7 Novembre – Sciopero

At least when there's a strike it is published beforehand. For train strikes you have to look in the paper or seek it out on a website – always good to do before purchasing a ticket. But in Venice, they are kind enough to put up notices in the vaporetto stops in Italian, English and German ahead of time. Of course, people not familiar with the city may not be reading all the material on the signboards inside the fermatas and miss them. Being of a sick and twisted mind, I sometimes enjoy stopping by the fermatas on strike days to see how many tourists are standing in there wondering where the boats are...

Sometimes the strikes are four hours, other times eight or twelve hours. This one is 24 hours: 7AM Monday to 7AM Tuesday. But the people of the islands not in Venice proper, like Murano, Lido and Giudecca, aren't completely stranded. There is a boat every four hours from San Giorgio Maggiore, to take people to San Zaccaria. There's also one at Lido to Santa Elena, whereupon the people have to walk from the southeasternmost point of the city to everywhere else. And one on Murano to Fondamenta Nove. They don't leave the residents absolutely stranded on the outlying points, which is a considerate thing to do, considering they are striking after all. I still don't understand the purpose of striking to prove some point of supposed contention (and showing how important the transit services are to a community) and then making a concession for the populace. Defeats the purpose in my mind. Anyway, on strike days in order to take this boat you have to have an abbonamento, the picture ID resident card, and thankfully I have one showing my part-time residential status, thanks to my “famiglia” letting me use their address as my “permanent” one even though I rent from various locales in town. At these stops they station a transit worker to turn away tourists, which of course baffles them. “Sciopero. Strike. Vaporetto for resident cards only.” Taxi boat drivers must love days like this as I'm sure they get a lot of calls from freaking out tourists who must get to their destinations and connections to get out of town, like the train station or airport. Rake in that dough. It's not really that inconvenient as a tourist, just walk everywhere. Venice is a walking city after all. But if you chose to stay on the Lido or Giudecca, better just explore that area on a strike day. Taxi boats are uber ultra way expensive, but you look so fabulous riding around in them, so there's that.

I left the apartment at 6:30AM for the 15 minute walk over to San Zaccaria to catch the #2 to Giudecca. I was cutting it close, since those boats run every 20 minutes, but as long as I caught that boat at 6:54 I was fine. It's just over a kilometer, so 24 minutes is plenty of time.

I caught the boat in plenty of time and made my way to Mamma's, stopping at the caffe bar down the street and picking up some pastries for us. She wasn't up yet but Marco was. By the time she was up I had set out coffee, yogurt, fruit and cornetti for her. No complaining about no church before eating was heard. She has accepted that she has to eat first thing in the morning, church or not. The priest would come around later in the morning to see her.

Spent the morning loading up my television shows onto the computer to watch later. Oh how I have missed being able to catch up. While I adore my “famiglia” I haven't enjoyed the stresses of the situation by a longshot. Relaxing with some mindless tv viewing is most appreciated. And so I loaded up a program from the pirate website, loaded up a few actually, while I sat with Mamma so when she went down for a nap I could view them with a headset so as not to disturb.

I made up a porcini risotto for lunch, with a side of grilled zucchini and eggplant. Of course Mister Man had an opinion – no protein? Shut it. Not every single meal has to have meat involved. Gah. He left to go do something elsewhere, away from where he could irritate me, Mamma went down for her nap, and I watched three weeks worth of NBC comedies. Yay for me.

We still had zuppa di zucca leftover from Sunday, so that with a roast chicken and carrots was dinner. No complaints from the peanut gallery at all. I left them a little before 9PM, expecting to be able to take the periodic boat for the residents, since the strike was still on, and waited for 45 minutes. No transit worker ever came to check on abbonamenti, no boat. Hmmmm. The notice said there would be one at 9AM, 1PM, 5PM, 9PM, 1AM, 5AM... and at 7AM Tuesday the strike would be over. Maybe they finally get the picture of what a strike actually is? I called Marco and told him I was stranded, no boat ever showed so I was coming back to the house. I would sleep on the couch or in the spare room. “Signor benedetto... ringrazie che non devo lavoro.” He was thankful he wasn't working the night shift.

Mamma called out from her room when I got back, wanting to know what was the matter. “Non e problema, non e problema, la stanza e libero.” Not a problem, the bedroom is ready. I had her get back to bed and once we could tell she was asleep, Marco & I drank a bottle of wine and ravaged the rest of the roast chicken. We were a little tipsy and I had to keep shushing him because he was singing along with the tv... the Italian version of “X Factor”, a singing competition show. Idiot.

For being “stranded” it wasn't so bad. Not like Robinson Crusoe stranded. Except for the warbling of my friend. That would drive me to find a desert isle.

6 Novembre – Spectacle in the Calle

I am a sight to behold. In order to connect online while in my little cave of an apartment I have to go out into the calle, which is super narrow, an alley between three and four feet wide, actually. If I sit in the doorway and keep the laptop on my lap I get the portable broadband key to work for me. In Venice it happens quite often that if you are on the ground floor you don't get much signal strength for your phone or wifi. The calles being narrow and the and the buildings four stories or more leads to just a bit of signal leaking if you are in the doorway. So I have been doing that when I am at the studio in Rialto.

Of course I am looked at like I'm an alien. People that walk past the end of the calle will back up and stop and stare. It's just a chair in the doorway. Calm down folks. It will be fine. Nothing to see here... unless I put the stepstool out too, acting as table. One of the ladies from the building across from mine now pokes her head out the window from the second floor and calls out “Buongiorno!” to me and asks how my office is today. Things I love about this city, if they see you more than once they stop and talk to you like you're a neighbor.

Add to the spectacle that I plug in the magicjack to make calls. A phone on a cord, connected to a computer, on my lap or on a stepstool, halfway into the alley. But wait, it gets better... it began to rain when I was calling home. I put a scarf over the computer so drops didn't bounce up and wet the screen and keyboard, and put an umbrella over it all. I liken it to the machine E.T. & Elliott placed the forest with the Speak & Spell, the record player and various odds and ends.

But a thing not very neighborly that has frayed my patience is the B&B upstairs from the studio. It's bad enough that their plumbing is the cause for the leak in my ceiling but the guests currently in the room drop their garbage out the window. Ugh. Really. Come on now. While sitting in my doorway the past few days at various times of the day and night I have had ice cream confection wrappers float down, cellophane from sandwich packages and clementine citrus peels. Every time I shout “Hey!” to see if someone will look out the window, but they don't cowards. I know it's a cut-rate crappy hostel calling itself a B&B but they have to have a garbage can somewhere in the place. Quit throwing your stuff into the street. Heathens. When it isn't raining I have swept them up and put them in a plastic bag. I will eventually either present them to the B&B or throw the bag back up in the window at the offenders. Rude bastards.

Mamma came home in the afternoon. Marco's friend Rigo brought his boat to pick her up at the hospital so we could avoid having to wheel her to and fro the vaporetto. Rigo is a big bear of a man, a fisherman by trade. He's a childhood friend and has known Mamma practically his whole life as her mother is one of her close friends. He has one of the coveted slips for parking his boat and it's been in his family for decades. This is his personal boat, not the one he uses to work in the lagoon. It's about 15 feet long and reminds me of my dad's boat (my granddad's before that) that I spent countless hours fishing in while growing up. It's not the same make and model, but the vintage is early to mid 1960s and the seats feel the same. He tied up at the hospital dock – this city is such a different kind of life than back home - and was waiting for us when we wheeled her out. Scooped her up and into the cabin, actually, just under the top tarp cover and off we went. It wasn't raining so hard as we made our way across the Giudecca canal. It was about a ten minute trip from Dorsoduro's Ospedale Giustinian. He tied up as close to the building as he could get, scooped her back up and as if she was a sleepy toddler he carried her upstairs. Deposited her and quickly took off to do other things. Thanks Rigo! Human transport service.

We were given instructions from the doctors not to have her climbing up and down the stairs for at least a week. She still needs to get up and walk around on the cane for her leg, but just around the house. We're going to do laps. Whoo! I'm sure the priest will find his way daily to the house since she won't be coming to church. Unless Rigo carries her down. He's a busy guy though and I'm sure she wouldn't ask him.

In a little over an hour I had and early dinner prepared. Zuppa di zucca (butternut squash soup) and roast pork medallions in a balsamic glaze with rosemary potatoes. Skins off because Marco spazzes out at potato skins, even on new red potatoes. Freak. I didn't expect her to eat much, but she chowed down pretty well. Her appetite definitely appears to be back. We'll see in a couple of days, because she may just be starving from hospital food objections.

She is so much more animated now. I know she must be feeling better. The phone kept ringing with her friends calling to wish her a happy homecoming. Word is out. Mamma is back on Giudecca. She chatted with each phone call. She's laughing and engaged in things going on around her. Definitely feeling better. Received her pain shot and was slumbering away by 8PM. I went home for some sleep. I have to get over there early tomorrow. There's a called strike of the vaporetto system and I needed to get to Giudecca before it starts at 7AM.

5 Novembre - Breaking Point

On a balance sheet, things are definitely tipped to the good side right now. However, my emotional state is taking a toll. I haven't been able to call home and talk to hub-unit very much, only twice in two weeks. Between the time difference, his hours of availability versus mine, hospitals, working, bad or slow computer connectivity, it just hasn't worked out for us. And I'm all the worse for it. Embarking on this journey of working far from home, the first thing I have said throughout has been that I have to be able to connect to my home life. I have to feel connected and “there” even when I'm not or it just won't work for me. Not having the ability to call home and talk really brought me down today.

This was after I had spoken to him. I hung up the phone and started missing him immediately. And the tears came.

I know it's the stress of everything in the past few weeks coming out: my uncle's death, the floods, the keeping myself on my toes, Mamma's surgery, tending the family graves, emotionally supporting the family here, trying to emotionally support my mother by phone in her grieving, guilt over Mamma having to be re-admitted (did I cause her to do too much too soon?) and just everything under the sun made me break down. I whined on facebook and received some wonderful words of support from friends. Thanks guys, I need you!

I did get to speak to my pal and travel-buddy Charlene for a little while on magicjack, until I snapped my phone cord and finally broke the tine off completely on the plug. Boo. Will now need to get another cord.

I am dangerously close to packing it all in as soon as Mamma is in the clear. The idea of five months is just too long... even though hub-unit will likely come over at New Years, it's not entirely “home” - unless all my friends and my parents and brother come too. Think about, people, let's have a party over here? Okay? For me...

In any case, I need to seriously evaluate if this is all worth it. Certainly being around and being able to care for Mamma is worth it, but I don't think I can be away from my “real” life too much longer. I knew when taking this job I wouldn't do it forever.. I wanted to be able to say that I have done it – I've worked my dream job. I can say that I have.

Time will tell. I'm going to suck it up for a little while longer and stop whining now.

4 Novembre – Everything Happens For A Reason

The doctors determined last night that Mamma is having some post surgery issues, the most major of them being some bleeding. She also needed re-hydrating so they started an IV fluid drip immediately and they would be performing a battery of tests on her for a couple of days.

One of the decisions made last night was regarding a blood transfusion. Mamma was very upset at the news that she would need blood. She absolutely did not want a stranger's blood given to her. I suppose she doesn't realize that she had been given blood during the operation, but she was at the point of irrationality. She kept saying she doesn't want anyone's blood. Superstitious crap. I'm sure they are just as careful over here about blood donation as in the States, but she was quite upset by it. I asked about blood supply, Marco translating for me. I don't know medical terms so much.

They told us they could accept donation from family but they would need time (a day) to check it all out and process the blood. If someone wanted to donate to her they could transfuse her on Friday afternoon. Guess what blood type she is? O+. Guess who got to donate to her? Me.

Call me crazy but I believe it was supposed to happen. The week I left the States I went to the Red Cross with the hub-unit to attempt to donate. They ended up jacking my arm up and not accessing the veins. If they had only listened to me – I know my arms and where the veins are. I was pretty upset when it happened and told hub-unit I wouldn't be going back to them again ever. They've done this to me a number of times over the years.

After a medical history once over (I have lots to say) where poor assisting-in-translating Marco now knows EVERYTHING about my insides from port to starboard, they set me up with a technician to draw samples and then the bags. They listened to me and took it from me with no problem last night, two bags. I don't know if it was two pints - who knows the measurement equivalents over here? But I'm a big girl with lots of blood flowing through me, right? The doctors said I just need to take it easy for a couple of days, no lifting. They had no problem tapping into my arm; no butterfly access required.

She was given the blood this afternoon, and is already back to being a spitfire. Or is that from my blood in her? Hmmm... She wants food from outside, no hospital food. I'm just happy she has a modicum of an appetite again. The doctors do believe she was straining herself with stairs too much too soon. When she comes back home we're confining her to the house for a while. The priest can come over and give her Mass. She doesn't need to climb up and down flights of stairs quite yet.

There's more bad news from the west coast of Italy. It's raining again in Tuscany and Liguria. While the Cinque Terre aren't re-flooding, a bit north of there in Genova (Genoa) both their riverbanks burst and overflowed into the city. Most of the town is underwater and there are six dead so far, two of them children. The news just keeps replaying the footage of a baby carriage floating down the swollen street and a woman screaming. It's awful. Once is too much for that scene. Just the words are horrible enough, don't need the visual aids please.

Irresponsible “journalism” striking again for the shock factor. Ugh.

I needed some time alone. Needed to get out into the night air for a while and take deep breaths. I took myself to dinner near where my little apartment is, at the chinese restaurant around the corner. Hot & Sour Soup usually puts me in a good frame of mind and cures what ails me. The place was packed at 9PM. Good for them. I ended up calling my mother and having a long conversation outside the restaurant afterward: me & the computer, the magicjack and the land-line telephone on a six-foot cord. I'm a sight to behold, I suppose. The funny thing is that people walk up to me and get about a foot away from me and just stare. Carry on their conversation in Italian, saying “It's a telephone! On a computer! How does it work?” Not at me, not to me, but in their conversation. I kept cracking up and it was entertaining my mother as well. It's not like I'm in a phone booth – they walk right up to you and act as if you can't hear (hello?I'm talking into a phone...) and shout to each other "E una telefona! Nella computer! Che cosa?” A little rude, but hilarious. Like I'm a circus actor something. Shall I dance for you too?

Next time I think I'll pull my John Merrick imitation up for them. “I am not an elephant. I am not an animal. I am a human being.” It'll be so pretty.

3 Novembre – Here We Go Again

My telefonino rang at 6AM. Marco at work. He asked how she was. I reported she hadn't woke up last night and was still sleeping. Okay okay, he promised to get out of there as soon as he could and get home to help me bring her to church today. A presto. Soon.

I made myself some toast with Nutella and coffee, washed up and changed my clothes from my suitcase hiding in the extra room. I really like this hair color. So glad it's not Ronald McDonald or Pippi Longstocking -ish.

I heard her moving around and helped her get up and into the bathroom. Made a mental note to tell Marco to bring home prune juice. Constipation is likely after surgery too, plus with the drugs she's on. Text messaged him before I forgot. She was moving even slower today than she was yesterday. I gave her a sitz bath without much protestation. Changed the dressings. On her arm and leg, but just had a glance at the chest incision to make sure it wasn't inflamed. I didn't like her pallor. I asked her to please have a cup of tea and a biscuit before going to church. Please? You didn't eat anything but a little soup yesterday. Please eat something for me before we go. You need strength to get up the stairs. She smiled weakly and said “Okay cara.” She had three sips of chamomile tea and a bite of biscotti dunked into it. Reminds me a lot of my Grandma Ilene when she would go along with whatever you asked because she didn't want to make waves in her last years. I don't like this. Too pliant.

Marco came home with a bottle of prune juice. She smiled when she saw it. “Come sei?” How did you know? He answered that I told him to get it. She patted my hand. Okay, maybe that's why she doesn't want to eat. I finished getting her dressed and ready for church. Her hair looks lovely, she remarked. Okay, big coat on and scarves on head and around neck. Cane, wheelchair, we were out the door. Slowly slowly down the stairs. She motioned for the wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at me. In English I said “I think she's going backwards.” Granted she really just needs to get up and down the stairs a few times a day, but I'm worried that she started out not using the wheelchair on day 1, then day 2 she used it on the way back from church but day 3 she's using it on the way to church. I also said I don't like her color. We got to the church and it took a lot of effort for her to go up the stairs. I glanced at Marco. His jaw was set. He's worried now too.

Leaving the church, we took her out the back and around the side, since there are no stairs. She walked it but halfway back to the house she stopped and asked for the chair. Okay Mamma. Let's get home. She got up the stairs okay, but very slow. I made her some more herbal tea, as she gets no caffeine for a while, some yogurt and a piece of toast. “Niente.” She wanted none of it. Just a few bites. Please. You can't have the medicine without eating something. Two spoons of yogurt. A bite of toast. A swallow of prune juice. “Provio Kricka. Io prometto” I'm trying Kricka. I promise..

That made me want to cry. She's not being stubborn. She just doesn't have an appetite. I don't want to badger her but I won't let her not have nutrients. But if I have to squirt Pedialyte down her gullet to keep her hydrated I will. She patted my hand. Okay Mamma. We'll try later.

I suggested to Marco that he leave a message fore her doctor. He will want to be notified that her appetite has taken a dive. He went to look up the number and make the call.

It was a quiet day. He didn't sleep much, but she did. She nodded off in her chair a few times. I really did not like her pallor. We tried getting her to eat some more for lunch. She had about a half cup of soup and a sip of prune juice and went to lay down. The doctor called back and they scheduled an appointment for her for tomorrow. Keep giving her fluids. If she became weaker we would need to bring her in immediately. I told him he needed to get some sleep. She was napping. He didn't need to sit over her. Go to bed. Ok.

I woke them up for dinner at 7PM. She looked practically grey at this point. She hadn't had her afternoon exercise and I decided not to push the evening exercise either. Let it wait until after she sees the doctor. Maybe the stairs are overdoing it so soon. Maybe she just needs to walk around the apartment a lot more for periods of time. She just wanted tea. I told her please have something more. I could make her some rice and butter. That's good for a queasy stomach. No. Just tea. He tried talking her into something more. She ate two crackers. We both told her that she looks very sick now. Please tell us how she feels. She said she doesn't feel well at all. Finally.

When she stood up she faltered but caught herself on the table. “Call the paramedics Marco. She needs to go – now.” I grabbed jackets, the afghan off her chair, the cane and the wheelchair. He scooped her up and started down the stairs. When we got to the foyer and had her in the chair he placed the call. She was alert and was not making any protestations to us. We heard the ambulance boat's sirens a few minutes later and he went out to flag them down to which building we were in. They came in with the gurney and sat her on it, strapped her in and wheeled her out. Marco went in the ambulance with her. I told him I would lock the apartment up, bring her purse and her meds and be there ASAP. He called me a watertaxi, saying “no vaporetto now.” Okay. They were gone faster than the neighbors could gather outside. I arrived about ten minutes after they did.

It was a long night. They got her stabilized and started IV fluids. There were consultations and decisions made for the next few days. She will stay at least two and have a battery of tests. The hotel told Marco to stay home for at least a week, they'll get coverage handled for him.

2 Novembre – Beautyfull Day

I got my things together, grabbed some breakfast at the restaurant buffet and checked out of the hotel before 7AM. I wanted to get over to Giudecca before Mamma got up so I brought my bag with me. I would bring it to Rialto while she was napping in the afternoon. Hopefully everything would be dried out and dripless by now in the apartment. I don't need to end up with a consumptive disease like people did hundreds of years ago in this town from dreary wet conditions in winter. I'll end up in a remake of Death In Venice, 21^st century style. Kidding.

Mister Man had already left for work. He called me while I was on the boat and told me his manager asked him to help out on the grave shift one more week. Can I please help at night with her? Sure thing. That split shift crap again of 6AM-12PM and then 10PM-7AM today. How awful. I'll either sleep on the couch or in the spare room. Most important thing is that she needs someone here. She got up very slowly and I helped her dress to go to Mass. She absolutely will not eat anything until then. Slowly slowly down the stairs of the building, and after refusing the wheelchair we made our way to Redentore church and she got up those steps. She won't take her scarf off in church today, just like yesterday, because she hasn't had her hair done since before going into the hospital. The priest smiled at her arrival and came to bring her communion when it was time so she didn't have to stand too long. She was tired after Mass and allowed herself the wheelchair for the walk back. Climbing the stairs took a while. She's a little knackered this morning and it's no wonder. Eat breakfast people! It'll fortify you...

I asked her if she wanted me to make an appointment to have her hair done, but she declined. They won't have time for her today, she thinks. I told her I could wash and set her hair.

“Sai? Devi fare?” You know? You can do that?

I told her I had set my grandmothers' heads before. It's been a few years but I know how.

“Ay, cara. Sei meravigliosa.” You're marvelous. She says that now, but will she afterward?

I went looking around in the closet for her curlers, pins and setting lotion. She didn't have any setting lotion. No problem, I can go get some. And I need to do my own rat's nest. It's been almost six weeks for me. Trim the ends and bangs and brush up my color. I asked her if it was okay if I colored my hair in her bathroom – I promise not to make a mess. “Si, si.” Okay, after breakfast.

She was in some discomfort but would wait it out until Marco came home to give her a shot. I was thankful for this. I don't want to try administering a syringe, that's for sure. I managed to give her a thorough hair wetting and shampoo and got her back to the couch, and I ran out to the “Beautyfull” store down by the Giardini for supplies. Got back pretty quickly, I was only gone 45 minutes, thanks to good timing with the vaporetto boats.

Set her hair and hooked it up under the drying cap and hairdryer. This totally reminded me of being a little kid and watching my grandmas do this in their homes. Now it's time for mine.

I haven't purchased hair color over here before but it's not like it's rocket science. I found a color I wanted “tiziano rosso” - Titian Red. Perfect to be dyeing my hair in Venice with the color named for the artist who used these colors for hair in his paintings. It's bungundy-red on the box. Perfect. I got it all ready and mixed. Looks the appropriate purple in the bottle. Put it on my head and my scalp looks like Ronald McDonald orange red. Cross your fingers, people. This could get a little scary. Thirty minute wait for developing. THIRTY? Popped my head out of the bathroom and looked at the clock – oh man, he's going to come home and I will have Ronald McDonald head. I will never hear the end of this... great.

Luckily, he was a little delayed. Whew. I managed to wash out the color and blow it dry and he wasn't back yet. Cleaned up the bathroom. You'd never know I was there.

And no clown hair for me. Yay! It is a lovely burgundy red, just as advertised. Whew, again. Mamma complimented me on the new shade. Finished up her hair, taking it out of the curlers, a little backcomb poufing and spray the crap out if it. I've seen Steel Magnolias 87 times. I can do this.

To keep her mind off her discomfort I offered to give her a manicure. She was soaking her hands when Marco came in. “Mi dispiace, dispiace. Lo so che sono in ritardo!” I'm sorry sorry – I know I'm late. He took one look at the two of us playing beauty parlor and cracked up. Got her shot prepared but we all agreed she needed to eat something first. She had little appetite but ate a bowl of soup for me. He gave her a shot and we went back to the manicure.

“Ahhhhhm. Scusa. Pranziamo?” Excuse me. Are we going to eat lunch? Sure, get a bowl of soup or heat some ziti in the micronda. I'm a little busy here.

Oh, if looks could kill. What a sad little baby face pout. Sorry pal, she may wait on you hand and foot but it's not my job. I suppose I could have made him a plate while I was making her one, but I didn't think of it. Most capable adults attempt to fend for themselves in their own houses.

Finished her up and she was so pleased. Said she would have to sleep sitting up so she didn't ruin her hair. Silly woman. I told her she did need to take a nap. Rest, Mamma.

She slept a few hours and we went on a short walk. I think her just getting up and down a flight of stairs is sufficient two days out of the hospital as a bit of exercise, a few times a day. She doesn't really need to start walking on top of it, but she did. About ten minutes outside the building and to a bench, rest and then back to the building.

Marco got up at 7PM and I fixed us all plates for dinner. She didn't want anything, but we cajoled her into having a little more soup and I made a half sandwich for her. She struggled with eating the soup and couldn't do the sandwich at all. Just not hungry. I know it's the medication and post surgery mental stuff. It happens often.

We took her on one more round of exercise and back up inside for the night. He gave her a shot and I got her ready and into bed. I parked myself on the couch for the night. We watched an episode of “Chuck” from two seasons ago. It was more exciting in Italian than when I first watched it in English. He's not familiar with the show so I gave him a quick rundown. “What is this Nerd Herd? You have this thing really?” I explained him what the Geek Squad is at Best Buy. “We need this in Venezia.” Yes we do. He left at 9:30 for work. I kept her bedroom door open and an ear tuned for any noise that she was waking. She didn't though. Quiet night.

1 Novembre – Tending and Mending

We had decided somewhere last evening that it would be good for me to come with him to the cemeteries on the mainland. There are two to go to, one in Portoguaro where his father is and the one in Mogliano where Francesca and Chiara are. If we got Mamma home before noon, she could eat, take a walk, and have some medication to rest while we went to the mainland. We could be back before dinner, she could have another walk and settle in for the evening. Oh, and church. We would need to fit a visit to church in there too. Of course we would. If we had to, he would go to the cemeteries alone. If she was too antsy I would stay with her to divert attention. Today would not be exactly smooth. We know her mind is on her “duty” to family and religion.

Met at the vaporetto and made our way to the hospital by 8AM. He still had a few flecks of glitter. He'll get over it if I don't tell him. It's not like I was letting him go to work like that. Then again, he would be going to church. I pulled out a baby wipe and swiped the remainders off. Baby wipes rock at taking all the makeup off. Veteran of Rocky Horror truth!

They were ready to release her. We had a session with the nurses again about aftercare for the surgery sites. I would take the role of bathing and changing dressing for the next week or so, and then she should be able to care for herself. No sense in embarrassing the both of them with seeing your aging mother in the bath. He would be administering the meds. They have no qualms about dispensing injectable drugs here to the right patients. He's given her pain injections in the past, so he's comfortable with it. Me, not so much. I don't ever want to get comfortable with a needle, thank you very much.

We left the hospital just after 9AM with her in a wheelchair and me holding her new cane. The wheelchair is just for longer distances. She is determined to walk with her cane. That's fine by me. Back on Giudecca, we didn't even go straight home. She had to go to church. We wheeled her off the vaporetto and to the steps of Redentore church, where she tentatively climbed those steps with that cane. Went to Mass at 10AM, the priest brought the communion to her pew when he was through with the rest of the congregation.

Slowly slowly slowly walked home on her own two feet. I warned her that too much too soon is not good either. Piano piano, Mamma. Go slow. Heal slow. She wanted to go to bed after having a little breakfast.

She was very pliant after that. We agreed that she would go to bed. STAY there and sleep for a few hours. In the meantime he and I would go to the mainland and tend to the family. We should be back 4PM. Okay? Okay cara.

No time to waste. If we took too long she would wake up, get restless and get up. She is still a little unstable in getting out of bed so I didn't want to take the chance of her falling. Should I just stay here with her? He said we could do this in just a couple of hours if I went with him. They actually go and tend to the gravesites fairly often so it isn't as if they are overgrown and need a lot of weeding. Actually they were at Chiara's only a week before she went to hospital, since Chiara's birthday is 10/17. Same as my Dad's. Ugh.

We took the vap to Piazzale Rome, then a bus across the straights to Mestre to the garage where he keeps his car. He doesn't use the car very often. This was actually the car he had bought to give to Chiara. That didn't work out so he kept this instead and had his own car destroyed.

For those that don't know, his niece committed suicide in his car in the garage in the aftermath of losing her mother.

To say I was “happy” to be doing this with him isn't the correct use of words. I was sad to have to be doing this, but I was honored to be allowed to be helping. That isn't the right word either. I don't have the right words to describe the emotions. I just know that I was needed by them to be helping them out. That is the closest I can come to describing this feeling. I know he was grateful.

It was an almost wordless afternoon. We went to Portoguaro and fixed Lorenzo's site. Left flowers. He prayed and pondered. Then on the car to Mogliano. I hadn't been to the site since Chiara's funeral. I cried a lot while he fixed her & Francesca's site and prayed and pondered. Why do these things have to happen? This is the thing that makes me question how people can have faith after tragedy. But these people do.

Back in the car. I asked him if he wanted to go somewhere and be by himself for a while. He could drop me in Mestre and I could make my way back to the house. I assumed he didn't want me to see him too emotional. We are friends and I have seen him display many emotions, but he doesn't break down very much.

No no. You stay with me. I am fine. But once we were across and back into Venice on a vaporetto he asked that we get off at the next stop. It was at Sacca Fisola at the other end of Giudecca. We sat on a bench facing the lagoon and he broke down. It's been a rough 18 months. For all of us. Their lives have changed. Mine certainly has as well.

We walked back to the house. We were still well ahead of the timeframe we had thought up for the day. Got back to the house and it didn't appear Mamma had been up at all. She is finally getting some rest. Good. Sleep. I told him to go and nap too. I would be alert for when she did wake.

“Grazie ceci.”

Everyone was up for dinner at 7. Mamma ate a huge portion of soup and ziti. We got her downstairs slowly slowly and she walked for about 15 minutes, to the church and back. We had the wheelchair with us just in case. This old bird isn't going to use that wheelchair, I suspect. She is determined.

He gave her a dose of medication and she was down for the night. I stayed for a few hours just to make sure she didn't need me to assist in the bathroom for anything. Back to the hotel for a couple of hours of sleep.

I never would have thought ten years ago I would be this close to people who live a world away from me. And I am grateful to be a part of their lives.

31 Ottobre – SO Much Glitter

I didn't have to call a single departing client to rush them to their airport boat, so they must have changed their clocks accordingly. Goodbye! Good luck! I really wanted to just go back to bed until check out time. But I didn't. I did call Signora Ferri for an update. She apologized profusely but says the drip is still there. Now, it's completely possible for me to sleep there, I know, but she is worried about the inconvenience of the drip sound. The drips are being caught entirely – the floor is dry, but the workers haven't started repair yet, but they should get the drip stopped today, she says. I am not worried. I've got options for places to stay even if I wasn't able to sleep at the studio. I have friends all over town I could crash a few days with, no problem. I could also see about staying another night at the hotel. I have points galore that should cover one night....however, I could also check with Andreas if I can work something out.

I went downstairs and talked with him,told him about the leak at the studio. “No problem for you to stay, Kristina. If you need two nights, it is not a problem.” I told him if he needed to switch me to a different room that is fine with me. Looked at the computer.... not necessary. Yeah baby! Free nights in a luxury hotel. Party in my room. Kidding...

Left the hotel when Mister Man left to go home around 8AM. I told him that his mother had given me keys to their house and warned that I was going to use them today.

“Okay. For what?” I wanted to go to the grocery store and prepare some food for when Mamma comes home tomorrow. Want to fill the fridge and get started on a pot of soup and a pot of sauce. I also wanted to make something for Halloween.

“What? What do you make? Pumpkin faces?” No, I didn't want to carve anything.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” I told him that in my family we always have grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup on Halloween. Before my mother and her siblings went trick or treating my grandma would make them all this meal. It was quick (Campbell's soup) and filling and warm on an autumn night. My cousins and I got the same thing when it was our generation's turn to go out into the night. Even though I don't have kids I still eat GC&TS every October 31^st. It's even more poignant now that my uncle is gone. He was always the first one to post out on the family's yahoogroup posting board about making it, whether for himself or his grandchildren.

“Okay. You make me some too and then we go out into the night.” Wow, you're going out somewhere? You might go and actually participate in having fun?

“Shaddap.” His pronunciation kills me. “Today we have fun because after we both work to get her better.” Yes, that's true. Off to the hospital.

The doctor confirmed on our arrival that she would definitely be released on Tuesday. One more day Mamma, only one more. Te abbiamo prometto. We promise. We both stayed until lunchtime and her friends came in. I told her I was going to fill the fridge and make soup and sauce. What else does she want to eat? Anything as long as it is in her house. That's right, Mamma.

Marco & I separated at the San Basilio vap stop. I needed to stop at the store before dropping everything off at the house on Giudecca. I promised not to wake him up with noise in the kitchen. He promised not to wander in half-clothed. Uh, thanks for that. He would wake up at eight and we would eat and go out afterward.

Okay, to the grocery. I'll make a big pot of pasta sauce with sausage for some baked ziti, and pot of tomato-basil soup. Sundried tomatoes for an extra flavorful punch. Bread, cheese, breakfast stuff too. On the way to the house I stopped at the florists. I was going to buy flowers but I remembered there were flowers and plants coming home with her. No need to brighten the place up. We will already have a lot of foliage on the boat back from the hospital.

Let myself in, dropped things off. Went back to the Rialto studio to pick up the rest of my makeup and the clothes I would wear out tonight. Jeez, I'm spread out across three sestiere now: San Polo where the apartment is, San Marco at the hotel and now on Giudecca at their place. Back to Giudecca now.

Let myself in again and got to chopping for the pot of sauce. It was going to be thick like a bolognese ragu, but with sausage. It smelled fantastic. Started on the soup. Fresh tomatoes, canned tomatoes, a jar of sundried tomatoes. Basil, basil, basil. Oh wow, this was going to be good. Took a nap on the couch for about an hour.

He was rather impressed with the soup too. I told him this was not the soup we had when I was a kid. This is about ten steps up from Campbells condensed tomato soup. And since we didn't have cheddar cheese, the asiago and fontina grilled cheese was fancier than what I had as a kid too. “It is good. No matter when you had it. Good, Kricka. Buona!” So happy it meets with your refined palate, buddy.

Now I had thought I would would be celebrating Halloween with clients, so I had brought along some stage makeup. I had planned on doing myself up Day of the Dead style. Oh well, no matter. I think there are more people “celebrating” Halloween in Venice than in other parts of Italy anyway. It's not an Italian thing, but people in Venice will find an excuse to dress up and go out no matter what. Halloween is becoming more known here, but as an excuse for adults to have a party. Kids may wear masks and have a small celebration at school, or possibly go to a small party, but there is no trick or treating. Moreover, since November 1^st is a religious holiday, and Halloween falls on a Monday, a lot of people aren't working today. They call it a ponte – a bridge – when a holiday falls close to a weekend and they take the day in between off as well. Judging by how many people were out and about on Sunday night, there are bound to be a lot of people out tonight as well, I suspect.

November 1^st is when they all go not only to church but to the cemeteries to tend to the graves of their loved ones. I hadn't even thought of how we were going to work that out tomorrow. There's no way Mamma can go to the cemeteries tomorrow, but I don't see her wanting to sit home while her son tends to the resting places of his father, sister and niece. I got very sad at this realization he would be expected to take care of this on top of her homecoming. This family just breaks my heart at every turn. Maybe if I went with him it would go faster and he could return sooner to her at home. We would need to discuss the plan of action.

So while I had the tools to do a full face of makeup, I didn't. I dressed up one eye and that quadrant of my face in swirls of blues, greens and purples and added glitter. He laughed at me. So I walked up and pushed a thumb of turquoise glitter smack dab on his brow. Everyone knows, once the glitter is there it is not so easy to remove. Take that. Had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner so he was in a festive mood. I can't believe he didn't run to wash it off.

“Okay okay, non battagliamo. Let's not fight. Let's go.”

I about fell over in a faint. Mister Man is going out of the house with an eyeful of glitter. If only I could take aim and shoot a false eyelash across the room at him too.

Going anywhere with him is an exercise in patience. So many people know him, being in the hospitality business for so many years and having lived here his whole life. You can't walk a block without someone stopping to talk or shake hands or at least wave as you pass. My best friend is the unofficial mayor of Venice. Truly.

We ended up going to Piazza San Marco, Rialto the Strada Nova and Campo Santa Margherita. It was a lot of fun. There were a lot of drunken college kids in costumes, but there were some older folks (yes, our age is actually older folks) too. We didn't linger in one place too long. We saw a lot of people he knows. Many asked how Mamma was doing – this is such a small town – and they all wished her well and a speedy recovery. Almost everywhere we went someone bought us a drink. I think it may have been from the shock of seeing him out and being festive. Hold on to your hats, folks, Marco is out on the town. We saw people from the hotel, a lot of them, and we would have a toast. Yay. They would see me and we would have a toast – yay American holiday. Yay. Yay. Yay.

Called it a night after Campo Santa Margherita and a late night piece of pizza at 2AM. Back to the hotel for me.

Happy Halloween, Venice. You'll figure out how to incorporate it into your tourism eventually.

30 Ottobre – Vindication

My phone rang at 6AM. I looked at my clock. It said 5. Oh, he doesn't need to be playing with me when he saw how I was when I went to bed. Answered the phone with “What?”

“It's 6 – time for up.”

My clock says 5. My cellphone says 5. “Stop messing with me. It's five.”

“Time change Kricka. No more daylight saving now.” Great. Since the US changed up a couple of years back, we aren't entirely in sync all year long with daylight savings around the globe. The US starts a week earlier and ends a week later now than Europe.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“I call back in fifteen.” Do whatever you want, pal. Oy.

I got into the shower. If I didn't I wouldn't get out of bed at all, most likely. I rationalized that if I didn't know about the time change, and I hadn't warned my peeps, then they weren't going to know either. We'll just have to wait an hour later for everyone to come down. Then I could tell them to re-set everything related to clocks. At least they weren't leaving today. That would really mess everything up. I had spent most of yesterday morning believing it was their last day. Then it dawned on me. Durrr. Where is my head? I'm so ready to be done with this tour that I am omitting days, I guess.

Got out of the shower to the phone ringing. I grabbed it with “Yes Mother. I'm awake.” He laughed and hung up on me.

I saw Ms London at breakfast. She didn't want to talk to me. Imagine that. A little later as we were leaving out the front door on our walk I saw Ms London at the concierge desk talking with Marco, his manager and the hotel manager. What now, lady? Never have I wanted to eavesdrop so much. Or drop someone from the eaves. I'm sure I'll hear about it later.

Most everyone in the group had shown up an hour later as I expected. It didn't really weigh on our walking tour though. No problem. I reminded them repeatedly to change their clocks when we got back to the hotel. (A) we needed to meet up at 6:30PM in the back corridor by the hotel bar so we could get to our farewell dinner and (B) they need to go home tomorrow morning early. Pack your bags before breakfast tomorrow. I will continue to warn you all!

I was exhausted already but since it was my own fault for staying out late, I was bound and determined to get through the day without taking a nap. This is my penance. I readied myself for going to the hospital. As I was crossing the lobby, Andreas the manager called me over.

“How are you Kristina?” Great. How can I help you?

“You already have, I think.” Oh really? “I think you had a conversation with a guest who was not happy with us.”

Oh crap. Am I going to get in trouble with the managers here for speaking my mind to that horrible woman? Are they going to yank my groovy privileges? Crap on a cracker. I screwed up.

“Yes Andreas. I apologize if it caused you any problems. She asked my opinion of the situation and I gave it to her.” Please oh please oh please don't let there be more problems.

“I want to thank you for speaking your mind. She has returned the recompense to us and apologized for the... disturbance she caused in the lobby yesterday. The scene. She had had time to think and see the error of her thinking at that moment when she was upset by the situation.” Oh realllllllllllly...

“Andreas, I didn't give her my name. How did you...?”

“She came to us this morning and described the woman she spoke with. She said she was with the large group in the breakfast room. Tall American woman. Red hair in black. I knew. Thank you for being a good friend of the hotel. I will see you later – let us have a glass of prosecco together this afternoon before your party.”

Ok then. Yeah. Take that, lady. Verbal smackdown. I win.

I got over to the hospital floating on a cloud. Mister Man was there. I stayed for about an hour, until the priest came to give her Mass. If Mamma don't come to Church, the Church comes to Mamma. Marco and I took that opportunity to skedaddle. He needed to get to sleep and I needed to get out in the air to keep from going to sleep. More coffee please.

On the vaporetto he punched me in the shoulder. What?

“You. You did not say anything to me. Why you didn't say what you told that woman?” Um, yeah. I told him I hadn't had the chance.

“No, you saw me last night when you arrived back at the hotel. You said nothing.” I don't have to tell you every conversation I have throughout the day do I?

“When it was a conversation I told you about, you should do that.” Oh, I'm not going to argue this. She was bitching in the bar. Even if I hadn't heard the story from you I would have arrived at the same conclusion. She was terribly rude.

“Thank you Kricka. You are the best friend.” Yep, I'm pretty good at being a friend. Most days.

The farewell dinner was so much fun. We had gone through some stuff together. The Bickersons turned out to be fabulous people, they just needed to be reminded they were in front of non-family folks. We persevered through changes thrown at us. Things were a little crazy and while I'm glad to get some time off, I did enjoy these people. For the most part.

29 Ottobre – Idiots Abroad

As I came downstairs for breakfast I spied Marco and his boss in an excited looking conversation. Lots of curt hand waving gestures. The gist was there was some drama afoot. Made a note to ask later if he didn't volunteer information. The good thing for me is that it didn't look like it had anything to do with my peeps, so I'm perfectly fine with that. Gathered my troops and we went out for our morning walk and talk. When we arrived back at the hotel there was a scene to behold. A woman standing in the middle of the lobby pitching a fit in a loud voice. British. “I want to be reimbursed for this. It ruined my day. I can't believe this.” Managers scurrying. My friend behind the concierge desk with a face of measured calm talking into the phone while the bosses were talking to the upset woman to quiet her. I could tell he was paying attention to the scene in the middle of the lobby and also concentrating on the conversation on the phone at the same time. And I could tell he was pissed off but not showing it. He looked up and waved at me. Held him hand up with the pinky & thumb to his ear gesture of “I'll call you later!” I could tell I was going to get an earful of tales in a while. I mouthed “ospedale” and he nodded.

Whoo. Exciting morning at the E&R.

When I got to the hospital I couldn't see Mamma right away because the doctors were in her room. Went to the cafeteria for something to eat. Was able to connect online and chatted with my friend Luke who was in transit from SF to London to Berlin on a short jaunt, secret mission style. The only other person in the canteen was an older Austrian gentleman who kept talking to me. Yes yes, that's nice. I have to go now.

Finally got to get into Mamma's room to see her. She is definitely ready to get out of there. She introduced me to the nurse in her room as “mia figlia Americana.” The nurse told me she had heard a lot about me. Alrighty then. The nurse told me it would only be a few more days, probably Monday that she could go home. Mamma was getting the dressing changed on her leg and arm. I watched carefully and asked questions as she did it, since I'm sure I'll be helping clean and dress her until she can manage on her own. The nurse, Stefania, was very clear in her instructions, and also told me how she was going to need to get on her feet and walk short distances at least three times a day. They would send her home with a cane and a wheelchair. Walk with the cane at home and as much as possible. I told her we would have her up and about as much as possible. I don't see her laying about much. It's not in her nature.

Marco came in, straight from work. He just wanted to bring her something to eat before going home to sleep for the afternoon. The nurse told him “I see nothing” and left. I imagine they get this a lot – people not wanting to eat the hospital food. She isn't restricted to the clear foods so I guess it's ok to bring in a sandwich. Tramezzini sandwich with crabmeat. Well at least it's something not packed in sodium like coldcuts. We were there for about an hour and I could see he was flagging, getting a little heavy lidded. Two of her church-lady friends came in to visit so we said we would go and leave her to her friends. I told her I would call her later in the evening. Kiss kiss goodbye.

The moment we were out the door he started to unload with the goings on from that morning. Two different issues with guests that he got caught up in. I take for granted that not everyone is a “good traveler.” First issue – there is a family staying that are observant / kosher / orthodox Jews. During Shabbos. Forgive me if I don't get this absolutely correct, but this is something that hasn't ever dawned on me since I am not “of the tribe” but apparently traveling while being observant can raise specific issues. It takes the assistance of others to ensure the observant Jew doesn't break religious rules/laws.

Being able to eat kosher in Venice is not a problem. There is a community here (and the first ghetto) so there are kosher restaurants and kosher hotels. Gam-Gam, a kosher restaurant, will bring meals over to the hotel and the hotel's restaurant staff sets up the meal in the guests' room for them. Not such a big deal, I'm sure there are people who stay in luxury hotels who have their own food brought in quite regularly. However... because of Shabbos, the electronic card system for their room doors is a problem. They cannot not use the card on Shabbos, since it sets off a light. Sometimes in the past, guests have just left their door unlocked, by blocking the locking mechanism with a piece of cardboard, and then got upset that in the name of security a hotel employee removed the lock block.

There's also the question of asking a non-Jew to open the door for them with the electronic key, once it's cleared to do so by their rabbi. There are times when a rabbi must have determined that they could not ask the non-Jew directly, so they had to hint indirectly that they could not get into their room.

This was the root of the problem with this family. Repeatedly the staff was “hinted at” that there was something wrong with the door and could someone check it for them? Enough times caused a bit of a slow reaction, if you get what I mean. Boy who cried wolf – like. Also, there were no thank yous whatsoever for all the times staff were called to the room.

I do not want to sound culturally or religiously insensitive, but what in the heck were these people expecting? Maybe there wasn't room at the kosher hotel, but in any case, these people were staying here. So apparently the guy had come unglued at some point. Hey buddy? Stay in your damn room if you can't get back into it on your own. It's Shabbos – aren't you supposed to be lighting candles and relaxing or studying or something? Not traipsing about the hotel with your six kids? While this wasn't Marco's fault, per se, he and his boss still had to hear the guest complaints of insensitivity to his family.

But what I find unforgivable is the apparent lack of gratitude. And the sense of entitlement. You're the odd man out and causing people to go out of their way for you at every turn. Say thank you and be gracious they were there to help you. And next time, stay in a kosher hotel AND get the okay from the rabbi to ASK someone to open your door, instead of having to hint around and make them guess what your deal is. Guh.

Issue number 2 – the British woman having a fit. This one directly laid blame square on Marco for “ruining” everything for her. Oh dear. Sounds serious, right?

She wanted to go to Padova and see the Scrovegni Chapel. He called and got her a reservation, then proceeded to tell her how to go about it on her own. Go to the train station. Buy a ticket on a regional train to Padova. Once there have a taxi take you to the chapel. Etc etc etc. Detailed instructions. Times for the trains that would get her there in plenty of time. Just what a concierge does all day long.

She arrived at the train station and the lines were too long. She couldn't wait in line to buy a ticket from the agent. She turned around, took a water taxi back to the hotel and insisted that HE ruined her WHOLE day. She missed the trains. She missed the reservation. She HAD to take a taxi back because she was so upset. And she wanted recompense for ALL of this. And more. Because she was SO inconvenienced.

No. Fricking. Way. Unbelievable behavior.

So she complained. To him. About him. To his boss. To the hotel manager. And they reimbursed her.

You have got to be kidding me. I have made the complaint here and there about not having a good customer service experience, but this woman is ridiculous. He's not actually in trouble with his bosses, they just want to shut her up and keep the air clear in these times of electronic bad-mouthing. One complaint online gets pretty widespread. Who knows how much more she would exaggerate the problem or just outright lie about the situation online? The bosses open the coffers and shut her up.

As he told me this I just sat there with my mouth hanging wide open. You could catch flies. Holy shit. People are just unbelievable. I cannot believe they gave in to that woman's histrionics.

I'm still shaking my head.

He went home and I went back to check on the studio apartment. I hadn't heard from Signora Ferri or the B&B owner. Looking inside I could see they had at least been inside today. I figured someone would call me when they had something of note to tell me.

Stopped into the bar with the idea of just having a coffee and talking for a few minutes with Serena and Roberta, who were working until five. Chit chat for a few minutes and this woman comes in and sits one seat away, talking loudly on her cellphone. She was relaying “that” story to someone. It was that woman. She finished her call, ordered a glass of wine and proceeded to make another call. Told the whole story to someone else. I got to hear the whole story from her side. I was so angry, sitting there listening to her. Serena kept glancing at me from behind the bar. She could see I was seething.

The woman hung up the phone. “Goodness. I deserve this glass of wine after the day I've had. Are YOU enjoying your stay here? I'm sure you couldn't help but hear my call. This place... I can't believe how I'm being treated as a guest.”

I just stared at her. I'm proud of myself for not having my mouth gaping at her, but I was clenching my teeth.

“Honestly. What do you think of this problem I have? I should write and tell people about this terrible experience I'm having.” Oh you poor poor dear. “No really. I'm interested in your opinion as a fellow guest.”

“I think you are incredibly rude. And deluded in your thinking you are being mistreated.”

“Pardon? I beg your pardon?” Bristling and posturing commenced.

“I think you're wrong. In every part of your thinking.”

Serena and Roberta retreated behind the colonnade of the back bar where they couldn't be seen. I knew they were hiding out. In the mirror I could see Serena gesticulating to Roberta to stay back there.

“Do you want to hear what I heard from your story?”

“Oh yes. Go on. An American is going to lecture me on poor behaviour.” I could have slapped her for that alone. Let me show you some poor behavior, lady.

“You are from England. London I will presume. So you are familiar with a train.”

She nodded. Oh she was really getting irritated with me.

“You ask for my opinion? Here it is. Why is it the staff's fault that you can't buy a ticket for yourself? Why is it the staff's fault that you are incapable of operating a machine? So there were people in line for the station agent. So what? There are machines available that are touch screen, in English, where you can use a credit card or cash, to purchase a ticket. You don't even need an agent. You can also get on board and purchase the ticket from the conductor.”

(This is something I know he told her to do, but she failed to mention this when bemoaning her situation in both phone calls. I wasn't about to let her know that I already knew the whole story from the other perspective.)

“Frankly, your lack of planning doesn't constitute it being the fault on the hotel's part. The fact that you feel entitled to something from them is what is really poor form. You are a terrible traveler. Go ahead and complain online. I would be happy to search out your commentary online and refute everything you have to say as being your ineptitude to adapt. Instead you have made a scene and embarrassed only yourself as being terribly rude when the concierge was taking care of your requests. You caused yourself a headache and the very idea that it was so fouled up for you that you had to take a taxi back and expected the hotel to pay for your own histrionics. My opinion is that you should just stay home and not bother to travel. No one has held a gun to your head to make you do anything. You have made a lot of poor decisions and choosing to blame everyone else for your lack of ability is insulting to other travelers. And that is my opinion.”

She couldn't get away from me fast enough. She walked to a table on the other side of the bar. I finished my coffee and sat staring at her until she paid and left. But she didn't say a word to me. Yeah. Stun them into silence. I win just for that. Thank goodness none of my clients were in the bar, although I'm not ashamed of what I said. I felt all my points were valid, one traveler to another. I didn't threaten. I didn't use foul language. I was direct.

After she left Serena and Robi declared we were going out. Girls Night! We agreed to meet at 8PM outside in the courtyard. Luana came with us too. We tore it up. Bar hopping and karaoke, dancing and jazz. We hit a lot of spots.

I came back in at 1:30AM and had to have Marco let me in the building. After 1AM they lock the doors so you have to ring the bell for entry. He laughed at me being more than tipsy. “It is a good thing you have no emergencies with your tour, Kricka. You are not in the form to make for emergencies at this moment.” Yeah, for once I am not. Yay for me. It's been a rough week.

I told him, “So yeah, I will need a wake up call for sure this time.” He laughed at me. “Ok, ok Kricka. No problem.” I had already decided earlier not to tell him about my run in with Ms London. Best he doesn't know when I am out there defending his honor.

“When did you eat? The porters and I are going to eat now. Join us.” Mmmmm, okay. I sat in the office with them and had a portion of chicken breast, potatoes and fruit salad. It's not Moons Over My Hammy from Dennys after a night of carousing, but it was pretty good nonetheless.

And I was off to bed.

28 Ottobre – Coming “Home”

An unremarkable morning. Our bags were transported from the hotel to the train station and I got everyone checked out of the hotel. We walked ourselves to the station and boarded the 10:30 train to Venice.

We arrived at the hotel and got everyone checked in to their rooms. It looked like there was no larger room available for me and that I would be in one of the tiny rooms, which is completely fine. I should not expect this upgrade anyway. When I got to my room my bags were not there. I didn't want to cause a fuss, but I kind of need my bags. Clothes are good.

I went down to the lobby to find the porter manager, Giacomo, and see if he could track them down. I didn't want to involve the front desk if possible. I know how hard the staff works at this place and don't want trouble if it was just misplacing my bags in the wrong room. No harm no foul as far as I'm concerned. He looked at his printout list, then back at the computer, then back at the printout.

“Mi dispiace Kristina. Le bagagli sono in la stanza.” Sorry. The bags are in your room.

“E....Quale numero e' la mia stanza?” And....What number is my room?

Bingo. Solved our problem. Version control problem with lists. They put my bags in a (larger) room (upgrade! whoo!) but his check off list showed my original room was where they went. Anyway...

The room is beautiful. Huge. Practically palatial. Not a suite or anything, but the largest bed I have had while on any tour. Yay for me! And my bags were safe and sound. I saw Giorgio sent up a bottle of wine again. He needs to stop that. Transferred some clothes into a smaller bag to do laundry back at the studio apartment in Rialto later. Ah, the glamorous life I lead... carrying dirty clothes across town.

I went downstairs and grabbed a little lunch with the group. I didn't make a pig of myself with the shrimp this time. Restraint. We went on our walk to Piazza San Marco and the Doge's Palace tour, and then I put them on their gondolas for their big ride.

I was finally free for the evening, but it was too late for me to get to the hospital to visit Mamma. I called and checked on her. Still complaining about the food. Apparently some of her friends were supplementing the institutional “cuisine” with food from home. I would expect nothing less from these women. I promised I would come tomorrow, to expect me around 11AM. “Okay cara.”

Brought my laundry back to the studio for washing and to hang dry. To my unfortunate surprise, the floor was wet. Not “high water in the streets” kind of wet but “there's a leak somewhere” or a “pipe burst” kind of wet. This particular neighborhood of Rialto doesn't get acqua alta flooding – ever,so it's something else.

Great.

It was in the far corner of the room. Dripping ceiling. Plaster discolored. Floor not just damp, but pooling water. I have no idea how many days this has been sitting here. At least it didn't smell. Grabbed the camera and took photos before I started cleaning up or called Signora Ferri. A few towels soaked up the excess water, and the rest of them mopped up and dried the surface, but it will take heat or a fan of some kind to completely dry out the grout in the tiles and hope it doesn't lift them up. I don't know my foundation construction too well. Not a contractor. These people have experts on wet floor technology in this town. Started the laundry and called Signora Ferri. She clucked her tongue. I asked if it could be from the rain a few days ago? No – go to the B&B around the corner. They have a room over the studio that has had problems with a broken pipe in the past. Exact same spot three years ago when her son was living there. The owner of the B&B had to pay to fix the ceiling then, and will have to do it again. Most likely. It was too late to get someone out to see it tonight, so I told her I would try to position towels and bowls to catch the drips as best as I could. I will be at the hotel until Monday morning so they can come and do whatever they need.

“Grazie cara. Ti chimato domani quando gli lavoratori vengono.” Thank you dear. I will call you tomorrow when the workers come.

Went to the B&B and told them what was going on. The owner came about 20 minutes later and had a look, shaking his head and cursing in Venetian. I left my number with him and gave him Signora Ferri's. He would call workers for tomorrow and in the mean time he brought down space heaters to start drying the room. It was a little swampy.

I decided to bring my wet clothes back to the hotel with me to dry. No sense in leaving them at the apartment. No sense in having people traipsing about with me not there and me not there to monitor my panties hanging around. Yes, my glamorous life is full of decisions like this. Better yet – I took them to the laundromat in Canareggio, across the Grand Canal. They just needed 30 minutes in a dryer. Duh. Sometimes I forget dryers actually exist over here. Most homes do not have them because of the amount of energy they use. Just hang those clothes like everyone else, that's what I've become used to. While I was waiting on the dryer I got a call from Marco. He was back from the hospital and didn't have to work overnight tonight, but he did have to pull an early shift at 6AM until noon the next morning and come back for graveyard on Saturday night. Oy.

“Are you cooking?” He asked.

“Are you?” I asked.

So we went for pizza.

27 Ottobre – Le Zanzare Devonno Morire!

Mosquitoes must die. All of them. Oh please let this happen. It's almost November and the tiger mosquitoes are out in force still. I've never had a problem with them before in Florence, but ack. I look like I have measles on my hands and forearms. Thankfully there's only one bite on my face, above an eyebrow.

Apparently the rain is over. Nothing in the forecasts today. The news from the Cinque Terre is no better. More videos have surfaced, along with the news that people (mostly tourists but some residents) have been successfully evacuated by sea from Vernazza. At least nine have perished.

A stream goes down the middle of Vernazza. About a hundred years ago, the stream was put under the pavement. It continued to flow, draining water from the terraced vineyards that surround the town on three sides. There are points along the street where you could hear the water flowing beneath the road, from vineyards to the sea.

It was a freakishly intense rainstorm — they received 20 inches of water in less than 6 hours. It was like a misplaced monsoon — torrents of water funneled from the surrounding mountains into the town carrying rampaging tons of mud and debris. That narrow street became a riverbed again, and Vernazza met a fate almost similar to Pompeii: the entire ground-floor of the town was buried.

Now most of its people are evacuated, there's no water or power, no communication, and the town is cut off from the rest of the world as roads and train lines are still being dug out. Businesses that the people of Vernazzan have worked all their lives to build have been washed away. Its church now houses only a mucky indoor lagoon.

Word comes now in these early days of recovery that there are fears that Vernazza may not rebuild and it could become a ghost town. I don't see this happening. People are determined to dig out and bring life back to both Vernazza and its neighbor Monterosso. The other three towns of the region — Riomaggiore, Manarola and Corniglia — because of their more fortunate topography, went through the storm essentially unscathed. The president of the Napoli region in the south is sending equipment and people to assist. This is what people do – send help. Help others to rebuild their lives. If not for tourism, just because these people have lost everything. Literally.

We walked over to the Uffizi after breakfast and I handed my ducklings off to their guide and we went in. Pictures in the cafe and all questions of that day's planning over, I hung out until 12:30 and went to meet Rossana at Antico Paoli. We had a lovely time. She told me how worried she was when she saw the news in the Cinque Terre because she knew I go there with my groups so she was very pleased to get my call. I told her about mamma's surgery and how we've changed my tours for a few weeks, but I will be back in two weeks for a five day Florence private tour. We agreed to find time to see one another during that time. Kiss kiss goodbye for now.

Spent the rest of the day relaxing in my room watching terrible television dubbed into Italian. I have never been able to watch an episode of “Grey's Anatomy” at home, but if it's on here and I'm around, I'm watching it. I like the “acting” better with the dubbing. “Murder She Wrote” and “Walker Texas Ranger” are on every afternoon. Still. It kills me.

26 Ottobre – Aftermath

 I was awoken just after midnight with a call on my room phone. It was the president /CEO of the company – she apologized for the hour but said she felt compelled to call and speak with me in the aftermath of the storms in the Cinque Terre. Firstly she wanted to check if I'm okay and the guests are okay. Everyone is fine, we definitely “made do” with the changes. She thanked me for my responses to the weather and moving things immediately. I told her that credit goes to Ettore and the weather / traffic reports on his phone. If he hadn't seen them and alerted me to action we would have been sitting on an autostrada stuck in traffic for hours possibly. She asked if I had seen the footage yet on the news and I said I hadn't, there wasn't any available yet when I saw the news last night. She said there are clips taken on cellphones and it is shocking and very sad. She thanked me again and said they think the world of me.

How nice. I haven't met her in person but my name is out there in the corporate halls now. Woo. I got up and googled the footage. My heart sinks at this. Here are two videos I have found in the days since:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPtVoqCUDS0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBtv7dhjWBM&feature=related

I managed to get back to sleep without playing the “what if” game too much longer. At breakfast I gave the update on what we had missed by diverting faster to Firenze. There were a lot of shocked faces when I pulled out the footage on my laptop.

But let's not let this stop us altogether... we took our walk into the Oltrarno and Santo Spirito areas, saw Massaccio's frescoes and back past the Palazzo Pitti. There was a light sprinkle the last 20 minutes but the skies still had a lot of blue in them so it would probably just be scattered all day. They had the rest of the morning and afternoon free until we needed to go to the Accademia at 5PM.

Back at the hotel I called “the Signora” - the woman I stayed with when I first arrived last month for school and invited her to go to lunch tomorrow. She was happy to hear from me and agreed to meet me at Antico Paoli, one of my favorite places in Florence. I will be a lady who lunches at leisure. Fancy.

I took a walk down to Santa Croce and went to Cafe Oibo, the place I had coffee every morning during that week of school. As I walked in the door the baristas, Sascha and Gianmichele, threw their hands in the air and yelled out “caffe doppio e sfogliatto per Kristina!” They remembered me, a month later. I opted against the coffee and breakfast pastry and sat down for a salad instead. While I was there two of my instructors from the school came in for coffee. They saw me and came over with hugs and cheek kisses. Laura was my “business and hospitality” course teacher so I told her how the lessons have come in handy for me. Without her help I wouldn't have negotiated as easily for the restaurants I needed in Rome and Florence. She assured me that my communication skills would have been just fine, I have a good grasp of the language, whether I know business related phrases or not. Very kind. Katarina, my conversation teacher was very proud as well. I told them that I would be happy to write testimonials for the program and will write to the director about doing just that. Hugs and cheek kisses goodbye from them, I finished my salad and went back to the hotel.

We set out for our appointment at the Accademia and visited our tall friend David. On the way back I decided the time was right to hit the San Lorenzo Market and buy some scarves. I love scarves and usually buy a bunch in Florence. I purposely only brought one with me, a knit black thing, so that I could fill my suitcase with more – colorful, soft, warm scarves. I might need an intervention at some point in my life. I accept that. My “uniform” for when I'm working is a black skirt and sweater and some kind of blouse, most of them black as well, but not all. It's just easier to reach in the closet and grab something. Black matches black. For years the gondoliers near the hotel in Venice have called out to me “La Vedova Felicita” - the happy widow, because I'm always in black (and a little tipsy) when I was out at night to go home. I don't have to worry about patterns or shades not going with something else. I am not a fashion plate by any means so the less time I take to concentrate on what I'm going to dress in, the better, as far as I'm concerned. The exception is the scarves. That's my splash of color and my change-up from day to day.

I found the vendor I usually head for first. I like his prices and selection best. He cracked me up with his salesmanship technique. I'm interested in the colors. I would point at one in the stack and he would pull it out and unfurl it, telling me how it was a pattern for Armani this season or one from Missoni. In Italian I said “Hey friend, I'm going to buy at least five scarves from you. You don't need to 'sell' me on this. I know these are not Armani and Missoni patterns. I just want the colors I want, and that they are pashmina.” He laughed loudly. “Signora, I appreciate your honesty. What colors do you need?” Three minutes later I was the proud owner of six gorgeous wraps/pashminas for 20E. Color, warmth and value. It's all I'm looking for. Armani and Missoni patterns can suck my toe.

25 Ottobre – Cats & Dogs and Cars & Logs

~*~Post script: I realized last night after a little decompression that Frank's group is still in the hotel. I called to see if he wanted to have dinner together, but his phone went to voicemail. I gave him the bare details of the day's events and told him if I didn't get in contact with him that evening I would probably see him at breakfast. I didn't hear back from him all night.~*~

Frank's group and mine did indeed have breakfast together. His was leaving Florence this morning for Venice. He apologized for not getting back to me but he'd had a major headache all day and he'd disconnected from technology. Not a migraine, but a bad one nonetheless. Asked me what we were going to do today with our extra time in Florence, and I told him we would do the Duomo museum & Bargello and that I'd already arranged the tickets and times. Also a group lunch at ZaZa. He congratulated me on my problem solving. I thanked him again for changing the schedule, he asked which hospital Mamma was in – he'd send a plant. Hugs and cheek kisses goodbye.

After making sure everyone had their bags ready for transfer from the other hotels, along with the ones already in the Excelsior because they would have to change rooms too, my ducklings and I went wading out into the weather. It wasn't storming at that moment but the reports called for scattered showers and thunderstorms. We were armed with umbrellas. It wouldn't be absolutely unbearable in rain. Unless it was absolutely torrential downpour, but I wasn't going to dwell on that.

To minimize exposure to the elements, we would walk 5 minutes to the Bargello and see the museum, walk 2 minutes to Santa Croce, spend time in the church there, walk 10 minutes up to the Duomo and Baptistery, go to the Duomo museum behind the church then walk 10 minutes to ZaZa for lunch. If things were really awful after lunch I would call cabs to transport us all back to the Excelsior. This was a more linear route rather than do an orientation walk and then off to the museums. They would be outside 15 minutes at any given time, maximum, even in the rain.

All in all, we didn't get hit with too much rain. We made it to the Bargello when it started sprinkling. We were there for an hour and in light rain we went to the church at Santa Croce. It had stopped while inside and we got to the Duomo complex okay. There was a downpour while we were in the Duomo museum but it had slowed enough to safely get to lunch on time. ZaZa had a fabulous menu put together for us: ribollita soup, tuscan beans, grilled vegetables and a choice of roast chicken or pork medallions (either one with an amazing sauce) and torta della nonna for dessert or cookies. Fabulous hearty food for a cold rainy day. We got back to the hotel a little wet but it wasn't that bad all in all.

The rain really started coming down about 3PM. Thunder and, lightning and completely sideways water from the sky. The winds really picked up. Everyone was on their own for dinner and I'd hazard to guess that most ate in the hotel.

My magicjack was not behaving well and I started to get frustrated. The device displayed on the computer screen that it was performing an upgrade but the hotel's connection was a little too slow and it took a dump in the middle of the upgrade. History told me I would need to contact them and have a technician help me out, and I just was not in the frame of mind to take care of it then.

That night I got a phone call from Mamma via Marco's telefonino. Yay. She sounds worse for wear and she complained about the food, but I wouldn't expect differently. That's the good news.

The bad news is from the Cinque Terre and Ligurian coast. We dodged a bullet. Towns flooded out and mudslides. La Spezia got hammered, and Monterosso, one of the CT towns was completely overrun in mud and water racing down the hillside to the sea. It has covered the town completely. They aren't sure how many may have died in the flashfloods. Cars washed down the hills, some into the sea below. Vernazza had rivers of water as well. All they had at that point was reports so far, no footage, but there was no gas, electricity, or water in these already isolated towns and the incoming roads were all blocked with trees and debris. An awful situation.

24 Ottobre – We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Program

The worst of the storms moving in were not supposed to arrive until Thursday but you wouldn't know it. I am certainly glad it wasn't the day we were hugging the Amalfi coast, since we couldn't see more than five feet in front of the coach even with wipers on full blast. The stomach churns at the idea.

San Gimignano is not much fun in the rain. Since we do all of our touring outside because there aren't really any churches of note or works of art that are must-see, the view is one of the big draws, so when you can't see the view in the storm it kinds of shoots the idea down the tubes. Being a hill town, the water runs down everywhere, the shopkeepers put out little burlap sack tubes filled with straw, like burms, in front of their doors to turn the water away. Feet are wet, people pull out plastic garbage sack-like coverings (they all look like they are riding the boats below Niagara Falls) and there's lots of scurrying hither and yon.

We made do as best we could and had lunch at our regular restaurant. While we were eating Ettore asked to conference with me. He had notifications on his phone from the weather service that things were really bad out there. Whatever the equivalent of the Department of Transportation, CalTrans or 511.org is in Italy, they were saying that roads leading to the coast were very bad and some were even closed due to flooding and flashflood warnings in multiple regions.

I called the hotel in Viareggio and asked them if they knew what was going on with the roads. Since they are well acquainted with our itinerary they were quick to tell us to cancel our reservations. Even if we were able to get into Viareggio, all plans for the next day were going to have to be canceled because we were not going to get to La Spezia and the Cinque Terre. No cars into La Spezia, no trains into the CT. I thanked them immensely for their straightforwardness.

Now I had to secure rooms for tonight in Florence. The ideal thing would be if the Excelsior in Florence was able to take us all in one day early, but likely not possible considering we need 15 rooms. Got in touch with group sales and they informed me they could only take in six rooms, so that went to our billing account. I then asked for the concierge. Those guys will work their butts off for you. I asked him if he could assist me in finding rooms for the remainder of my guests. It's a disaster y'all – everybody pitch in and we'll put on a show. I gave him the corporate card and asked him to call me back when he had any info. He called me back in under ten minutes. He found the additional rooms at two other hotels, and they are all close to one another. We were set up – they would expect us whenever we showed up.

Samuele in Firenze rocks! Yay!

Went back to the table with the clients and made the announcement about our plans changing. While some mouths started to harden in protest, I simply told them that this is “act of God” territory. Roads are closed and it isn't safe for us to continue with our planned itinerary and the local emergency services wouldn't let us do it either. We would head to Florence and check into our rooms. Weather permitting, I would give an orienteering session for the city center and hopefully a short walking tour. Tomorrow we would have some extra activities obviously not on the regular itinerary – the Bargello and the Opera del Duomo museums and I would arrange for lunch. Andiamo! Let's get to Florence...

While on the bus I called the home office and let them know we had major changes, and I would email everything as soon as I was off the bus in Florence. No problem, keep us posted.

I was on pins and needles about the one phone call I wanted. And as we pulled off the autostrada into Florence I got it. Mamma got through surgery and was in recovery. Double bypass – arterial grafts from her right leg and right arm. Now the hard part begins for her: recuperation and recovery.

I called Trattoria ZaZa in Florence to see about a reservation for 26 for tomorrow. No problem – separate room for us and a special pre-fixe menu. Excellent. Called both museums about group sales for tomorrow – do we need an appointment time or suggestion when we can show up? Got those matters handled pronto. I was ripping through my mental list. Whoo hoo.

Raining cats and dogs in Florence. Just miserable. But, we were all checked in to our three hotels fairly easily, and even though we wouldn't go on the orienteering walkabout, I had map printouts with marked places very nearby they could go eat in on their own if they chose to go out of the hotel. We would meet at the Excelsior for breakfast – they were kind enough to extend the breakfast buffet to all of us even though not all of us were staying that night. Loyalty and longevity has its perks when it comes to business contacts. For certain.

I collapsed on my bed and just went blank for a couple of hours. What a day.

23 Ottobre – Rain Rain Go Away

I called Mamma and talked to her briefly before breakfast. She seems upbeat, but who can tell for sure. I told her I would be in town when she has her surgery and can be around while she is in the hospital. She then began to fret that I don't need to take time off. “Non e necesario, Cara. Non te preocupes.” It's not necessary dear. Don't worry.

Too late. We already are.

Assisi today. It is remarkably quieter in town today versus two weeks ago. Tourist season is winding down. Back at the villa in Torgiano we had a lovely cooking demonstration and wine tasting. The owner's cat still wants to live in my room and blocks my way in or out by laying across the threshold.

I called Frank and told him I accept his offer to take my next tour. He said I'm doing the right thing.

Marco called after dinner – they had an opening in the surgery schedule and she is going tomorrow instead of next week. I hope this is just good fortune and not because the doctors re-evaluated that she needs to get in there even more desperately. Try to sleep while wrapping your head around these kinds of thoughts.

The rain started in the middle of the night. Here we go.

22 Ottobre – Yay For Socialized Medicine?

My telefonino rang at 3AM. Marco calling from work in Venice. Oy. He apologized for calling so late but he wanted me to know how Mamma's doctor appointments had gone. No problem, he can most definitely wake me up for this. She finally had the dye test and all the diagnostics on her heart. She is going to have to go in for surgery. They have her scheduled for bypass surgery on Halloween.

Crap.

I asked how she is taking the news. He says she is praying. I told him that's exactly what people do. I told him my grandfather had a quadruple bypass (I'm almost positive it was a quad) when he was in his late 70s and he came through it fine. It's important that she is able to heal afterward. He agreed and said she doesn't rest in the hospital and he wants her to be home as soon as she can afterward. I told him that nobody really can rest in the hospital. Hopefully we can get her back home quickly so she can actually recuperate. But, I told him, it's very important that she gets up and walks every single day after the surgery. If they take grafts from her legs she has to get up and walk, or her legs will never be the same. They will remain swollen. My grandfather's shoe size changed and he had healed up fairly normally. But she doesn't need to worry right now about buying new shoes. In a city that depends on walkability, she needs to mend properly. We rang off, with me promising to call her in a few hours and he promising to keep me apprised of everything.

Good grief. I still cannot believe that she was in the hospital almost a month ago and it took this long to get tests performed to determine she needs heart surgery. Is this a perk of socialized medicine everyone gets to experience?

After breakfast we loaded onto the coach with Ettore and headed out of Rome. Arrivederci!

Here I am again in Orvieto and I'm not really able to concentrate and be entirely present. Two weeks ago it was the news that my uncle had passed away and now this. At least the clients can't tell that I'm upset this time around. While I'm definitely worried about the surgery and recovery, I'm more angry and frustrated at a dysfunctional system.

We headed off to Torgiano and arrived at the vineyard & villa of Le Tre Vaselli in late afternoon. The bus ride was uneventful and everyone is getting along fine. The weather report says it's going to begin raining tonight or tomorrow. Big storms for the rest of the week in Tuscany and Liguria. Ugh.

I called Frank to discuss contingencies about rain in The Cinque Terre on Monday. Since most of the day is spent outside, if it's raining what would he suggest? My first thought would of course be to not walk between the towns that we do, but just take the train stop in each town for a little while. Try and reserve a place for lunch and keep everyone together, rather than have everyone floating off in multiple directions in inclement weather. He completely agreed and said that's the way to go. And “brava” to me for coming to that conclusion rapidly on my own. I also told him about Mamma's upcoming surgery, since he's met her and has known Marco for years having done business at the hotel.

“Shit. That's terrible, but she obviously needs it. What can I do to help? I told him to just keep her in his thoughts but he stunned me when he said he would clear my schedule from the next group tour so I could be there with her. He would take my tour and I could take his first private tour, which starts on the 10^th of November. I told him the offer was too generous and I didn't want to do that to him.

“Kris, these people are family to you and they need you more than we do right now.” He said it would also do my mind good to actually be there since I had to be experiencing some kind of grief concerning my family back home. Well that's true too, although it has more to do with my mother's grieving.

“Just let me let you sit this next one out. We'll figure it out, okay? Trust me, you need to do this. Think about it and I will work it all out.”

This man is a diamond. Later that night when I was talking with my mother on the phone she remarked how happy she is that I work with someone who is looking out for my personal well-being. I couldn't agree more.

21 Ottobre – Since Humble Pie Isn't Available Here

The vibe at breakfast was definitely different. I don't know what kind of discussions the Bickersons had after returning to their rooms the night before but they were very much low key this morning. They sat at a few different tables instead of just among themselves. Maybe that is a key element to their dynamic. I certainly understand that people feed off each other and negativity results. It's clear these people do not dislike each other, they just have a much different way to communicating with each other.

All in all it was a pretty quiet day in the way of dust-ups. We were plenty busy. San Pietro in Vincoli, Colosseum with our group photo (Oh this will definitely be a memory for everyone to point out to their friends back home – those are the people who wouldn't quit griping at each other), Forum, Campidoglio, Pantheon, lunch and Piazza Navona in the morning & early afternoon. We had a few hours of down time before dinner and while in the salon downstairs doing my paperwork and work-related correspondence I was approached by four members of the Bickerson family.

They came to apologize to me. I told them I certainly understand a family having their own way of communicating. They said they really weren't aware of how much it affects others and they would be cognizant from here on out. I told them that nobody wants to filter or stifle anyone, just know when it's gone too far or when to take it outside and away from others. One of them said they are a bit of a toxic family. Oh, I get that. Completely. Says the woman who has in effect divorced and disassociated herself from the entire maternal side of her bloodline...   

Just please be aware of the affect you have on others. That's all I can advise. Let's carry on.

We managed to get a happy and convivial spirit at dinner in Trastevere that night. As we sat down at the restaurant, in the subterranean communal tables a few of the Bickersons stood up and addressed the group. In effect, they asked for a do-over. Let's rewind and start again. If we start up in our nonsense just holler out “Beep Beep” so we can back up and reframe.

We toasted to a new beginning. I really hope it lasts.