Wednesday 29 Sept - Lucca & Pisa & Rome, Oh My!

Still reeling from the contents of the envelopes received the night before, I sought Frank out and asked him if we needed to split it. He laughed and shook his head. "I got my own envelopes, kiddo. We're totally copacetic." He then told me to get the hell out of town and he'd see me in Rome Friday afternoon to start the next tour. "You're in charge on that one. Rest up!"

Which is exactly what he knew I wouldn't be doing, since I was spending my weekend doing the personal tourguide thing for my friends Trixy & Allan.

I called Giorgio and told him I was ready to go and he met me at the boat launch for the hotel shortly thereafter. We were taking the hotel's boat (a small liberty since he is the hotel's Bar & Restaurant Manager of Operations) to Piazzale Roma to pick up his car and head to the west coast. It still seems funny to think of driving from the east coast of a country to its west coast in a matter of hours. It's a little over 300 km and would take us about 3.5 hours.

I had never seen his car before - it's a sweet little Alfa Romeo 4 seater. And he drives like a maniac. We made it it in under 3 hours. I had been in contact by phone with Trixy along the way so we would have a better idea about meeting times. They were docked in Livorno and were taking the train to Pisa, where we would meet up and move on to Lucca. Pisa is a transfer point on the train so it was a good place to meet. We would be back in Pisa for the afternoon to see the Tower and the Cathedral before I got them back to the boat.

Giorgio dropped me at the train station in Pisa and I went in to meet up with the Buldas. Happy reunion time! Trixy and I worked together at my last job and I have missed her dearly. We were very close and I miss our mornings together. Almost daily, she and I had the office to ourselves for at least two hours and over the course of our two and a half years working together we discussed a lot of things in our morning jam sessions. I also saw her husband Allan almost daily since he worked downstairs in the E/R and he frequently stopped into our office to see his lovely wife.

The first thing she said to me after the hugging and kissing was how HAPPY I look. Granted, she saw me at my best and my worst in the office, and she saw how I glowed after returning from a trip to Italy on various vacations, but she said over and over to me how happy I look, how relaxed and how this all suits me. She had only seen me for about 15 minutes and she said it about 12 times. "It suits you Kris. This is it for you." We'll see...

I got them on the train to Lucca for our 22 minute ride. They told me all about their adventures in Barcelona, where the cruise started, and the day before spent in Monaco. They told me the first thing they wanted was gelato. They had been holding out - had seen it in Barcelona and Monaco but were waiting for "the real thing" in Italy, its mother-country. I can help facilitate this. No problemo!

Lucca has the distinction of being the only fully-intact walled city in Italy still untouched. The walls have been there for over two thousand years, the latest addition in the wall (added thickness to the already impervious structure) is over 500 years old. They built this wall for wars that never came. The city has never been bombed, even in WWII. The heyday of Lucchese power was in the 1200s and it is now just a sleepy little town perfect for wandering around in.

The top of the rampart is about twenty feet wide, tree-lined and a perfect place to ride bikes on; it's about 2.5 miles in circumference. This was the first order of the day. We made our way in through Porta San Donato, one of ten battlement sections in the wall and made a short walk to a bike rental shop. I rented two bikes for them and sent them off to make a couple of passes around the perimeter and look over the town. I settled onto a park bench under a tree with my Kindle and started to read when it promptly started sprinkling. I had an umbrella, and by sitting Indian-style like a five year old at storytime, I was perfectly covered for the oncoming wet.

(Smiling in the rain - the uber-cute Mr & Mrs Bulda)

Trixy & Allan came back with umbrellas they had bought from a vendor on the opposite side of town but they were still a little wet. No worry, we are hearty people. It wasn't storming, just a heavy sprinkle. After returning the bikes we made our way a few blocks to San Martino church, the cathedral of Lucca, with its Pisan Romanesque structure reminiscent of a lacy wedding cake. Inside I explained the various architectural styles and the ceiling of blue and gold frescoes and presented them with the Volto Santo - the pride of Lucca.

The Volto Santo is a carved crucifix statue that supposedly was carved by Nicodemus in Jerusalem shortly after the death of Jesus. Since Nicodemus was one of the people who prepared Jesus for burial after taking him down from the cross, Nicodemus was rendering the "true face" of Christ in the carving, hence Volto Santo - the Holy Face. I'm not knocking peoples' faith in religious icons, but ... okay. The story of the Volto gets more interesting from there, so I reserve all judgments... mostly.

Nicodemus then sent the carving adrift in an unmanned boat and it floated around for a while, landing on the coast of Tuscany. It gets better. It was miraculously carried to Lucca in 782 in an oxcart (with untamed bulls no less) and has been here ever since.

Ahem. Okay. It's interesting that it is carved in 12th century Byzantine stylings. That Nicodemus was really ahead of his time, by over a thousand years, apparently. That's all I'm saying... As far as religious relics go, I'll take this carved statue over jawbones or pelvises of saints anytime.

The city takes great pride in the Volto, and they have a festival every September 13/14 for it. They dress up the statue with beautiful draped fabrics and a golden crown and parade it around town in a candle-lit evening processional.

We walked and talked, hitting the highlights of town - the amphitheater that is no longer there (Lucca was originally a Roman town - they built the first wall) and the towers of the city, built by wealthy families in a keeping up with the Joneses rivalry which so many medieval towns participated in, and then we hit Trattoria da Leo for some lunch.

(The quintessential classic car of Italy - the Fiat 500 - cinquecento. Teeny tiny!)

They entrusted me with ordering and we proceeded to share a tableful of dishes: risotto with saffron and artichokes, grilled chicken, pork ribs, tagliatelle with mushrooms and roasted vegetables. Oh yes, and oh yum! So simple and so good. Trixy and Allan both said they were now ruined for any food on the cruise ship, which until then had been really good meals onboard. Yep - good food.

Walking back to catch the train, we stopped for gelato. Tiramisu flavored. Fabulous.

We hopped on board bound for Pisa and arrived shortly thereafter (Allan got a short nap in) to find the tourists were all still there. I had mistakenly thought that everyone from the cruiseship scene would be there primarily in the morning and disperse for other parts of town, hoping that there would be no problem in getting in straightaway to the Tower. Wrong.

(The day is only half over and Allan is already sacking out on the train)

We got there at 3:30 and I bought them tickets with the soonest entry time - of 5:00. It couldn't be helped. This changed the plan for getting them back to the boat. They needed to be there by 6:30 for a 7PM sailing, and catching a train now became iffy, timewise. I walked to a taxi stand nearby and asked about the time to drive to the terminal in Livorno, about 20 miles away, along with the cost, just so I could brace myself. Not nearly as costly as a cab here in the US, but way more than the 4Euro to take the train.

We spent the time waiting for their entrance time to the Tower by going to the Cathedral and the Baptistery, both beautiful buildings. The majority of the time we were cracking ourselves up watching every other person on the Field of Miracles (the name of the complex of buildings) taking those photos of each other trying to "hold the Leaning Tower up." You know what I'm talking about - the pictures where your loved one stands and by fooling with the perspective you are holding the Tower up or trying to push it back upright. EVERYONE takes these pictures (I've taken them of my hub-unit doing it too; I'm not immune to the kitschy photo op!) Funny thing is, we were photographing lines of people standing there with their arms outstretched in pantomime. Every five feet, someone with their arms out, looking like they are using all their strength to p-u-s-h that old tower back into place. Trixy took a picture of me pushing a leaning Allan back into place.

(Don't know what all the fuss it, the Tower looks perfectly straight to me...)

The things we do to amuse ourselves.

I sat at a cafe fortifying myself with a coffee while they made the climb in the Tower. I saw the waving at the top a short time later and walked across to the taxi stand again to engage a cab for the ride to Livorno. It was "Amazing Race" time. Will we make it in time? Considering we would likely be hitting some kind of afternoon commute traffic, it could get interesting. They arrived presently and we hopped in the cab. Massimo the driver had his directions and he was up for the challenge. Here we go! We zigged and zagged, passed slow drivers on straightaways on the road he selected, which ran parallel to the highway. "Much faster, Madame, trust me." We're in your hands Massimo! We dropped the Buldas at the ship at 6:20. Yay. I kissed them goodbye and told them I would see them in Rome at Termini station (at the McDonalds) at 10am the next morning.

Massimo then took me into the center of town to the train station. After grasping the gameplan we have (me traveling overland to meet them while they sailed through the night) he told me they were lucky to have a friend who would go to these lengths to show the around. What a good friend. Where's my halo, dammit?

I got onto the train, made my connection in Florence as easily as expected and got into Rome just before 9pm. Grabbed a bite to eat at the train station. Checked in to my Pensione near the Colosseum and slept like the dead.


Chilling on the Lucca park bench under my um-ber-ella ella ella ella eh eh eh. Under my umbrella. Ooch I hate that song.




Random photo from outside the train station in Pisa. Doesn't everyone's Grandma wear high-heeled gold lame sneakers???

Tuesday 28 Sept - Ciao Ciao Venezia

Woke up early and took advantage of being in Venice to walk to the Rialto market before the sun rose to watch the market vendors setting up. The fishmongers are very loud and hollering to each other as they artfully stack their wares for the customer who will arrive shortly.

At this hour it's mostly the restaurants that come to pick up previously arranged produce and fish orders. There are last minute additions as the lists are check off and to see if there are any new arrivals. Cooking with the seasons and what is readily available is something we don't necessarily pay attention to in the US, at least in California, where most produce is grown year round, somewhere. But sadly, for the most part, the flavor has been compromised for pretty looking veggies and fruit available at any time of year. I've said it before and I'll say it another 4,978 times - there is something different here in the soil and in the soul of growing it. I'm getting kind of metaphysical, I know. But you have no idea what it is like to bite into a tomato grown in the season it is supposed to grow in, without the chemicals, only the mineral-rich volcanic soil that hastens the flavors that are supposed to be there.

The cantaloupe melon has more flavor in one bite than the entire thing in the US. It's like cardboard at home compared to here. Orgasmic. Not kidding. You'll die when you taste it. Eyes rolled back in the head fabulousness. Seriously. Ok, I may need to go and change my pants...

I love thinking I have this city to myself when I'm out and about in the early morning or very late at night. I know I don't, but I love this city so much. I have a huge connection here, and it isn't just with the people who are my now my friends and my extended family. I must have lived here in another time because from my first trip here, I have preternaturally known this city, not just by way of the map. It's the only city I feel comfortable walking by myself at any time of day or night, unencumbered and not wary of who is around the corner. It's as if I own this place. Granted, I don't get complacent and careless, because you never know, but I am comfortable staggering home after a night of drinking and knowing the chances are extremely unlikely that I will be bothered. I don't feel that way walking in my own neighborhood at home, or in most parts of the Bay Area during the daylight hours, let alone 3AM.

Got back to the hotel to call home at my appointed time and then down to breakfast for my mini-lecture on the history of painting in Venice. We then left on our walk to the Rialto. On arriving, more than one vendor waved hello at me, having seen me only a short while before.

After the group walk broke up I walked over to the Frari church. Eight of the clients came with me - it's not an official outing, but we were all going to the same place, so I talked on the way about what we would see and what to pay attention to while we were there. I ducked out after only a short visit so I could get back to the hotel. Otherwise I would sit and stare at Titian's altarpiece all day long. I could, easily.

I caught Giorgio walking near the hotel and kissed hello. He was lamenting that he had to work that evening until 2AM and then get up early to drive to Viareggio for a Barman Association meeting. He couldn't switch around the schedule to leave early as he usually does since Luana was still on vacation. I told him I was going to be leaving the next morning as well. It's my weekend and I was going to Pisa and Lucca to meet my friends who are here on a cruise. Giorgio suggested going together in his car - he would drop me in Pisa if I could keep him awake on the drive. Or I could drive his car. I told him I didn't have my International Permit updated and we don't need to take the chance of being stopped with me behind the wheel. But this is a great idea - I would love to ride with him. I told him I wouldn't be able to leave until about 7:30 or 8:00, which fit his time schedule. I would be able to save some time from taking the train and having an hour wait to switch in Florence. Yay!

Got myself ready for my weekend by packing my suitcase up again. This life as a tour leader seems like it only revolves around this suitcase situation.

I did get over to the apartment to trade out some clothes and take a long and fabulous jacuzzi-jet bath. I love that bathtub.

In the evening during our farewell dinner I was moved to tears during the "personal testimonies" portion. So many people said very nice things about my morning talks. The couple that I took to the hospital said that even though it was the worst thing to happen to them on a vacation, my being there to help them has made it an experience they will not look back on with any bad memories. Even the three people who annoyed me with their histrionics at the beginning of the tour (the change jingler, gum cracker and nail clipper) all said things about the great time they had learning during the morning talks, and our walk & talks at the sites.

I was humbled and so happy to hear they had a good time, and that I helped them to do that.

We filed back into the taxi boats and went back to the hotel. I was stopped by over half the clients as we made our way and had envelopes pressed into my hands while having my hand shook or receiving a hug. I would open them later in my room to find I had received a total of 750Euros in tips.

Oh.My.Gorsch. All this and I get paid. And tipped on top of that.

Drinks on me!

Monday 27 Sept - Sleeping In "E Una Cosa Meravigliosa"

(translation...) It's A Marvelous Thing!

I don't know what was more marvelous, the fact that I got to sleep in and not have to be "up" and "on" for the touring clientele or that I actually slept. Oh, until 10:30. If I went any longer it would seriously shift my sleeping cycle. That happens quite easily for me. I can go weeks and months waking at 5 with no problem, but let me sleep in once and I am completely re-set to want to go to sleep at 4AM and get up at noon. Too many years on the graveyard shift...

I wasn't expected to be doing anything until office hours at 3PM so I called over to the house and chatted with Mamma for a few minutes and then set out to get on the boat to go there for lunch. Marco was home too, having a day off, so I wanted to feel him out on the possibility of coming to Rome at Frank's invitation.

He was really receptive to it, simply because Mamma showed interest in going. One kink in the works would be the timing of it, since he was expected to be in Padova for a training module (new software for the hotel and he is going to be the guy to train everyone on it- oy yoy yoy) so he wasn't sure the dates would mesh. A phone call to a manager set it straight, and they would be able to go! The guy also asked for extra days off to boot - short notice, but he never takes time off, until it's a family emergency. Hasn't had a vacation in four years. He will be in training Tuesday through Friday, then off on his weekend/vacation from Saturday through Tuesday with us in Rome and Florence. The last step in the process was scoring accommodations. Much like when Serena and the girls came to Florence, he can get rooms at no cost or deeply discounted as an employee. Being a concierge it's even easier for him, he just never takes advantage because he doesn't go anywhere. He called down to Rome and boom! Room for himself, separate room for Mamma. Same thing for Florence. I got on the computer and booked their train tickets - he didn't know about the sale going on for online booking - saved them each 79Euro. Because I rock...

It is very exciting to Mamma look forward to something. She hasn't in a long time. She immediately began fussing over what she's going to wear to go see the Pope. "Mamma, non stiamo andando a vedere il Papa, saremo lì nel fine settimana, non per il pubblico mercoledì." (Mamma, we aren't going to see the Pope, we'll be there on the weekend, not for the public Wednesday audience.)
"Non importa - egli sa che sono lì." (No matter - He will know I'm there.) Well that settles it.

I went back to the hotel and found I had flowers in my room, courtesy of the client going to hospital last night. I rang her room and went to visit her. She is a little worse for wear, hobbling around on the crutches and taking the pain ,eds given to her. She did say she was feeling a bit cooped up in the room. I told her the hotel has a wheelchair she can use to go down and sit in the sun on the terrace. She agreed and I called for the porter to bring up the chair for the day. Davide (my favorite porter) came and pushed her to the elevator and once downstairs to the bar and terrace. I stayed with her and let the front desk know I was having my office hours on the terrace if anyone came looking for me. She was happy and relaxed, sitting there like a kitty in a ray of sunshine. At least her broken ankle came during the last few days of the trip. Other than the possibility of discomfort on the plane home, she'll be okay. The doctor didn't think they would need to extend their trip because of the break; the clients are already able to stretch out since they have business class tickets. Things could be a lot worse.

She and I chatted for two hours. She asked me how I came to be interviewing for the job. I gave the short version of the story, even though it goes back almost ten years. She told me that it seems like I have already been doing the job for a decade; I'm very comfortable with people and seem very capable of handling crises. I then told her about my years as an emergency dispatcher. "Unflappable..." was her response. Not quite, but pretty close.

Frank came and found us. He wanted to check on the patient. She assured him that she was having the best possible day all things considered and she was enjoying my company. Her husband returned from his time out and about the city and he came to show her his pictures. He thanked me for keeping his lovely wife occupied while he gallivanted. No problem. They went off to their room. Frank and I made plans for dinner and I told him that my unofficial family would be joining us for 2 nights in Rome and 2 in Florence. I verified there wouldn't be a problem with them being on the coach in Rome and on the way to Florence with the clients. I asked how that goes over for these people who have spent big bucks for the tour to find out there are stowaways. "Nonsense. From time we have people join onto the tours for only a few days. People have joined in who work in our offices or in different posts in other countries and come aboard for a day or two with their families. You would be able to also, eventually. The clients don't know what goes on in accounting. The bonus will be how many people recognize our friend the concierge when we arrive in Venice." That will be interesting to see.

Sunday 26 Sept - Lending My Helping Hand

Breakfast talk was a mini lecture on the history of the feuding societies of the north of Italy. The country wasn't unified again (since it was part of the Roman empire) until 1848; until then it was a mass of autonomous kingdoms, city-states, republics and the like. Throughout history there were centuries long rivalries between Milan and Florence, Florence and Siena, Florence and Pisa, Pisa and Lucca, Venice and everybody. And the rest of the lesser duchys in between fighting amongst themselves as well. The regions are still trying to best one another in the modern age, but for the most part its about bragging rights to as to who has the best cuisine. Remember, there is really no such thing as "Italian food." It's a collection of regional specialties that we in the West have grouped together under one heading.

We got our luggage ready for transport to the train station. We don't have to lug it ourselves - yay. One last walk through town via the beautiful church of Santa Maria Novella to the train staton and onto Venice! Personally I can't wait because I will have access to cooking again. Not that I don't like the food I'm getting (the breakfast buffets can't be beat, considering Italians don't think of breakfast at all - it's only the hotel spreads for visitors) but I want to get my hands on some produce and make something myself.

We got off the train two hours later and found out private taxis to get everyone to the hotel. They do it up like we're rockstars, arriving at the hotel's landing on the Grand Canal. These folks are getting what they pay for! Everybody got checked in to their rooms and we had a couple of hours, so Frank and I had a bite to eat on the terrace of the bar. We shared a gigantic club sandwich. Marco came out from the concierge desk for a few moments and presented me with a gift that a guest had left for me. When we were here a week go I was talking in the bar one night with a man who ended up having a gallery show at the Bienniale exhibition that Venice holds every two years. It's currently going on, focusing on architecture right now. The gift was his book photographs of beach houses and it's signed to me. Very nice - and unexpected!

Frank told me he's very impressed with how well I get along with the hotel staff at the hotels we're in. I told him that in Venice its different than Rome or Florence; I had just met those folks in those cities, but let's remember that I've known the Venice folks for going on ten years almost. I told him that Marco is my best friend in Italy and I'm a part of his family. He didn't realize that that's the family I go see for dinners and for church. "Well that's wonderful. If he has time off, invite them along for a few days."

That really surprised me. After clarifying, Frank thought that it might be nice for them to come to Rome or to Florence and take advantage of not having to pay for a museum entrance here and there. Not that we'd be picking up a hotel room for them. But there's room on the bus or they could meet us by train. Frank said he has seen over the years how my friend really works hard at the job, is always kind and helpful to the guests and is ALWAYS at work. I told him I would bring it up. Maybe they could come to Rome and go to the Vatican for the private tour with us? Frank thought it was a great idea and to bring it up to them.

How cool is that?

I went over in the evening to Giudecca to see Mamma and told her about the idea. She lit up like a Christmas tree. She has never been to the Vatican, only St Peter's. As devout as she is and she's never been? Wow. She said she will talk to Marco, but I was encouraged just in seeing her look like she wanted to go somewhere. She's only been getting out of Venice to go to the cemetery on the mainland for months now.

We settled in and watched some teevee together. It was an episode of "Castle" with Nathan Fillion, dubbed into Italian, of course. It was just us girls, as the man was working, as usual. It was very nice just to be there with her for a change. Not that I mind Marco being around, but I'm just happy she's comfortable with me. When I first met the family, it was just meeting them all for church. Mamma hardly spoke to me because she doesn't speak much English and I didn't speak a lot of Italian. Add into the mix that she usually speaks the Venetian dialect at home. Then I was invited to eat with them afterward. Then they began inviting me for meals without churchgoing. She teaches me Venetian cooking and tried to teach me lacemaking (that is a big failure.) It has turned into a friendship, and now I'm who she confides her worries about her son to. She worries he works too much, she worries he's never going to have a family of his own, she worries she will leave him completely alone when she goes. I tell her she has nothing to worry about. He will find a happy life, he is just too concerned over her right now.

I left and returned to the hotel around 11PM. Marco was just leaving to go home. I reported the evening's events, leaving out the part of her worrying about him. I stopped into the bar to say hello to Giorgio and Paulino and headed up to bed.

At 2AM the phone in the room rang. The night concierge, Robert, was telling me there was an accident with a guest outside of the hotel and they needed me downstairs. Frank and I met at the elevator and went to the lobby. The ambulance had been called for one of the clients, who was goofing about after having too much of a good time at dinner, and she fell out in the campiello by the gondolier station. The ambulance was saying she needed to go to the hospital because it was broken, and it did look nasty. Her ankle. Robert the concierge said one of the porters would go with us, but the porter on duty Davide doesn't speak much Italian or English incredibly well (from Kenya.) Robert said he would call the other concierge who lived nearby and he would come to take her. They were talking about getting Marco out of bed at home and taking her to the hospital??? Just get in the ambulance and go, lady. You don't need a hotel representative to go with you... I know they were just trying to be helpful and attentive, but to get a guy up who has worked 12 days straight in the middle of the night? Insane.

I told Frank I was comfortable with going, I've been inside the Ospedale before. Meanwhile the client was getting whiny. Why she sent the ambulance away I have NO idea. A taxi was called and she was loaded in with her husband and I.

We spent the next three hours at the hospital, where she was xrayed and put into a cast. Gave her some meds and some crutches and we called another taxi to bring us back. I got back at a little after 6AM and called Frank. He told me to sleep in- he would take the group on the St Mark's tour. No worries.

Don't drink and dance, people...

Thursday 23 Sept thru Saturday 25 Sept: In Florence

Yeah, so I've gotten behind in my writing. There are a number of reasons, including crappy and slow computer connections, but mostly it's been because I had too many braincramps and couldn't make myself write the daily missives. So I am condensing the Florence leg of this tour into one post.

Deal with it.



Thursday 23 September

After a frustrating two hours trying to connect online to call home, I made it downstairs by my appointed time to give a short talk about the Medici family. Florence is essentially Medici-world, as the hub-unit and I call it. What they didn't originally pay to have made, they pretty much bought it out from under someone else to obtain it. They had the biggest houses and the biggest bars on the windows as a result. They were the most powerful family, saw themselves fall out of favor, get banished and excommunicated, then build themselves back up again. Over hundreds of years of course, but more than once. They apprenticed artists, architects and musicians and lived a lifestyle more lavish than the Kennedys, Rockefellers, or Astors combined.

The last Medici left everything to the city of Florence, and we are the better for it.

We took a morning walk over to the Accademia for our appointment time and saw the David. It truly is a marvel. I will never get over the idea that you could blink and he will just step off the pedestal some day. Okay, he's rather tall, and it would be noticed if a giant pale guy went roaming about, but from the back of the room he looks like he's alive and just resting to move his pose. An absolutely breathtaking work of art, and to think that Michelangelo carved it from a flawed piece of marble.

We left everyone off at the Piazza del Duomo to decide what the wanted to do for the remainder of the day. It's not like it's hard to figure out something to do when you're standing in front of the church which has amazing frescoes on the inside of the dome, he possibility of climbing up into the dome, climbing the belltower or going to the Baptistery where the mosaics will scare the religion into you. Or there's half a million stores to shop in to pick up your Italian shoes (a specialty in Florence, as all are leather goods) or gelato to be had every ten yards.

I opted to go to the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo, the museum for the works of the Duomo. I've been there many times and posted on it too, but I will go back again and again to see the Michelangelo Pieta and Donatello's Mary Magdalene (see posts from February 2009 if interested.) A number of the clients came with me, but it wasn't an official touring outing. I don't mind that they followed me for this jaunt, it is worth seeing and often overlooked in a city of amazing art and architecture.

I was happy to see the clients moved by the same pieces that move me, so it was worth it.

That evening I had dinner with Frank at Trattoria ZaZa; my choice this time. We both had ribollita soup and I had a roast chicken with potatoes, he had pork cutlets. Yum!

I was still frustrated with the internet situation and tried to read instead. Tried to fall asleep, but that wasn't working either. I ended up going out at 1130 or so to walk around, and found myself in a pub on the north side of the center of town. I don't usually walk around Florence at night by myself because there can be sketchy folks, but when I saw this pub I had to stop in. It was full of Brits, Irish, Welsh and Australians and they were loud. No sketchy characters were getting in to bug these people.

(Looks like a negative, but this is the Piazza del Duomo at night. Ghostly marble buildings.)

Had a great time, was bought more rounds than I should have had, sang rugby fight songs as a group of five guys walked me back to the hotel. They had to go past it to get to theirs, it's not like I'm special or anything... And I slept.



Friday 24 September

Dragged myself out of bed and gave my talk about the plague. Sounds disturbing, but plagues do usually have a good residual effect in the long run. It can alleviate overcrowding in the cities, and usually brings about temporary changes in sanitation.

We struck out for Santa Croce, a beautiful church along the river Arno where the major denizens of the city are either entombed or have funerary monuments there. Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, Ghiberti, Rossini, Marconi, Barsanti, Fermi. You get the idea.

On the way back we stopped at the Ponte Vecchio for pictures. Everyone had the remainder of the day. I chose to go across the river to the Palazzo Pitti to catch the last day of the Caravaggio exhibit in honor of the 400th anniversary of his death. Amazing artwork from a twisted individual in his day. Dark, dark things came from that man.

I got a few texts from my friend Serena in Venice. She and the other ladies who work in the bar at "The Consulate" all had the same night off and they were on their way to Florence for the night. That they work for the same hotel chain we stay in is extremely convenient, because as employees they get deep discounts (sometimes no charge) to stay at the hotels in other cities. I called her back and verified they were coming to the Excelsior and they were already on the train. She clarified that there was one room for the three of them, so I offered her to share mine if she wanted, so there was more space for Luana and Dania because I have two beds in my room in Florence. Whoo hoo.

They arrived at the hotel around 630 and proceeded to primp for 90 minutes. Hello, ladies, this is too much. Then again, they are the single ones on the prowl. I'm just the old aunt making funny quips in the corner. But watch out when you go drinking with lady bartenders. They may end up taking over the bar to get a drink exactly how they want it.

It was a great night. At one place a Brit came up to talk to me. He had been staring at me for about 10 minutes. Oh boy, here it comes... what can he possibly open with? He introduced himself, and Serena introduced us all to him, ending with me, by calling me Kricka, what my Venetian-area friends all now call me.

"Cricket? That's lovely."

"No, Kricka, but you can call me Kris."

"Oh, so you aren't Italian as well?" (How in the hell could I look any LESS Italian compared to the girls I'm with?)

"No, I'm American."

"Oh, then you may know this already. You look like someone on the television programs." This is always a loaded question for me. Camryn Manheim, Delta Burke, Monica Lewinsky. I'm plus-sized, I get it...

There's a program called Mad Men we have in the UK now, from the US. (I nodded in recognition.) You remind me of the actress... Christina Hendricks, is it?" I told him I was indeed flattered (I was, even if it was a line...) but I don't resemble her.

"Only in the breasts, Charles. That's how I resemble her."

"Oh, and in the hair." Ah, so when I pin my hair up and "take the girls" out I am Joan. Whoo hoo! I may keep this shade of red after all. And maybe I should go to Hollywood and be a chest double for Ms. Hendricks, for lighting purposes and such. Ha.

So at that point Serena takes my camera and snaps a picture of my chestal region with it, and one on her phone, and asks Charles if he wants her to send it to him. He laughed but declined.

"To remember your meeting with Joan, sir." She's a little hellcat tonight, that Sere! And she proceeded to send the picture to everyone that works at the bar in Venice. Um, thanks. Can't wait to get back and see the ribbing I'm going to get for this.

I ended up having a great conversation with a gay couple from Ohio, Ken and Tim, who used to live in Reno. Interesting guys. We left at 1AM, with Serena getting hot & heavy with some guy all the way back to the hotel in dark corners. Dania and Luana and I laughed all the way back that the poor guy was in for it, taking up with her. She's a maneater. And we sang the song for them.

From behind us you could hear her calling back to us, "È orribile streghe!" You horrible witches.

I went up to the room and didn't know whether she'd come in and actually sleep. She did, around 2AM. Girls' night out was a blast. We'll have to do it again sometime.



Saturday 25 September

I left Serena sleeping it off with the alarm clock set for her to get up and catch the train back home with Dania and Luana. I went to give my breakfast talk about the Bonfire of the Vanities, the episode of uber-religiousness brought to us by the Dominican priest Savanarola in the late 1400s. The focus was originally intended to throw out and destroy objects that were considered a temptation to sin, but overzealousness got the better of him, and he was soon preaching about the immorality of objects as well. His hold on the city was destructive, but it didn't last long. Within two years of his coming to public notice, he was excommunicated and executed by the Pope he spoke out against so vehemently.

After the morning in the Uffizi museum, I decided it was time to tend to my own vanities. I went to a beauty parlor and had a manicure-pedicure. Loved it! Then late in the evening in my room I cut my hair and colored it. No more mistaking me for Joan on Mad Men, that color was a bit orange for me. I am now a deep cherry/chestnut brown. The hotel concierge commented on it the next morning. "Ciliego e Castagno. Brava!" I wanted to let the staff know, even though I didn't stain anything. I just didn't want them to call Interpol thinking I was on the run or something. Actually, I just needed an extra towel for a shower...

Sunday morning we say Arrivederci Firenze and take the train up to Venezia. My home sweet home, kind of.

Wednesday 22 Sept - But There's Only One "N" In This One

We're on a road trip today. The most hours of togetherness of the tour.

We left Rome and traveled for a little over an hour, pulling into Orvieto, a lovely little hill town. The cathedral there looks like it's a pop-up book illustration. The mosaics on the upper facade glint in the sun from miles away, like a cd hanging from a rearview mirror.



I can't take a picture from a vantage point showing most of the building, so here's a picture of a postcard. Professionals usually get it right, which is why they sell the postcards, right?




Up close you see the real reason for the church in the Middle Ages: a teaching tool to scare the bejeezus out of the populace. The vast majority could not read, so putting the pictures on the walls telling of Bible stories was the norm. This church has it on the outside as well, as if telling the locals, "Get IN here, or this is going to happen to you." Lots of Last Judgment gothic gore abounds.

Enjoy:

Souls of the damned


We will not only take your soul, we will eat your face!


Cute lil' skeleton!


From Orvieto we drove another two hours to Tuscany and into Siena. Driving in is very picturesque with the rooftops of the houses cascading gently down the hillside.

One of the ladies asked, "How did the city get its name?" There is more than one theory actually. The area was originally settled by an Estruscan tribe around 600BC named the Saina. There is also a legend that the city was founded Senius, the son of Remus (as in Romulus & Remus who were suckled by a she-wolf and founded Rome.)

She then wanted to know what the connection is to crayons. It's in reference to the color of the ever-present roof tiles, made from the clay deposits in this area. Why they have the extra "N' in there, I don't know. But Crayola doesn't always get it right. I remember when they had a crayon named "Flesh" - it certainly didn't look like mine, and I'm caucasian.


The city of Siena was a banking city by trade, and was eclipsed by Florence. Their powerhouse period lasted for only about 90 years, and thereafter it declined. Their Cathedral is striking, built in striped black and white marble, to in honor of the family coats of two prominent Sienese families. It looks like it's wearing kneesocks.


Pulpit, sculpted marble, by Nicola Pisano, completed in 1268.

On to Florence!

Tuesday 21 Sept - Seriously, it's Marble

The morning talk was about the Roman Empire's (wise) ability to allow for cultures to be absorbed and incorporated into their own. Not just cultures, but religions. Rome was tolerant for the most part of the various religions of their subjects and rarely enslaved a region they conquered. Citizens of the empire were (again, for the most part) allowed to move freely about the empire. Considering the Romans were responsible for crucifying Christ in Israel and they martyred Peter and Paul right there in Rome, within only a few hundred years Christianity had a firm grip on what was left of the Roman Empire. This is the condensed version, of course, but hopefully you get my drift.

While as tour leaders we tend to "make" the clients go off on their own during free time, Rome is a little different in that it's a very large city and easy to get lost in. Yes there are taxicabs galore, and the buses and the Metro, but it is a large city that is confusing when translating a map to what you see in front of your face and it can get overwhelming very easily. One thing about cities in Italy, the name for a street changes VERY often, sometimes from block to block.

Frank was offering to take people on a quick morning walk for those that wanted to leave breakfast early. A trip to the Trevi fountain and over to the Spanish Steps, before everything got too crowded. Before 9AM is a great time to see these sites; afterward it gets incredibly crowded. I prefer walks there at about 7AM myself, and have dragged my family out at ungodly hours to do just that. Watching Rome wake up is pretty magical.

I stayed behind for office hours in the hotel while Frank traipsed off with about half the group. I assisted a group of six with making reservations for the Borghese for later that afternoon, almost the same time I had a reserved spot for, so I told them to look for me in the lobby we would walk together. I gave instructions to a few others about purchasing a 4Euro one-day tourist ticket at the Metro station and marked out maps for them to various sites. We had to be back and ready to depart from the lobby at 6PM for our private tour of the Vatican and dinner in the Trastevere area. Don't be late!

I sprung myself from the hotel and walked over to the Borghese to meet the museum entrance time. It's a huge public park now, but was the Borghese estate. They have a small zoo there, multiple playground areas, and even have a small hot air balloon rigged up to take passengers about 100 feet up to survey the city at 360-degrees while remaining tethered. No floating off. I will have to do that at some point in the future. The Galleria Borghese is an amazing collection of art the family amassed (and paid for as direct patrons) over hundreds of years. The villa itself is a work of art - the walls of the rooms are floor to ceiling stuccoes, friezes and trompe l'oiel paintings in themselves. Much like the Uffizi in Florence, there is so much to see that it takes repeated visits to see everything. But here, I concentrate on the statues. The absolutely amazing statues of Bernini.

There are almost a dozen works by Gian Lorenzo Bernini at the Borghese; they were major patrons of his. Three of his most moving statues are here: "David", "Apollo and Daphne" and "The Rape of Prosperpina." All are studies of capturing movement with stone, all are unforgettable and all are incredibly moving to me.

David is a depiction of the biblical character in mid-throw of the stone that is going to take down Goliath. While Michaelangelo's David is a study in the calm before the storm and of the perfect form of man, and Donatello showed him as a fey and naked young boy, Bernini's is in full-throttle video game action hero mode. He manages to stop frame a moment for us to see the power and conviction of David's action.


Plus, he looks like a young Laurence Olivier, which adds to the hot "hero action figure" in a Shakespearean version, so it works for me.

Next up, "Daphne and Apollo." How do you capture a transfiguration in one shot? Bernini gives us a very good example in this piece. It shows us lovestruck Apollo reaching out to catch the nymph Daphne, just as she turns into a tree. Her hair and fingers become leaves and branches, the toes on her feet grow roots. (Note - these photos are not my own, I couldn't get any with guards in the room.)


And now her hands and feet in transfiguration:



It's just mesmerizing. You want to blink and watch the metamorphosis continue to reach its conclusion.

Finally, The Rape of Prosperpina. This is the telling of the abduction of Prosperpina/Persephone by Pluto/Hades. He's taking her to the Underworld, as promised to him by her mother Ceres/Demeter for six months of the year. Even though it's Persephone that ultimately gives us seasons and vegetation harvests, she doesn't have to be happy about being taken away from sunlight and her mother.




This is a study of violent movement, of touch, and of the mastery of the medium, that Bernini is working with. Pluto is using his might to keep her from writhing out of his grip. Prosperpina is pushing at his face, twisting to escape. Cerberus is at their feet, alternately staring and snarling at what is going on.



What grips me in this statue is how Bernini uses stone and is capable of rendering supple flesh. Pluto's hands indent and impress into her thigh and torso. You can feel the bruising she's receiving. And yet, it's marble.



It just stuns me. Every single time.



I mean honestly, does this look like marble?


Taken out of context of the whole piece, this looks like a passionate embrace. Which, it is, but not passion that's exactly being reciprocated by Prosperpina.

Sigh. Okay, Kris' Art Lecture 101 is over for now...

We boarded the bus in the late afternoon for our private after-hours tour of the Vatican. While we don't spend a lot of time there - a couple of hours is enough time to make your brain seize up with all the things to see we do have the amazing opportunity to see the Sistine Chapel without a thousand of your most non-intimate friends in attendance. It is definitely a wonder.

Dinner afterward in Trastevere at an old trattoria we regularly reserve a banquet room in. Musicians also take part in the evening's festivities, playing songs and getting the guests to dance about with them. A lot of fun is had by all, depending on how much you drink!

It's our "Rome sendoff" for tomorrow we leave for Florence, stopping in Orvieto and Siena along the way.

Monday 20 September - Vinny, the Gang of Three and Two St. Peters

One of the clients cracked me up last night at dinner. He is from the LA area but his regional accent is definitely East Coast NY or NJ. He's Mr. Ferrari. Arriving at the airport, he was sporting a ballcap, a windbreaker and a tee-shirt with the logo. After checking in at the hotel, he changed into a polo shirt for the "welcome" mixer and dinner with, you guessed it, a Ferrari logo. I am sensing a trend in his wardrobe...

He sidled up to Frank and I as we were seating for the dinner in our section of the restaurant and said, "My name is Vince. Please call me Vince, Vincent, Vinnie, Vin-Man, whatever you'd like. I know we're here for the art and architecture, and I know we're not going anywhere near the car factories, but do either of you know anything about Ferrari? I'm an enthusiast."

Perfect. Picture Joe Pesci in "My Cousin Vinny" but instead of the part where he's saying YOOTS for "youths" we've got ENTOOSIEST.

I told him what I don't know offhand I would be happy to research for him. Was he looking for something as a souvenir? They have Ferrari merchandise stores in Rome, Florence and Venice that he can shop in. Or did it have to do with the Formula One race team?

That was it - he wanted to know where and when the next race was. He was in Italy and wanted to be able to say he watched a race while he was here (on tv, mind you.) Too bad the last race actually was the Italy Grand Prix, in Monza. The Ferrari team finished 1st and 3rd - people were still talking about it in the streets when I was in Venice, with the Ferrari flags in their apartment windows.

I told him the next race was on Sunday the 26th in Singapore. It will be on at 8pm on Rai-1. Frank looked rather impressed with throwing this out there, as did Vince. I told them I had looked it up after a conversation with my Dad, also a racing enthusiast. Vince asked me why so late? I told him it's in Singapore and there are time zones to consider. "I guess I'll tell my wife I'm eating in the room that night." Come to Italy - eat in your room. To each his own.

Okay, on to Monday's adventures...

Before heading out on the bus I gave a quick talk at breakfast about water in Rome. How does a city or civilization flourish to over a million people? Water. I gave an overview of aqueducts and water delivery systems that are still in use in Rome and throughout the country. I also let them know that while bottled water is provided for us all on the bus during the tour, when that bottle is empty, try carrying it around with you and filling it in one of the water spigot fountains you see in all the cities we visit. The water is better than what we have at home. For example, the water in Venice comes from the Dolomite mountains, where water is bottled for San Benedetto water that is shipped all over the world. The fountains in Rome have the same water sources they did in the days of the Caesars, and it's perfectly fine to drink as it.

We toured the ancient sites of the Colosseum, Forum and the Pantheon. We also went to a favorite church of mine near the Colosseum - called San Pietro in Vincoli, St. Peter's in Chains. This is the church dedicated to St. Peter when he was incarcerated in Mamertine prison. It was built to house the chains of Peter. The legend has it that when the chains of his final imprisonment in Rome and the chains from his earlier incarceration while in Jerusalem (by Herod) were introduced to Pope Leo I, they miraculously fused together. While that is a matter of one's faith to believe, I like the church because it houses one of Michelangelo's most powerful statues - that being Moses.

It was originally intended to be the tomb of Pope Julius II, Michelangelo's patron and the bane of his existence (see: that whole Sistine chapel thing, but then again Michaelangelo fought with more than one Pope in all fairness) and while Julius is buried in the "other" St. Peter's as Popes tend to be, this church was the home of Julius' family, the Delle Rovere family and he had been Cardinal there prior to ascending to Popedom. The funeral monument was intended to have 47 figures on it, but it was scaled down considerably and not completed until 30 years after Julius died. Moses looks kinds of angry here. And those are not horns on his head - they are "tongs of fire" as translated from original aramaic-language Bible text, like the rays of light or halos, and are more easily depicted in paintings.


Michaelangelo famously believed that the figures in his statues were already in the marble, just waiting to be released by chipping away the excess material. With the figure of Moses nearing completion he was having difficulty getting it right. He thrust his hammer into the knee, yelling "Why don't you speak to me?" Moses apparently responded because the hammer strike caused a spark and knocked the artist backward to the ground. Two dudes I don't want to mess with - Moses & Michaelangelo. Maybe that's why Moses looks pissed off.

So we were here first, then on to the ancient sites, and on over to Vatican City for lunch and to the other Saint Peters. The more famous one.

It was during the very short bus ride from Piazza Navona to lunch near the Vatican that I named the Gang of Three. There are three mannerisms that make me insane, my friends can tell you: people who absent-mindedly jingle the change in their pockets, people who snap, crack and pop their gum, and people who think it's perfectly acceptable to clip your nails anywhere except the privacy of your own bathroom. I guess my husband is the one who knows about that last one. I have one of each on this bus with me. And I can't wear earplugs because I have to pay attention and take copious notes on what Frank is saying at any given moment.

Maybe I need to start meditating and strive for being more Zen. But until then, I have to ignore the idiosyncrasies of paying clients and *smile* even though it's making me batshit crazy.

The afternoon was free and after my office hours I walked up to Villa Borghese, which is near our hotel. I wanted to go to the museum, but there wasn't enough time. Instead I bought a ticket with a reservation time for the next day, since I would have more open time then.

That evening was open for everyone to make their own dinner plans. Frank and I went out for beer and sausages at L'Antica Birreria Peroni, a few blocks from the Trevi fountain. Have I told you all how much I am liking Frank? I love that in a city full of Roman cuisine he wants to go to a German-style brathaus. Then again, I always eat Chinese food in other countries. The Birreria also has pasta dishes galore, but they are known for their sausages. He frequents the place, so even when the lines are long to get in, the waitstaff manages to find a place for him to sit. There were a lot of lovely sausages, but I am still in search of the elusive porchetta sandwich. More on that later. Sausages will suffice for now. It's all pork product of one kind or another. And pigs are yummy.

We had a lovely time and had a few beers with our meal. Frank told me I'm doing a great job so far. We walked back to the hotel - uphill all the way - oy. I made sure not to complain, since walking is expected of us as tour leaders. I also made sure I didn't pass out.

Back at the hotel, we had a nightcap and Fran bid me adieu for the night. I stayed in the bar for a while and chatted with the bartender. Turns out he was a student of my friend Giorgio, who teaches bartending courses at the big trade school near Venice, but also teaches advanced courses all over Italy. Giorgio is on the Board of the Italian Barman Association as well as the International Barman Association. He literally wrote their handbook, which is used all over the world. I helped with some of the translation on the latest edition a few years back, so I have a writing credit in the small print.

Roberto told me if I wanted to wait until he was off work at 2AM he would take me to see the sites of Rome lit up at night. Um, no thanks. I'm not putting myself in an awkward position. Time to call it a night.

Sunday 19 Sept - Everything Was Fine Until the Ho's Showed Up

Guess what? I woke up early. I futzed around until a decent hour and called over to the Marson house to make sure we were going to the 830 mass at Redentore church on Giudecca. I made my way over to their place and we walked to church. The priest patted me on the head again in blessing after the services - I won't take it derogatorily, I know he means it as a gesture of faith.

As we stepped out into the morning sun there was a vision we could not possibly ignore. Two scantily clad women posing on the steps of the church provocatively. Unbelievable. Cootchie-cutter painted on short shorts, complete with ass-cheeks hanging out. And lacy see through tops with more cleavage outside the shirt than in it. On the steps of a church. On a Sunday. With about fifty old ladies scowling severely. More than one of them were waving them off the steps.

"Va via." Away with you.

I looked around for tv cameras. This is a Candid Camera show or something, right?

I said my goodbyes to Mamma and walked to the boat with Marco. He was going to the train station with me to see me off after I picked up my luggage from the house. I think he would have found a reason to come on the boat with me anyway, as the "ladies" were going too.

And so we stared, like everyone else. Seriously, what possesses people? We got to witness them cooing and bending over the side of the boat while their photographer/boyfriend/sleazemeister snapped away. Lots of frowns from the patronage on the vaporetto. I managed a couple of shots through the doorway on my way off the boat. I honestly think they were some of those girls you see in the "come talk to me live phone sex" shows all over the satellite stations in this country. Must be getting some filler shots to play during their montages on-screen. I asked Marco if he recognized them as porn stars or phone girls on the tv.

"I don't know them. Let us not talk about this. Madon', it is a Sunday morning. My mother just saw that."

Ugh - you said it all right there, pal.

Got to the train station and said goodbye. I settled in for the 3.5 hour ride to Rome. Nothing very exciting on the train to speak of. Arriving in Rome at Termini station, I took a cab to the Excelsior hotel to check in and put my bag in my room. Whoo hoo - not sleeping in a closet - room upgrade worked! I texted Marco to let him know and headed out to walk to the Metro station and back to Termini to meet up with Frank.

We met the tour bus (one of those big coach buses) and went to the airport to meet the arrivals at Fiumicino. There were sixteen at the airport. Others that were coming straight to the hotel had already been noted, and the hotel concierge actually calls the tour leader to let them know when any of our clients check in. Good communication!

After we all arrived and got them checked in we gave them 90 minutes to freshen up and meet us on the back terrace of the hotel for a welcome reception. We toasted with prosecco and did a meet and greet with everyone, then we went into a private dining room in the hotel restaurant for dinner.

It was an early evening for me. I went to my room soon after dinner to study some dates and details for Monday morning. Going to the ancient sites and I wanted to make sure my memory was refreshed.

But because I know you wont rest until you see it - here's the ho parade... you may not think it's so bad here, but in person it was overly much for 10am on a Sunday in pastoral Venezia.

Saturday 18 Sept - Sharing the Day with Family of All Kinds

Woke up at 4 or 5 AM - even on my day off - oy. Started a tiny batch of vegetable-lentil soup to snack on today. Read a little, wrote a little and then fell back asleep until 9AM. I felt rather decadent in doing that. Had some of the soup - deliciousness.

The Famiglia called me and said they were going shopping at the market at Zattere (pretty much around the corner from my house.) I asked them if Mamma wanted to come over and see this place I'm staying in. She did indeed, so about a half-hour later they showed up.

"Kricka, come ad esempio un palazzo!" Kricka (her name for me) it's such a palace!

She tried a small bowl of my soup. Loved it. Had some more and chatted. Marco started looking at his watch and I asked him if he had a hot date - are we keeping you? He said he had only had three hours of sleep and wanted to get more and we were chatting like hens. Mamma smacked him in the arm and told him to go home and go to bed; Kricka will take her shopping and out visiting! Ha - you got owned, pal.

Sufficiently put in his place, he shut up and had another bowl of soup. I cleared the table and the three of us left to the store. Mamma kind of frowned that I left the dishes in the sink (I guess you don't do that as a good Italian woman, but I'm not Italian, after all.) I reassured her they were soaking in dishsoap and everything would be cleaned the moment I returned.

We maneuvered around the store getting the items listed. Mamma pondered over vegetables. She saw three friends and chatted, while I steered Marco to the meat counter to keep him from frowning at the social hour keeping him from sleep. Grouch. I told him it was a great thing to see her out and about and talking. For months she hasn't wanted to go anywhere but church three times a day. He's been doing all of the shopping because she's deeply grieving still. She's just now wanting to go out of the house, instead of constantly praying rosaries at church. Let her be social; her friends are happy to see her outside.

I'm right. He admitted it. Small victory for me. I love him like a brother but I want to punch him in the throat some days.

I went back on the boat with them to Giudecca and stayed to help put the groceries away. I bade them goodbye and told him to get some sleep. On the way back I received a text message from my friend Safwat, the owner of Dona Onesta (another favorite restaurant.) I had stopped in on arrival in town and his nephew told me he would be returning from Egypt on Friday. Safwat was calling to invite me to lunch at his trattoria to welcome me back and celebrate my good news that I was working here. Fingers crossed on that...

I messaged that I would be there within 20 minutes and made my way. A lovely meal - which he actually sat down with me the whole time. Grilled prawns and polenta, pork cutlet with lemon wine sauce. Fantastic and simple. Then as the time passed, the local shopowners he's friends with would pop in, they'd have a drink to celebrate Safwat's safe return - out comes the Amaretto. Next one pops in, they have an Amaro (liqueur similar to ouzo, but not as nasty.) Next one comes by, there's another round toasted. It was raining outside and while I like the drinks, and I assume they will keep me warm on the 15 minute walk back in the rain, I also know that one or two more would have me slipping flat on my arse somewhere in a downpour. Not pretty.

Eventually I made my way back to the house without slipping. I took a video of the house and managed to post it up to the webs without too much trouble (or embarrassment, in my semi-inebriated state.) I'm not slurring, we're okay. :)

Had another bowl of soup to soak up the drinks, then did the dishes. I managed to pack up the clothes I'm taking to Rome & Florence for the first 2 legs of the tour. My train of thought is to pack only that much, then upon arrival back in Venice in a week I can supplement and trade things out as needed. And do laundry. I had verified with Jeremy that I have the run of the house, so I can keep anything I want here the whole month. I just need to make sure I close the shutters and lock up tight when I go to Rome. No problem!

Puttered around the house with my mental lists of packing this and that. I had cleared all the food scraps out in preparation of being gone for a week and was wondering where to go for dinner when I got a call from Katherine & Chris. They asked if I wanted to meet them for dinner at Al Garanghelo, an old venetian-style osterie near the Rialto bridge. I told them I'd meet them there and would try to call the restaurant on my way there; they are an old and popular place, with Venetian classic dishes at a good cheap price, but the dining area is small. I wanted to try and save a table since I'm sure they'd be just about full by 8pm. Repeated calls with no answer.

I found the restaurant and found we had just been beaten out of a table by a few minutes. We wouldn't be able to get in there, so I called Kat & Chris and told them the news, then suggested they get off at San Silvestro stop, one stop earlier on that side of the canal, and I would meet them there. We're going to Francesco's - that man will stuff us silly. I know he's been adding more if the Venetian classic dishes to the menu, at least with the antipasti, so I would let him dictate what we'd eat.

I met them at the boat and walked them in to the restaurant - the patio was enclosed in the rain-proof tent on the campo. It's always so warm and cozy. I love it here in the rain. It's like camping with really good food. Upon being seated I told Francesco in Italian, "This is my niece and her new husband. We are celebrating their wedding. Can we something special for the antipasti please?"

My gawd. It was obscene. Within five minutes the table was covered in plates. We had fresh bufalo mozzarella in various sizes, small grape tomatoes and baby arugula, prosciutto and melon on one plate. There was the marinated olive salad with red and yellow bell peppers, with folpeti. Never thought I'd say I like octopus, but these are small pieces, well marinated and it's like eating squid or tuna. I've had it in his olive salad the last few times I've been here. Good stuff.

There was a plate of plain flatbead - basically thin pizza dough baked crisp with no topping. Then they brought out piadine, basically thin pizza dough with a bit of fresh tomato sauce on it. No cheese, no toppings. The dough/bread is baked and then sauced. Very light.



And then the big platter of Venetian dishes. All the oldies but goodies.
Schie - grey ghost prawns, were grilled to barely pink.
John Dory fish - also called San Pietro, found only in the northern Adriatic and in the lagoon, the filets grilled with herbs.
Sarde in saor - sardines marinated in a combination of onions, vinegar, raisins (of all things) and pine nuts.
Carpaccio di pesce - extremely thin shavings of fish that has been air-dried
Bacala mantecato - stockfish that has been beaten into a creamy, light whip with oil and milk, served over polenta squares.




This is the stuff that has been a staple in Venice for at least five hundred years, some dishes are even older, like the bacala, and as far as I'm concerned they can keep it coming.. Oh, so good. The only Venetian old-fave that was missing was fegato alla veneziana (calf liver in onions) - which I can pass on. I don't like to eat organ meats.

Chris was getting rather full. There was no way we were getting to any pasta after this spread. And then they brought the dessert cart. We each shared profiteroles, almond cake and sfoglitella and were becoming nauseated with too much food, when Francesco brought out a cake with candles on it. The restaurant sang to Kat & Chris, wished them well and cut the cake for us to have a piece.

Sant-Onore cake is similar to tiramisu, but with no chocolate or coffee flavors. It is thin layers of vanilla cake soaked with maraschino liqueur with marcaspone custard between the layers and on top. Profiteroles on the rim of the cake topping as well, because everyone needs more decadence in this town.



This was too much. Chris was about to go into his food coma, so we opted not to go Cafe Noir for after dinner drinks, as we'd planned. They were ready for bed after that meal. I'm so glad we were able to share this fantastic meal together. I planned to run over in the morning before heading to Rome to give big hugs and kisses to Francesco. This was a meal to go down in the books, for sure.

Friday 17 Sept - Hanging with the Honeymooners

Of course I woke up early. 4AM and wide awake. Bing! I hope that the excitement ebbs by the end of the next tour. I want to get more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep. I need to be on pointe for these people. Anyway...

I went down for breakfast hours to help out the departing clients with any transport questions and check out needs, as per requirements. We are there to also help out in case there are any billing disputes over and above the regular room fees not associated with the tour - pay per view, room service, restaurant and bar charges, dry cleaning, etc. There weren't any hiccups (save for one room that "swears" they didn't order that porn - Frank says there's one on every tour. Ha!)

I have 37 mosquito bites. I took inventory this morning. 15 of them are on my legs. I'm trying to figure this out, because I had tights on yesterday, so they didn't really have access, not to mention my legs were covered by the bedspread all night, no legs peeking out. This is crappy. I feel like a leper. At least the ones on my legs can (a) be covered by tights and (b) are not as welty as the ones on my forearms. Totally pissy about the one on my left eyebrow and right cheek though. Ghaahh!!! Leave me alone - I know I'm sweet and hot-blooded and all, but damn.

It started raining in the middle of the night. I hoped it would clear up by late morning, when Kat & Chris were due to arrive. The forecast does say there's 30% chance of rain during the days that they're here. They're adventurous though, a little rain won't stop them from venturing out.

Frank and I met briefly after office hours to verify when and where we will meet in Rome on Sunday afternoon. Termini rail station at the track for the Leonardo Express to the airport at 4PM. That means I get on the train at 11:30 in Venice and I'm golden. He's heading down to Rome right after; he bases himself out of there. I am choosing Venice, but it's a preference thing and no big deal either way.

I went to the apartment with the last of my things and made do with myself until 10:30 am, when I walked up to the Piazzale Roma bus terminal to meet Katherine & hubby. I had anticipated on their arrival at either 11:15 or 11:40 depending on whether they had checked luggage on their flight from Dublin, Ireland. Not needing to wait for baggage claim would put them on a bus that departed 20 minutes after their flight touched down.

I was right - they were there on the earlier bus. We hugged and kissed and walking in the mini-drizzle to collect their vaporetto passes I had reserved for them in advance. We walked over the Constitution Bridge to the train station and I showed them how to use the ticket machine to purchase tickets. We got their seats for the train to Florence on Sunday, so now I can call the apartment owner there and let her know when they'll be arriving.

We had a little time to kill before meeting Franca at the apartment in Castello and apparently they were starving! They said the food isn't that great in Dublin, plus they had to get up at 3:30 to make their 6AM flight, on a no frills ariline, so I guess that equated to no breakfast and "let's start eating in Italy!!!" I'm game.

I took them to my favorite restaurant on Venice, La Zucca. Now, not to confuse you dear readers, I have two classifications of favorite restaurants. One is for the places where I have a great time, know the owners and staff and appreciate the atmosphere and conviviality. The other is for the FOOD. Stuff you to the gills with hearty fare that is a good bargain for what you're getting. La Zucca is that second category, in spades.

We got there before it opened, but had looked over the menu in the time we were outside, and took a table right out front. These kids are going to have a great time in Italy. Simple food done right. They are foodies, both have each owned a catering business, and they know good eats. La Zucca did not disappoint.

House red wine and sparkling water. We shared five plates in all and just about licked them clean. Tagliatelle with dried tomato sauce and fresh ricotta, spaghetti with a pesto made of zucchini and basil, spinach with some kind of cheese that was the creamiest without a cream sauce or butter (I have to work on perfecting that recipe), roasted leeks with pecorino, and roasted zucca (squash) with red pepper and rosemary. That last dish was like our dessert. OMG - so good. Altogether for the three of us it was under 40Euro, I believe.

I'm happy that their introduction to Italy was with a fantastic meal. Sforza!!!

During lunch I gave them the goody bag I had for them. A notebook with instructions on how to get to their lodgings in Venice, Florence and Vernazza (in the Cinque Terre), the cellphones and charger with the SIM cards installed (preprogrammed with each others' numbers and mine in case they needed to ask any questions), guidebooks with my personal recommendations and maps. They are set. Nd they are appreciative. Yay! Happy honeymoon, guys...

Fortified with full bellies and a liter of wine at lunch, we rolled ourselves back onto the vaporetto for rest of the way to their apartment. I gave them the Grand Canal narrative tour of the different palazzos and historical tidbits. We arrived at their vap stop and made our way to the apartment. I stayed there the last two trips, earlier this year. We were later than expected and Franca had gone back home. I called her and she came within ten minutes. She let us in, and to my happy surprise she had a bottle of prosecco for them and sweet note from Gloria the owner,wishing them well on their marriage and to enjoy their honeymoon. I had hoped I would be able to get in there early in the morning to do this, but Gloria and France helped me fulfill this final gift to the honeymooners. Yay!

I showed them the ins and outs of the place and left them. It looked like they were in need of a nap. We made loose arrangements to meet up after dinner on Saturday night for drinks, but I told them it's totally okay if we don't. This is their honeymoon and I'm not here to hang out with them 24/7. If they need anything they know they can call.

Got back to my place and took an hour nap. Getting up early, not enough sleep, decompressing after an exciting three days of my first meeting with Frank and clients, I was ready for some downtime. But I knew I didn't want to sleep all afternoon, so I set an alarm for 5PM, so I could get back up and meet with Marco for dinner.

We met at the Zattere, the boulevard facing his island of Giudecca and got a pizza at 7PM. I told him about the kids arriving and he said he had Saturday evening off, so if I was meeting up for drinks with them, to let him know and he'd join us. We had gelato and he was off to work for the evening.

I went home and crashed out before 10PM.



Chris is ready to get his grub on, Veneziano style!



Tagliatelle with a sauce of sun-dried tomatoes and fresh ricotta.



Spaghetti with a pesto made from not only basil, but zucchini. Mmmm!



This spinach gratinata would bring Popeye to his knees. Seriously good.



Will be working on recreating this recipe at home. Roasted shaved leeks with pecorino. Melt in your mouth goodness!

(I'm apparently having a battle with Blogger, becaus eit won't let me post the last picture from lunch. Maybe later....)

Edited to add the photo of the roasted squash. Mmmm... now I want some more.