower are like fancy colored icing on a confection or a cake. Love it. This is the original reason I wanted to first come to Italy. I needed to see that dome, that belltower, and the mosaics & frescoes inside of the baptistery. While I was appropriately stunned in Stendahl Syndrome, I completely expected Florence to be the place that reached in and grabbed at my heart. It's the city where all my humanities and art history studies culminated. Hello, the Renaissance is my thing. The meat of it for me. I had no idea that another city would completely capture my attention.

Florence is where my soul comes alive, but Venice has my heart. I suppose that explains it?

10 Ottobre – Can't We All Just Get Along?

My cellphone rang at 12:14AM from a Venice landline phone number. I could see it was an phone in the hotel where my friends work and where my tours stay. The Consulate, we call it in my home. Giorgio? Aldo? Serena? Marco? Probably him... oh great. But it was a good sign that it wasn't a serious problem with his mother if he was calling from work.

So my first question was why he was working at night on a Monday, which isn't usual for him. The full time night concierge hasn't been there long enough to be on vacation yet. “So, why are you at work?” is how I greeted him.

“Madonn' – crazy crazy times. Crazy crazy world.” Nice response, buddy. “I am here at night for the

next three weeks. Luigi is in the hospital.” He then went on to tell me the almost unbelievable tale of poor Luigi. He was working on Sunday night and at 3AM a guest came downstairs, completely inebriated, to find the bar closed (as it does at 1AM) and he asked for a bottle of liquor to be sent up to his room since the bar was closed. Luigi told him that room service was closed for the night as well, at 2AM the kitchen is completely closed out. And the drunken bastard proceeded to beat the crap out of Luigi. He put him in the hospital with broken limbs and a busted jaw.

Dude. Seriously. Somebody has a problem. Wow.

All I could ask was “Please tell me it wasn't a guest on a tour...” No. Whew. I didn't even want to know if the guy was American. I can't bear that piece of information.

Well this is just awful news to hear. So, my friend has to pick up the slack and work nights full time for a few weeks, possibly a few months. The upside is that he can have a “normal schedule” even if it is nocturnal. Rather than 2 days 1st shift, 2 days 2^nd shift, 2 days graveyard. Oy.

I told him I would see him on Friday night after my group arrives, and told him to tell Mamma I would come over that afternoon to take her to church while he was sleeping. I rang off and tried to go back to sleep, but I kept thinking about the hidden dangers and surprises the hospitality industry has. Apparently you just never know when some belligerent drunk on vacation is going to freak out and slam your head on the marble desktop. I've seen my friends in their share of scrapes while traveling, caused by their own stupidity and drunkenness but it usually is just losing your wallet in a strip joint or getting a shakedown in a bathroom in Mexico. Nobody has gone completely berserk as far as I know and given a beatdown to an undeserving person.. Jeez Louise.

We left the Umbria region that morning on the bus after checking everyone out and made our way into Tuscany. After a 90 minute ride we arrived in the hill town of San Gimignano. It's a lovely little place, even if it is a bit overrun with English speaking tourists. This is the famous “town of towers.” San Gimignano, or “Gimi” as the tourists shorten it because they can't manage the “gna” sound (think nyah nyah nyah and you have it.) In medieval times it was a status thing to build a tower home for your family if you had wealth. It was a lookout for approaching marauders, a fortress against your enemies, in town and out, and an excellent one-up to the neighbors. Multiple floors and the kitchen up top for fire safety (let it burn upward out of the roof versus having it lower to the ground and completely destroying all the floors as well as the edifice. Some didn't even have proper doors, one climbed up a ladder to get in. They were narrow, like a Jenga game, and built as high as they could go without toppling over, which many did.

At one time there 72 towers in the city, now there are only 17 standing. We toured the town, had lunch and set off for the coast to Viareggio where we would stay the night across from the beach.

9 ottobre – If The Spirit Moves You

Next item on our agenda was a day on Assisi. And a Sunday to boot. Bound to be on the crowded side but to the faithful it was sure to be a treat. I am not religious, per se, but I definitely feel that Assisi is a spiritual place. Harmonious. Peaceful. Filled with “presence” I certainly can't describe.

Before leaving for Assisi I gave a short talk on the life of the man most synonymous with the city. St. Francis is one of two patron saints of Italy, the other is St. Catherine of Siena. He was the son of a wealthy cloth merchant from Assisi and a frenchwoman. He was christened Giovanni by his mother in hopes that he would lead a life in the church like St. John the Baptist, but by the time he was a small boy he was called Francesco by everyone namely due his fluency in French (thanks, Mom!) He lived the life of a rich young man as most did at that time, spending the family money on foolish things and pursuits. He soon became disillusioned with money and worldly trappings, joined the military and soon after spending a year as a prisoner of war and being released, he found his ecclesiastical calling. He had visions, spent time in lonely places, made pilgrimages to holy places, and finally “married” his only bride – poverty. He nursed the poor, the lepers, the diseased and lame and restored ruined churches.

His father tried to persuade him to change his ways and come back into the fold to live the entitled life he had worked to provide for him, and after beating him severely was brought to a religious court for his actions. Francis officially and legally renounced his father and gave up all his worldly possessions, including his clothes and shoes. He wore the simplest of garments, made of the roughest fabric, and lived as a beggar.

Francis began to preach repentance and the need to live the simple life. He eventually created an order of monks, the Friars, who gave way to the Franciscan brothers we know today. He founded a network of missions and an order of nuns, the Poor Clares, as well as a lay fraternity for men and women - all dedicated to working with the poor while eschewing wealth and the finer things.He was known for his love of animals and nature and blessing them all.

He continued to make pilgrimages and went to far as to join one of the Holy Crusades in hopes of being martyred. He tried to convert the Sultan of Egypt. (Even after the fall of Christendom in the Holy Land after the Crusades, only the Franciscans were allowed to remain in Jerusalem as “custodians of the Holy Land” for Christians.) Francis the first to display a live Nativity scene, creating a creche complete with a manger filled with straw, an ox and a donkey in 1220. Francis is also the first recorded instance of a person receiving the Stigmata, the wounds of Christ spontaneously appearing after a vision during a fasting period in 1224. He bore the wounds on both hands and feet, as well as the gash in his side. The stigmata appeared repeatedly for the last two years of his life, when he finally passed away, while singing Psalm 141 in 1226.

The church fast-tracked him to sainthood and the basilica bearing his name in Assisi began construction almost immediately after his death. He is known outside of the religious world for his writings, and is considered the first Italian poet.

So with that we went to visit the city of this remarkable human being. Assisi is built into the hills on a series of terraces, adjacent to Mount Subasio. We toured the Basilica of St Francis, Santa Maria degli Angeli, Rocco Maggiore – one of two castle fortifications and traipsed about town with all the other pilgrims.

Upon our return to Le Tre Vaselli, we were treated to ta cooking demonstration by the Executive Chef and more wine tasting at dinner, courtesy of the vineyards out our windows.

8 ottobre – Too Great A Distance

There are times when I really *really* hate social networks and the internet in general. I woke up to a posting on Facebook from a cousin that one of my uncles has unexpectedly passed away. While I don't want to deny anyone their right to grieve or their way of grieving, I just wish that the nine hours' difference had enabled me to get the word from my mother or from the cousin as a heads up before seeing it in black and white on a status update. Che c'e vuoi fa? What can you do? I just wish there was a way for bad news to be instantaneously given to everyone so there are no surprises for those not in the same timezone.

My mother had indeed left me a message on my magicjack, and the voicemail was sitting in my email waiting for me. No details about the death in her message, just a brief “Call me as soon as you can.” Knowing what she was going to tell me already, I could hear the stress in her voice, and that was enough to make me steel myself for the actual conversation. I called immediately and on her picking up the line all I could greet her with was “What happened, Mama?”

On my list of top three things I absolutely hate in this world, the first two are things that make my mother cry and things that make my mother angry. I always want to make everything right for her because she is my favorite person in the world. Sorry, hub-unit, but you have to take a backseat when it comes to my mother's emotional state. She held it together while she gave me details and told me she hadn't broken down yet, that she was waiting until she could talk to me.

I hate myself right now. I can't be there in person to console her. My arms are not long enough to comfort her. The distance is too great right now. This is the one thing I feared about taking a job where I am so far away – I can't get back to be with her now. And it hurts me. A lot. I know my father is right there next to her, but I want to be there too.

Went down to breakfast and it was noticeable that I wasn't “me” to the clients. I didn't want to talk about it with them and I didn't want to really talk at all. I asked them to forgive me and requested that I give my talk on the bus instead on the way to Orvieto, that I had just had some unexpected news from home and I needed a little time to let it sink in. No problem, no problem. A few of the ladies came over while I was eating and told me I was white as a sheet so it must be bad, and that if I needed to talk they would listen. Very sweet of them. I told them there was a death in my mother's family and I was feeling the distance from her in a bad way.

The day was very surreal. Not 24 hours before I had seen him posting on my cousin's Facebook page in his usual jovial manner, and now he's gone. It seems unreal. I had waves of sadness all day long, in expected and unexpected ways; a memory or a joke he told would pop in my head, but also hearing the pining notes on a violin in a piazza, the sound of laughter from a table inside a trattoria, smiles of children playing with their grandfather in the town square as we walked past. The violin and the laughter had nothing to do with any particular memory of him, but I felt I was watching a movie play out in front of me. Life going on in front of me. And I was stock still as it passed by.

Before I go on any longer, suffice to say it was an odd day.

We toured through Orvieto and on to Torgiano in the Umbria region, where we stay for two nights in a villa hotel / winery.

7 ottobre – Old Worlds, New Friends

Breakfast lecture about aqueducts and the importance of water to any great civilization. This is the talk I give on every tour before we go see the ancient sites in Rome. We struck out on the bus toward the Colosseum but first stopped at San Pietro in Vincoli to view the Moses statue by Michelangelo. While it's a Renaissance church it is dedicated to the chains Peter wore when he was imprisoned at Mamertime in the era immediately following Christ's death. Early Christian martyrs... serious dedication to your belief system, yes?

We walked across the street and down to the entrance of the Colosseum to meet our guide, Raffaele. I hadn't met him before. Very nice and very knowledgeable. After the Colosseum we gathered together and had our group photo taken by a professional we contract with, who will stop in at the hotel and bring me prints for everyone and a digital copy to send to the home office for posterity. All of us with the amphitheater in the background. I have to be in it too. Every stinking tour. Bleargh.

Walked up the hill to the group entrance for the Foro Romano where Raffaele further expounded on Roman life as we made our way. Departing the ancient eras we climbed up the back of the Campidoglio in were thrust into the Renaissance where Michelangelo's city planning and architectural skills are on public display. Going north for about 15 minutes, we passed the Jesuit church (and offices), Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, a Renaissance church built over a Roman temple, and finally to Piazza della Rotonda and the Pantheon.

Afterward we had lunch around the corner, but still in view of the Pantheon and then walked southeast to Piazza Navona to view Bernini's fountain, souvenir shop and (for me) grab some gelato. The bus picked us up at the appointed time on a sidestreet just outside and brought us back to the hotel for a couple of hours of rest time.

I picked up the photographer's packet with the pictures from the concierge and put them all in their paper folio frames for distribution later at dinner. Emailed the digital copy to the home office. A few hours later we gathered up again and went by bus across the river to Trastevere.

A good time was had by all. We ate, we drank, musicians came in and played for us. We danced, we sang. The last night in Rome is always a great time on our tours. We sang ourselves home on the bus as well. Conviviality at its best.

6 ottobre - Pasta & Spice and Everything Nice

Guh. Morning came too soon. I had three beers the night before over the course of four and half hours so it wasn't alohol related, just not as much sleep as I had been getting nightly. I got up at six and did my personal ritual for Rome, my morning constitutional. Pretty mich the same route that I led my folks on the afternoon before but with no crowds. I walked over to the Trevi Fountain to have it to myself for a few minutes. I always go around 7AM and there's never anyone there. Walked over to the Spanish Steps and reveled in them being free of the hundreds that were camped out there only hours before. All mine. Back to the hotel.

At breakfast I got the count for who wanted reservation times at the Galleria Borghese, gave instructions on getting to the Metro and how to purchase & validate tickets. I went around to each table and discussed their plans for the day and guided them on maps on how to go about it. Campo De Fiore? Piazza Navona? Jewish Ghetto? Shopping? Just be back at the hotel and ready to leave for the Vatican at 6pm.

Whenever we have free time for a significant part of the day I am always asked by clients if they can go where I'm going. My standard response is that I am doing something mundane like paperwork, or laundry. The purpose of this time is for them to explore on their own. Yes this is an escorted tour, but a little personal time so they can “choose your own adventure” is there to make it their own and not be dragged around by a guide 100% of the time.

Two of the ladies are so timid that I made an exception to my rule and told them I would be going to Campo Di Fiore if they wanted to come along. They hadn't really ventured out of the hotel in Sorrento at all, only to the lemon groves just adjacent to the property. They are lifelong friends in their late 50s from a small town in Indiana and had never been to a city bigger than Indianapolis, yet here they are in Italy. I want to do the best I can to ensure they get everything out of this trip that they have paid a LOT of money for. If they were scared to go out in Sorrento there is not way they would leave the hotel in big bad Rome. They were already on my list to get reservations for the Borghese, but that isn't really venturing into the city to experience it.

I secured bookings for the Borghese and gave the times out to the folks, all were able to get in between 10:30 and 12:00, so they could have plenty of time to go elsewhere afterward. My Indiana gals had first entry at 10:30 so I told them to go and have a great time and I would wait for them to come backto the hotel and ring my room if I wasn't in the lounge. We could then go to Campo Di Fiore and Torre Argentina. I could take a short nap. Yay!

Did my “office hours” in the foyer / lounge and went up for a short nap from 11 to 12. The ladies rang at 1pm and we ventured out to the streets of the Eternal City. I took them to Campo Di Fiori where I purchased a bag of mixed spices I love, a frittata mix and over to Torre Argentina to view the ruins and spy on some cats roaming about their sanctuary. Lunch at a mom & pop trattoria. I loved the tonnarelli with a tomatoe-y, eggplant and mushroom sauce. It would have been a long walk back so we shared cabfare and our driver zipped us around back uptown.

They thanked me over and over for letting them come with me while I attended to my personal shopping expedition. No problem. I assured them that while Rome is huge, it is definitely navigable on your own, and their response was that while Rome scared them a bit, they would definitely go out on their own with no fears in Florence and Venice. Good for them!

5 ottobre – Dogs and Hounds

After breakfast with our baggage loaded onto the coach bus we headed to Pompeii. I've written previously about how Pompeii bums me out so it should be no surprise that I don't go into too much detail. Lovely to see how people lived, but it's also readily apparent how people died. I prefer Ostia Antica so much more.

So once again, I focus on the dogs. I could almost believe it if you told me they trucked them in from Rome or Naples. There are different ones every time I am here – yes, some look like they've been here for years, but there are lots of new guys that don't look like they were birthed on-site. No two look enough alike to be littermates. How do they find their way here? It's a mystery that must be solved.

After our guide released us three hours later, we made our way back to Ettore on the bus and went twenty minutes away to Herculaneum for lunch. Modern day Herc-town doesn't offer a whole lot other than more ruins on in National Park / UNESCO site, but the trattoria where we eat puts out a lovely spread of good food.

We hit the road going northbound to Rome and within 30 minutes just about everyone was napping. It was rather quiet. I texted my friend (and driver for my private tours) Giuseppe Giacobazzi to let him know I was landing in the area. He had promised (or threatened if you want to look at it that way) to take me out the next time was in town, as he had before. He responded that he would call me after 6pm when he was through with his clients that day but yes, we would go out later. I read from my Kindle and about 20 minutes outside of Rome's city limits I let them know the itinerary for the remainder of the day. Check in at the Excelsior and a completely voluntary orienteering trip around our section of town and a few sites nearby. If they wanted to stay back at the hotel they were most welcome to. It's “free” time for the rest of the day, but they were all welcome to join me for an hour's jaunt. Dinner was arranged for them in the hotel's restaurant with a special menu for them to select from, but if they chose to go out on their own they were more than welcome to do that as well. Chatter started up as travel partners talked amongst themselves and to new friends about their plans for the remainder of the day.

Checking in at the Excelsior was interesting. The rooms were mixed up a bit. Two couples were put into rooms with twin beds, two rooms that should have had twins were “matrimonial” beds and one couple was left off the roster altogether. The first set of mix-ups was easily remedied by switching room assignments; the couple that was forgotten really reaped the benefit of the hotel's mistake. They were given one of the rooms they have available for our three night's here – a suite. It's huge. At least double the size of my apartment back home. A palace in comparison to what they would have had. Oh my, they can leave me off the list next time. Whoo!

I gave them (those who wanted to join me) an hour to unpack, futz around and meet me in the lobby. I had 14 of my 24 with me when we set out. I showed them the American Embassy across the street with American soldiers posted prominently outside the gates, and those with guns inside the gates. We turned opposite and walked north up the Via Veneto to the end of the road, at the massive gateway into Villa Borghese – a park, a zoo, a museum. Told them all that would be a great way to spend a coup,eof hours tomorrow during free time in the morning and afternoon. If anyone wanted me to assist in reservations let me know at breakfast. Made our way down Via Porta Pinciata where I showed them the Metro station that is closest to the hotel, less then five minutes' walk, and on the other side of the sotoporteggo into the station is the Spanish Steps, and promised they would see it later if they stuck with me. Via Ludoviso to Via Cadore, down the path and stairs back onto Via Veneto, across the Piazza Barberini and around the corner to TA-DA!!!! The Trevi Fountain. Always a crowd pleaser and unless it's 7AM when I like to go, always crowded. After the oohing and aahing we continued down to Via Due Macelli and turned right. Up a couple of blocks are the Spanish Steps, another meeting place for the masses better seen in the morning. But I'm letting them get their bearings for the neighborhood on this little walk. I pointed out Via Condotti and Via Delle Carrozze where all the high rent shopping can be found. Then up the Spanish Steps to Via Sistina and back to the hotel. In just over an hour.

I rested up for a bit, made an appearance in the restaurant to say hello to those who were dining and got a text that Giuseppe & Gianluca were outside waiting for me. The Fabulous Giacobazzi Brothers Show was the order of the evening for me.

They are a hoot, these two. Always in motion, always laughing, always gesticulating. We went to the birraria we had gone to the last time we went out. Yay sausage! Yay beer! We went to a bar for a cocktail or two (I stuck to beer.) I got a gelato cone next door. We went to another bar for another drink. Gianluca was designated driver. They talked to every woman in sight, got a few numbers, foreign and domestic. They seriously need their own show. Doing whatever – reviewing movies, cooking, advice for the lovelorn - I don't care. I could watch them all day.

They promised to have me back to the hotel by 1AM and I was there, true to their word. And sleep came easily.

4 Ottobre- Costeria Amalfitana

This is the only day I dread on this tour. The scenery is absolutely stunning – the Amalfi Coast is amazing, but the ride is a little on the awful side. It's pretty much the only place in the world I get carsick. I get to sit in the front window of the giant coach bus as we make 320-degree hairpin turns on the switchbacks while clinging to a narrow road on the side of the mountainous coast and while it is exhilarating it mostly just makes me anxious. Bravo (!!!) to the bus drivers who keep the bus from plunging over into the sea hundreds of feet below. All I know is that every time I look out and see nothing but water in front of me, I am crossing my fingers that there's still road beneath us.

(this is how narrow the road is, now imagine being only 2 feet away from the side of a cliff, sitting high up on a bus where you can see the Tyrrhenian Sea hundreds of feet below you)

I let everyone know I was well fortified with stomach-relieving aids for the first part of the trip. I brought TravelGum, sweet ginger candy drops and chunks of crystallized dried ginger in case anyone was feeling poorly immediately. TravelGum has ginger in it too, and in general you want to chew it before you set out, to get the stomach juices flowing. Any gum will assist in this, but the ginger helps for much longer than a gum without it. I advised once we arrived in our first stop in Positano, those folks who needed the ginger should stop in to a farmacia to grab some more – they will have it front and center at the counter. More people than not find themselves asking for it at the farmacia in these towns. Remember the ginger any time you have the stomach queasies, folks.

(this is why there are posted hours for directional driving)

Our stops today were in Positano, Amalfi and Ravello. All lovely little towns hugging the sides of the hills and making their way down to the sea. All are positively charming and each sets itself apart from the next. Positano's church of Santa Maria della Assunta has the blue-green ceramic tiled caps on top. Amalfi has Sant'Andrea with the marble in stripes of black and white. Ravello's San Giovanni is pretty plain in comparison outwardly, but inside you find an absolute treasure. Small little jewels on the coast.

We had lunch in Ravello at Cumpa Cosimo, with Mamma Netta coming out of the kitchen to pinch our cheeks and remind us to eat everything on the plates. Not difficult, since we were having fresh grilled seafood, homemade sausages, a smorgasbord of veggies and a personal favorite of mine: ricotta stuffed zucchini blossoms. She is a boisterous little thing and she likes to meet everyone who comes to her place. She presented me with a fig for good luck – and mock-prayed to the angels that I continue returning to her. “Mia Kristina! Siamo gemelli... hai ricevuto tutta l'altezza, ho ricevuto il talento!” My Kristina, we are twins. You received the height and I received the talent!” She's a hoot. The fact that she remembers my name is pretty fantastic, since this woman has cooked for every celebrity that has every trucked through town for seventy years (the trattoria has been in her family for four generations), as evidenced on the walls of the foyer. I'll let her put my picture up if she wants.

(shrimp so fresh you wanna smack 'em across the mouth... and roasted zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta. Yum!)

We took the back way overland through the mountains on the return to Sorrento. No more scary coastal driving today; we wouldn't want to whoops up our fantastic lunch. Ettore the driver is my hero. How these guys manage to squeeze around in these giant buses and not kill everyone on board on a daily basis is beyond my comprehension.

Back at the hotel I had a long conversation back home with both my husband and my mother. I love technology for keeping me in contact. I will shout it from the rooftops daily if I have to. I grabbed a late dinner at a tiny trattoria where I got them to give me a huge bowl of seafood broth and half a loaf of bread. So delicious and so simple, but so filling.

Tomorrow we head out of Sorrento, tour Pompeii and make our way back into “civilization” - Rome!

3 Ottobre - Do I Have Weirdo Magnet Written Somewhere I Can't See?

Was up and out of the studio with my suitcase and off to the train station to catch the 7,30 train. The vaporetto was a little slower than expected – I thought it would be a little quicker since I am going in reverse commute, so to speak. I arrived at the station as the train was pulling out. No problem. I built additional time in. I could take the 8,30 train and still have plenty of time. I just like getting there ultra early when it comes to working so I get the lay of the land in advance.

I settled in to my seat on a half-full car and within a few minutes I had someone joining me in my seat grouping. And just my luck, he was a talker. Yay. He introduced himself as Giuseppe, and I nodded hello. He then introduced himself as Jimmy. “Qualche e? Jimmy o Giuseppe? Due nomi diferenti?” Which one is it? Those are two different names.

“Mi nome Jimmy, mi cognome e Giuseppe.” Alrighty then, it's James Joseph.

Jimmy then proceeded to ignore the fact that I was not imparting any information to him and returning to my book after each exchange as he continued to pepper me with conversation.

“Ti piace una sigareta?” No, I don't want a cigarette and you can't smoke on the train.
“Ti sposata?” Yep, married. Showed him the wedding band.
“Dimme gli numeri di telefonata?” No, I will not give you my phone number.
“Mi piace la figura.” Thanks, I'm so happy that you like my shape.
“Dimme gli numeri di telefonata?” No, I will not give you my phone number.
“Ti incinta?” No, I'm not pregnant.
“Dimme gli numeri di telefonata?” No, I will not give you my phone number.
“Di dove sei?” I'm from San Francisco.
“Ah San Francisco. Piace San Francisco perche e la citta dalla Shawn Michaels!”

Um... dude. I don't follow wrestling and I don't care about wrestling. The only reason I even know that guy is a professional wrestler is because of the commercials that come on before my television shows. It is not wise to attempt to hit on women by flattering them with your knowledge of where WWE guys hail from. I smiled and told him I was going back to my book. Thank you for the conversation.

Arrived in Rome just after noon and hopped onto the Leonardo Express, the train to the airport. I would meet up with our busdriver Ettore and meet the clients at arrival. My whole tour is arriving on the same day on two planes, timed pretty close to together. One from JFK and the other from Atlanta. I should have everyone by 2,30 and we can be on our way south.

When meeting the groups I stand with my laminated sign and a name badge. Yay, name badges! It's the only time I need to wear one. After we meet the first time it isn't necessary. I check everyone off on my list, make sure they all have their luggage, which they should, since they just left a secure area from customs.

I have a group of twenty-four. Twelve rooms of two. Mostly couples, but 3 twosomes are female friends. The youngest people are in their late 20s, the oldest in their 70s. I started my one woman show on the bus, explaining that I would need at least 24 hours to memorize names to faces so please bear with me. There is no assigned seating on the bus, only that we designate a rotation each day for one couple to sit in the “passenger seat” - the first seat on the right side of the bus, across the aisle from the driver. I am in a small jumpseat the pops out from the steps onto the bus, so my view is always unobstructed. The left side of the bus (the driver's side) is a little impeded by the driver. The best seat in the house for the passengers is the coveted “passenger seat” and nobody gets to monopolize it.

I also explain that we do not use headsets anywhere like some tour groups do with their “whisper technology headsets” and I do not use a microphone ever. They do not ever wear matching stickers or wristbands to show they are part of my group. They will never see me waving an umbrella to lead them along or with an antenna topped with a scarf or a stuffed animal so they can find me. Against our company philosophy. We design tours to never be so large that we employ those tactics to make ourselves known or seen by our clients.

“I am just under six feet tall, and as you can see, I am no little slip of a thing. My hair shines brightly in the sun or in the rain in red and burgundy tones and I usually have one piece of clothing on that is black, whether it is a skirt of a sweater. You WILL find me in a crowd.”

Smiles everyone, smiles. This will go just fine. One roadside bathroom pitstop and almost three hours later we pulled up to our hotel in Sorrento. I got everyone checked in, and was presented with a small bottle of limoncello from the manager, who shared a small tipple with me. He told me Frank told him to welcome me this way... Che bellissima!

The group gathered on the terrace at 7,30 where we had a prosecco toast to welcome everyone, and they were on their own to grab dinner nearby. I wouldn't see them until 7AM for breakfast and a short lecture about the day's events and history of the sights we'll be seeing.

Went to bed feeling relieved at the news that Amanda Knox had her murder conviction overturned and will be free to come home. Italy is many things beautiful, but their legal system is corrupt and convoluted. Justice is finally serviced for her, unfortunately the Kercher family is still left unsatisfied. It is a terrible thing that happened to Meredith, but Amanda was not responsible.

Rest well, friends. I will.

2 Ottobre - Sunday Chores (That Are No Chore At All)

I woke up to the telefonino (cellphone) ringing. The ringtone tells me it's Mamma without even looking at it. A version of “Ave Maria” for the house landline. It was 0630 and she wanted to know if I was going to come to the 7AM mass with her. I told her I was just waking up and if she wanted to go to the 8AM at Redentore I could make that. Oy. Heaven forbid she doesn't get to the first Mass of the day. “No problema, cara. Alle otto.” No problem, dear, at 8. Whew.

I gathered myself up and made a coffee, checked email to see if my tour file was emailed and it was. Profile of all the names, arrival flights and room reservation combinations for the couples, triples,singles, etc. for everyone involved. There was also a message from Frank, my mentor. He's three days ahead on his tour, so while we won't see each other, he was alerting me to the fact that the water pressure at the hotel in Sorrento was a little lax. They are working on it, but to be able to tell the group to be aware of it. Whew. Advance intel. It's like we're secret agents. Ha!

Made it to Giudecca and escorted Mamma. Marco had gone to work and would be back around 1PM. He was working a split shift on Sunday of 7AM to 12,30 and then back from 4 to 9PM. We slipped in to her regular pew and nodded at the other other ladies arriving. They smiled at me and waved. My new landlord of sorts, Signora Ferri came over to sit with us and asked how I like the studio apartment. I told her it was perfect for my needs. It is her son's apartment and his family had moved to a larger place when their baby came last year. Wow, I can't imagine two people living there without stepping all over each other, but they apparently had made it work since they were married four years ago. I asked her to let me know how much to give her for the utilities and she waved her handat me to hush. “Niente. Ti dici a dopo. A tempo.” I will tell you later. In time.

After services Mamma and I and two neighbor ladies from the building across from her walked back. It's less than five minutes, and we managed to stretch that into fifteen, since we go at a snail's pace with these old bones. And they are talking and gesticulating the whole way. Could be talking about the clouds in the sky and each one has to stop completely to make their point known. So it's take a step, talk, take a step, another talks, stop, talk a bit, take a step. It's not like I have anything to do, but I haven't switched off the “in a rush mode” from Florence yet.

I made Mamma and myself each a small fruit salad with yogurt and coffee Marco has given me her new schedule for medications and I needed to see her eat before reminding her to take her morning pills. As is the old school Italian way, she won't eat anything before going to church, so the pills have to wait. He says then she comes home and fusses about with her household tasks and soon she's off her schedule. He says he ends up calling her at noon to see about her schedule and finds she hasn't taken the morning ones yet. It's no that she's forgetful, she's just not wanting to take them. Oy.

She doesn't fight me though, when I ask her about the medication. I tell her we bother her because we want her to be here a lot longer. Take the pills and get used to being on a schedule, then there is no problem. “Okay cara.”

We spent the rest of the morning watching the Vatican services on a loop on the tv, as is custom on Sundays. I made us lunch and Marco came back to join us. I told him I needed to go do some laundry and I would be back in a few hours. Mamma told me to come back and do it at their house, but I don't want to be hanging my underwear to dry at their house. That's a little too much information for everyone to have, and while we're close, I'm not parading my unmentionables at their place. I told her I needed to go to where the dryers are to make sure it was finished before packing for the next ten days.

Laundry done. Undies protected from view and everything I need re-packed for the tour. Came back, fixed a quick dinner for us, left a portion available for Mister Man when he came back from the second part of his shift. He arrived after we finished and ate. Mamma and I watched a movie, a silly comedy. I bid her goodnight and told her I will call her every morning to make sure she's taken her pills and to tell her hello, and that I will see her in ten days. Si, cara!

Marco walked me to the vaporetto stop and asked me if I was going to the hotel to see Giorgio and Aldo. They had asked him if I was stopping in. Indeed I was – I needed to print off the information for the touring group. Cheek kisses goodnight, see you later.

Arriving at the hotel, or The Consulate as it is known in my house, I was greeted by the Administrative manager Andreas. I asked to use the computer in the business office. He let me use his own office and told me not to worry about it. Usually I use the one the rest of the guests use, but now I am even more special. He told me to tell anyone from now on that I have his permission if he isn't there. Whoo hoo – privileges! I printed my info out and headed back to the bar to see my friends who were working.

Giorgio and Aldo greeted me with the customary hugs and kisses and poured me a glass of wine. We chatted and caught up with what they haven't deduced already from Facebook. Aldo's grandson is coming up on his first birthday and he presented me with about half a million pictures on his iPhone. What a doll that little guy is. I bid them good night so I could get a full night of sleep. I need to be fresh and perky. From tomorrow on, it's showtime!

1 Ottobre – School's Out and Ritorno a Venezia!

I arrived at the Scuola and found it wasn't opened yet. I knew I was going to be the only student there today so I sat on the steps across from the building and waited for my teacher to show up. She did, a few minutes late, and we commenced to learning. Being alone in classes makes things go much faster.

All in all, it was a great experience and I will be happy to return to the Scuola for more lessons eventually. I won't need to take business-related phrases any further, but for vocab and grammar I would like to go into the advanced courses when I have a week at at time open. While I have lots of conversational Italian experience, I have learned bad habits from my friends. I will have to chastise them when I see them. They have been too kind over the years in letting me get away from speaking incorrectly and never correcting my grammatical errors. I have not learned “the rules” from them because they're all being kind, even though I've repeatedly told them “correct me if I'm wrong!” I correct them when they make errors in English. Jeez... No more.

On the way back to the apartment I stopped and bought some flowers for La Signora. She was so happy to receive them. I finished packing my things, called for a cab and said goodbye. She told me she would like to have dinner when I am in town. She also said she wants to see me giving a tour, even though she wouldn't understand the English speaking. “You look smart – you look like you know many things. I can tell you love the art and love Firenze, Kristina.” Yup Yup Yup.

Hauled my bags onto the train bound for Venezia. I'm tired already. It was 90 degrees and breezy in Florence, but if it's that warm in Venice it's going to be awful. More humidity there, which I do not do well in. Looking at the weather report, things are supposed to cool down a bit by Monday when my tour begins, however, I'll be further south so it'll be warmer anyway. At least it'll be more arid.

Overhearing a conversation on the train: three college age girls. They are all apparently American taking a semester in Florence and they were taking a day trip out of town. They were discussing all their tv shows they are missing. Two of them were going mental because they are missing this season of Dexter, which is stating this weekend. “I would do ANYTHING to know how I can watch Dexter over here. I'm going to DIE if I miss the whole thing...”

At this point I leaned over the aisle and said “Okay, I'm eavesdropping and I'm going to tell you what to do. You wait until Monday or Tuesday and you go online to www.eztvstream and you watch it and you thank those little tv pirates who post it up for all of us.” The squealing commenced. I helped them with a quick sightseeing itinerary for their day and a half in town and showed them on their map how to get to their hotel, pointed out cheaper places to eat, a couple of bars.

I was very surprised to see Marco at the station when the train arrived. I handed my bags down to him, and we hugged hello. The college girls all started whispering and giggling about how much he looks like George Clooney. I told them “Go ahead, take a photo to send home to everyone. Don't worry, he LOVES having his photo made. Crowd up, I'll get you all.” Meantime, Marco was shooting daggers into me with his eyes. Ha ha.

We made our way over to the vaporetto and disembarked at the Rialto Market stop. He had the keys to the studio where I would probably be staying in for my downtime. It belongs to one of the ladies Mamma goes to church with. It's about the size of our two-car garage, but it's completely serviceable. It's a ground floor unit so there's no stairs, yay! There's a bathroom, kitchen with stove and 4 ring burner, a tv and a very comfortable pull-out. The mattress is thick and comfy, no “bar in the back” from the frame. This should work out very nicely. No rent – just pay for the utilities. Going to church with the little old lady brigade has paid off for me. Alrighty, I'll take it.

He left and I stayed to clean myself and put some things away before heading over to their house. I called home and told the husband all about the past few days. Even though it was hot outside, the positioning of the house doesn't get the heat. It's cool inside. Whew.

I made my way over to Giudecca, first stopping at the grocery store for some supplies to bring with me. I was making a simple dinner of soup and chicken for us. I was so ready to be back in a familiar kitchen that I truly have the run of. No Signora standing over my shoulder making sure I don't burn her house down.

Lots of hugs and kisses from Mamma. She made me sit and she held my hand so tight I thought she would break bones. She looks frail. Marco told me a few days before I left the US that she had spent some days in the hospital with her heart. I am here to fatten her back up.

A lovely evening with my Venetian family. My second home, this city. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

30 Settembre - Firenze: killer of feet

I walked a different way to the school today and was kicking myself most of the time. The sidewalks were modernly paved and smoother – no cobblestones. Why didn't I discover this sooner? Florence is always terrible on my feet and ankles; the cobblestones are uneven and very hard on my ankles. I get a lot of trauma from repeatedly hitting the stones. Rome – no problem, Venice - completely flat pavings. The day I leave Florence my lower extremities stop protesting and go back to normal, but until then... oy. No matter how sturdy my shoes are, my feet always balloon up and I look like Jumbo the elephant. The word “cankles” doesn't even begin to describe it. No matter what kind of shoes are on my feet – flats, clogs, sneakers. I see these Florentine woman skipping about in 4-inch heels and I want to trip them. Tra la la... boom!

Shoes I wear on a regular basis become torture devices at these times. At the moment both of my feet have blisters on three toes each: the swelling in my ankles and the tops of my feet have made my toes press up and rub on the sides & tops of my shoes. So I have compression “cortetto” foot bandaids on them all. Isn't this a charming subject? I know how to bring the glamour!

Extreme measures are called for in this situation. I had to break down and buy a pair of shoes if I was going to be able to walk for the next few days. Oh, lucky you, you must be thinking... buying shoes in Florence, the epicenter of shoe fashionistas, the home of almost every major shoe designer on the Italian peninsula... Yeah, try finding a woman's 11, even when your feet aren't swollen up to rhinoceros-sized. I was going to be heading to Arezzo for an afternoon trip with some other students from the Scuola, so I needed to find something during my 30 minute break between sessions. I knew exactly what to do... I went to one of the outlet shops around the corner from the school and bought a pair of man's shoes. They are “driving mocassins” so they are slipper-like but have a rubberized sole, are not blocky, have good support for the arches and the leather feels already broken in. 40Euros. Sold. I am never taking them off.

There were ten of us on the trip to Arezzo, which is an hour's train ride southeast of Florence. Arezzo is known for its contribution to the world of music and for gold - jewelry making. As for the jewelry, there are lots of goldsmiths there. That's the extent of it mattering to me. But for the history of music, it is everything. Long before notes and scales were as we know them now, there was a method of musical notation and singing the European monks utilized in their daily prayers, known as Gregorian. This was before they set them to music in the 90s, we're talking Dark Ages here, from the 600s to the 1000s. Another Benedictine monk, in Arezzo, Guido Monaco (or more widely known as Guido d'Arezzo) created a set of notation on scales we recognize today (the “do, re, mi...” notes, but not the 5-line staff) in 1025. The notation tones' names (do, re, mi, etc) were taken from the first line of a latin hymn, the first syllables of each line in the verse. It was originally “ut, re, mi, fa, so, la” and the “ut” was replaced by “do” in 1600, which was when “si” was added to the scale as well. But, for all you fans of The Sound of Music, Arezzo was where it all began. That will bring us back to Ut Ut Ut... yeah, “do” sounds a little better.

In more modern times, Arezzo was the site for the Oscar-winning film “Life is Beautiful” made by and starring Roberto Begnini. The film takes place in Arezzo, before they are sent off to the concentration camp. There are signs and placards up all over town showing it as a site for a particular scene. The city's theater and two of the main piazzas figure prominently in the movie.

I ended up having a very interesting conversation with my new friend Fraucka as a result of these signs. She doesn't know the film, and being German, I was interested in knowing how the educational system presents the whole topic of WWII and Nazi Germany. It's kind of unavoidable, but how do they treat it? Our discussion started when she asked me what the film was about. I told her “an Italian-Jew is being sent off the camps and he doesn't want his young son to realize the terrible situation they are in. He tells him fantastic stories and uses his imagination to prevent his son from “seeing” the real horrors around them.” She was very straightforward in saying that the German school system is, well, very straightforward about their history. I asked if they teach that Hitler was a madman or about the cruelties he and his SS leaders subjected, and she said they do. It was very interesting but I can't relay every bit of it... suffice to say, the kids know about the atrocities and there is a definite stress on the idea that it should never happen again.

What she did say that struck me is how kind she thought my phrasing was in asking my questions. “Most people are not so thoughtful in how they speak around Germans about Camps and SS. They do not think that I might be embarrassed about my nation's history.” I kept saying “Nazi” and she just refers to them as Germans and said it was okay to call them that because that's who they were. When I disagreed, I told her “Not all Germans were Nazis. It's important to specify it. In my opinion.” She thanked my for my consideration. I said, I understand to a very small degree since I come from a German background. In school I was always a mite embarrassed when we studied WWII and was concerned that kids being stupid kids would place that tag of “your family is German, so you're a Nazi” because kids are stupid kids. At the very least, I didn't have the family German surname. I wonder if my cousins with the surname went through this? But I have always tended to overthink things, even as a child.

Fraucka reminds me a lot of my cousin Alena, and it turns out her younger sister's name is exactly that. Weird coincidences. She is at the school for another three weeks and then her mother is coming down to Florence for a few days. They will drive home to their village, just outside Munich, but stop in Venice for a few days. In checking my calendar, we have it timed right that I am in the city at the same time. While I can't spend all day with them because I'll be working, I can go to dinner with them. This makes me happy. She wants her mother to meet me and I would love to help the out by giving them some pointers on seeing the city in a short amount of time.

On the way from the train station I called La Signora and asked if I could prepare dinner for her tonight, which is my last night there. She said she & her daughter's family had planned to go out for their evening meal, so I said I would be happy to cook for all of them. A non-Florentine or Venetian dinner, of course, but I wanted to thank her for her hospitality. I left out that it took almost the whole time to get her to warm up to me, but we'll just keep that between us. She insisted it would be too much work, I insisted it would not. I make this meal all the time. I would be back by 7 and dinner would be ready by 8. Ok? She still sounded doubtful.

Well, I made that dinner and they were stuffed to the gills. They were pleased and there wasn't a drop left. We drank two bottles of wine, between four adults and a good time was had by all. I even received cheek kisses from La Signora. I did it. I won her over. I never had a doubt.