All In a Day

In one day, we sailed the Bosphorus Strait to the Black Sea, ate lunch in Asia, and had dinner overlooking the Sea of Marmara. Istanbul is wonderful.

Switzerland

The view from our hotel room is okay, I guess (!).

Travel Can Remain Surprising

Annecy, France:  One of our top travel surprises ever! In driving from Provence to the Lauterbrunnen Valley in Switzerland, we looked at a map, picked the halfway point of Annecy, checked a guidebook to see if it looked like a decent lunch stop, and plugged the town into the GPS. I could not believe how impossibly beautiful it was, set on the shores of a clear, alpine lake and with a river running through town. Annecy was utterly delightful and filled with eye candy at every turn.

Sent from my iPhone

Provence Finale

Our final day in Provence was my favorite. After sleeping in, we stepped out our hotel front door and directly into the Wednesday market. While smaller than the others we've visited, the market was still a nice, morning stroll, and we still managed to find a few unique items. After collecting our standard lunch fare and picnicking by the town's river, off we went for a drive along the Cote du Rhone wine trail. We visited cute villages and several wineries, lucking into a fantastic, vineyard tour at our final stop, Domaine du Mourchon. The proprietor spent almost three hours with our group of 16 or so, explaining all sorts of viticulture aspects, then providing tastings of each of his wines. Nathan learned all he'd been hoping to learn about the Cote du Rhone wines.

Tomorrow means lunch in lakeside Annecy, then on to Switzerland, where the forecast is for rain and cold.

The Rhythm of Provence

Our days have taken on a relaxed rhythm of sleeping in just a little, heading out to a Provençal market in the mornings (and finding coffee and a croissant), enjoying the market while hunting down a baguette, cheese, sausage, fruit, and cookies, and finding a shady, pretty picnic spot to rest our aching feet and enjoy our market spoils. For the afternoon, we spend some time enjoying a couple of new towns and driving through the countryside, then return to that night's hotel to relax by the pool before dinner. We are enjoying the slower pace...and the food!
This photo is of our picnic spot today - a beautiful, turquoise, clear river in the town of Vaison-la-Romaine.

Just a Photo

Pretty L'isle-sur-la-Sorgue, our home for the next couple of nights.

Paddling Around

Today we drove along France's Grand Canyon (du Verdon), and at the end of it all, we rented a paddleboat to go up the canyon a short ways. While seeing the canyon and river from above was spectacular, I preferred the peacefulness of being on the water and enjoying the limestone cliffs up close, complete with a waterfall and mountain goat sighting.

Yep, Pretty as we Thought

Before getting on the road to France we checked out the port again. Postcard perfect. Then we drove 5 kilometers along a windy, coastal road to Portofino, mainly because just the name calls up visions of Hollywood glamour. A quick stroll through town gave us the highlights of this small, pretty village with a mega-yacht filled harbor. No pics to post now of Portofino - domani, domani. And I'm using "domani" in the classic, Italian tradition to mean much later or never.

Back at the Castle

We are on the road and stopped for the night in the gorgeous, seaside town of Santa Margherita Ligure. Arriving after dark, we could only guess at how pretty the town is based on our lovely walk along the harbor to dinner. We love being in "the nord," where we get a change of pace food wise...and where we can actually speak and understand Italian. Tonight, dinner on the Italian Riviera and sleeping in a converted castle; tomorrow, French Riviera, here we come.

Photo Class on the Amalfi Coast

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Sorrento that was also a photography class taught by Renee Williams and with Beth Moskal assisting her (to all my D.C. friends, Beth is moving to D.C. in a few weeks and will be setting up her photography business - she's fabulous, so keep her in mind for your family photos - click on her name here to reach her website!). Nathan and I upgraded our camera soon after moving to Italy, and we both love to take photos of our travels. I have a part time job just sorting, editing, and labeling all the photos we take...and boy am I behind right now! Below are a few of my favorites from the trip...

And just for fun...in case you can't make out the words on the blue part...this is a Titti Dispenser - and only 1euro, too!

Finally, A Town Loony

Oops - I only today realized that I hadn't finished up my Lake Como series. We had one final day on the lake, which we'd thought we'd spend going to the town of Verona. Then we realized it was almost two hours away, so instead, we slept in. Then, feeling like we needed to actually make use of one last day but with me hobbling from our hike the day before, we elected to visit the lake town of Aregno - mainly because the ferry ride was almost an hour. I was quite excited to be doing something that involved sitting down for an entire hour. The appeal in Aregno was a cable car up, up, up to the hill top town of Pigra. After getting off the ferry and rushing to the cable car (because it only runs on the half hour), we found that it was closed until 2pm, a fact I later remembered reading and actually writing down on my "Things to Do on Lake Como" list. I blame the pain in my calves for pushing out all other rational thought. A nice, little lunch in Aregno's small piazza occupied our time before we headed back to the terrifying cable car. We lurched our way up the first few yards, making all of us in the cable car rethink the decision to be in it.

But after a little ride with phenomenal views, we reached Pigra. Absolutely nothing going on there. Nothing at all. With one major exception. This guy kept rollerblading around town blowing some sort of toy horn contraption. We were delighted to dub him the Town Loony. I still long for one of the best TV shows ever, "Gilmore Girls," so we often have names for people who seem to be right out of Stars Hollow. Pigra's Town Loony is one such character. We're pretty sure we found his house as well, but sadly, I did not get a good photo. It was decorated with all kinds of animal skulls and signs about dinosaurs...and I almost forgot about the odd, ghost figure hung up by a noose.

Pigra itself seemed to have lots of artsy type residents as many of the yards had sculptures and such hanging about. Other than that, there was a nice trail (that I think may have actually been a cowpath) that wandered thru some woods on top of the mountain and opened up to one, nice viewpoint. But really, the best activity in Pigra is sitting on this bench overlooking the lake vista while listening to the off-key horn of Town Loony. And that completed our wonderful, relaxing getaway on Lake Como, surely one of the most beautiful spots in Italy.

Varenna Morning, Star Wars Afternoon

Colorful, beautiful, Varenna

Our favorite day on Lake Como, in part due to a full day of blue skies, we spent mostly in the village of Varenna. Lovely, lovely Varenna. We both agreed that this charming village was our favorite. Where Bellagio makes no apologies for catering to tourists and Menaggio seems to do so under duress, Varenna fills the gap in between perfectly with a charming mix of small town, local life along with some lovely cafes and a small number of artsy shops. Add to this a short, pretty boardwalk that curves the coastline from the ferry landing around a small point to a movie set worthy, colorful collage of buildings, plus a couple of villas open to the public, a large piazza, and some hikes in the hills and you've got a near perfect town. We started with a stroll along the waterfront, taking in the lake on a brilliant day and stopping every few feet for yet another photo, then we made our way along narrow, neighborhood alleys and up into the pretty piazza. There, we found a map of town which showed a loop road going up to a castle in the hamlet of Vezio. Somewhere, either the map or a road sign, we noticed the castle was only a 15 minute walk. Taking into consideration the disaster of our Greece hike added to my recent tendency to become out of breath by doing something as strenuous as walking to the bathroom, we decided that 30 minutes was a reasonable assumption for us.

View from Villa Monastero

Fifteen minutes later, we had just barely turned off the flat road and onto the pedestrian path sloping up. The path headed up with slight curves, cutting off most of the switchbacks that the smart people (with cars) use. We headed up, up, up. And then up some more. Until our path ended at the road, and we had no idea which way to go. Thankfully, we found a nice lady working in her yard to point us toward the castello, and at our next crossroads, ran into yet another friendly local out for a stroll. And so we headed up some more. Until we reached a sign pointing us off the road we'd joined and onto yet another pedestrian path that headed down. This path was quite easy and led us past a pretty waterfall where we relaxed by practicing our photography skills in attempting to take photos where the water looks all soft and cloud-like and glowy. After this little rest, it was up again, but this time, helpful signs told us just how close we were, and we quickly landed in the tiny, hilltop village of Vezio.

Due to exhaustion, I had no desire to wander the few streets of Vezio, so instead, we headed straight for the castle, and for some reason, after almost two hours of hiking, didn't go in. It was a classic example of the phrase "It's the journey, not the destination." From the castle, which probably had stunning views of the entire lake, but I don't really know, there were two paths back down to Varenna. One was clearly marked Varenna and ferries with an arrow. The other looked a little sketchier, said it went in the "direction" of Varenna, but also was supposed to go by a waterfall. We picked that one. I regretted it at the no turning back point, which was after about 10 minutes of carefully picking my way down a little maintained, narrow path of rocks with a steep drop off the side. Thankfully, this ended soon, and we found ourselves in a bucolic scene of olive groves, sloping path, and expansive lake views. Back in Varenna, we settled into a lakefront Creperie for a delicious lunch and even more delicious, dessert crepes. My reward for a much more challenging hike than we'd planned.

Cafe in Paradise

With the afternoon passing a little too quickly, we found ourselves in a bit of a time crunch trying to grab a ferry down to the town of Lenno, where we hoped to visit the Villa Barbianello. Anyone recognize the villa? It was used for scenes in both Star Wars: Episode 2 Attack of the Clones and Casino Royale. I'd read that the walk to the villa is along a nice, 1 km path, but the best approach is via water taxi. As we arrived in Lenno, we realized that we had very little time to actually reach the villa, tour it, then make our way back to the ferry for the last ferry out of town. We made it to the every 30 minute, water taxi with about one minute to spare and found ourselves on a nice boat ride around the small peninsula, giving us a stunning view of the Villa. As we arrived, we found the last tour of the day had already started and while the lady selling entrance tickets offered to call to see if we could run up and join it, we waved her off. Unfortunately. I had not read about the interior of the villa until we were strolling the small garden area and reading the brochure we got at the entrance. The interior sounded fascinating, full of items collected by the previous owner in his very adventurous life of travel. But since I could barely walk at this point due to sore calves from our morning hike, I couldn't work up too much regret. We walked around the gardens, which were nothing fancy after seeing Villa Carlotta the day before, and headed back to the ferry to return to Bellagio and enjoy a fabulous dinner before turning in early after our active day.

Towns and Villas

Our first day on Lake Como dawned grey and misty, but by the time we caught our ferry over to Menaggio, blue skies were appearing! Menaggio was a sleepy town with a lovely, waterfront walk, complete with restaurant filled piazza. My favorite meal of our entire trip was here with one of the most delicious pastas I've ever eaten, followed up with a stop at a different restaurant for warm chocolate cake and gelato. With some time to kill before our ferry out of town, we decided to take a walk up past the town. Menaggio seems to have the most complete description of hill walks, with a fancy little map and board posted right at the ferry landing. We went up narrow alleys and stairs, saw some beautiful views looking down the lake, then headed back down to the ferry landing to get over to Villa Carlotta.

Lake Como is lined with elegant villas and gardens, some public, most private. Villa Carlotta has some of the most beautiful gardens and has somehow managed to swing their very own ferry landing, despite their being one to the north in Cadenabbia and to the south in Tremezzo, both only a short walk away. (We were quite thankful for the immediate access though when our blue skies turned to heavy downpour just at the end of our visit). The villa itself was built in 1745, but is named and known for it's owner 100 years later, Duchess Carlotta (Charlotte), who was given the villa as a wedding present from her mother. Those were the good ole days. The gardens have become famous for it's profusion of rhododendron (not blooming during our visit) and azaleas (blooming strong), and pathways wind and dip between stands of flowering trees and shrubs to viewpoints of the lake. I was especially enchanted with the names found in the garden, such as the Rhododendron Forest, the Theatre of Greenery, and Fern Valley. Thankfully, the rain held off until we were past Fern Valley and nearing the exit. With rain showing no sign of letting up, we headed back to Bellagio for a little riposo (rest) before dinner and called it an early night.

Heaven on Earth

"The precise location of heaven on earth has never been established, but it may very well be right here."

Herb Caen, writing about Lake Como

I could not agree more. We just spent a long weekend in that beautiful place, and I could not believe just how quickly we relaxed. Our trip up there was more challenging than expected. While not far from the Milan airport in distance, the travel is a literal journey of planes, trains, and automobiles. Our flight landed in Milan just before 6pm. After a 25 minute wait for the "every 7 minute" shuttle bus to Terminal 1, we then caught an express train to the town of Saronno. There, we switched to another train to the town of Como. We reached the lake, but not our final destination of Bellagio, a lake town about halfway up. Our original plan involved a ferry from Como to the town of Bellagio, but upon arrival in Como, we discovered we'd missed the last ferry by about 20 minutes. We headed back to the bus station to see if there were any buses, and found the bus ticket counter closed. Actually, as we walked up to the counter, the ticket man closed his shades. We were that close to success. Upon asking a couple of locals, we were informed that we'd have to take a taxi (for the more than an hour drive!). But the bus schedule listed one final bus going to Bellagio. Problem was that we had no tickets. A quirk of Italy is that one cannot buy tickets on the transportation one is taking. Tickets are sold at transportation offices or sometimes at newsstands and tabacco shops. Don't get me started on the logic of having transportation running at times when all places to buy tickets for said transportation are closed. We threw ourselves on the mercy of the bus driver, and he waved us aboard. The night became dark and stormy as we wove our way along a lakeside drive that must surely be stunning by daylight. After about 40 minutes, with only one other passenger left on board, the driver pulled up to the side of the road in a dark town, flipped on all the bus lights, and told us to go into the bar to buy tickets. We were clearly not the first tourists to have messed up the ticketing process.

Bellagio, like most of the other lake towns, is built on a rather steep hill. I'd picked our hotel with one thought in mind: proximity to the ferry landing. We wanted to visit the other lake towns on the convenient (usually) ferry system, and I did not want to be huffing and puffing my way up and down cobblestone pathways several times a day just for hotel stops. Our hotel room itself left a great deal to be desired, but we were less than a five minute walk to the passenger ferry and had an incredible view of the lake. Our hotel was like much of Italy, full of faded grandeur and glory. But in super chic Bellagio, even faded glory comes with a hefty price tag. In the middle of the lake is a trio of the most visited (touristed) towns, Bellagio, Varenna, and Menaggio. Bellagio is probably the most touristy, teeming with jewelry and expensive clothing shops. The town also offers the widest variety of restaurants and seems to have the most going on it, while still remaining a small town. We spent our first morning walking around Bellagio, visiting those jewelry shops and scoring a handmade silver spoon made out of an antique hairpin coming from the traditional headdresses of Bellagio costumes. When my niece was born, my sister's mother-in-law gave her a gift of a silver spoon with a little note saying, "Every child should be born with a silver spoon." The idea has captivated me ever since because every child should be born with love and opportunity surrounding him or her, and I love this idea manifested into an actual silver spoon...so we jumped at the chance of giving our Baby Girl a silver spoon with a story behind it.

We also had to spend the morning taking care of a little chore, and an embarrassing one at that. First, I would like to point out that while I am not some huge, adventure traveler, I've been traveling pretty regularly for about 20 years now. I haven't seen and done it all, and every trip still gets me excited, but traveling is no longer a novelty. I know what clothes to bring, what shoes are going to work for me, and I keep a stocked toiletry kit on hand. Over the years, I might have forgotten a sweater, a rain jacket, or a charging cord, but never something really important...until now. As I unpacked, I found, to my horror, that I'd not packed a single pair of underwear for this four night trip. Not a one. In small town Italy, one may not just run to the corner WalMart or even something like a CVS, so I had an important goal for our first morning. Thankfully, we quickly lucked onto a small shop of intimates - these stores are stocked with boxes behind a counter. You don't just flip through some racks of clothes and pick out what you need; instead, you ask for your desired item, color, style, and size. I looked up on google translate the word for "panty," and strode confidently into the store to ask the little old lady behind the counter for such a thing. Her little old husband came shuffling over and, after asking if I wanted naturale or nero (black), pulled out a pair of pantyhose. I said no, no, no and most likely began rolling my eyes around the store wildly before noticing a box behind the counter with a picture of underwear on it. I gave up on speaking and just began pointing. The little old lady asked my measurement while the little old man began pulling pair after pair out of boxes in a variety of natural, black, and white colors. In desperation, I grabbed the closest pair and tried to do a quick, yet discreet, hold up to the body measurement and just ended up buying those. They worked out, and thankfully, we found another store later in the day where I could supplement my initial purchase with a little less embarrassment. And for anyone else who finds themselves in the same predicament in Italy, what you want to buy are "slip." When the lady in the second store asked me if I wanted "slip" (pronounced "sleep"), I thought she was speaking English to me and asking if I wanted pajamas.

You should also know that Bellagio, the hotel of the same name in Las Vegas, does not resemble the town in the slightest. However, if you've seen the Chihuly glass ceiling sculpture in the hotel, and compare it to the actual gardens that grace the villas lining the lakefront, then the sculpture name, Fiori di Como - Flowers of Como, is absolutely perfect. That sculpture is a breathtaking translation of the actual beauty found on Lake Como, which we finally began to explore with sunny skies appearing and a successful hunt for undergarments behind us.

New Year's Eve Flashback

There is nothing like posting a New Year's Eve video in April, right? I tried to do this way back in January. It was my first attempt at uploading a video to YouTube, and things did not go well. After hours of waiting for the upload to complete, I finally gave up and went to bed...and pretty much forgot I'd ever even tried to show you all our phenomenal New Year's Eve here in Naples! Four months later, I thought to check and found the video all waiting for me on my YouTube channel. The link is below. Last time I tried to link to a video (not my own), you Americans could not open it. So I don't know if this will work out for you either. If so, then great - you can see why Naples is one of THE BEST places to ever spend a New Year's Eve. If not, then imagine this: We are on top of a small mountain (created by a volcanic eruption in the 1500s) with a 200 degree or so view that includes Arco Felice, Pozzuoli, Naples, the Sorrentine Peninsula, Capri (but it's dark, so you can't really see it or make out their fireworks unless you know exactly where to look), Lucrino, Baia, Capo Miseno, Bacoli, Monte di Procida, the islands of Procida and Ischia, and Monterusciello. Fireworks bursting at every single point as the camera pans around. Quantity over quality, baby. These aren't the best shows in the world, but since every one and his brother are shooting them off their balconies, from their yards, and from piazzas, the sheer volume IS the show. You'll hear a friend's voice in the background, and through my clever cinematic skills (aka sheer, dumb luck) the video ends just as he says, "Only in Naples." True that.

Buona Pasqua a Tutti!

I love this photo of our kitchen during the food prep. How Italian does this look!

Happy Easter, Y'all! As you might imagine, Easter is a big deal in Italy. Good Friday is a day where many towns, especially in the south, have processions carrying religious figures or floats (we attended one, which I'll post about in a few days). Today, of course, is Easter, but Italians take the holiday one step further with La Pasquetta - Little Easter - the Monday after Easter. A long weekend of festas. We had prepared for no celebrations at all - no chocolate, no special food for dinner, no plans to visit friends, no Easter baskets. Just church and home. But the beauty of Italy is that sometimes, all you have to do is drive down a short road to come up with a feast.

With our church folks asking us what we had planned for Easter, and our one word response of "sofa" as the reply, I think we both started feeling a bit inferior in our planning. Nothing says "Christ is Risen" like a whole bunch of food, after all. Nathan decided to stop on the way home and pick up some mussels from a roadside stand. A few more yards down the road, we passed a stand selling bread. That was my cue to call for a stop, and when I hopped out to make our purchase, we hit jackpot with some beans and roasted artichokes as well. Thankfully, we had friends riding home from church with us because it's near impossible to get our roadside food purchase amounts down to fit a two person family. In this case, we'd ended up with 2 kilos of mussels, a kilo of beans, five roasted artichokes, and two loaves of bread. All for under 15euros. We were able to share the spoils with our friends and eliminate half the food going into our trash bin. Back at home, Nathan worked his kitchen magic, cooking the mussels in a sauce of butter, thyme, white wine, shallots, and fresh lemon juice, throwing some pasta in a pot and cooking up a quick sauce of sage from our recently planted herb garden in some melted butter, and sauteing the beans. Our planned lunch of soup out of can instead became a feast fit for an elaborate dinner. A Buona Pasqua indeed.

Joining the Community

Two weekends ago, I became an official member of our neighborhood association. With a little membership card to prove it and all. The Association had a fundraiser in the piazza by our home. Down by the seafront, there is a community swimming pool under construction. It's been under construction since we moved in. The exterior of the building is gorgeous, all white, no crumbling, porthole windows [use your imagination since I don't feel like walking the block down there to take a photo]. But after all this time, construction is still not complete. Next to the swimming pool is the saddest little playground you've ever seen. A couple of grass covered, rusting rides that wouldn't have met U.S. safety standards 25 years ago. Grass choked out by weeds. Frames of former benches. It has the potential to be a darling little park, other than the fact that it's bordered on one side by a busy road and the other by a railway, but we just can't have everything. Anyway, the fundraiser was for these two places. I filled out my card, got my proper tax receipt, and don't forget, my membership card. I had gone to the fundraiser with friends from up the road who know about half the people in town, so we were kept busy chatting. Actually, they chatted. I did my best to just understand what was being said. We headed over for food and found that the dozens of little children had snaked all the hotdogs  and two huge bowls of pasta, leaving only potato chips and grilled lamb behind. I eat lamb when I'm in countries like Morocco or Greece. But otherwise, I tend to picture a cute, fuzzy, little thing that I want to pet. And I have absolutely no problem with the hypocrisy in my meat eating habits. Anyway, the upshot is that what we had left to eat were potato chips. Since I'd just paid 10euros and all, I made sure to eat my 10euros worth of chips. And Coca-Cola. Then dessert came out. Have you ever seen grown-ups shoving one another to get to dessert? Not only have I seen it, I participated. But I got a piece of the chocolate dessert. And the cookie, and the lemon, and about three other kinds as well. This old man next to me thought he might beat me out when we both went for the chocolate at the same time. He was mistaken. I'm not sure how well the fundraiser did, but when I just walked down to the Tabacchi to pay my gas bill, construction workers were once again on the job. Better yet, one fellow we talked to said the Association hopes to do more such community gatherings. We should be fully integrated into the community about the time we get on the plane back to America.

The Luxury of Running Hot Water

We have hot water. At last, at last. I can turn on the tap, and hot water comes out. At any time of the day or night. Whenever I want hot water, it's there. This is big news in our household. For the last four months, we have had no such option. When our hot water went out a few months ago, we called our landlord who sent over a repairman, Pasquale. After Pasquale left, we had hot water for approximately seven hours. Mind you, this was in the middle of winter, and our house is heated by radiators. We have on-demand water from the city, rather than a huge, hot water tank, and our "caldaia," (hot water heater) is located outside our home. In order to get hot water, we would put on coats/rain jackets/etc., go outside, perform a series of button pressings in no particular order, turn the thing on and off, wait, press some more buttons, then hear the heater fire up.

So after Pasquale's first, failed visit we did not call our landlord back immediately. Mainly we spent a week arguing...I mean, discussing...who was going to call our landlord back (a common...discussion...in our household), then we went on vacation to Germany for 10 days, then another a week on the "Whose gonna call" discussion. Nathan's position is that I speak better Italian, and I'm the one with the home schedule that the workmen must work around. My position is that we currently live in a very patriarchal society, and while our landlord likes me very much, he wants to conduct business with the man of the house. Plus, my accent is difficult for him to understand, in both Italian and English. I can call him, say something, he tells me he doesn't understand, we go around in a circle for awhile before hanging up. Nathan will then call him right back and say the exact same thing. And voila. Understanding. It's enormously frustrating. One of us eventually called our landlord and Pasquale returned to get the hot water working again...for about six hours.

In January, as I was spending all my time on the sofa, our landlord sent one of his cousins who is a landscaper to take out some dead trees in yard, do some pruning, etc. While pruning around an old, abandoned tank on one of our terraces, one of the workmen cut a tube on this tank, possibly an old gas tank. This necessitated all sorts of other people called in to see if there might now be a greater problem, and the consensus was, no problem. I then noticed a bunch of water seeping down our garage wall and pooling all over the floor. I called the landscaper, our landlady who was here at the time, and the general handymen who are here often to the garage to see this. The ceiling was starting to bubble and crack as well. General consensus, no problem. So for the last four months, when I wanted to take a shower or wash dishes, there was a 20 minute dance performed with the caldaia. And heaven forbid we close up the house for the evening before showers and dishes, because once the house is closed up, we just don't feel like opening it all back up only to spend 20 minutes running in and out trying to get some hot water running.

Fast forward. Pasquale returns for about the sixth time to work on the caldaia, and I call a friend on the phone to translate what he's telling me. The problem is a water leak in the pipes, so the caldaia doesn't always have water to heat. I show Pasquale the garage, where the water in the garage is now causing the ceiling to actually fall in and some electrical box to start leaking brown spots. Pasquale also thinks this is a problem, so I try to get him to call our landlord and tell him. He doesn't want to. I can't believe that I'm now having the same argument...discussion...with Pasquale that I have with my own husband. I make the call. It goes as most of my phone calls go, and ends with my landlord saying, "I do not understand you. I'll call Pasquale." Back come the original workmen accompanied by our landlord and his cousin. Yes, there IS in fact a problem. The pipe that serves the caldaia is leaking. After ripping out the garage wall, they cannot access the leak and start eyeballing my front terrace and the tile inside my house, where the pipe comes up from the garage. I point out that if they rip into these places, and the leak isn't there, they'll next have to move onto my walls. I'd like to avoid ripping the house down in search of the leak. An hour passes with much discussion and phone calls on what they will do. They decide to run a new pipe instead. I think this is a stellar decision. My landlord then tells me that Pasquale will arrive in the afternoon to fix the hot water. I wait, Pasquale does not come. I call my landlord. He says Pasquale will come tomorrow. I wait, Pasquale does not come. This goes on for three days. I give up and decide I will never have hot water again, and I must accept this fate. And Pasquale comes. And WE HAVE HOT WATER! It's worked for two full days now. Two days of hot water. Life is good.

Scully, the Crazy Dog

He's a darn cute, little fuzzbucket.

Nathan feels that Crazy Dog has been absent from his fans for too long. Thus, this post is all about him. Scully continues to love Italy. He guards the perimeter of our house like a happy, fuzzy, gentle attack bear. Workmen (who are here often) and our landlord still ask at every single visit to the house: "The dog will eat me?" While I have repeatedly assured them that the dog will not eat them, and I desperately hope that what they're actually trying to ask is if he'll "bite" them, because otherwise, where on earth did they get their knowledge of house dogs...I forgot where I was going...oh, I have repeatedly assured them that he will not, in fact, eat them, but because our little Crazy can look scary and loves, loves, loves to sniff private parts extensively, I can see how they're a bit afraid.

With our recent news, we have wondered what Scully senses. He knows something is different and has turned into a little cuddlebug. His favorite thing in life used to be his toys, but now, his favorite thing is cuddling. Hugs, kisses, lying on the sofa to be my naptime pillow, sleeping with me in the mornings after Nathan has left. He's always been a sweet dog, but now, even more so. Unless you're a stranger walking by our house on the street. Or a cat. Then, he's a snarling, growling beast. I shudder to think about how we're going to manage back in the U.S. This house is our ninth in sixteen years (plus one six month residence in a hotel, so really, tenth), and it is the first with a fenced yard. We don't gravitate towards suburbia, where one might find a home rental with a fenced yard. But now, we may have to reconsider. That's right. We wouldn't consider moving to suburbia for our child, but for our dog, yes. If we treat our child anything like our dog, we are going to have one indulged, spoiled brat on our hands. Two, if we include Crazy on that list. Note to self: Do not spoil child, do not spoil child, do not spoil child.

I write this as I look out onto our terrace and see dog toys strewn everywhere. The dog has roughly 55 toys. The dog. But remember, toys used to be his favorite thing, so we just couldn't resist. Anything that squeaks and he can flop around and hit himself in the face is a winner with him (the moniker Crazy Dog is not in jest), but we have hit the jackpot. On our recent trip to the States, I stopped into our favorite, dog toy store in Alexandria, VA (The Dog Park on King Street), and there, I found a supersonic toy. The squeaker squeaks at a frequency that Scully can hear but we cannot. Yippee! So now, when I'm on the phone or friends come over, and Scully begins to act like a two year old wanting attention by squeaking his toy right-in-my-face, I can just sit back and continue my discussion. Hah! After four years, I have outsmarted the dog. I am going to be a fantastic mother.

It's the "Island of Misfit Toys."

Where's Waldo...or...I'm Back

I read a load of blogs. It's my reading equivalent of reality TV. When blogs that normally post quite often go dark, I worry about those people. Are they okay? Did they have a family tragedy? They just disappeared from my life with no warning, no time for me to prepare myself. I spend days, weeks even, wondering how they are, what they're doing, when they will come back to me. And then I went and did the same thing. Just disappeared. My family and friends know why, and while I know I have a few readers out there who are perfect strangers to me, I honestly didn't think there were that many of you. I'm not some blog saavy writer doing this for money, so while I do take a look at the number of page views, I don't often look at where that traffic is coming from or what search you put into google and ended up at In Search Of Gelato. Then my husband came home last night and told a little story. He ran into a guy a couple of days ago who recognized him, but neither of them could figure out from where. The following day, the guy showed up at my husband's office with the words, "Your wife writes a blog, doesn't she?" So...hello, stranger. I decided it was past time for an update. Plus, my aunt is NEVER going to leave me alone about it. I really don't know what she's going to do when we move away from Italy.

Here's the deal. I spent the time from my last update and most of February lying on the sofa. Yep, just lying on the sofa. No big trip (although we did go to Barcelona for a weekend - more on that later), no great explorations of Bella Napoli, not a darn thing. Just lying on the sofa thinking my misery would never end. No, not depression. I'm pregnant. While this is good, albeit incredibly surprising, news, I am not some happy, symptom free, pregnant lady who dances her way through pregnancy with an adorable, little baby bump, glowing skin, and feeling "the best I've ever felt in my life" (an exact quote from several women I've run into, once I got off the sofa, that is). You would think that spending so much time lying on the sofa would have been conducive to picking up the laptop and writing a blog every now and then. However, some days I didn't even feel like picking up the remote control to the TV or holding a book, so sitting up, holding a laptop, and using mental energy for something other than not getting sick was just not possible. But now I'm medicated, so life is good.

The meds came just in time for a trip back to the U.S. I made it through a 12 hour flight and got to eat and shop my little heart out for nine days. We spent a few days with family and a few days in our old hometown of Alexandria, VA while Nathan did some work and I ate my way up and down historic, King Street. Nights were spent catching up with old friends at great restaurants (food, a major theme of our trip "home"). We are home now, and our cold winter has turned into a gorgeous spring with sunny, warmish days. I like to sit outside on our front terrace and look at the little sliver of ocean view from this level (for some reason, I haven't been using the Glass House - probably because it's a bit far from the bathroom and the kitchen, my two favorite places in recent weeks). Sitting outside means I don't have to see the clutter and dirt that has accumulated in our house in two months of no cleaning or picking up of stuff. I used to be the type of housekeeper who could have any person drop by at any time on any day and find an immaculate house. We could invite friends to dinner with no notice whatsoever and not have to rush home and "clean" by throwing stuff into closets. No more, no more. While the meds keep the nausea down, at four months along, my energy levels are still pretty low. People kept telling me at my 10 weeks mark, "Only a couple of weeks before the nausea and tiredness end." Over and over, I heard, "Don't worry, it will be over soon." I now know that they were LIARS. Harsh, but true.

Anyway, I'm back now and hope to have the energy to stay updated more normally. We're planning a spring of heavy travel to maximize our time before I hit the point where I'm too big and tired to do anything else. We went to Barcelona just after my previous post in mid-January and my heavy sickness began the day of our return from Barcelona. But one day soon I may actually download those pictures from our digital camera and share a few here. Probably.