Travels with Carole Bellacera, Novelist

Arrival at Stowe

2006-01-23T04:25:00.000-08:00

January 14, 2006
6:20 PM

Here we are at Stowe. After two days of driving, we’re sitting here in our condo, watching the Seattle-Washington game, our bellies full of home-baked pizza and German beer. I’m going to try really hard to stay up until 8:30 to watch the Broncos/Patriot game. All I know is the Broncos better play a good game or I’ll have to forsake them for bed. (I didn’t sleep well in the motel in Connecticut last night.)

Okay, so we arrived here in Vermont, and it’s like spring outside. Temperatures in the 40s with fog and rain. All the rivers look swollen from snowmelt; the conditions on the slopes say “spring conditions.” Not good. But…the forecast is calling for snow tonight, six to eight inches, so our fingers are crossed. Anyway, we won’t be skiing until Tuesday, so hopefully, things will get better.

Tomorrow I’m planning to check out the consignment shop—that’s Kathy & my annual “must do” whenever we come to Stowe. She wants to watch the Colts-Steeler game tomorrow at 1:00, so I don’t know if she’ll go with me. I’m betting, though, I’ll be able to talk her into it. Sunday is really the only day we can go because Monday, we have appointments for a day at the Topnotch Spa, compliments of my wonderful husband, Frank.

Next Trip: Stowe, Vermont

2005-12-27T04:52:00.000-08:00

I hope all of you have enjoyed accompanying me on my trip to Hawaii. Stay tuned for my next travel blog when we go for a week of skiing to Stowe, Vermont in January.

Happy New Year!

One Last Day

2005-12-27T04:42:00.000-08:00

12/14/05 –5:23 PM

Randy was waiting for us when we walked up in front of the Army Museum. It was so great to see him again. He’s barely changed at all in 15 years! He took us to this French bistro in Chinatown, and I had chicken fettuccine which was delicious! It was great talking over old times with him. Oh, and he gave me the most gorgeous tuberose lei I’ve ever seen. It smells heavenly!

When we got back to the hotel, I went to the beach one last time, and now here I am, writing this, and waiting for my hair to dry a bit before I style it. I think we’re going to the Hale Koa Barefoot Bar for drinks before dinner and then to the Oceanariam where they have a giant aquarium.

Tomorrow our taxi arrives at 11:00, and we’ll be off to the airport. It’s been an awesome ten-day vacation!

But the highlight? Without a doubt, it was when Frank & I privately renewed our vows at the Valley of the Temples. It was so impulsive and romantic, and I’ll never forget it.

Snorkeling in Haunama Bay

2005-12-26T05:27:00.000-08:00

12/14/05 – 11:00 AM

It’s our last full day in paradise. We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes to go meet Randy for lunch. He is picking us up in front of the Army Museum near Fort DeRussy. I’m really looking forward to seeing my former boss again—the best boss I’ve ever had, I might add. I loved working for him in the financial district of downtown Honolulu. That—and working for Congressman Jack Fields in the Rayburn Building—were two of the most exciting jobs I’ve ever had…well, at least until I became an author and got to go on two Levy book tours.

So…yesterday we went to Haunama Bay for snorkeling. It was just as wonderful as it used to be. I saw some really gorgeous fish; one was a beautiful electric blue with hot pink around its fins. I tried to follow it for awhile, but eventually lost it. Personally, I could’ve stayed there all day, but Frank was hungry and wanted to get back to the hotel. (Sorry, no pictures of snorkeling. We bought an underwater camera, and I haven't been able to scan them yet.)

After showering, I went to the International Marketplace to do the last of my shopping, and when I got back, Diana & Jim were here. They had just enough time for an early dinner before heading for the airport. We had a drink then went to the Cheesecake Factory for club sandwiches, and of course, cheesecake. We each ordered a different kind so we could sample each others—Godiva chocolate, lemon raspberry, dulce de leche caramel, and banana cream. I thought the caramel and the lemon raspberry were the best, with the caramel just edging the other out.

We walked Diana & Jim back to the Hale Kola where they’d left their car, and they went off to the airport. It was still early so Frank & I walked around for a while. We ended up at the oldest hotel in Waikiki, the Sheraton Moana Surfrider, and had tropical drinks in the Banyan Courtyard where there was live Hawaiian entertainment. An absolutely lovely way to end the evening.

Unfortunately, Frank seems to be coming down with a cold, so we stopped at the ABC Store and bought him some Nyquil. I sure hope it’s a false alarm because it’s not going to be a fun flight home if he’s sick.

Another Day at Ko Olina

2005-12-25T09:04:00.000-08:00

12/12/05 – 8:16 PM

Another awesome day. Before we met Diana & Jim for brunch, I went walking through the International Marketplace, but didn’t buy anything. Got some ideas, though.

Champagne brunch at the Hale Koa was amazing, as well it should be at $20/person. What a spread! Everything from sushi to lamb to luscious desserts. I didn’t think I ate much, but I guess I did because I was stuffed when we left.

After brunch, we went our separate ways, Frank & I back to Ko Olina, and Diana & Jim went for a drive around the island. But they joined us at the lagoon about 3:00, and we stayed there to almost sundown. We dropped the car off at Enterprise and came back to Waikiki to shower. We’re waiting for Diana & Jim to come here so we can go out to the Cheesecake Factory for dessert. Yes, I know I vowed I wasn’t going to eat anything more today, but I guess I lied. How can I resist cheesecake?

2005-12-24T04:54:00.000-08:00

12/12/05 – 6:39 AM

Time is just speeding by; I didn’t even get a chance to write yesterday.

After lunch with Lynne, I went back to the hotel and spent a couple of hours on Waikiki Beach. It was nice, but after that afternoon at Ko Olina…well, it just pales in comparison. On Friday night, we played golf at Hickam under the lights. I did pretty well—no pars like the other day we played, but I had a couple of good drives. After golf, we went to Anna Millers—the very first restaurant I ever ate at in Hawaii in 1987—and had dinner. It was after 9:00 but there was still a wait for a table. I had a great turkey club sandwich and Kona coffee, and for dessert—coconut custard pie. (Wish I’d gone for the coconut cream, though.) We were exhausted by the time we got back to Waikiki so the four of us said our goodnights and went to our separate hotels.

Yesterday Frank and I went on a road trip to the North Shore, stopping at the Dole Plantation on the way. I decided to live life on the edge (since I’m allergic to fresh pineapple) and tried the pineapple sherbet. No reaction. I put the palm of my hand on a pineapple and waited for the itch. Nothing. I leaned in close and inhaled the fragrance, expecting that familiar itching in my throat. Nothing. I wanted so badly to actually eat a piece of pineapple, but I admit it, I was scared. The last reaction I’d had in Waikiki 17 years ago had been really terrifying. It had felt like my throat was closing up. So I decided not to try it. (But last night I did order a chi chi with fresh pineapple juice—I’m assuming—and I didn’t have a problem.)

We went on to the North Shore, stopping at Weimea Bay, Punaluu Beach and Sunset Beach. The waves were huge, and we saw a bunch of surfers way out. Got some pictures, but I don’t know if they’re any good. We took the long way home, stopping at McDonalds near the Polynesian Cultural Center for lunch, then took the Likelike Highway back to Honolulu. It was only about three when we got back to the hotel, so we went to the beach for a couple of hours. Last night before we met Diana & Jim for dinner, we walked to the International Marketplace and…can you believe it? Didn’t buy a thing.

On the way to the Hale Koa at dusk, we saw a figure walking toward us in a super-skimpy bikini bottom. With a snort of disgust, Frank mutters, "Here comes Mr. Tarzan." But as the person got closer, we realized that it wasn't a "mister." HolyCow!!!! It was a woman walking down a busy avenue in Waikiki wearing only a skimpy bikini bottom. Okay, she wasn't big breasted, but she definitely had breasts. And she was happily displaying them for the world to see. For a minute, I thought I was back in Italy or Greece. We could barely believe our eyes. So...I know there is a story there...(someone swiped her top as she was sunning on the beach?)...but we'll never know what it was. (Topless woman, if you're out there somewhere, please e-mail me and tell me your story.) Oh, and sorry, guys...I didn't get a picture.

The four of us went to Fisherman’s Wharf for dinner, and it was good, but not as good as I remembered. The mahi mahi was mediocre. The restaurant itself wasn’t as elegant as it used to be—almost a little rundown, and I felt a little cheated. Hope we have better luck tonight.

Our plans today are to meet Diana & Jim at the Hale Koa for brunch, then go turn in our rental car, stop at the Navy Exchange to return one of my dresses, then go to Ko Olina for the afternoon.

Our time is winding down here. Diana & Jim leave on Monday night, and we leave on Wednesday. Only three more days. :(

Lunch with Lynne

2005-12-23T03:07:00.000-08:00

12/10/05 – 8:45 AM

I recognized Lynne right away. I walked from Waikiki to Ala Moana, and got a little turned around, but managed to find my way without any trouble. The mall was just how I remembered it—busy and confusing. But I found Starbucks outside Macy’s, ordered myself a peppermint mocha latte and waited for Lynne. I saw her coming toward me, and knew immediately it was her—especially when I saw her smile. We went to Macaroni Grille and got caught up on each other’s lives. After 15 years, that’s a lot of catching up to do. It was really fun seeing her again. She gave me the cutest Hawaiian swizzle sticks and some darling ornaments shaped like sandals. After lunch (penne pasta with pesto sauce—yum!), we had the hostess take our picture together, and then we went to See’s Chocolates and I bought…what else? Butterscotch Squares, my favorite. Lynne and I commented on how our tastes were so similar in most everything, with one major difference. She prefers dark chocolate and I like milk chocolate. It was so good getting together with her again. Back when we worked together, I probably bored her non-stop with all my whining about trying to get a book published. <>

2005-12-22T04:31:00.000-08:00

12/9/05 – 7:25 AM

Another day in paradise. Funny, how it feels more like paradise now that I’m here on vacation than it ever did when we lived here. It’s that old nasty four letter word that starts with a “W” that makes the difference, I guess. When you have to go to work, it’s doesn’t feel much like paradise.

As I mentioned earlier, I’d never gone to a luau in the four years we lived here. Don’t know why, exactly, except that it was always pretty expensive, and money was tight. In fact, I can think of only two ways we splurged on tourist things while we were here—the whale watching tour on the Navatek and the time we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center on the North Shore.

We arrived at the luau about 5:00 and received our tropical drinks and a shell lei. Then we all sat on this grassy lawn on beach mats and watched the entertainment. When they asked for volunteers to come up and learn how to hula, I’d had just enough of my Blue Hawaii to answer the call. So this hula dancer taught us a simple dance, and as uncoordinated as I am, I’m sure I looked like an idiot, but it was fun.

We watched the guys dig up the kalua pig from its pit; the aroma was wonderful. We then went to our tables, right up close to the stage but off to the side, and began eating our appetizers—a salmon-tomato relish, marinated seaweed and a salad of pickled cucumber and mango. I didn’t try the salmon-tomato relish because of the chopped onion in it, but the seaweed was interesting, and I loved the salad. And then…the poi arrived at the table. Now, I’ve always heard just how nasty poi was, and I didn’t think I’d have the nerve to try it. I have to admit it didn’t look promising. But I tried it—the traditional way, with two fingers, and it was…bland. Not bad, not good, not anything, really. Then I dipped a banana in it, and that was pretty good. The main meal arrived—a plate of kalua pig, teriyaki chicken, mahi mahi, rice, potato, glazed beef tips, all of it delicious. My favorite, though, was definitely the kalua pig. Dessert was coconut cake and some kind of bland gelatin. The show was great with lots of hula dancing and singing, but my favorite, as always, were the Tahitian dancers. Not only do I love to watch the girls twitch in their full grass skirts, I love the beat of the drums and the native music. Frank was expecting to get pulled up on stage by a Tahitian dancer as had happened almost every single time we went to a Polynesian show in the past, but this time, much to his relief (he claims) he was passed on by.

Today I’m meeting Lynne for lunch at Ala Moana. We used to work together at the base library 17 years ago. Wonder if we’ll recognize each other?

Beautiful Moment at Golf

2005-12-21T06:23:00.000-08:00

I just remembered something that happened the morning we played golf at Hickam, and wanted to mention it.

A group of women were teeing off about a half-hour after us, and they were gathered on the lanai, drinking coffee and chatting. One tiny Asian woman struck up a conversation with us, and when she found out that Frank & I had just celebrated our 31st anniversary, she asked us if we were Christians, and if so, she'd like to sing us an anniversary song. I said, yes, we were Christians, and we'd love a song. So, she sang us the most beautiful little song, blessing our anniversary. I thought that was just so sweet! And even though I'd just met her, I felt compelled to give her a hug, which she happily accepted.

It's moments like this that give life its meaning, I think. And although this little lady will probably never know the gift she gave me that morning, I thank her, and bless the light of God within her.

Ko Olina--Oahu's "Secret" Oasis

2005-12-21T05:35:00.000-08:00

12/8/05 – 4:20 PM

What a wild day it’s been! I feel like we’ve been going non-stop. We got up as planned at 5:30, and met Diana & Jim at the Hale Koa at 7:00 and headed for Hickam to play golf at their Par 3 course. It was really a nice course, and I did fairly well—made par on Puka (Hole) # 7. After we were done playing golf, we headed to our old favorite breakfast place on Hickam—Orville and Wilber Wright’s Café and Grill. They’ve done a lot of renovating there, and it’s really nice. The omelets were delicious. But we weren’t lucky enough to see any ships go by in the channel behind it. I’ll never forget that time that Frank & I were having breakfast there and a big aircraft carrier went by, heading out to sea. It was an awesome sight.

After breakfast, we went to the Navy Exchange at Pearl Harbor—a massive place with a gorgeous turreted ceiling painted by the sea life artist, Wyeland. I found two dresses for tonight’s luau and couldn’t decide between them so I got both.

After we left the exchange and stopped at an outlet mall in Waipahu, we headed on for Ko Olina, the resort that Barbara always raved about—the one with seven lagoons open to the public. Well, we found one of them, and let me tell you, Barbara did not exaggerate when she talked about how wonderful this place is. Picture a huge semi-circle of water surrounded by rocks on two sides, the beach on the other and the last side open to the sea. It was like a huge green swimming pool. And that was only one of the lagoons. (Oddly enough, Oahu's tourist magazines don't mention Ko Olina's public lagoons, so if we hadn't known about them from an insider, we would never have discovered this wonderful place.) We swam for about an hour and then came back to Waikiki to get ready for tonight.

This will be my first luau.

A Perfect Anniversary!

2005-12-20T04:34:00.000-08:00

12/7/05 – 10:14 PM

What an absolutely perfect 31st anniversary we had! The day began a lot like yesterday, except that I slept an extra hour, and by the time I got up, brewed the coffee and went outside, it was already starting to get light. So I took the camera and my coffee and went out to the bench overlooking the ocean. Today there were a lot more people milling around than yesterday. After I finished my coffee, I walked down to the jetty and took a seat on a slab of rock overlooking the inlet where the sea turtles nest, hoping I’d see one. I didn’t, but I did see an amazing sunrise, and took pictures of it so I’d win my bet against Frank. (He predicted I’d sleep through sunrise today, and now he owes me a dollar.)

After breakfast, we took a swim, then showered and checked out of Bellows. Before heading back to Honolulu, we stopped at one of my favorite places on Oahu—the Valley of the Temples and the Byodo-In Temple. It was just as beautiful and tranquil as I remembered. (I swear I must’ve been a Buddhist in a former life because that place moves me so deeply.) Before entering the temple, we followed custom and rang the gong which is supposed to grant us long life and happiness according to the nearby sign that reads:

An offering and ringing of this sacred bell brings happiness, the blessings of Buddha, and a long life to the ringer of the bell.

Then we walked up some stone steps to a meditation temple that looked out on a waterfall and a pool filled with koi. And a really cool thing happened. We were all alone—in fact, when we arrived at the temple, there were no other cars in the parking lot. I’m not sure which one of us first suggested it, but we found ourselves renewing our vows right there in that temple—just the two of us surrounded by nature. And just after we finished saying our vows to each other, someone rang the gong from down below. It was so romantic, and I will always remember it as one of the most special moments of my life.

A young couple started coming up the steps to the temple, and I told the girl it was our 31st anniversary and asked her to take our picture. Their timing was just perfect (because I’m assuming they were also the ones who rang the gong.)

After lunch, we went to Waikiki and checked into the Imperial Hawaii. Our timeshare is very nice and we do have an ocean view—not a great one, but who cares?

Tonight we met Diana & Jim at the Hale Koa for wine, and then went to the Aloha Tower pier for our sunset dinner cruise on The Star of Honolulu. It was wonderful! Dinner was filet mignon and King crab legs—delicious! And the show was also fantastic. Honolulu looks so beautiful from the sea at night.

After the cruise, we went back to Diana & Jim’s room at the Hale Koa, and we all shared the bottle of champagne we ordered for them the other day. And it was really good.

We’re getting up early for a golf game tomorrow so I’m off to bed. The time is just going by way too fast!

Spiritual Moments...and a Dose of Reality

2005-12-19T04:00:00.000-08:00

12/6/05 – 4:25 PM

After I finished writing this morning, I grabbed another cup of coffee and went outside, intending to just sit at the picnic table and wait for sunrise. But somehow, I ended up at the bench on the bluff overlooking the beach. I sat there and watched the lights on the shoreline to the south. Within five minutes the shoreline became more distinct and the dark gray of the ocean turned to pewter. Finally, I started hearing a few birds in the trees above me. It was an awesome moment, being out there all alone and watching the arrival of a new dawn. As it grew lighter, I began to notice a few other early risers out and about—a man on the beach, a woman a few yards away on the bluff. And even though I was still in my pajamas and robe, I decided to take a walk on the beach. It was an unbelievable spiritual experience, just me and the majesty of the ocean, especially when I reached the jetty and stood there staring out to sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of a sea turtle. I didn’t see one, but I did see seven crabs crawling on a slab of rock beyond the jetty.

So, I’m standing there, just lost in this beautiful, spiritual moment, feeling so grateful for all the good things in my life, and suddenly, I had the strangest feeling that I wasn’t alone. I turned and looked behind me, and there, about six feet away, stood a military guy in a camouflage uniform, a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes. After I recovered from my surprise, I said, “Good morning. See anything interesting?”

His reply? “Just looking for a body, ma’am.”

Not exactly what I was expecting. Then I remembered how we'd seen the coast guard helicopter flying around the day before, and realized that was the reason why.

If I were the same woman I’d been when I lived here in Hawaii 15 years ago, I would’ve allowed that to ruin the moment. But not anymore. I was in a spiritual place, and death is part of life, and whoever the unfortunate person was who lost his life here in paradise is, hopefully, in a far better place. So I murmured a prayer for his soul and one for his loved ones, and walked back to the cottage.

Frank and I followed Diana and Jim to Hickam Air Force Base where they renewed their wedding vows at mass at the chapel where they’d been married 30 years before. And somehow—I’m not sure how—I got roped into reading “the message.” I was probably the only non-Catholic in the whole place, and yet, there I was, up at the altar, reading passages from the Bible. It was quite surreal. And then after the mass, the priest asked Diana and Jim—and us—to come up to the altar and they renewed their vows. It really was quite sweet.

Afterwards, we went to the Sea Breeze restaurant at Hickam Harbor for lunch. I wanted to order champagne, but they didn’t have any, so we settled for Blue Hawaii’s, a Pina Colada and a Mai Tai. After lunch, we parted ways, and Frank and I drove back to our old neighborhood on Gemini Drive and took pictures. That’s me in front of the mailboxes where I used to collect my rejections every day…well, practically every day. However, I also collected a few checks and contracts there. (It was at that address that I got the contract for the picture book with Doubleday—the one they reneged on after we moved to Manassas…but at least I got to keep the $4,000 advance.) :)

We’re back at the cottage now. I was burning up at Hickam and couldn’t wait to get back to Bellows to go for a swim, but by the time we changed into our swimsuits and walked down to the beach, it was chilly—at least to me. The trade winds are really blowing now that it’s late afternoon, and although the water was warm when it washed over my feet, I couldn’t quite make myself get in and get wet.

Tomorrow we check out of Bellows and head for Waikiki. But first, I want to stop at the Valley of the Temples, one of my favorite places in Oahu, and get some pictures. We’re meeting Diana and Jim at 4:00, and heading to the Aloha Tower to catch a sunset dinner cruise to celebrate our anniversaries. Should be really fun. Tomorrow, Frank & I will have been married 31 years. (And just between you and me, I think I made a pretty damn good choice in husbands. And like my sister, Kathy, has been known to say once or twice, “Carole found the only man in the entire world who’d put up with her.” I take that as a compliment because I know that’s how she meant it.) Right, Kathy? <>

Where Are the Birds?

2005-12-18T08:29:00.000-08:00

12/6/05 – 5:50 AM

Heaven is…a cup of strong, hot coffee, a Hawaiian Most Caramac and the roar of the ocean through the opened window. I’m the only one up in the cottage. I woke up at 4:40 and couldn’t go back to sleep. I’m up even before the birds. But they should be waking up any minute now.

Our first full day in Hawaii was bliss. Frank and I took a walk on the beach and ended up all the way down at the jetty where the sea turtles nest. We looked, but didn’t see any. Maybe today. We found the cottage we stayed in that year when Mom and Kathy came to visit. Every time I especially miss my mother, I get out the video of that visit and play it, and it’s almost like having her here with me again. Leah and Stephen look so cute; Leah was 14 and Steve was 12. Maybe it’s because of the video that that visit is so fresh in my mind. I can still remember that last morning before we checked out. I was in the cottage, cleaning up, and was pissed off at Kathy because she was still in the ocean having fun. Walking down, and finding that cottage really brought those memories back. Hard to believe that was 15 years ago, and Mom has been gone for almost seven years. God, I miss her! Thinking back on that visit and how vibrant and alive she was, I would never have believed she only had eight years to live.

Must be something about the early hour that makes me philosophical. Okay…back to yesterday. Frank & I stopped at the shoppette on the way back to the cottage to get a couple of beach towels, and came out with $68 worth of goods—Hawaiian dresses, lip balm, hats, Christmas ornaments, flip-flops and yes, the beach towels. After dropping off everything at the cottage, we changed into our swimsuits and took our first swim. It was awesome! The water was the most gorgeous sea-green I’ve ever seen, and the sandy bottom was as smooth as velvet. And there wasn’t a jellyfish to be seen anywhere. (From our previous experience at Bellows, stinging jellyfish were always a problem here; Stephen got stung several times when he was boogie-boarding, but of course, that didn’t stop my little seal from going back in.) It just couldn’t have been more perfect yesterday.

All that frolicking in the ocean made us hungry and even though it was only 11:00, we headed off to the rec center for lunch. I had a mahi mahi sandwich; it wasn’t all that good, but the French fries were great. After lunch we went swimming again, then we showered and went out to Kaneohe Marine Base to the commissary and loaded up on groceries for the week. We stopped at KFC on the way back to Bellows, brought the food back to the cottage and watched “The Notebook” on DVD. Went to bed about 10:30, and here I am, starting Day # 2.

Diana & Jim are having their marriage vows renewed at Hickam this morning, and Frank & I are their attendants. Afterwards, we’re all going to lunch at the O-Club. Then Diana & Jim are checking into the Hale Koa, and Frank & I are coming back to Bellows. (We called the Hale Koa yesterday and ordered a bottle of champagne to be waiting for them in their room.) And I intend to go swimming as soon as we get back.

It’s still dark out, and it’s 6:16. Still no birdsong either. What’s going on? I’m wide awake and ready for the day to begin!

Pictures

2005-12-17T13:12:00.000-08:00

I tried to publish pictures for my first day, but I'm having trouble. Will try again.

Come Along With Me to Hawaii

2005-12-16T20:35:00.000-08:00

12/4/05 – 6:34 AM

It’s WAY too early to be up and sitting in an airport lounge. Not, by the way, in the Business Class lounge like I was the last time I flew back in June when we were on our way to Austria. It’s back to traveling like the vast majority—in tourist class. Today payment come due for that wonderful flight to Vienna; I’ll always and forever be comparing flights to that.

So, Frank & I are here at Dulles, waiting for the first leg of our flight to Honolulu. (The reason for our trip? Like you have to HAVE a reason to go to Hawaii! We’re celebrating our 31st anniversary there, and the trip is our anniversary present AND our Christma present this year.

So…I’m half asleep as I write this. Eyelids are growing heavy. I need coffee. No. I need more sleep.

12/4/05 -- 12:32 PM

Okay, so we’re sitting here in a 767 at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, and so far, it’s been about an hour. Apparently, there was a leak in a hydraulic line (sounds scary!) and they had to get a part from the hangar, and now, I’m assuming, they’re repairing the plane. I sure hope they repair it before we get going. I just hope it doesn’t take much longer.

When we first got onboard, they had Hawaiian music playing, and we watched a video about Hawaii about a hundred times before they finally stopped it. Talk about relief! I’ve never been a big fan of that ukulele music—if that’s the instrument who makes that ooka ooka sound. (Don’t know how else to describe it.) Now, something almost as annoying is playing on the video—“Everybody Loves Raymond.” <>

And now we’ve just heard from the captain that the repair is going to take approximately another hour. Why the hell couldn’t we have been delayed before we boarded. We’ve got eight hours in this aircraft. Why should we have to sit in it an extra two hours? Well, I’m just glad we ate in the airport. Otherwise, I’d really be grumpy.

Goodbye, Europe!

2005-07-15T03:16:00.000-07:00

June 22, 11:44 AM (European time), Somewhere Over Northern Europe

Okay, so we’re back on Austrian Airlines heading for Dulles. One thing is definitely for sure. Flying Business Class is the way to go! Since I learned all the seat maneuvers, along with the negotiations of the personal TV and dining table, I’m really comfortable. I have my seat in a perfect position to write, eat and watch TV. And when I’m ready to sleep, I just need to put the back down more. The Austrian Airlines flight attendants are wonderful. The head attendant is so nice and attentive—and very beautiful.

Okay, back to the story of our last day in Florence. After walking to the river, we got some great pictures of some rowers and saw what we thought was a rat swimming across the river.

We stopped at a ristorante and had our first set menu three-course meal in Italy. The waiter was adorable! His name was Gavino, and he was an aspiring rock singer. He posed with us for a picture, and even sang an Eagles’ song for us. The food was…magnificent! My first course was spaghetti pomodoro, and believe it or not, I ate every bite, and was ready for the second course, a mixed salad with delicious fresh tomatoes followed by the main course, veal scaloppini in a delicate lemon white wine sauce. It was absolutely bellissimo!!! And we got pictures of us eating the spaghetti, which I’m sure Frank will appreciate! Later, after I found my skirt (Yay!!! Paid 20 Euro, but who cares?), we were walking through the markets, and guess who we saw approaching us? Gavino!!! I don’t know why he was coming from the other direction; I do know the restaurant closed just as we left, and he was on his lunch break, but maybe I spent more time choosing my skirt than I thought. Anyway, it was like greeting a new friend! Kathy even got a hug. I would’ve, too, I’m sure, except I was so excited to see him, I stepped on an Italian vendor’s toes, and had to apologize profusely, admitting that I’d had maybe a little too much vino at lunch. (I know I said I wasn’t going to drink any more vino, but I guess I lied.) He laughed and leaned toward me and said, “Do not worry. I often have too much birra.”

It was time to leave Florence. We went back to the hotel to get our luggage, and had them call a taxi for us—and we were on our way to the Star Hotel Vespucci. That’s when things started going downhill.

As we drove out of Florence and the meter started clicking higher and higher, and the taxi just kept going and going, Kathy and I were exchanging rather alarmed looks. By the time we got to the hotel—finally!—the meter was at 32 Euros. Much more than we expected. (Turns out we passed the airport. I guess my research for a last night hotel wasn’t all that good.)

Then we received even more bad news when we checked in. The girl at the front desk told us there was no airport shuttle—even though I’d thought Vespucci was an airport hotel (my mistake, and a big one) and it would cost about…are you ready?...40 Euros!!! To get to the airport!!!! Shit. We were in deep shit. Between us, we had only about 25 Euros. That meant we had no choice but to go find an ATM and get cash. But I didn’t remember any pin numbers, so Kathy had to do it. We walked to a mall about ten minutes away, and she had to get a minimum of 50 Euros. Needless to say, we were both stressed about that unexpected expense, and well…things got a little tense between us for a while. I guess neither one of us deal well with money problems. But we ironed it out, and apologized for our harsh words to each other. I guess I felt responsible (and defensive) about screwing up so badly, and the only way to deal with it when I get angry with myself is to be a bitch. I fully admit it, and I’m not proud of it. But I’ve never been one to hold my feelings inside, and at 52, I don’t think I can start now. But that has gotten me into trouble more times than I can count, and I can’t blame Kathy for getting angry with me. And even when she’s angry and says hurtful things to me, I know she still loves me, just as I still love her. I don’t know why it is we seem to hurt most the people we love.

We just flew over my beloved Ireland, so I’m having a Bailey’s to toast it.

Anyway, we got up this morning at 4:30, and the taxi arrived at 5:32, and we got to the airport in time. The flight to Vienna via Bologna was good, even though we were in a small plane. There was a delay getting through security in Vienna, so we got a fifteen minute late start. We’re just west of Ireland now, flying over the ocean.

Soon we’ll be home, and our Austria/Italy adventure will be over.

I can’t wait to get back to Ireland.

June 23, 2005, 10:11 AM, Back Home

I managed to stay up last night until 9:00, but fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Slept solidly until 5:00 this morning when Ruby woke me up with her usual morning ritual of licking my hand. I think she missed me.

It’s good to be home with Frank, Leah and Ruby, but all night last night, I dreamt about Europe. I guess I'll be dreaming about Europe for many nights to come. :)

Cramming in the Last Hours in Florence

2005-07-14T03:36:00.000-07:00

June 21, 2005, 11:33 AM, Florence

We’ve got about twenty-five minutes before we have to check out of the Hotel Castri. Kathy is taking a quick shower before we go. We’ve already been through the open air market this morning, and I’ve spent more money. God help me when that credit card bill comes in. (NOTE: It was worse than I imagined it would be.) But I wanted to get Frank an Italian wallet, and I decided to go ahead and get me a leather travel purse and the guy made me a deal, so I added on a smaller travel purse for a Bunco gift. I’m going to give Leah that purse I bought yesterday. I’m still looking for that olive green skirt, though. If I find it, that’s the last thing I’m going to charge on this trip—except for dinner, of course. God, can I spend money or what??? (Money I don’t actually have, in this case.)

We’re going to explore more of Florence before we leave for the airport hotel tonight, and we’ll definitely eat a late lunch/early dinner here because we don’t know what’s available there. I can’t believe our adventure is almost over, and tomorrow at this time, we’ll be flying across the Atlantic.

The breakfast buffet was exceptional this morning. The bread on the table was delicious. I guess I’m a little “croissanted” out, just as I’m a little “pizza’d” out, so I passed on that and just went for the rolls. We got lots of great pictures in the garden behind the hotel—of the statues, fish pond and from the solarium terrace above.

Well, the shower just went off, and it’s 11:40. We’re sucking every bit of time out of this hotel stay that we possibly can, since we’ll be “homeless” until we get to the airport hotel tonight.

June 22, 9:00 AM, Somewhere Over Northern Italy or Austria

Well, we’re on the second leg of our flight back home to America. I thought we only had two legs, but after we got to the Florence Airport this morning, we saw that our plane would stop in Bologna. It was a twenty-minute flight—the shortest one ever for me, I think. Now, we’re on our way to Vienna, and should be landing in about a half-hour.

I wish I could write about how wonderful yesterday—our last day in Italy—was. And parts of it were wonderful, and I’ll tell you about them. But it ended on a very unpleasant note. I’ll get to that in a minute.

We headed back to the open air markets in search of my skirt. I had three criteria—olive green, 20 Euro maximum, and being able to use a credit card. It wasn’t looking good. I couldn’t find the same stall I’d seen the day before—the one where the girl would take a credit card, but wouldn’t reduce her price of 18 Euros. Now, that deal was looking good.

We walked through the market—several times, and then decided to make our way to Ponte Vecchio, the bridge over the Arno River. On the way, we stopped at the Uffizi Museum and got some pictures of some really grotesque statues—one man held another man by the hair and had a club in his other hand, so it didn’t take a rocket science to figure out the poor guy was about to be killed. Another one—and this one was so awful, I couldn’t bring myself to take a picture of it—was of a man who’d just killed the woman at his feet. This was rather obvious because her body was headless, and he held the dripping head in his hands like it was a trophy. Disgusting! (And I knew it was a woman because of her naked boobs.) What on earth had she done to deserve such a horrible death? And the acts of cruelty man has inflicted on each other. It sure makes you wonder about life and God and eternity.

Florence--Only Two Days Left!!!

2005-07-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

June 20, 2005, 4:50 PM, Florence, Italy

And so…the adventure continues. We arrived in Florence around two o’clock. Everything had gone smoothly up until the point where the taxi driver dropped us off in front of our hotel, The Castri. Just as he pulled off, and just as we got to the glass doors, Kathy realized she didn’t have her red cosmetic bag. Apparently, the taxi driver had missed it when he took our bags out of the back. We immediately had the front desk people call the taxi people about it, but it hasn’t turned up. And Kathy has pretty much accepted that it’s lost. But she’s bummed about it, all the same. She had some pretty expensive cosmetics and hair stuff in there. Luckily, though, the medicine she had to buy in Austria was in her other bag.

After we got our luggage to the room—it’s not a spectacular room, but the entire ceiling is painted with a gorgeous mural of flowers, cherubs and faces of grim-looking people from the past. I’ve already stubbed my toe twice, though, on the raised floor into the bathroom. Why on earth do they do that????

June 20th, 10:08 PM, Florence, Italy

Good news! Kathy’s bag arrived at the hotel. I guess the taxi driver brought it back. She’s just thrilled, and all is right with the world again.

We just got back to the hotel, and we’re ready to call it an early night. After we checked in, we went out to walk around, and right away, found ourselves at the famous open air market. There is a lot of stuff for sale, for sure, but I wasn’t greatly impressed with the prices. They certainly weren’t as good as the prices at the Athens open air market. But Kathy found a leather wallet for Vince for 15 Euros, and I bought a purse for a Bunco prize, and almost immediately wished I hadn’t because the ones I really liked in Siena were only 12 Euros, and I paid 13 for this one. Kathy got a great deal there in Siena with her red leather belt bag for 26 Euros. The same ones were 58 at the Florence open air market. I saw an olive green skirt I liked at one of the stalls, and she took credit cards, but I couldn’t talk her down to 15; she wanted 18, but said if I could pay cash, she’d sell it to me for 15. (Kathy told me you were supposed to haggle at this market, so I did.) Of course, I don’t have any cash to spare. But I think I’m going to change my last $32 tomorrow to make sure we have enough cash for taxis. (NOTE: Ha!!! Or so I thought.) Maybe I’ll go ahead and get it for 18. It’s really cute, and it would be cool to have a skirt from Italy. Hmmmm…I’ll sleep on it.

Dinner was pretty good. We found an outdoor trattoria, and since I decided I wasn’t drinking tonight, I ordered pizza and a Coke. The pizza was really good—at least the crust and sauce were. I didn’t like the way they dropped chunks of mozzarella over it, though, and it was really soggy and greasy in the middle. Still, it was the third best pizza we’ve had, I think.

Tomorrow we have to check out of the Hotel Castri by noon, but we’re going to have them keep our luggage, and we’re going to walk around the city some more, and hopefully be able to kill enough time to have dinner at this trattoria where they have a set menu for a four or five-course dinner for 14 Euros. And they take credit cards!!! Then we’ll come back to the hotel, call for a taxi and head for the hotel near the airport. We’ll have to make it an early night because we have to be at the airport by five in the morning. Ugggh!!! That’s just way too early!

Italian Vino--the Best Deal in Italy

2005-07-12T03:13:00.000-07:00

June 20, 2005, 11:47 AM, Somewhere Between Siena and Empoli, Italy

Well, it had to happen. I knew I wouldn’t get through an Italy trip without over-indulging with the vino. It was as inevitable as the little spat with Kathy, and just as unpleasant. Here is how it happened.

After Kathy appeared in the garden, we left for the walled city, and stopped in this bar just above Piazza del Campo for a pre-dinner beer. (In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea because I’d already decided it was a pasta night which meant it was a vino night.) But I only had a small beer, and then we went walking through the winding cobble stoned streets, looking for some cathedral named after St. Catherine. (I don’t even know who St. Catherine is, so I really didn’t particularly care about finding her church, but I was trying to keep in mind Kathy’s admonition about us always doing what I want to do.) Anyway, we had trouble finding it, and we were getting hungry so we decided to look for a restaurant that we’d found earlier in the afternoon that had Spaghetti Carbonara on it—a dish Kathy pleasantly remembered from a previous trip to Tuscany. And believe it or not, we found it again, even though it was off the main route. And what a setting! It didn’t look like much from the street—almost like a hole in the wall. But when we walked through the restaurant to the terrazzo, oh, my God!!! It was like a Tuscany movie set. The terrazzo was built on a hill, and it looked out all over the Tuscany countryside. Honeysuckle vines and other greenery grew along both open sides of the terrazzo, and the perfume of the flowers wafted in with every breeze. The sun was going down and the sky was the most gorgeous colors of blue and pink and orange. It had started to sprinkle a bit as we’d entered the restaurant, but the sun was still shining. Still, the storm came upon us almost as soon as we sat down at one of the tables at the end of the terrazzo, so we moved back to the next row of tables. At first the rain was just breathtaking as it slanted across the panorama in front of us while the sun was still shining. But then the wind came up, blowing the rain onto the terrazzo. The waiters came out of nowhere and began to close up the terrazzo with a clear plastic curtain, obscuring the view, but keeping us dry. Fortunately, the rain didn’t last long, and they opened up the curtain, and we had our view back. By this time, we’d ordered wine and pasta. Kathy got her carbonara, and I ordered penne del casa—pomodoro sauce with pesto. Yum!!!! It was awesome. Ate every bite of it. (They know just how to serve the perfect amount of pasta in Italy; back home, I can never finish it because they give you too much.) And here is where I made my fatal…well, not exactly fatal, but you know what I mean…mistake. I ordered a half-liter of white wine. It was only 3 Euros—the best deal in all of Italy!!! And I paced myself, drinking it all, but very slowly. (Dinners in Italy take hours because everything is so unhurried, and they expect you to take your time and enjoy it.)

There were no worries last night about separate checks because to make up for the two times I put everything on my charge card, it was Kathy’s turn to pay. And we’d already made sure they took credit cards, so dinner was very relaxing—and inexpensive, by Italy standards. We knew exactly how much our bill should come to, even figuring in the requisite “service charge” they all tack on. And it should’ve been around 27 Euros. Well, damned if the check didn’t arrive, and the total amount was 40.50!!! We knew there was no way our dinner could’ve cost that much, and Kathy refused to sign the charge slip. We asked for an itemized total, and the waiter disappeared. When he came back, he said, “Is not possible.”

So Kathy said, “Well, it’s not possible for us to sign this credit card slip then.” We asked for a menu, then wrote down everything we’d ordered and how much it was. With the 10% service charge, our total came to 26 and change. We showed it to the waiter, and he disappeared again. The time was about 9:40. I told Kathy that if he hadn’t returned to our table with a correct bill, we were leaving at ten. I was just getting sick and tired of having restaurants try to pull stuff over on us—like the electricity going out so they couldn’t take a charge card, or the place in Pietrasanta when Kathy’s card “wouldn’t work.”

(At a shop in Siena that afternoon, when I bought those Murano earrings, the shop girl told me her charge machine wouldn’t work and asked if I could pay cash. I told her no, that if her charge machine didn’t work, I wouldn’t be buying the earrings. Funny enough, she got it to work.) Well, about five minutes later, the waiter appeared, handed Kathy 15 Euros and apologized, saying they’d gotten the tables mixed up. Hmmmm…very interesting. Of course, it could’ve been an honest mistake, but in the light of all these little incidents involving our charge cards, it certainly makes me wonder. But I’m glad we stood our ground. I don’t know if they think we’re stupid American women to be taken advantage of or what (especially in light of our wine intake), but we showed them! Hey, we come from Foley stock, no doubt some of the biggest tightwads that ever lived. No way are they going to cheat us out of our hard-earned money.

Okay, so we’re walking home, and I don’t know if it was the fresh air or the fact that we’d won a victory against the Evil Euro Empire, but suddenly, the vino took control. Kathy said I was fine in the restaurant, but as we walked through the streets of Siena, I was laughing—who knows about what, because I sure can’t remember—and Kathy had to hold onto me to keep me from tripping over my own feet. (Hey, I’m not proud of this, but I’m telling you like it is.) But let’s just say I was in an extremely cheerful mood all the way back to the hotel.

Once inside our room, my memories are a little murky. I vaguely remember taking my jewelry off and undressing. I must’ve taken my hair down from its French braid, but I don’t remember it. I just know it was down from what happened later. I laid down on the bed, and suddenly I got really hot. And yes, the room was spinning a bit. I remember asking Kathy for a wet washcloth, and she said, “There aren’t any washcloths. Europeans apparently don’t use washcloths.” So, I said, “Well, get me a wet dishtowel then.” Next thing I know, Kathy has covered my face with one of those soft linen towels that hang over the bidet. It felt good on my flushed skin, but the room was still dipping and spinning. And that’s when I knew it was time to make an acquaintance with the toilet bowl. And so I did. That being said, though, I’m glad to tell you that I did not have an “up close and personal” relationship with the cold tiled floor, as those of you who know me well may remember from a couple (just a couple!) past experiences. So, I count myself lucky.

I went back to bed and slept straight through until eight o’clock, getting up only once to get a blanket out of the wardrobe because I’d grown cold in the air-conditioned room.
This morning, except for a slight headache, I felt fine, but I didn’t feel much like eating breakfast. I forced myself to eat a small croissant and some yogurt because I knew I’d be starving later if I didn’t. And I am. I’m ready to eat again. But one thing is for sure. I don’t think I’ll be drinking any more vino on this trip. No beer either. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve had a Coke. Maybe I’ll have one with my pizza tonight. It is a pizza night, after all.

Is the Penguin Native to Italy?

2005-07-11T03:45:00.000-07:00

June 19, 2005, 12:45 PM, Siena, Italy

Just got back from walking all over the walled city of Siena. It’s mighty hot outside. Sure wish there was a pool at this hotel. It would be nice to spend the afternoon siesta floating in a cool swimming pool.

But let me catch you up on what happened yesterday. After I dropped off my Alpha Smart in the room, I headed back downstairs to leave my key at the front desk. There were several people standing there, checking in, I presumed. I reached past this one man to put the key on the desk and said, “Scusi.” He turned to me and said, “So, do we just leave the key instead of carrying it around?” And I responded with, “Yes. You’re American! Where are you from?”

Turns out he and his wife were from Indiana, just like me! Southern Indiana, around Evansville. His wife walked up as we were talking, and then Kathy came through the front door. I introduced Kathy to the couple, telling her they were from Indiana. Their names were Kurt and Bonnie Knight, and they were in Italy celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary. Anyway, it was like talking to two old friends. We stood in the lobby for at least twenty minutes just getting to know each other. They’d just left this gorgeous palazzo in the southern part of Tuscany, and Bonnie was more than a little disappointed in our hotel here. Kathy and I assured her it was much nicer than “the cave” in Sestriere. I’m not sure if that made her feel better, though. It sounds like the place they were staying in Tuscany was like from a movie.

We finally parted to go up to our rooms, making tentative plans to see each other later. As soon as Kathy and I were alone, of course, we apologized to each other and hugged. So everything is back to normal. :)

While Kathy showered, I took my Alpha Smart back downstairs, ordered a beer and went out into the garden. Kurt and Bonnie were sitting at a table there, and waved me over. So we had a good time talking while I waited for Kathy. And then when Kathy arrived, we chatted some more. While Kathy was talking to Bonnie, I told Kurt about the pigeon incident in Piazzo San Marco, and when I told him how the pigeon had landed on Kathy's hat, he started laughing. I mean, really laughing. And then then said, "A penguin, huh? You don't often see penguins in that part of Italy." I cracked up, realizing what I'd said. (So, for the rest of the trip whenever Kathy and I saw a pigeon, we called them penguins....okay, maybe you had to be there.) After the four of us finished our drinks, we decided to all walk into the walled city together and find a place for dinner.

It was really magnificent—very old and Gothic. The Piazza de Campo was incredible with the tall tower and cathedral. We chose a ristorante there in the piazza, and Kathy & I ordered pizza and beer. (It was our pizza night, after all.) It was okay, but again, nowhere near as good as Roberto’s. Not even close. But the conversation was fun, and we really enjoyed hanging out with Kurt and Bonnie. They are so cute together. It’s so sweet to see a couple still in love after thirty-five years. She told us that they got married when she was 17! Kurt reminded me a lot of Frank with his personality; he’s so easy-going and laid-back. I know Frank would’ve loved them.

We met the Knights’ again at breakfast before they left for the train station. They were spending a couple of days in La Spezia, then taking the night train to Rome where they’d spend a few hours before flying to Spain for Kurt’s sister’s wedding.

Kathy and I went into the walled city this morning to walk around and possibly…shop. I saw lots of things I liked—especially the Tuscany pottery—but it was all very expensive. I thought maybe I’d find a tiny olive dish or something to buy for a Bunco gift, but even those were well over my budget.

Right now, I’m sitting in the courtyard of the Hotel Moderno, and the bells are ringing from one of the cathedrals in the walled city. This really is a gorgeous place. To my right is a circular fish pond with a ring of cherub statues around a palm tree. In front of me are magnolia trees and rows of terracotta pottery bursting with multi-colored petunias. Slightly to my right and up above a fence and a couple of manicured trees, I can see one of the massive cathedrals from the walled city. Wish I had my camera out here with me. It would make a nice picture.
We had done a lot of walking this morning, mostly uphill—what a work-out for the calves—we came back to the hotel and I tried to call Frank to wish him a happy Father’s Day. Couldn’t get through. We returned to the walled city, went to the Duomo Cathedral, shopped some more and bought some delicious gelato in the Piazza de Campo where we had dinner last night. I found some Murano earrings to match my necklace…well, it kind of matches. If I’d been smart enough, I would’ve bought earrings in Venice because there, I could’ve got them for 5 Euros. Here, I paid 10. I also bought a Murano bracelet for a Bunco gift. I think the “Bunco Babes” will love it.

I called Frank and we talked for a few minutes. He and Leah were going out to breakfast with Barb and Jack, and then Leah was taking him to play golf followed by dinner tonight at a Chinese restaurant. Then Kathy called Daddy, and got to talk to him for a full minute—using her so-called “free” ten minute calling card that Eurail Pass gave us. I still have about twenty minutes on my card, and I offered to call him back but she said no. I guess I should have. He’s my father, too. Maybe I’ll try him again later when we go into the walled city for happy hour.
We came back to the room about three-thirty, intending to rest just for a few minutes and then come out here to the garden to read. But we made the mistake of lying down on the bed in the dark, cool air-conditioned room. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we woke up, and it was time to shower and get ready to go out for the evening.

I’m sitting down here now, waiting for Kathy. It’s cooler than it was, thank God, and I’m feeling fresh and energetic and ready to start walking again.

Tomorrow we leave for Florence. Only two days to go, and we’ll be on our way home. Yes, it’s always sad to see a vacation come to an end, but I have to admit, I’m ready to go home. Ready to go back to my real life. Ready to be home with Frank and Leah (even though Leah will be leaving for Atlanta just a few days after I get there.) That’s going to be weird—just me and Frank in the house again—the first time since last October. No more listening for the garage door opening, telling me Leah is home safe. No more sleepless nights waiting for her to come home. No more fighting for refrigerator room because of all the weird vegetables she’s stuffed in there. And…oh, no! No more Sunday night gourmet dinners prepared by my talented daughter’s hands. Yes, it will be hard to get used to. But I just want her to be happy, and hopefully, she will be in Atlanta.

Sisterly Squabbles

2005-07-10T09:08:00.000-07:00

June 18, 2005, 4:32 PM, Siena, Italy

Made it to Siena. The stop sneaked up on me, so I had to quickly put my Alpha Smart away.

Okay, where was I? Oh, the naked “breakfast man.” Well, there is really not much more to say about him and his topless wife. But just to summarize…Europeans are different.

Last night we walked back to “town,” and had dinner at a lovely little ristorante outside near a goldfish pond and waterfall. I ordered caprese (tomato & mozzarella salad with basil topped with balsamic vinegar and olive oil), and penne d’ salmone (penne pasta with salmon sauce) and it was out of this world! Absolutely delicious! Oh, and sparkling white wine, which was also delicious. Kathy and I are amazed at the low price of wine here. A liter usually runs about 8 Euros—and that’s a lot of wine! It’s just too bad Kathy likes red and I like white, so we go for the ¼ liter or ½ liter.

We got back to the room last night about midnight and slept well until 7:30. The train trip to Siena went very smoothly, even though we had to change in Pisa and in Empoli. It wasn’t until we arrived at the Siena station that things began to go downhill.

Kathy bought bus tickets to get to our hotel. The lady at the station told her that we needed to catch bus # 17. So, we made our way to the bus stop, luggage in tow. Looking back now, it’s amazing that things can take a turn for the worse so suddenly.

A bus pulled up. Kathy said it was # 17, so we struggled to get our luggage up on it, then Kathy made her way down to the driver to ask him to tell us when we came to the Hotel Moderno. He shook his head and said we had the wrong bus, that we needed # 16. So, we hauled our luggage off again and set to waiting. I was already disgruntled at being told the wrong information at the station, and then Kathy said something about hoping the hotel was within the city walls, and how that was the whole reason she wanted to come to Siena, and then for like, the third time, she said, “I don’t like the name of the hotel. Why would anyone want to come to such a historical place and stay in a modern hotel?”

Naturally, I took that as a barb aimed at me, since I was the one that had made all the hotel arrangements. So I shot back something like, “Well, I was the one who spent all those hours on the internet, trying to get us a good deal at the hotels, but I wish to hell I had let you choose the hotels in Tuscany because if they’re not going to be up to your standards, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Of course, that pissed her off, and her retort pissed me off, so by the time another bus arrived, we weren’t speaking. Kathy goes over to ask the driver if he went by the Moderno Hotel; he nodded yes. We got on. But once we had our luggage on with us, then he tells us that no, he doesn’t go past the hotel, that we need to catch # 17—the first bus we were told to catch. Well, by this time, my Irish temper is at a simmer. And yes, I guess you could say I acted like “an ugly American,” but by God, I’m not going to apologize for it. I wrenched my luggage back off the bus—all four-hundred pounds of it—and snarled, “Fuck this! I’m getting a taxi.” (I’m sorry, folks—those of you who don’t like that word, but I vowed to tell the truth in this blog, and that’s what I said.) I slung my tote bag onto my shoulder, fastened my cosmetic bag to my suitcase and turned to Kathy. “I’m going back to the station to get a taxi. You can go with me or you can stay here and wait for the bus.” And I started walking. Well, damned if she didn’t stand right there watching me go. I got to the crosswalk to cross the busy street, and luck was shining on me. Down the hill came a taxi. I stuck my hand up in the air, all the world like I’m standing on 7th Avenue in New York, and he pulls over. The driver jumps out and begins to load my luggage in the car. I yell over to Kathy, “Come on, Kathy!” And do you know what she does?

She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I’ll wait for the bus.” Can you believe it? So, I got into the taxi, and we took off. Five minutes later, I was checking into the hotel. It cost me 5 Euros and 55 cents. All I had was a twenty, and the driver was put out because he had to make change, but too bad. That’s his damn job.

Up in our room—and believe me, just because the hotel is called Moderno, doesn’t mean it’s modern. The room even locks with an old-fashioned key, and that’s how you lock it from inside, too. At least, it’s right across the street from the walled city, so hopefully, Kathy won’t have any complaints about that. Anyway, I had time to go to the bathroom, count the remainder of my rapidly vanishing cash, unpack the clothes I want to wear tonight and tomorrow, come downstairs and check out the courtyard and back garden—probably a half-hour before Kathy walked into the entrance of the hotel.

At first, we were cordial, and she told me about how nasty the bus driver was, and how he refused to tell her where to get off for the Moderno, saying, “I drive bus. No more!” (Asshole!) Then I asked her why on earth she didn’t get in the taxi with me. And she said something like, “I needed some time away from you because you were in a bitchy mood, and you were mad at me, and I don’t have the slightest idea what I did.” Well, I couldn’t leave well enough alone, I admit it. And yes, I admit that sometimes I’m a bitch. I don’t know too many women who aren’t. But I just couldn’t let this go. So I told her, yes, I was mad at her because she kept making these snide little comments about my arrangements, and how it didn’t matter what I’d done, she always seemed to find fault with it. So then she really let me have it, saying that from the very beginning, she’d gone along with everything I wanted to do, and that I had to be in control of everything, and it didn’t matter what she wanted to do because I always shot her down, and she just went along with me to avoid trouble. And when I demanded that she give me an example of what she was talking about, she brought up the timeshare in the Alps, saying that I’d coerced her into going there, that she wanted to wait for something better to turn up, (translation: something in Tuscany) and I retorted that it was probable we wouldn’t be here at all if we’d turned down Sestriere because it isn’t all that easy to get an exchange to a specific place, and she shot back something about how maybe that would’ve been better and after all, she’d paid for the airfare and…well, it deteriorated from there.

I stormed out of the room, announcing I was going for a walk, and I came down here to the courtyard with nothing but my bottle of water, and sat here for about ten minutes, trying to cool down. When I went back in to the front desk, they had our key, which meant Kathy had left the hotel. I took a shower, did my hair and began writing in this journal.

It’s now five-forty-two, and I’m still out here in the courtyard. Once I finish this up, I’m going to take my Alpha Smart back up to the room, then go out and explore the walled city.

Maybe I’ll run into Kathy. Maybe I won’t. But when I see her, I’ll apologize. I’m not saying I’m wrong, and she’s right--or vice versa. We share the blame for the fight. But she’s my sister, and I love her. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

"The Breakfast Couple"

2005-07-09T04:45:00.000-07:00

June 18, 2005, 1:15 PM, Somewhere Between Empoli and Siena, Italy

On the rails again (sung to the tune of “On the Road Again.”) Hey, Kathy and I are becoming pros at getting our luggage off and on the trains. Today (so far), has been the easiest train trip yet. Of course, the day is still young. But we are on the train to Siena, no changes on the horizon.

You know, I’ve come to a conclusion on this trip to Europe. Europeans are different. Take “the breakfast couple” we encountered several times at the Hotel Lombardi. We nicknamed them that because we got such a kick out of watching the male counterpart at the free buffet breakfast. We guessed they were German because that’s what their language sounded like. First, we noticed that he was eating fresh fruit, but we didn’t see any on the buffet table, so concluded that he bought it at the street market. But he was also eating an abundance of the buffet contents—at least three cartons of yogurt, a plate of croissants and other breads, and coffee. Then he asked the waiter for a cappuccino. A few minutes later, he asked the waiter for hot tea. We didn’t think he was ever going to stop eating and drinking; and that poor waiter scurrying around for him! It just seemed odd. Oh, and when his wife was at the table with him, which was only a short time on the first day, they barely talked at all. I guess they’ve been married for a long time.

Later, on the beach that day, we saw the carabinieri (police) striding down the walkway leading to the ocean with purposeful expressions on their faces. Turns out a horrible crime was being committed right down by the water where a tourist couple was (gasp!) sunbathing on towels instead of the 20 Euro bagno chairs and umbrellas. (That was something Kathy and I actually contemplated doing when we saw those beach mats on sale at one of the shops for only 2 Euros.) But it turns out that you just can’t do that! If you’re going to sunbathe on the private beaches, you must pay for a chair and umbrella. Otherwise, you go to the free beach which is a 2 kilometer walk away. Next thing you know, here comes “the Breakfast Couple” with all their belongings, heading back to the hotel, the carabinieri trailing behind them, looking mightily pleased with themselves. They’d chased the vermin off the beach! The carabinieri are very efficient, too. They patrol the beaches in helicopters, apparently sweeping them for towel-bathing perps, keeping the nation safe from lowlife, money-scrimping tourists who are not supporting the local economy.

So, yesterday, I guess “The Breakfast Couple” decided not to spend the day at the beach, or if they did, they returned to the hotel early because they appeared at the pool in the afternoon, and it was almost as if they were on a schedule. (Germans, for sure.) The woman appeared first and marched right to the outdoor shower, rinsed off and jumped into the shallow end of the pool. The man appeared, went to the shower, rinsed off and jumped into the shallow end of the pool. By this time, his wife was about ¾ of the way down the length of the pool. “Mr. Breakfast Man” jumped in and started to swim after his wife. She pulled herself out of the pool, marched around the perimeter and went back to the outdoor shower. Rinsed off. Went to the chair where she left her clothes. Her husband pulled himself out of the pool, went to the shower and rinsed off. Then he joined his wife who had sat down sideways on the lounge chair. The husband disappeared into the courtyard that led to the hotel. So, Kathy and I are sitting there, and suddenly she says, “Look at the Breakfast Lady.” I glanced over, and damned if she wasn’t sitting there with her bikini top off, just displaying her boobs (okay, so they were nice and firm) to the world. There were construction workers up on the roof, and the lifeguard/gardener working not far away, and I’m sure they all enjoyed the scenery. So, the husband reappears as she’s still sitting there, semi-nude. He’s wearing his little black Speedos (and believe me, this guy did not look like Alberto Tomos) and carrying his clothes. Watching him, Kathy mutters, “Well, I hope to God he doesn’t change here.” And even as she spoke, he wrapped a towel around him and began to remove his Speedos—right there at poolside. And no matter how he tried to be discreet with the towel…well, let’s just say we got an “up close and personal” view of his naked butt.

To be continued…

It's 2005--Aren't Credit Cards Accepted Everywhere?

2005-07-08T03:51:00.000-07:00

June 17, 2005, No Watch—Probably around 1:30 PM, Poolside, Lombardi Hotel, Marina d’ Pietrasanta, Italy

It’s another gorgeous day in Marina d’ Pietrasanta. Since we didn’t want to pay another 20 Euros today, we decided to hang out at the pool. We’re the only ones here right now. In fact, there’s not even a lifeguard whom we’re supposed to get our pool towels from. Hopefully, he’ll show up soon.

Okay, last night. We left the beach about five-thirty, and went back to the hotel to shower. I let Kathy have the bathroom first, and while she showered, I sat out on the terrazzo and read “The Heiress” by Claire Delacroix. It’s a wonderfully written historical romance—one of the best I’ve read in years. Brava, Claire! I wish I could find more romances like hers. It’s a damn shame that writers like my friend, Hope Tarr, who writes just as good as Ms. Delacroix, is having trouble finding a publisher these days. Not to mention writers like me who write just as good as the big names out there—Nora, Susan Wiggs, Barbara Samuels, Sandra Brown—and still have trouble finding a publisher who believes in her. Uh oh, sounds like I’m falling into my whining mode. Time to move on. (NOTE: Both Hope and I found new publishers since this was written. Yay!!!!)

After I showered, I joined Kathy out on the terrazzo, and we went to find a restaurant, walking south along the ocean boulevard. Not to brag, but we looked pretty damn good—especially Kathy with her long, lean body. She wore a short, red, fitted dress with a halter top and red sling back heels and gold jewelry. I wore one of my favorite blue and white sundresses with a scooped neck and fitted bodice, and accented it with my lapis lazuli necklace I bought from the Southwest Indian Foundation catalog. Kathy let me borrow her lapis and mother-of-pearl earrings which I almost lost (twice) during the evening. (They were studs, which I can’t seem to keep in my ears.) Anyway, as we turned onto the sidewalk from the hotel walkway, a couple of male bicyclists were coming toward us. One of them—and he was typically Italian gorgeous—threw me (me, not Kathy!) a big smile and said, “Bellaissimo!” Talk about an ego stroke! It made my day. :)

We walked farther down the ocean boulevard than ever before, and saw a sign for a restaurant down one side street. So we went that way—and lo, and behold—we found a whole street of restaurants, shops and markets, pedestrian only. We explored for a while and then found a pizzeria with outdoor seating that took credit cards. We decided we felt like pizza so we each ordered a Margherita (pizza, not drink) and I got a beer while Kathy ordered red wine. It was good, but not nearly as good as Roberto’s. We had specifically asked if we could use credit cards before we sat down, and they had assured us we could. But about halfway through our meal, the outdoor lighting went out. And stayed out. We joked about it probably being a scheme so we couldn’t use our credit cards, but we didn’t really believe it. After all, there were lights on inside the restaurant. But sure enough, when we got ready to pay our bill, the waiter told us he couldn’t accept the cards because the electricity was out. That’s two nights in a row now that we’ve had credit card problems at dinner. But tonight, we stuck to our guns, telling him we had no cash. He suggested we walk down the street to the banka and get cash. We refused. He then said, “Perhaps electricity will be on at 11:00.” It was not even ten. I shook my head. “No, I’m not sitting here until 11:00.” Then we wrote down our hotel and room number on a slip of paper and told him we’d return tomorrow to pay them. He took the slip of paper and disappeared. I told Kathy I’d give him five minutes to return, and if not, I was leaving. And guess what? About a minute later, the outdoor lights came back on! Imagine that! What timing! What a coincidence! Next thing you know, the waiter appears with our checks.

We can’t wait to see what happens tonight when we try to pay with our credit cards. :)

This morning we went back to that shopping street and…yes, shopped. I bought an Italian linen tablecloth for Kristin & Jimmy’s wedding gift, and a dishtowel set for Bunco. Also, found a cute linen top for me.

Now, here we are at the pool, waiting for a lifeguard to show up so we can get a towel and go swimming.

Italian Beaches are...Different

2005-07-07T04:16:00.000-07:00

June 16, 2005, 10:12 AM, Marina di Pietrasanta, Italy

Ahhhh, the beach! Now, this is a vacation! What a difference from Sestriere. I know when I watch the Winter Olympics next year, I’ll feel a little nostalgia, and wonder how it would be to be there with all the activity going on, but…I’m just so glad we decided to leave there and come to the coast.

I’m sitting here in a beach chair, soaking in the sun and listening to the soft roar of the ocean. Soft, because the waves in the Mediterranean aren’t that big. But the water is blue, and there’s not a cloud in the sky, except for the ones over the mountains to the east. We’re here for the day, having paid (or will pay) 20 Euros for the rental of chairs and an umbrella. That’s the discounted price because we’re staying at Hotel Lombardi. Trouble is, the front desk told us that the beach rental people accept credit cards and…surprise! They don’t. The girl was nice enough, though, to allow us to pay her later.

Anyway, it’s gorgeous here. Not too hot, with a nice, fresh breeze. I wonder if I’ll actually get hot enough to go into the water. It would be a shame to be on the Mediterranean, and not go in the water. Of course, I’m sure it’s not as warm here as it was in Crete.

So…last night. We were on a quest to find our first real Italian meal—something besides pizza. We headed south down the Oceanside sidewalk because we recalled seeing more restaurants that way. I stopped at a phone booth and called Frank; got right through. In the room earlier, I tried unsuccessfully three times before giving up. Frank said everything is fine at home except that he almost killed Ruby last night. (Ruby is our neurotic cat who is always a pain in the ass when I’m gone; well, she’s a pain in the ass when I’m there, too, but I love her dearly.) Frank told me how she woke him up at three in the morning, but didn’t go into any more detail. Bottom line—she’s still alive, which makes me very happy. He also told me that Leah has three phone interviews from Atlanta, so hopefully, she’ll get a job she likes, maybe loves, soon after she gets there.

We chose a ristorante called D’ Michele—a rather French name for an Italian restaurant—and because it was a bit cool, we opted to sit inside. We ordered salad, pasta and wine—red for Kathy, white for me. I had penne pomodoro and it was exquisite—the best pasta and sauce I’ve ever had in my life. I ate every bite. Everything was perfect until we paid our bill. We’d asked for separate checks so we could both charge, and that was no problem. He took our credit cards and disappeared. He was gone for some time, and once we saw him looking over at us strangely, and we wondered if there was a problem. Next thing you know, he’s back with my credit slip, but he tells Kathy that her card doesn’t work. So, I had to put her dinner tab on my card. When we got back to the hotel, Kathy went to the desk to see if they could help her call the credit card company. The girl tested her card, and guess what? It worked! So, we have no idea what the problem was. It didn’t seem like a scam because the waiter went to all the trouble to give us separate checks and to run our cards through.

After the full meal and wine, we were ready for bed, even though it was early. And really, there was nothing else to do. It was too cool to sit outside on the terrace and watch the people—not that there were any people to watch. It’s just the beginning of the season here, and apparently, the place doesn’t really start hopping until July and August.

Okay, we’ve been sitting here on the beach for about forty minutes, and we’ve discovered another unpleasant fact about Italy. The beach is swarming with cockroaches. No, not the disgusting bug kind of cockroach, but human ones—people selling beach towels, Louie Vuitton purse knock-offs and God knows what else. And they are persistent. And annoying. Very annoying. I need to learn how to say “go away” in Italian. But watching how the other sunbathers handle it, we’ve discovered that the best way to respond is to simply ignore them. But it’s very irritating to constantly be interrupted from our reading (or in my case, my typing) by these bloodsuckers. That’s one thing we never had to put up with in Greece. Not once did anyone come up to us and try to sell us something. There was that donut seller walking around, but we called him over to buy one. So if anyone ever asks me what country I like better, Greece or Italy, hands down, it’s Greece.

Okay, that’s it for now. I’m going to get out my book and read. Even though I’m sitting under an umbrella, I can already feel my thighs starting to burn, and that’s after slathering on SPF 20 sunscreen.

Marina 'd Pietrasanta--Good Choice!

2005-07-06T04:10:00.000-07:00

June 15, 2005, 6:37 pm, Marina 'di Pietrasanta, Italy

I’m sitting out on the terrace in front of the hotel, enjoying the sunshine and the quiet. The only sound is occasional passing traffic, the chirp of birds and the soft tap of my Alpha Smart.

The weather today was somewhat “iffy.” We had a couple of passing showers, one of them which lasted long enough that we took refuge on the terrace of a seaside ristorante; Kathy ordered red wine and I had Italian beer, a taste I’m growing to quite like. We were a little unnerved when the waiter brought us a small bowl of olives, a basket of potato chips and then a plate of hot herbed bread that tasted like a pizza without sauce and cheese. Delicious! But we were really nervous about how much our bill would be. It was that upscale. We figured that they’d tack on one of their huge cover charges, and I’m sure they did, but we were pleasantly surprised when the check came to only ten Euros. I broke my last 50E, so I guess I’m going to have to find a bank and get some more cash. (The waiter told us we could charge it, but had to spend a minimum of 50 Euros. Very, very helpful.)

Once we finished our drinks, the rain had stopped, so we started walking again. Marina 'd Pietrasanta is a pretty little beach town, but I’m surprised that there are so few shops and relatively few restaurants—at least within walking distance. I guess I won’t be buying any Bunco gifts here. We are going to try a real restaurant tonight, meaning we aren’t eating pizza. I want pasta and wine. I don’t think, though, we’re going to find one of those 4-course Tuscan meals that are supposed to be so great. That will have to wait for Siena and Florence.

We’re hoping the weather will be really nice tomorrow and Friday so we can laze around on the beach or at least at the swimming pool. It has to be perfect before I’ll go to the beach, though. The beach across from the hotel is private, and if we want to go there, we have to rent chairs and an umbrella at the “nice discount” of 22 Euros. The “nice discount” comes from one of the hotel people. They might as well charge admission to the beach! Sometimes, I really miss America and American ways. There is, supposedly, a free beach somewhere way the hell down the strand, but damn it, I paid for this hotel room, I should be able to go to the beach across from it! Damn, Italy is expensive! Greece was a bargain compared to here. Especially when it comes to dining out. Much as I’m enjoying this trip, I don’t think I want to come to Italy again. I take that back; I’d definitely go back to Venice. I don’t feel like I got enough of it.

Anyway, I’m glad we came here. It’s a million times better than Sestriere. I did lose that $50 I spent to reserve a tour of “The Last Supper” in Milan, but oh, well. There was no way in hell we were getting on a train today after that nightmare of a trip yesterday. I’m considering it a donation to the museum. I would’ve liked to have seen the painting, of course, just as I would’ve liked to have seen the replica of “the Shroud of Turin,” but it wasn’t worth the inconvenience. I’m just sorry I reserved the tickets in the first place. That extra fifty would come in handy right now.

Kathy and I have made a vow, though. We’re never coming to Europe again if we have to worry about money. It takes a lot of the fun out of it. So…I guess I’m just going to have to hope that CHOCOLATE ON A STICK makes me a lot of money or that I have a big contract offer from Mira when I get home.

It could happen, couldn’t it? (NOTE: It didn't; I'm still waiting to hear from Mira. Maybe my submission fell into one of those infamous publishing black holes.) I never stop believing in miracles, and I hope I never do.

Ahhhh...the Beach!

2005-07-05T05:17:00.000-07:00

June 15, 2005, 12:40 PM, Marina di Pietrasanta, Italy

The good news is I’m in a much better mood. The bad news is…there is no bad news. (Okay, so that's good news, too.) We’re back to civilization! We’re staying at the Hotel Lombardi on the ocean…well, across the street from the ocean. It’s a four-star hotel—very nice rooms with a tiny veranda that has an ocean view across from the pool and some trees. The breakfast buffet this morning was absolutely wonderful! We even had our own coffee pot on the table—a real luxury here in Italy. And God, we were hungry.

We didn’t check into our hotel last night until 10:30!!! The hotelier told us there was a bistro about 300 meters down the road, but we were so exhausted, we just showered and then drank two beers from the minibar, and I ate some peanuts. Outrageously expensive, I know, but God, it was good! Especially the cold Italian beers.

We slept like the dead last night, and woke up about 8:15 this morning. After breakfast, we went for a walk. This is definitely a small beach town. We found a couple of tourist-like beach shops where I bought a pair of slides; my right foot has been giving me trouble since Venice, making it impossible for me to walk comfortably in any of the shoes I brought. The ones I bought at the beach shop are cute—a brown and beige snakeskin-like stuff, Italian-made, and they were on sale for 10 Euros. Not a bad deal.

We walked along the ocean side for a while and found a variety of restaurants for tonight. Prices are high, but I’ll probably just have wine, bread and pasta. Oh, and they all charge a cover for bread and water, usually about 2.50 Euros. Obviously, we won’t be tipping in Italy.

The sun is trying to peep through the clouds, and there are a few people on the beach. It’s getting warm, too. I was walking around comfortably this morning in my sleeveless dress. We walked through a park and saw the cutest baby geese with their mama. Got some cool pictures! Also, took a darling picture of a sweet little bambino in a stroller. As we were walking back past the canal where we saw the geese, we saw a baby stroller racing toward the water, and a man running after it. My heart almost stopped as it fell in, and another man downstream came running with a net. Luckily, though, it was just the stroller—no baby in it, thank God. I don’t know how it got away from the adults.

We just got back from our walk, and we’ve unpacked (since we’ll be here until Saturday) and now we’re trying to decide what to do this afternoon. Kathy wants to go into Pietrasanta and check out the town. That’s fine with me, but we need to either get a bus or walk. The taxi last night from the train station was 15 Euros—not as much as I thought it would be, anyway, but of course, they didn’t take credit cards. We need to find a bank so we can exchange some money. I’m down to 50 Euros.

But it’s so nice to be somewhere where it’s warm, where there are people, where there is activity! Where we can have a decent breakfast with lots of coffee!!!

As for train travel in Europe? All I can say is…I’ll never criticize Amtrak again.

Effortless Travel by Rail in Europe...In Your Dreams!

2005-07-05T05:09:00.000-07:00

June 14, 2005, 2:40 PM, Torino, Italy

Okay, I’m having trouble staying in my “happy place.” The travel today has been nothing short of hell—an all day thing, apparently. By the time Paolo got us into Sestriere, it was raining buckets and foggy as all get-out. I swear, I don’t know how he kept from driving off the mountain in that pea soup. We bought bus tickets at the La Stampa in Sestriere, but Paolo had bad news. The 9:00 bus—the one we intended to take—was a school bus. And school ended last week. So, we had over an hour and a half to kill, but luckily, we were able to take refuge from the rain in a café across the street from the bus stop. We had coffee and croissants (seems like we’ve been living on nothing but croissants and pizza since we got to Italy), and Paolo had a coffee with us before he had to go back to work. We said our goodbyes and he left.

So, we sat there waiting for the bus, and it arrived ten minutes early. Luckily, I ran out into the rain to ask and make sure it was the right bus. It was, and a nice guy formerly from Egypt helped us with our bags while the bus driver sat there like a lump and watched us struggle to get on. (Why are bus drivers so universally unfriendly? Is it that bad of a job?) The guy worked as a waiter in a ristorante in Cesana, where we had pizza the first night. He was really friendly and talkative in broken English. We finally arrived at the train station in Oulx, and the information guy told us the next train to Torino was at 12:07. (It was about 11:00.) He told us we’d have to change trains in Bussaleno. So, we’re sitting there looking at the departure board, and we noticed there was a train to Torino at 12:37 that went directly there. So we decided it would be better to take that one, rather than have the inconvenience of changing trains. Big mistake. First of all, the train was 15 minutes late, and then when we did get on it, we found it was a reserved train from Paris, and the first seats we took belonged to someone else getting on at that stop. Well, that pissed me off, and I was bitching about what a rip-off the Eurail Passes were (are), and a couple of young Americans backpacking through Europe started talking to us. That put me in a better mood, but I’m still rankled about how difficult they seem to make it for travelers with all their stupid rules and extra payments and everything. Jesus, we paid almost four hundred freaking dollars for these passes. Why are they nickel and diming us to death? ('Well, "euroing" us to death.) Turns out the train we’d got on was one where we needed a reservation, and therefore should’ve paid an extra price for the reservation. (Have you ever heard of such nonsense? Europe is the only place in the world I’ve ever heard of that they make you pay extra for a goddamn required reservation!!!! What a scam! For once, though, luck was with us. When the conductor came through checking tickets, and asking the American couple for their reservations, we were pulling into Torino Porto Susa, so we got off.

Turns out this wasn’t the right Torino train station to go to Genova, so we had to catch another train to Torino Porto Nuova. Our timing was right for once, and the train was leaving in less than ten minutes. But at Porto Nuova, our luck ran out. The next train to Livorna (which is the end destination for the train to Pietrasanta (oh, and by the way, don’t think for even a second that the information officer actually gave me that information—they don’t volunteer a sentence more than they have to, and God forbid they ever actually give you any essential information that might make things a little more clear for the stupid American) won’t leave for an hour and a half. And God knows how far the beach is from the train station.

I’m hungry and sleepy and disgusted, and I just want to check into a decent hotel and take a nap. I’m hoping that will happen before midnight. If I can get something decent to eat soon, maybe I’ll be in a better mood next time I write.

Escape From Sestriere!!!

2005-07-04T15:10:00.000-07:00

June 14, 2005, 7:37 AM, Grangesises, Italy

We’re about ready to make our escape! Thank God! At 8:30, Paolo is going to take us to Sestriere to catch the bus to Oulx, and then on to Torino. My biggest worry now is the weather. It’s rainy and foggy on top of this mountain. I’m wondering if that’s going to affect the bus schedule. Why, oh, why couldn’t it have been nice and sunny like it was on Sunday?

You know, I don’t think I’d like to ski here in the winter, even. Especially if it looked like today. I can imagine the rain being snow, and the mountain all socked in with fog. Who’d want to ski in that pea soup? I don’t like that even on a relatively small mountain in West Virginia; I certainly wouldn’t want to ski in the Italian Alps in fog. That reminds me of Dennis Belluomini’s story about how he and his family skied the Swiss Alps in fog, and how terrifying it was. No, thank you. I’ll take Snowshoe or Stowe any time.

Well, we managed to get through the long, boring day yesterday, passing the time by chatting with Paolo awhile, then walking the different levels of this place (there are a lot of them, and the views are magnificent.) Once we heard cow bells from the gorgeous valley below, and it made me feel like I was in "Heidi." :)

We went back to the room and lunched on our usual staples—bread, cheese and wine. And then we made a few phone calls. To Barb, Frank and Vince. Last night, we walked down to the one little café open and spent 7 Euros on coffee and a cheese & tomato sandwich for Kathy, and tea and ice cream for me. The tea was the expensive item at 2 Euros, 1 Euro more than the coffee!!! We came back to “the cave” and watched a Julia Roberts movie in Italian, following it pretty well, I might add. (Of course, I’d seen it before.) Before the movie came on, we were so bored that we muted the sound and watched an old movie we've never seen, dubbing in our own dialogue. Now, that's bored!!! Went to bed and slept through the night with the sound of rain pelting down on the shutters.

So, here we are, ready to get the hell out of this place!

Yes, Pinky's DOES have the Best Pizza in Sestriere!

2005-06-30T05:12:00.000-07:00

June 13, 2005, 1:13 PM, Grangesises, Italy

It turned out to be a pretty interesting day. We slept until 11:00, can you believe it? But this condo is as dark as a cave, even with all the shutters open. We probably could’ve slept even longer. But we got up, threw on our clothes over our pajamas and headed across the square to a little café that we’d been told would be open. Believe me, we were praying. Caffeine was the only thing on our minds at the moment. But luck was with us. We saw a few people sitting out on the terrace, soaking up the sun (yes, the sun!) and drinking coffee. So we got our coffee—American coffee, but still strong—and a croissant, and planned our day.

Since it was so warm, we wore summer clothes and flip flops (since that was the only shoes I have that didn’t hurt the blister made by the other shoes I wore in Venice.) So we started walking—uphill—toward Sestriere. Mind you, it’s gorgeous here. The Alps rise all around us, and some are still snow-capped. The air is gloriously fresh and sweet-smelling. But a two-mile hike uphill isn’t exactly something I look forward to. We’d gone maybe a mile when a car came up behind us. And I did something I’d never do in the States. I stuck out my thumb and “hijacked” a ride.

So, when I heard the car approaching, my thumb went up automatically. A purple PT Cruiser pulled over, and a pony-tailed Italian man told us to get in. His name was Roberto, and he turned out to be the owner of a pizzeria in Sestriere called “Pinky’s.” We didn’t know it at the time, but this ristorante was reputed to be the best pizzeria in town and a popular hang-out for the US Ski Team during alpine competitions. Roberto told us that he’d be heading back to Grangesises about four, so if we wanted to wait around, he’d take us back. So we had a beer in his place, and chatted with him for an hour or so. When the tourist office opened, we went over there and paid for twenty minutes of internet time so we could find a hotel at a reasonable price (yeah, right!) at the beach. We ended up booking a room for $101 Euros a night at the seaside town of Marina 'd Pietrasanta in Tuscany for Tuesday through Saturday. So, if nothing else, at least it should be warmer down there. (Roberto did tell us it was really expensive there—eating out, entertainment, etc.) Well, why should it be any different from anywhere else we’ve been in Italy? It’s expensive everywhere! And at the amount of money I’m spending with this little change in plans, at this point, it really doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to be in debt up to ears when I get home, so there is no point in worrying about it now. I guess I’ll be looking for a balance transfer at a low interest rate. Jeez, I bet Nora Roberts never has to worry about stuff like this.

Okay, so we booked our hotel, bought some bread, cheese and wine at the tiny market and rode back to Grangesises with Roberto. He told us he’d be heading back to the restaurant at nine, so if we’d like to go with him to eat dinner there, and if we didn’t mind waiting for him to close down at midnight, he’d bring us back. Well, we jumped at that. Food! Real food! Never mind that pizza is all we’ve had to eat since arriving in Italy on Saturday morning. Thank God I love pizza, that’s all I have to say. Of course, “Pinky’s” offered more than pizza, but with our dwindling money supply, we figured we’d better stick with the cheapest, and believe me, the prices were quite “touristy.” Five Euros for a Marguerita pizza (sauce & cheese) and the real killer was the 4.50 E for a large beer. (The small one at 2 Euros would barely wet your whistle.) ***Note: Little did we know at that time that 5 Euros for pizza was a good price; once we got to Siena and Florence, we paid 7 Euros.

Roberto wasn’t lying when he said he served the best pizza in the area. It was awesome! (And I’d thought the pizza in Venice and in Cesana was pretty damn good.) Roberto, having discovered that Kathy (or Katty, as he called her) was the single one, gave her a free glass of wine, and then later, awarded both of us with a couple of shotglasses of Limonecello and Grappa. (Was he trying to get Katty drunk?) At one point when it got rather warm in the restaurant, Kathy took off her sweater. Roberto was sitting opposite her, and I happened to catch the expression on his face when he saw the low-cut body-molding top she was wearing. It was like looking at the face of a little boy eyeing an ice cream cone. I almost laughed out loud. He flirted with Kathy throughout the evening, and on the drive home, they had a brief conversation in Spanish, and on the way up to the room, she admitted that he’d told her something to the effect that he wanted to “stay with her,” and she told him no, and like a true gentleman, he accepted it. But I think he thinks he’s going to see us tonight, so I’m sure he hasn’t entirely given up on her.

All I can say is I’m glad he’s not pursuing me. Although I am a little miffed that he told Kathy she was beautiful, making me feel like chopped liver. But when I said something to him about that, he laughed and said, “But you’re married to Francisco,” because of course, I told him all about my Italian husband and my bella Irish-Italian kids.

Oh, forgot to mention something that happened yesterday afternoon. We asked Flora, the resort manager, about making a phone call from the room, and learned that we couldn’t make an 800 call here, but after we kept questioning her, she finally, almost with resignation, told us we could call the States free this week only because the system for charging hadn’t been set up yet. We took her at her word and went back to the room where I called Frank, and Kathy called Vince, and tried to call Daddy, but he wasn’t home. In a few minutes, as soon as it’s a decent hour in Virginia, I’m going to call Barb. Why not? We’ve got to get something out of this horrible mistake of a resort. (Sorry, Paolo. We loved you, but...well, you have to admit, Grangesises is not the place to be in summer. However, it'll be a "happening" place in February when the 2006 Torino Winter Olympics arrive in Sestriere for the alpine events.)

Well, the clouds are rolling in—it is afternoon, after all—and it’s starting to get chilly out here, so I guess that means it’s time for our afternoon nap. Maybe I’ll be lucky and will be able to sleep through the rest of the day until tomorrow morning so we can get the hell out of here.

I can hardly wait to lie on the beach and soak up the sun.

Who had the Bright Idea of the Alps in Summer?

2005-06-29T04:15:00.000-07:00

June 11, 2005, 11:35 pm, Grangesises, Italy

You ever had a day start out really good, and as the hours pass, it gets better and better and then suddenly…things go downhill with the speed of an Indy racecar? Well, that’s kind of what happened to us today.

No, we didn’t get kicked off the train, or even get moved to a 2nd Class compartment. In fact, we met a very nice Italian lady, Giana, who lives in Torino (Turin) and she helped us find the right platform for our change of trains in Milan. Things were looking up. Then, on the train to Torino, the conductor, Vittorio, befriended us—even sat with us for the last half-hour of the trip, and told us about his adventures in America. He gave us his telephone number and told us to call him if we had any trouble while we were in Italy. Now I’m wondering if he was clairvoyant.

Okay, things started taking a turn for the worse in the village of Oulx where we learned that the bus didn’t go to Grangesises, but just to Sestriere, three kilometers away. No biggie, we thought. And it really wasn’t because when the bus actually arrived and took us to Sestriere, the bus driver was nice enough to take us to Grangesises, anyway. And for that, I gave him a ten Euro bill. (But now that I'm thinking about it, that was probably way too much for an extra three kilometers.) He drove off, leaving us at this “village.”

I guess it was as we entered the village that the alarm bells went off. It looked like a ghost town. We were the only two people around. I mean, the place looked totally deserted. (Remember the movie, "The Shining?" That's what it reminded us of.) We kept walking and finally came to a place that said “Residence.” I stayed with the bags while Kathy went up the stairs. I could hear her talking to someone, and at first I was relieved. But I knew something was very wrong when she called to me to leave the bags and come up. And that’s when she broke the news to me. It was essential to have a car here because none of the restaurants and shops were open in the summer, and we had to go into Sestriere—which, by the way, wasn’t all that big, and also didn’t seem to have anything open at eight o'clock in the evening. So, here we were, stuck in a seemingly deserted mountain village with no food and no way to get to town without walking (3 kilometers—2 miles--and up the mountain) and of course—nothing is open tonight so even if we did have a car, we couldn’t get any groceries tonight. And we hadn't eaten since breakfast in Venice.

Paolo, a young man who works at the resort, came to our rescue and drove us to Cesana, another village several kilometers away for pizza. He ate with us, and we treated, of course. He really was a great conversationalist—spoke excellent English, and we had a good time, almost forgetting about our situation. We were talking about options, and Paolo said, "Well, you could always hijack a ride. It is safe here." Kathy and I kind of looked at each other, but didn't say anything. But later, when Paolo again mentioned "hijacking" a ride, Kathy told him the real term was "hitch-hike," and we had a good laugh over it.

It was fun getting to know Paolo, but the fact remains, we’re in a difficult situation. First of all, the accommodations at this place are incredibly awful. Bad mattresses, a refrigerator that won’t close, no coffee-maker and oh, yes, no heat. And it’s freaking cold up here in the Alps. I’m praying we’ll have hot water for a shower tomorrow. I don’t know what we’re going to do about the rest of the week—a very long week, it could be. If we rented a car, it would cost us 60 Euros a day, which would, no doubt, be cheaper than a hotel for seven nights, if we decided to go on to Tuscany now. But we just might do that. Kathy isn’t excited about driving on mountain roads, and I can’t drive a stick shift. (No such thing as automatic transmissions around here, apparently.) Anyway, we’re going to sleep on it and make a decision tomorrow. This could turn out to be a substantially more expensive vacation than we’d planned.

I wonder if we dare call Vittorio?

Pinching Ourselves in Venice--Are We Really Here?

2005-06-28T04:02:00.000-07:00

June 11, 2005, 10:47 AM, Venice

We’re sitting here on the train, waiting to leave for Milano. I hope we’re in the right car. Our tickets are for first class, which is where we are, but one of the conductors said something about reservations, after, of course, last night when we went to the information area of the train station to ask about reservations, they told us we didn’t need them. So…we’ll probably have to move which means I’ll be forced to retreat to my “happy place” and I’m not sure that’s going to be easy.

Meanwhile…let me catch you up on all our adventures in Venice. We were very lucky yesterday morning when a beautiful young woman joined us in our compartment. Her name was Chiara. She spoke excellent English, and told us all kinds of good information about Venice. Then she offered to walk us to our hotel. Luckily, it wasn’t very far from the train station—just across the Grand Canal. The trick was getting over the bridge that crossed the Grand Canal. We’re talking steps. Lots and lots of steps. Chiara was sweet enough to help me with my luggage, but poor Kathy was on her own. The Antiqua Figeura Hotel was just gorgeous—and the man who checked us in was….well, he was gorgeous, too. What is in this Italian water that makes the men so beautiful?

We couldn’t check in until noon, so we left our luggage there and started walking around. Venice was everything we expected—just like in the movies and photos. The gondolas, the gondoliers in their striped shirts (some of them wore plain shirts, though), the bridges, the narrow, twisting alleys. Oh, and the shops with all the beautiful Murano glass. I bought Murano necklaces for all the Bunco Babes, and one for Leah and Sharon. We found a great sandwich shop and had sandwiches and real water!!!! Not that awful stuff we had in Vienna—mineral water. Yuk! We checked into our beautiful room with a view of the Grand Canal, and showered. What a blessing that was after that overnight train trip. It felt fantastic! Then we went for a walk.

A long walk. We made our way to the Rialto Bridge in the San Marco sestieri (district,) and had a beer at an outdoor café overlooking the gondoliers on the Grand Canal. Then we decided to make our way to Piazza San Marco--the famous square you see in all the movies where the pigeons congegrate. And we found it without any trouble! What a magnificent sight that was. It was huge, and of course, there were pigeons everywhere. People were feeding them, and they were sitting on shoulders and heads and fluttering about. I made a mini movie, and one of them landed on Kathy’s hat and just sat there. It was hysterical! I sure hope I got it on the camera. (I mean I hope I filmed it right; I’d never done that before.) Note: Turns out, I didn't, darn it!

It was almost six o’clock by that time, so we decided to make our way back to the hotel and rest awhile before dinner. As if! You know how you hear how everyone gets lost in Venice? Well, we were no exception. Finding our way back to the Rialto Bridge was not as easy as it looked on the map. By seven o’clock, I was exhausted, my feet were hurting, and I had a throbbing headache (and I was hungry.) In other words, I was having a very difficult time staying in “my happy place.” We kept following—or trying to follow these signs leading to the Piazza Roma. And miracle of all miracles, by eight o’clock, we found our hotel. No time to rest, of course, because we suddenly realized that we needed to check the schedule for today’s trip to Torino, and…well, it’s a long story, and too complicated to get into it…let’s just say we realized we didn’t have as much time left in Venice as we needed. And I’d yet to do the shopping I wanted to do. (Heaven forbid I not spend money!) But I had to get myself a Murano necklace, didn’t I? Yes, I did. Of course, the store where I’d seen the one I wanted—yes, in the entire city of Venice (that we managed to cover) I found only one necklace that I really, really liked—but the store was closed last night. We decided to have pizza at Gino’s Pizzeria, and it was delicious!

Being the party animals that we are, we headed back to the hotel around ten and went right to bed. Slept like a log all night, disturbed only by a lone mosquito buzzing around my ear in the early hours, until Kathy got me up at 7:40. We had a great buffet breakfast in the hotel where I managed to embarrass myself with the coffee machine, not realizing I had to hit “stop” before my cup overflowed. We raced out to the shop to buy my necklace (yay!) and then went back to the hotel, said our goodbyes to our handsome hotelier, and lugged our bags to the train station. We’re becoming old pros at hefting our suitcases on and off the trains. And here we are.

The good news is…the conductor has checked our Eurail Passes, and didn’t say a thing about reservations, so I’m hopeful we’ll be able to stay in this car all the way to Milan.

Train Troubles in Italy

2005-06-27T04:57:00.000-07:00

June 10, 2005 7:00 AM, Udine, Italy

Okay, so we’re not in Venice yet. Not that we’re supposed to be, but we won’t be getting there at the originally planned time. It all started at about five-forty-five this morning when Kathy got up to go to the bathroom. Let me just say that prior to this momentous event, the night was pretty good. It finally got quiet out in the hallway, and I slept well. So…Kathy gets up to go to the bathroom, and I’m still half-asleep. Twenty minutes goes by, and still no Kathy. Blessed with the wild imagination of a fiction writer, all kinds of things are running through my head. She’s been kidnapped. She was sleep-walking, and walked right off the train> She met Antonio Banderas while waiting in line at the WC and he offered to take her on a personal tour of Venice. (No, Antonio isn’t even Italian.) Finally, I’m wide awake—besides, I’d sneaked a peak through the curtain to see what the day looked like, and it was bright and sunny, so I’m really wide awake now. I get up and go out into the corridor to find Kathy. She’s standing right outside the WC, and there is no Antonio in sight. As soon as she sees me, she gives me this pitiful look and says, “I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes, and I’m feeling sick, and my bladder is about to explode.” This, by the way, was the same WC I’d waited at last night for a long time before giving up to go find another one. I was astonished that Kathy hadn’t done the same thing, but when I asked her why she hadn’t, she said she was feeling sick and couldn’t move. Pointing out that it was obviously “out of order”—God knows why the train personnel couldn’t have been bothered to put a sign on it—she finally headed through the next car to find an unoccupied WC. (Ironically, a moment later, I followed her, and found one just inside the next car; she’d walked all the way down to the end.) Okay, so while I was in the the WC, I heard all this activity going on outside—Italian voices yelling, and all this clinking and clanging. When I came out, there were four men working on the platform between where I was and the car where my berth was. After a couple of minutes, I was able to pass through, and thank God, when I got to my berth, Kathy was in there. I knew there was no way I could go back to sleep, and it was a good thing because about ten minutes later, a knock came at the door. Thank God the Austrian guy was there so he could explain what was going on. He kind of laughed as he told us, "We're in Italy. The train is broken."

We had to vacate the car and move forward to another one, and that wouldn’t have been so bad except once they moved us, they didn’t tell us where to go or what to do, so we were standing out in this narrow corridor, waiting for instructions, which, apparently, were never to come. (And it wasn't just us; there was a whole row of car refugees waiting uncertainly with their belongings.) Finally, we saw this official-looking person, and Kathy left her luggage with me and went down to try to find out where we were supposed to go. Well, thank God, he found us a sitting compartment with these three other people, and right now, I’m sitting here typing this and waiting for Kathy to return, hopefully, with two cups of badly-needed coffee (bad as it's rumored to be.) Our luggage, by the way, is out in the corridor because there’s no place to put it in this berth.

Thus, begins our first day in Italy.

A Rainy Send-Off in Vienna

2005-06-26T05:33:00.000-07:00

June 9, 2005 – 10:50 PM, Somewhere in Austria

Okay, so I’m sitting here on the overnight train to Venice in our 4-person “Couchette,” which Kathy and I are sharing with a very nice Viennese couple. The train is a little bit of a surprise. It’s a “sleeping train,” which means pretty much just that. In other words, there are no seats, just beds. So, if you want to sit up, you have to sit up in your bed. What a concept! There was an even bigger surprise. There is no lounge car, no dining car and no snack bar. The man from Vienna told us they do have coffee in the morning, but we’d be better off skipping it. Apparently, it’s pretty bad. We ordered it anyway because we’re Americans, and we have to have our coffee in the morning—bad or not.

Okay, so it was an okay day—not as good as yesterday, but we had fun. We wisely decided to make a trial run to the bahnhof, and lucky we did because when we got to the Sudbohnhof, we found out that our train actually left from the Westbahnhof, which of course, wasn’t what our schedule said. So by the time we figured everything out—how to get from our hotel to the Westbahnhof, it was two o’clock. We stopped into this little café and had coffee and a bourbon-soaked cake with very sweet pink icing. Sat next to two gorgeous Austrian men—the kind you see skiing in the Olympics, but of course, they didn’t even notice a couple of “over-the-hillers” like us, even if we do look pretty damn good for our ages. :)

We shared a delicious chicken schnitzel sandwich at this fast food place (and if we’d known there wasn’t a dining car on this train, we probably would’ve each had our own.) Oh! Forgot to mention—it started raining about three, and we walked all the way back to the hotel to get our umbrellas, and I couldn’t find mine. So we stopped in at the gasthaus we went to last night, thinking maybe I’d left it there. Biergette was there, dressed in this cleavage-revealing dirndl—and it was the damndest thing! She acted like she didn’t even remember us from the night before—after all that talking over beer, the shot game she played on us, making us lose, and the 2 Euro tip Kathy left her. So, we figured the explanation has to be one of two things—either she was a little bit sloshed last night when we met or else she has a split personality, and really didn’t remember us. (Or a third possibility...maybe she has a twin?) Well, at least she posed with us in a picture anyway.

Well, Kathy has turned her light out, and I guess the couple in the upper bunk is ready to sleep, so I’d better stop writing now. This keyboard is making too much noise. Still lots of noise out in the aisle, though. I think some people must think this is a party train.

Tomorrow—Venice.

Last Day in Vienna

2005-06-25T05:20:00.000-07:00

June 9, 2005 – 8:50 AM, Vienna, Austria

I’m sitting here waiting for Kathy to get ready so we can go downstairs to the breakfast buffet. We’ve had no luck finding out whether this breakfast is complimentary or not. (As yesterday has proven, our cash situation is…or soon will be…in dire straits.) So, a complimentary breakfast would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, we’re going to have to go seek out a decently priced (yeah, right!) pastry shop. Anyway, what’s really important is coffee—and we’re certainly not going to that Espresso place that charged almost 3 Euros for a very tiny latte.

Well, I slept like a rock last night. The bed was comfortable, and as I remember from my past visits to Austria and Germany, there was one of those soft, warm eiderdowns on the bed. Kathy woke me up about two in the morning, asking if I was awake and could she open a window because she was burning up. I mumbled something and vaguely remember her stumbling over to the window. Went back to sleep and had vivid dreams—good ones—up until I reluctantly opened my eyes at 7:40. I could’ve slept for at least a couple more hours, but the day is wasting, and it’s our last one here in Vienna. I want to explore. We’re planning to jump on the #71 tram and see where it takes us. We don’t have to be at the Sudbohnhof until around 7:30, so we have plenty of time. We’re going to try to stop in at the gasthaus where we met Biergette last night, and get her picture.

A Visit to Vienna's Giant Ferris Wheel

2005-06-24T05:54:00.000-07:00

June 8, 2005 – 1:05 PM, Vienna, Austria

I’m sitting here in our hotel in Vienna, waiting for my hair to dry a little before I try to style it. Luckily, they let us check in early, so we decided to shower and then, to counteract jet lag, we’re going to hit the streets. Because our bodies are still on Virginia time—7 AM—we have to stay up until at least 9 PM tonight.

The flight over was awesome! No doubt about it, Business Class is the way to travel. The head flight attendant actually came by and personally spoke to each traveler, asking if there was anything she could do for us. The food wasn’t all that great, but the menu was nice. We had a choice of lamb, Cornish hen or cod. And Kathy and I both chose champagne for our drinks. The seats went all the way back so you could lie almost flat, and each seat had its individual TV. So, I managed to get a little sleep.

We made it from the airport to the hotel with very little trouble—except for the fact that we went the wrong way out of the train station and walked a long way before realizing it. If we keep making stupid mistakes like that, we won’t have to worry about gaining weight, even if we overdo it on that great Italian food, we’ll probably walk it off.

Well, my hair feels almost dry now, so I’m going to take my European hot styling brush and try to get myself presentable. And then we’re going out to explore.

June 8, 2005 – 9:40 PM, Vienna, Austria

I’m still awake, but just a little drunk. Kathy and I have had a great day! We went out for a coffee “pick me up” and damn, it was expensive—well, about the same as Starbucks, but I’m not a Starbucks fan. I just wanted plain old coffee, and got a very nice latte, but it wasn’t worth three Euros. Anyway, we jumped on a tram and headed for the Prater where Riesenrad, the world famous giant Ferris wheel is. We rode on it, just like Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy did in “Before Sunrise,” one of my favorite movies (and the one that made me want to visit Vienna.) It was fun, but yes…expensive. I have a feeling that’s going to be the case with just about everything we do here in Europe. Here’s one for the “Get a Clue” file. Carole, you didn’t bring enough freakin’ cash! Apparently, though, nobody cares whether you’ve bought a ticket for the tram because they never check it. Of course, we already bought ours—for both days, so we’re totally legal, but wondering why we had to cough up the Euros when nobody even checks to see if we have a ticket. Anyway, it’s fun taking the tram around Vienna, and I think by the end of our first day, we were really getting the hang of it. We actually found a restaurant that was recommended in a guidebook, and had a very nice dinner. I wanted Wiener schnitzel, but pork, not veal, and they didn’t have it, so I went for chicken Wiener schnitzel, and it was delicious! Good choice. We walked around Stadtpark for a while and came across a statue of Mozart and took a few pictures. Then we rode around the city on different trams before coming back to our hotel. It was still early, so we decided to go have a beer at a gasthaus down the street, and there, we struck up a conversation with Biergette, an Austrian waitress, and Hetti, a German woman who works at the German Embassy in Vienna. Hetti had lived in the Washington DC area for four years, working at the German Embassy there, and she told us how terribly homesick she was for America. We had a great time with these two very friendly ladies, and Biergette invited us to play a drinking game with her where we had to drink shots of…well…can’t remember what she called it, but I just know it burned as it went down. Anyway, we lost, and that’s why I’m feeling just a little drunk now. So…I’m off to bed, hopefully to sleep like a log in a real bed tonight. What a great first day in Austria! Until tomorrow…

At The Airport

2005-06-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

June 7, 2005 – 4:30 pm, Dulles Airport, Washington DC

I’m sitting here in the Red Club, United’s First Class lounge, waiting for our flight to Vienna to board. I’m drinking a yummy English toffee coffee (after slurping down a free Blue Marguerita, followed by two chocolate chip shortbread cookies) and I wasn’t even hungry. But hey, you’ve got to take advantage of freebies, right?

Anyway, Kathy surprised me when we got to the airport with the announcement that our airline tickets are in Business Class—the first time I’ve ever flown that way. (Only twice in my life have I flown first-class—once on my way to Egypt and once on my way from Athens to New York) so I’m really happy; I know how the better half live. Maybe if our seats are nice and wide, I’ll be able to sleep tonight, and arrive in Vienna sans jet lag, ready to explore the city.

That’s it for now. It’s time for us to make our way to our gate.

Leaving For Italy

2005-06-07T12:04:00.000-07:00

Hi. I'm Carole Bellacera, author of four books of Women's Fiction--and one due out in September, CHOCOLATE ON A STICK. I'm getting ready to leave for the airport. My sister, Kathy, and I are heading for Vienna, Austria tonight--the starting point for a two-week tour of Austria and Italy. I have a lot of nervous energy right now; that's why I'm posting this entry on my blog. Just trying to fill time before we leave for the airport. I'm not a good flyer. I'd much rather take a train--or better yet, be able to do one of those "Star Trek" things where you can just get zapped to another place. Oh, well. Guess I'll just have to partake of all the free drinks on Austrian Airlines.

Anyway, I'll be keeping a journal during my two-week trip, so when I get back, I'll post it here. Wish me luck!

Carole