14 February Tue– Goodbye and Hello

The plan was to get the parentals to the airport around 8:30 for their 11:30 flight to New York, check them in and then I would head downstairs to the Arrivals hall to meet my folks when their plane came in at 9:30. My folks would go to JFK on that very plane the clients came off of. Pretty slick.

The staff at the airport were very kind in getting my parents squared away and wheeling Dad through Security. Mom got a little weepy when we had to part. She was now used to seeing me all day every day and she was leaving me in a foreign country. I reassured her that I was okay by myself, I've done this many times, and I'm safe. I may be fully grown but I am still her baby. I guess I always will be. I watched them go through the security hurdles and dropped downstairs to get my new peeps.

They were two couples from Chicago, so cold weather and icy winds definitely will not phase them. I collected them and we took a cab (a car cab, not a boat taxi) overland to Piazzale Roma, then transferred to the vaporetto. I am so happy when private clients don't put on airs and are agreeable to taking the public transportation. Live semi-normally, okay? They were in an apartment in a palazzo so we offloaded at Ca'Rezzonico and I took them to meet their apartment manager to show them their digs. They are in the same apartment the drunks last fall from New Orleans were in so it was very easy. Veronica the agent was waiting for us and as they were putting their luggage in their rooms she and I briefly chatted. She told me she remembered me from those clients and apparently they were a horror show for her to work with as well. They broke a lot of things and lost their $1500 damage deposit. I told her they “forgot” to save any euros at the end and wrote me a check for a tip. Yay. Keep your drinking in check or stay home, people. Lesson learned?

Veronica and I bid them adieu – but for me I would be back in two hours to collect them. I needed to give them some time to freshen up after their flight and get settled in. I went and grabbed a coffee and checked email in the mean time. Came back and rounded them up for a walk to the sites in Piazza San Marco. We toured the Basilica San Marco, Palazzo Ducale, went up the Campanile to view the crowds down below in the Piazza. They did some shopping while I stood around and watched and I whisked them off to their dinner appointment at Hostaria da Franz. I had clearly marked a map for them so they could get back by themselves and they didn't seem particularly inept so I was sure they would be okay. They deserved their Valentine's Day dinner with their significant others and didn't need to have me hanging about as a fifth wheel.

I took myself to my friend Francesco's restaurant in Campo San Aponal. It was a lively night there as per usual. Afterward I stopped in at The Consulate to have a glass of wine with Aldo before toddling off to bed. I don't need Valentine's Day to remind me that I love my hub-unit. Hearing his voice that morning on the phone was the best gift I could have received anyway.

9 February through 13 February – Our Girl in Venice

We had a much easier time getting out of Florence. Bologna was snowed under completely as we saw when we passed through. On the vaporetto on arrival in Venice there were chunks of icy slush bobbing in the water. We stayed in the Rialto area, two doors down from the little converted garage I rent from Signora Fieri. I had met the owners when I was there in October and November. This was also a converted ground level garage space, but it was much larger, double the size of mine. They had given a good price and were letting me stay extra days at no cost, to get myself sorted out next door after my folks departed. I steered my parents into the nearby Chinese restaurant while I took the bags in and settled the rent, and then joined them. We just had soup and drinks and when the bill came we were told Carlo & Laurie had taken care of it. So nice.

Dad's tolerance had certainly built up in a week and a half. By the end of the stay he was walking for a few hours at a time. I kept the amount of bridges to a minimum, but it's pretty unavoidable to to encounter steps and bridges in Venice. But no rolling pushchair or cane for him.

It was the first weekend of Carnivale, so the influx of people into the city was pronounced. And the idiot level had corresponded exponentially, as expected. Gaping, standing still in the street, completely clueless. Step to the side people. Don't gape in front of the stores and block the flow of traffic, go inside. They won't shoot you for looking inside, I promise.

I took the parentals to a few of my favorite restaurants, and they got to meet my bartender friends Giorgio, Aldo and Roberta. Serena, it turns out, was in hospital. Had an emergency appendectomy. Ouch. They also got to briefly meet Marco, in the flesh. He was working of course, so they only got to exchange pleasantries, but I can prove he exists now. Mom remarked at how handsome he is. I remarked that he totally tries to use it to his advantage – he works that dimpled cherubic cheek.

We had snowflakes on Sunday morning. It was a dusting of snow but it was mostly just wet collecting on the ground. Some of the streets got salted down to dissipate it, so you heard the crunching underfoot as people tromped about.

Monday it was nice out and since it was their last day we got some boat trips in as a way of seeing a better overview of other parts of the city. We took the #4.1 vaporetto circumnavigating the city and out to Murano. At Arsenale a group of about 15 schoolkids got on board and we sitting with us. The boy sitting beside me had face full of dried snot so I didn't mind when he left my side, and another boy slipped in.

He was very friendly. We chatted about where they were from - Mogliano on the mainland (and where Marco's niece and sister had lived – oh, my heart panged at hearing that.) I kept turning around and translating for the parentals. The boy was at that excitable age where he was full of energy and giving long answers in a rapid-fire cadence that was too fast for me. I told him I don't understand everything when he talks so fast so could you slow it down a little. He giggled and told his friends. A few came over and crowded around, asking me questions about where I was from, how could I speak Italian. I told them I speak Spanish and English too. Wow! Was the bug-eyed response from a little girl named Aja. I asked my little man what his name was. “Marco Eugenio Baldassare, e' io sono otto anni!” He's eight. One of the little girls asked me my name and how old I am. The faces they made when I said quarantuno (41) you'd have thought I said 127... but Marco told me I was still pretty. Awww.

I am not accustomed to little kids being so unguarded and open. In the US kids wouldn't tell you their full name and where they live to a complete stranger and if they did, some mother or nanny would have you turned into the authorities pronto. I do love that kids can actually have childhoods here and not be filled with fear constantly. Not saying you can't in the US, mind you, but it's been a long time since I've seen little kids not living such overscheduled lives by the age of 4. Playdates? What happened to just running around in the park and spinning until you fell down? Childhood shouldn't be calendared is all that I'm saying.

So, I briefly had a new favorite Marco in my life. He was a doll. They got off in Murano one stop ahead of us. I hope the teacher made it out okay when the day was over. Fifteen rambunctious 7-8 year old kids with just her and another adult. Sounds like a bottle of wine would be waiting for her when the field trip was over.

I had tried to be mindful of the amount of walking during the whole trip. We were in ice, we were in snow, leading to treacherous footing. I tried to have my hand or arm out for stability everywhere we went. We'd all done so well, and then on the last afternoon, Mom fell the steps up a bridge. Ouch! The step was the tiniest bit higher than others and she went down. I felt horrible. She bruises if you blow on her, always has, so that would leave a nasty mark. Sorry Mom!

In the end, while I didn't get to show them everything I wanted to, my parents definitely got a taste of why I have grown to love this country so much. They experienced the types of kindnesses from strangers that I encounter here regularly and I think they have an idea why I am so comfortable in making this place, especially Venice, a favorite environment for working and my second home.

Crabs!

San Giorgio Maggiore as seen from Piazza San Marco.

South side of the basilica.

Yes, she's holding a fish as a prop and no, I don't know why.

Snow topped gondole

Scala Bovolo

One more shot of my favorite snowmen

My new boyfriend is the one in the grey cap.

5 February through 8 February – Highlights from Florence

But first we had to get out of Rome. The snow from the previous two days was still taking its toll on the streets of the city. Rome isn't used to snow, so the ice hadn't been salted down, or had street-keeping machines plowing and scraping like you see in places that are regularly affected. When visiting my best friend in Utah, you see snowplows hovering every few hours, but Rome? Nope. The news was showing snow banks two feet high in cities to the south which NEVER get hit with snow and ice. I tried calling every single dingle cab company in the phone book. Twice. No cabs available was what I got for the three that answered. Most just rang off the hook. Awful.

Niccolo arrived to take the keys back and make sure we hadn't burned the place down (kidding) and he tried calling people he knows with car services or even large vehicles for the luggage. Nothing. And so Niccolo became a saint in all of our eyes by helping us to the metro station. It was three city blocks away, but with luggage, Dad's precarious walking situation with a rolling walker and not wanting anyone to slip, we took it slow. As in S-L-O-W. Niccolo and I managed the luggage while Mom & Dad managed themselves very carefully. Not only did he get us to the station, he walked us and the luggage down into the bowels of the place and made sure we got on a train okay. Such a sweetheart. Kisses and hugs all around. What a nice guy. I can't say enough good things about that man. Truly.

But we were arriving at the train station from the metro down below and after making our way up the many levels to the Termini train station we were getting there unfortunately just as the train would be leaving. Oy. I checked the board and didn't see our train was up there. It must have gone. I dropped the parentals in a cafe and headed off to go change the ticket for the next available. To my happy surprise, out train was just late, we hadn't missed it at all. Whew! Happy dance.

After that, getting to Florence was a breeze, aside from the asshat in our seats that refused to move. Dude needed a kidney shanking or a fork in his eye. Seriously. Prissy bastard. But we found seats together in another grouping that nobody tried to kick us from, plus the added bonus of me giving the asshat dirty looks the whole way. Why can't people sit where they are supposed to? It's not difficult. We are supposed to be in a polite society. Do the right thing. Come on now.

There was snow everywhere in the surrounding towns along way to Florence but it felt colder that Rome because of the icy winds. Serious cold winds. We all looked like snowmen when trying to go out and about. I had a hat & cowl that I had made for my friend Giorgio in Venice that ended up saving the day for Dad. He looked like the Michelin Man but it kept him from freezing his face off.

The second day there we had snow mists, just a light dusting of flakes in the air, but nothing really stuck to the ground. I walked the block over to Cafe Oibo, near the language school I attended in October. I found one of my teachers, Caterina, and completely surprised her. Hugs, kisses, coffee and pastries. Doesn't get a whole lot better in the morning. The baristas remembered me. Kristina! Caffe doppio e sfogliata con crema... that's me.

Yes Florence has amazing art and beautiful churches. But I also got to introduce my mother to the “Tutti Per 99e/c” store. That means “Everything For 99 Eurocents.” Yep, the Italian dollar store exists. She actually made a really great buy in finding a nice thick scarf for extra warmth on her chest and neck under her winter coat. And cookies and juice to snack on. But the scarf was the best.

We had another great apartment, even if it was up one flight of stairs, but it was fully heated and in a 14^th century building for only 60E per night. Not bad, eh? You can write me for details. I'm keeping this one close to the vest.

I received distressing news on two topics while in Florence. One, Mamma would definitely be staying in Bologna and I was seriously bummed that my parents would not get to meet her. I had tried to cajole Marco into letting her come back sooner than anticipated. I understand the reasoning – the family had already planned for her to stay with her nephew and family during Carnivale time to help Marco be able to work the crazy hours he always ends up working, but I felt that I could have helped out if she was back in Venice while I was there, with or without my parents present. Plus the weather was many times worse in Bologna than in Venice. She was literally snowed in there and Venice had no snow at all. Oy.

The second piece of news was that my friend Davide was in the hospital in Senegal. He had gone home away from Venice for the winter months and wouldn't be coming back for his seasonal start in February as expected. He had his brother write me with the news, but I still haven't been able to get more info from Dakar since then. And I am still sincerely worried about him at the ti e of this writing.

We got into a cab after visiting the Museo dell'Opera dei Duomo (where my statues of Mary Magdalene and another Michelangelo Pieta live) and had the most hilarious cab driver. He had on a camouflage jacket. Big ole redneck looking guy, Italian style. Rustic looking and ruddy. Unshaven. Plus a wool coat over the camo. I saw he had a hunter's cap on the dashboard, ear flaps and all. Looked like the foreign embodiment of Ignatius J. Reilly of “A Confederacy of Dunces” but in a taxi instead of behind a hotdog cart in New Orleans. Truly a slovenly sight to behold.

I asked him if he was a hunter “Sei un cacciatore?” because of his gear. “Si.” I indicated to Dad in the back and said “Mio Babbo e' un cacciatore di troppo.” - my father is a hunter too. “E' un uomo realita.” He's a real man.

All right then. There you have it. Only real men are hunters apparently. In a city of some of the most beautiful art, historical culture and architecture in the world, it all really boils down to shooting your guns off. Go figure.

Snow on the way to Florence.

Don't give me that look young lady. I said "excuse me."

 Looking out the window of the Uffizi over the Arno and Ponte Vecchio.

The parentals when they aren't quite freezing (for once!)

Il Porcellino in the marketplace.

The fountains all had ice built up in them.

The neighborhood - Trattoria across the street. Good pizza!

1 February through 4 February – Notes on Rome

The Flying Giacobazzi Brothers failed me. Their car service was a complete no show. It took a few days to sort out in the aftermath, but suffice to say, they were both out of the office and a majority of their airport service reservations for a few days were fouled up by one idiot in the office, who no longer has a job, I understand.

But at the time, with nobody answering the phones at Gladiator I had to do something I loathe and talk to the sharks in the Arrivals hall trolling for customers for their shuttles and limousines. I settled with a shared shuttle for 50E for the three of us and our bags, and was promised “two minutes” which turned out to be 25 minutes, but in the mean time we met a nice college kid from Argentina. I got to give him some tips on Rome and Venice as we (finally) sped along the road into the city.

We stayed in a place the Giacobazzi Bros had referred me to and it was perfect. I want to stay there again and again. And while I want to shout it from the rooftops and recommend it to everyone on earth, I am afraid if I promote it too much it'll become too popular and I'll never get it again. You know, the usual.

But seriously, it was excellent! A completely comfy and affordable apartment around the corner from the Vatican for only 70E a night. Full kitchen and a washer. The most beautiful bathroom I have had. Much cheaper than staying in a hotel and more creature comforts for me. On the 6^th floor with an elevator. Another huge plus was having a grocery store right next door for all of our kitchen fixings, plus Nutella for Dad. The manager, Niccolo, was easy to communicate with in setting it up and he met us there. Holler at me if you want the info. I'll give it to *you*, but not the masses. Wink wink.

Our third day there the snow started while we were in the Borghese Gallery. The flakes were blowing back upward in the wind. It was so pretty. It stopped after about an hour. Later in the afternoon, Dad and I went foraging for lunch to bring back, some “pizza a taglio” where you purchase it by weight. It's usually more of a focaccia dough than the flat wood-fired oven places have. We were in luck that there was a “caffe/ gelateria/ pasticceria/ pizzeria” just around the corner. Dad was tickled by their method of cutting the pizza – with scissors. Elementary – why don't we always do this? It had started snowing again, in earnest. Giant fat fluffy flakes falling hard and with purpose. It didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

It didn't. Snowed all night long. The next morning the courtyard below showed about six inches had accumulated on the cars and pavings. Winter wonderland! After going to the Vatican and the St. Peter's I tried to snag a cab so Dad & I wouldn't have to carry his walker back to the house. It was a short trip, about 1/3 of a mile from St. Peter's Square but the streets were very icy and treacherous, and the sidewalk snow had been tramped down by hundred of people, making it difficult for him to navigate the wheels on the walker. I left them on a corner and tried to flag down a cab at the cabstand in the square nearby. The only cab there (who was actually hired and waiting on his people inside the church) was haggling with me and another couple. He wanted to go “off meter” because he was already collecting a fare from the people he was waiting on and he wanted 50E minimum to leave his post. I wasn't going far enough to satisfy him (and I wasn't paying 50E to go the equivalent of 6 blocks) so he told me to call someone else. I walked back to the cabstand and as one car came in I grabbed at it, tapping at the windshield before his people had even got out. Another couple were actually waiting in line at the cabstand too, but I pulled out the “Disability Card” and prevailed upon them that while I understood they were actually in from of me in line, I needed to get my disabled father out of the cold ASAP. They relented. I told the cab driver I would pay him double whatever the normal fare would be, plus tip, I just needed to get my parents back home safely. Ok! Giuseppe was a great time, even for a short trip. He informed us that it hadn't snowed in Rome for 27 years, so nobody knows what they are doing. That was obvious! Except for the cabbies. Those few brave souls... who were all off-meter and making BANK.

The highlights of our days in Rome were simply the faces of my parents.

1: Seeing my father's face while in the presence of Michelangelo's Pieta. I know he would have stayed there all day. Like me, it wasn't about the religious nature of the piece that affects him, but the pain of loss of a loved one that is depicted. I get teary every time I am in the presence, and seeing Dad finally see it was a lovely thing.

2: Also, my mother's face watching me explain something in Italian to Vatican personnel. She had inadvertently walked out of the bookstore area without a rosary she had purchased, among some other souvenirs, and when we came back I was explaining to the woman that she had left it there. The woman's face brightened and she exclaimed that she had the rosary and had hoped she would come back. Mom is the one who was raised Catholic, so just in general seeing her take in everything there was great, in honor of her father (the “real” Catholic one in the family.) I always feel honored to be a representative of my grandfather while in the Vatican or St. Peter's and I feel my mom got that feeling too. The look of pride on her face in “The Church” as I explained what I could was wonderful.

At the Colosseum

View through an arch of the Colosseum

Snow flurries on the first day of the storm. Lookinginto the courtyard below the apartment.

The next morning in the courtyard below.

One of the neighbors in the courtyard had theor clothes on the line the entire time we were there.

Pretty frozen trees on the street nearby.

Our street on Day 2 of the storm. Romans don't know how to deal.

The little lion in winter. Yes, I crack myself up...

The walls of Vatican City around the corner from us. These walkways were the only ones salted. 

View of Saint Peter's dome from inside the Vatican Museum.

Stained glass window in the V. Museum.

Frozen Pope Trees - in the Vatican Gardens

The parentals looking on Michelangelo's Pieta. He could have stayed there all day and been happy.

The object of our affection.

Neighbor kitty says '"Ciao!"

31 January – Gale Warnings

I am three weeks late in writing these posts. My computer has become unstable and likes to shut itself down at will but there wasn't enough time before leaving to get it sorted out properly. The idea of blogging took a backseat. I expected to only be checking for mail online with the computer to keep it from going completely belly up on me. So much was going on in “home world” that I had to think seriously about chucking it all and staying home.

But the biggest pro-travel reason was that my parents were finally going to be joining me for a couple of weeks before I began working. My first group was slated for February 14, and my folks would head home at the same time the group arrived, with me even having to leave the airport in between departure and arrival.

I have to admit to being nervous about the trip. While I adore my parents, I haven't spent that much time together “just US” kind of time together in a couple of decades. While my group tours are two weeks long, the same as this would be, I am not with my groups 24 hours a day. Add family dynamics and it could be a giant powder keg. I do get along great with my folks, but I am still their child.

SPOILER ALERT: All worry for naught in the long run. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

In transit we took advantage of wheelchair service with the airlines and airports for Dad. He broke his back some years back and also had miniscus surgery on his knee since then so walking long distances or with any speed has been ruled out. The plan for traveling is to go as slow as we need to for him, and let him build up the length of any walks as we go along. Their coming with me only became a finalized idea about four weeks before we left, so he hasn't had much of a chance to get ready, walking wise. Steps were expected to be a problem so facing that, I tried to mitigate the obstacle as much as possible. When we got to Venice, we would just have to take it slow and not expect any trips over the Rialto or Accademia bridges for him. Also brought along a folding rolling walker with a seat so he could cop a squat whenever necessary, as well as a collapsible cane for when we were out. Both turned out to be invaluable additions to the luggage.

The transport people at JFK and in Rome were extremely nice. Mom & Dad got to ride in a van on arrival in Rome, I had to take the shuttle bus from way out on the tarmac to the terminal. They didn't have to press in with a hundred people cheek to cheek after seven hours on a plane. Lucky.

22 Novembre Tue – Il Giro di Addio

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

21 Novembre – Here's to Your Health

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

20 Novembre – Barstool Tour Guide, Available Cheap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

19 Novembre – Difficult Decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just quit.”

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

18 Novembre – Shopping Shopping Shopping

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

17 Novembre – Islands In the Stream

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16 Novembre – I Used to Have Kidneys

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worst hired driver in the world.

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

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

15 Novembre – Cooking with the Contessa

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

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

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

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

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

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

14 Novembre – Good Morning Lamorindans!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Occupy Venice is no more. Slow clap for them.

13 Novembre – Not Much of A Day of Rest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best moment of my day, right there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

12 Novembre - Triple Duty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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