The Last Post On My Trip To Italy.... Yes, You Can Thank Me Later

Having arrived in Roma on a Wednesday, by the following Tuesday, we were completely sick of the shower situation at our flat as well as taking 22 Euro taxi rides each way to or from Centro, so we decided to check into a gorgeous, *upper end* hotel called The Grand Via Veneto Hotel, which was located centrally to all of the historical sites and lovely restaurants. Naturally, both of our husbands were furious but neither of us cared at this point. I needed a decent bed and good shower/bath or I was on the verge of a total emotional breakdown. (Yeah, doesn't that just make you yearn to be my travel partner?) I can only camp-out for so long before I yell "Uncle!"  It's different if you're hiking or backpacking everyday, but we needed to look presentable everyday, which was getting increasingly difficult.  So, my friend agreed and we were ever so happy with our choice, even though it was only for 3 nights and cost a freaking fortune. I'm still catching grief over it...

 
The hotel was lovely and the concierges all spoke perfect English, as well as most of the employees. Best of all, we were only a few blocks from the Galleria Borghese, where we had reservations for our tour the following day. We ate at a lovely little sidewalk cafe that night as we slowly returned to being happy campers, living in the lap of luxury we are accustomed to.

Now, let me assure you that the Galleria Borghese should NOT be missed, as it was exceedingly intriguing and beautiful. No matter how many pictures you've seen of any of the ceiling frescoes, sculptures, and paintings, it is ever so much more overwhelming when seeing it all in person. The Bernini sculptures were mesmerizing. We were there for 4 hours total and it still wasn't enough. Of course, you weren't allowed to take in cameras or purses, or anything else (they had to be *checked*), but they did have a wonderful deli style bistro that also served cocktails, which made us both smile. They also had an excellent gift shop with items from all price ranges. After our galleria tour, we toured the gardens which were truly breathtaking and we took many pictures there.
 

That night during our dinner at an enchanting restaurant in the Travestere area of Rome, we decided we'd take the high speed train to Florence the next day, since we were close to the Stazione Ferroviaria (the train station). Let me just say that we both fell in love with Florence and wished we'd based out of Florence rather than Rome. Of course, we didn't take as many pictures as we'd intended because we were walking around with our mouths agape, at the beauty of Florence. We also dropped  several hundred dollars each on leather goods there, which made us both once again, happy women. I mean shoes and purses make almost all women happy, right? It is especially so when they are handmade in Italy. We dined at a restaurant recommended by my daughter SD, and it was worth every penny we spent. Unfortunately, we had to make the last train back to Roma (at 21:00 - 9:00 PM), so dinner was a bit rushed but the steaks were *life changing*, I assure you. The restaurant was called Acqua Al Due, one of only 3 locations in the world (with one being located in San Diego, CA.).

By some miracle, we made our train and met the most fun couple from Scotland, so we had a blast talking with them all the way back to Roma. Arriving back at our lovely hotel, we both collapsed and slept like we'd never slept before. I was in Heaven! Unfortunately, we slept too late (AGAIN!) to really do much more than explore on our own, which turned out to be quite the treat actually. We found a great little bar called Peppe's and sat there for several hours eating thin, crispy pizza and drinking our chosen poisons, as we watched the people come and go. It was there where we both became obsessed with the way Italian women look and dress, not to mention the Italian men. I'm quite certain that the cocktails had nothing to do with said obsession.  

The next morning we decided to check out and return to our flat for the remaining three days of our trip, hoping this would quell the husband's thoughts of murdering us. As soon as we returned to the flat with our luggage, we went right back to Centro to visit the Trevi Fountain and toss our coins in the fountain, in hopes of returning one day to Rome. Then, we did some more damage to the hubby's bank accounts, much to their demise. Once it got dark it began to rain cats and dogs, so after about 30 minutes of trying to hail a taxi, we were finally on our way back to the outskirts of Rome, and our apartment. Upon arrival, our neighbor Gino welcomed us back and invited us to dinner for our last night in Roma, which we accepted with great pleasure.

The last full day in Roma (Day 12) was a Sunday, so we decided to visit The Vatican, which all the guide books said would be open the last Sunday of the month from 8:30 AM to 7:30 PM. We carefully dressed in the appropriate attire, hailed a taxi, and arrived at The Vatican around Noon, which we thought would be a safe time to go. After standing in line for almost an hour, we were then turned away, as they said they were closing for the day. HUH? Yes, I started to tear up, as I had saved the best for last and got the "No Vatican For You!" rigmarole, as if it had come from The Soup Nazi on Seinfeld. I was totally crushed and defeated at this point, but had no choice  other than to accept it (I mean, the Vatican IS protected by The Swiss Guard). So, we began to once again wander the streets of Rome as if we knew what  we were doing. Ha! We kind of got lost again but quickly recovered once we recognized a landmark we were familiar with. Whew! We took a few pictures here and there, then hailed a taxi to take us back to the flat, where we licked our wounds from not being able to see the Vatican or The Sistine Chapel. Which, of course, means that I need to return someday in order to see that which I missed, and I missed A LOT.

We also had Gino's wonderful home cooked meal to get ready for, which we thoroughly enjoyed, with enthusiasm this time. I was only able to get a picture of our salad, as Gino was getting cranky over all of my picture taking. Still, it should give you a pretty good idea of what his meals were like. He also served us Eggplant Parmigiana that he'd made especially for us. It was absolutely divine, as were his desserts and Limoncello. Yes, the wine with dinner was excellent as well and we went back to our rooftop apartment completely satisfied, although not quite ready to return home. But, alas, it was the end of  La Dolce Vita for us!

Lost In Rome... Always Have A Game Plan Or An ATM Card... Don't Take Traveler's Checks

Read this post carefully, as there will be a test at the end...


It's always a good idea to have a game plan for when you get separated from your travel partner, which was something neither of us thought could or would happen. Unfortunately, it did happen and we both, individually, did not handle said separation well. Several hours later we were at last reunited, but not without calls to husbands first (although not by me). The last thing that Mr. Snoots wanted to hear from me was this exact situation. Frankly, he was forced to get over that the moment I hung the phone up on him. Yes, I did.

Apparently, *Charlotta* called Mr. Snoots for the address of our apartment because she couldn't remember it after the dozens of emails I'd sent her with the address (I wasn't aware that she'd been having internet problems before leaving on our trip). When she got back to the apartment, the phone rang and the first words to me out of Mr. Snooty's mouth were "WTF?", which received a *Click* of the phone from my end. Perhaps it wasn't the most diplomatic way to handle the predicament, but it was MY way of handling it and I was good with it. It made me angry that I was immediately the one to blame, which clearly was not the case. The blame was totally *even steven*.



At any rate, we were eventually reunited and all was right with the world again. For a few hours anyway. The following morning we went to the neighborhood Banca di Roma to exchange our American dollars for Euros but Italians don't want our worthless American dollars, nor do they want our American Express Traveler's Checks. I was so frustrated at this point, I began to bawl like a 5 year old child, with snot spewing out my nasal passages and all. The bank manager immediately agreed to exchange my $800.00 American dollars into 563.00 Euros, for which we were both very thankful. Yes, I was completely thrilled with being screwed, again. Why would I have listened to Mr. Snooty about Euros and traveler's checks when the last time he went to Italy was 1970? Hello.

Let me also just say that in order to enter any bank in Rome, you must go through an airport like security booth (with sliding glass doors on both sides), leaving everything but your clothing in a locker you pay for with the security guard on the outside. We were more than certain our attractive security guard wanted us to dis-robe completely, but he had to dream on. Can we spell *pain in the azz*? But, it certainly must quell those pesky would-be bank robbers, not to mention the crazy Americano la donnes that want to exchange currencies. Uh-Huh.


Walking back to our flat, we both agreed it was a good thing that I've had acting classes and learned to *internalize*, therefore making it easy for me to cry on queue. (Okay, sometimes, but not quite on queue.) Frankly, had our husbands not been so unwilling to let us loose in Italy with their ATM cards, this entire scenario would have never happened.

 


By the way, we had both also taken several thousand dollars each, in AMEX traveler's checks, which are basically no longer accepted anywhere outside the U.S., which is something we weren't aware of. Not even our banks were aware of this, (or just didn't tell us). Since we aren't a large city, we were told getting Euros would take 1-2 weeks. Evidently, there has been a lot of counterfeiting and such involving traveler's checks, so DON'T TAKE TRAVELER'S CHECKS outside the country, or anywhere else for that matter. It's a total waste of time, fees and energy.

The remainder of the day, we pretty much hung out in our *hood* and walked around for hours, eventually getting ourselves lost. However, we were treated to a local orchestra of men in black-feathered green helmets putting on a concert at a nearby park, which we were definitely intrigued by. Once it began to get dark, we both kind of freaked out and realized we weren't sure of where we were. (Oh, there's a surprise.) By the time we found someone to tell us which way to go (ummm... 3 blocks sinistra (left) and one block destra (right) then va dritto, it was too late to make dinner plans so we stopped at the Supermercato and bought dried pasta and sauce and a loaf of crusty Italian bread, some Brie cheese (along with a rather large bottle of Limoncello, as we already had a lovely bottle of wine), which I made for dinner that night. That was never part of my vacation plan, but we needed sustenance.

The next day, we were so exhausted that we slept until Noon, making it impossible to see any sights before they closed. Luckily, our neighbor Gino invited us for a second supper with him. This time he commanded that we arrive at "sei mezza" (7:30 PM) and had a friend visiting from Naples who spoke excellent English and we had a fabulous time. Then, Gino took us out to see all the Roman sites lit up at night, which was fascinating. Afterward, he took us to his favorite place for Gelato. Even though I'm not a big fan of ice cream (it hurts my teeth), I had the Pistachio Gelato and fell in love with it. Creamy and delicious, I slurped away at mine as if it were the best thing I'd ever tasted in my life. It. Was.

This was the famous *Mouth Of Truth*. As the story goes, prisoners were led to the Mouth Of Truth and asked if they were guilty of the crime for which they were accused. Whether they were guilty or not, the soldiers would occasionally stand behind the *Mouth Of Truth* and choose a prisoner to chop their hand off, in order to keep the other prisoners believers in the process. If your hand was chopped off, you were obviously guilty. The picture on the right was an artist's rendition (I don't remember which artist) of the story, which is older than anything in America, I trust. Although archaic, I can  only imagine that  the method worked quite efficiently. Just a thought.
 



In other news, I'm starting my first two tooth implants this week, with the last week having been a living Hell. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to know the details about this. Tooth Pain Is The Devil's Torture Of Us.




To Be Continued.....

Arrivo in Italia... And An Authentic Sicilian Meal

Flying American Airlines is always a crap shoot, in my opinion, which turned out to be the case this trip. We flew to Dallas then caught our plane to Madrid, Spain, which was late leaving and therefore, late arriving. As always, I was in the line that had the agent from Hell who went through everything but my vagina. Additionally, in Madrid the customs lines were long and very slow, which caused us to miss our connecting flight to Rome, meaning we had to walk to the other end of the airport and stand in yet another line for an hour while we were issued new tickets for the next flight. After running our tootsies off, we were able to just barely make the next flight to Rome, which all caused us to be approximately 3 hours late arriving in Rome. Supposedly, a driver was waiting to take us to the apartment but he'd apparently given up after 2 hours. So, we hailed a taxi, which was a hair-raising experience we eventually became accustomed to. It's okay though. Our *driver* clipped us for the ride we missed on the way back. How special, huh? Forty Euros each equates to $54.49 each.It was supposed to be 40.00 Euros for both of us together, each way.


Upon arrival, our host Gino, greeted us at the entrance to the building, which had great security. As he carried our bags up the lobby stairs (I'm pretty sure he was cursing at us in Sicilian, over the weight of our bags.) he was trying to tell us that he had invited some friends for dinner, in our honor. After a moment, I realized that he said he'd made a lovely, authentic Sicilian supper for us, having invited some friends who spoke better English than he. We were blown away by such splendid hospitality and immediately accepted his offer. Thank gawd there was an elevator to take us up to the *penthouse* on the 6th floor. I'm quite sure he would have expired trying to carry our heavy bags up six very long flights of stairs. He had to be 75 years old, at the very least. After getting us into the apartment he told us to be at his apartment for dinner at "Otto mezza", which means 8:30.

Desperate to wash off the long trip, we quickly took showers and got cleaned up for dinner. It was then that we discovered the odd system of hot and cold water. I'm pretty sure that there is no such thing as an in between, like warm. Uh-huh. After screaming and/or shivering-screaming through my brief shower, my friend took her turn at it with basically the same results. It was really almost funny for the first several days. Almost. But, we agreed the view from our terrace was well worth whatever inconveniences we encountered.

Most Romans live very simply, love very passionately, and eat with great passion as well. Gino kept asking why we didn't eat more and I couldn't find the Italian words to tell him I've been told to not eat so much for my entire life. I should have been born Italian. Life would have been so much less complicated...


So, we arrived downstairs at Gino's apartment on time and were warmly greeted by all four Italian men with a light kiss to each cheek. As we passed the dining room on our way out to his terrace, I noticed that Gino had set a gorgeous table for our dinner to be. We all sat outside for a while getting to know one another (the best we could), as their English was not much better than my broken Italian, with my friend speaking what little Spanish she knew. We drank wine and smoked Italian cigarettes (yes, I was being a bad girl and it was fun, okay?), trying to make sense to one another which made for a rather comical scene. In addition to Gino, there was Alfredo, Alberto and Roberto, all older Italian men that had apparently been friends forever. Not one of them was under 70 years old, but they were still delightful.


Since they couldn't make sense of our Americano names, they nicknamed me *Liza* (Leeza) and my friend became *Charlotta*, which we stuck with for the entire trip. It was really a kick being called Liza but when we returned home, I turned back into Cinderella Liz. Anyway, Gino is an incredible cook. Our dinner consisted of Bruschetta and Caprese Salad for starters. After a brief pause to the terrace for smokes, we dined on the most divine Sea Bass stuffed with Buffalo Mozarella and a potato dish I can''t for the life of me remember the name of, but it was delicious. For dessert Gino made the most delectable little fruit tarts and cannolis (can't remember how to spell it) and they were so delicious that I sneaked mine into my purse to devour later, which I did.


As it turned out, Gino was once the most famous journalist in all of Italy and had interviewed the likes of Sophia Loren and Gina Lolabriggida, among many others. Then he turned into a politico, which I avoided the subject of, like the plague. Our politics don't exactly mesh with the Italian's politics, right? 


Just when we thought all was said and done, Gino announced that his friend Alfredo would entertain us with magic and card tricks, which were truly the best I've ever seen. We giggled like little school girls. Let me just say that I wouldn't ever sit down to play cards with the guy. Ever. His magic tricks were hilarious because he made them so. Then, Roberto entertained us by playing Italian songs on his Chitarra (guitar) as we all sipped the marvelous Limoncello (digestivo or aperitif) that Gino himself had made. I didn't realize that it would be the beginning of yet another addiction, but it is now my newest passion. Limoncella is to die for and if I drank nothing else, I'm quite certain my teeth would all fall out and I'd weigh over two hundred pounds. It is made from large Amalfi lemons, sugar, and vodka. Nothing fattening there, right? O mio dio!


I might have stood up and sang a song (or two) in a capella, but it's a fuzzy memory at this point. It's also a bit fuzzy as to whether or not I was applauded. It was then we realized we were ready for bed, so we bid good night to all and made our way up to the top floor, where sleep was difficult to find due to the jet lag. Still, the first day of our trip to Rome was something to remember.

On another note, we were both absolutely certain that Gino had a bit of a crush on both of us. Uh-huh. Hey, I didn't want anyone to have have a crush on me, but it was a bit flattering in an *eewwwww factor* kind of way. It was rather like having your Dad's best friend have a crush on you. Gross. Ewwwwwwwww... I'm just saying...

I'm still waiting for my friend's pictures, but will go ahead and post this without them. 




I'm so thrilled to see that Blogger has once again tried to fix things that are not broken. It definitely ruins enhances my whole blogger experience. Thanks for nothing Blogger!

My Pool Of Pain And Serenity....

I thought I'd show you a picture of my friend's pool, where I swim. Since it's been reaching up around 100 degrees every day this week, the pool is finally not so shockingly cold. Before this week, I've had to slowly adjust  to the chilly water by dipping my feet in first, then sitting on the first step, then slowly going down to the next step... It was really cold!


I start out with a couple of laps doing a breast stroke, then I do the same stroke on my back for 2 laps, then I do a frog kinda thing for a couple of laps. The best thing I've found so far is treading water at the deep end of the pool. It really gives you an amazingly good workout. Then, I have to retreat to my towel for a while to rest. So, I read my book for a bit then go back in to do it all over again, as many times as I can. I'm trying to spend at least 2 hours per day in the pool, hoping this will speed up the process of getting in shape.


I actually do have a reason for all this aside from getting healthier. I'm planning a trip to Italy in the Fall and I want to be able to stay up with the healthy girlfriend I'm going with. She's used to hiking up mountains, so I really have to be able to keep up and there is a lot of walking to be done in Rome and its surrounding areas...

I think I've got just enough time to get into shape. Oh, and Mr. Snoots' 40 year high school reunion is next month, so I have to look good for that.