An Ocean, an Airplane, and a View from a Cockpit

Three years ago our family vacationed in Italy, and while we have so many wonderful memories of that trip, one of the most memorable occurred before we even got there ...

The story begins when we purchased our tickets for the trip using frequent flyer miles. Since Air France was having a special promotion, all five of us were able to fly business class ... a first for us. But there was a snag. Because airlines release a limited number of free seats, the five of us could not get seats on the same flight. So, my husband and the two older boys left on an earlier flight, and Timothy and I followed on another Air France flight an hour and a half later. We planned to meet at the Baggage Claim in Rome.

When we boarded our flight Timothy, who is passionate about planes, was clutching a drawing of our Air France flight. The flight attendant saw the drawing and promised to give it to the pilot later. The two of us then settled down for a quiet evening, all the more so considering there were (maybe) seven people in business class. I was the only female, Timothy was the only child, and we were treated well: champagne upon boarding (that is, champagne for me, Fanta for the bambino), toiletry packs (mouthwash, toothpaste, toothbrush, warm socks, ear plugs), plush blankets, fluffy pillows, a small pouch containing games/toys for our little guy, and seats that reclined to form makeshift beds.

Around midnight the flight attendant woke us up with an invitation from the pilot to come visit the cockpit. So, with everyone still sleeping, we were quietly escorted up the aisle. It was a surreal moment. We were flying above the clouds, somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, with a magnificent view of a full moon hanging right outside the window. It was quiet. It was magical.

And conversation wasn't necessary. Sometimes it is enough to stand in awe of beauty, and share a moment without exchanging any words at all.

A copy of Timothy's drawing.
The original is probably taped on an instrument panel
of an Air France jet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

Letters to Juliet ... Really

I have traveled all over Italy, visiting big cities (Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples) and small towns (Bassano, Padova, Assisi). I've traveled the winding roads along the Amalfi Coast, hiked through the Dolomites, and sailed to Capri. I've watched the sun rising behind a row of cypress trees, heard the rain pattering on ancient cobblestone streets, and marveled at bright red geraniums spilling over flower boxes, balconies, and windows.

But in all the boot that is Italy, my favorite place is Verona.

Verona is where my mother is from. It is the place where I rode with my Zio took on the back of his vespa, where my Nonna took me to my first opera, where I had my First Communion. Verona is where I brought my husband a few years after we were married and, later, our three sons.

And Verona is the perfect city for love; after all, it is the setting of Shakespeare's tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet -- a tale based on the Capulets and the Montagues who were prominent families of Verona.

Today, you can visit Juliet's balcony.

You can also see Juliet's statue,

and for good luck you can even touch Juliet's ...
well, I'll let my zio Luciano demonstrate.

A couple of years ago a very charming movie, Letters to Juliet, was filmed in and around Verona.

In the movie, Sophie is an aspiring writer who meets a group of women known as Juliet's secretaries. These women gather to answer letters sent to Juliet asking for advice on love.

Now, what many may not realize is that Juliet's secretaries actually exist. For more than 70 years, Juliet's "secretaries" (volunteers from Verona) have collected the notes and letters which arrive in the mail by the thousands from all over the world . . . and every single letter containing a return address is answered.

So, if you are seeking advice on all matters concerning amore, write to ...

Casa di Giulietta (Juliet’s House)

Via Cappello, 23

Verona, Italy

And as far as love stories go ... my parents met in Verona. They used to meet right under this clock tower.

And here, the same place 40 years later.

And under the clock tower, in the right hand corner, you will find a plaque containing
Shakespeare's description of Verona in Act III, Scene III of  Romeo and Juliet.

"There is no world without Verona walls ..."

The Cruise Review (In which we drove dune buggies in Cozumel and survived a family photo session)

After Christmas our entire family embarked on a five night Royal Caribbean Cruise to Cozumel, Mexico. Here's the lowdown on our adventure ...

The Cruise Workout

Mention the word cruise, and everyone immediately thinks endless buffets, decadent desserts, and mindless hours sunning by the pool. Ha! To be sure, there was food everywhere, but we were forever climbing stairs (no time to wait for elevators) and walking the entire length of the ship (elevators may go vertically, but they do NOT go horizontally). We worked out in the gym. We climbed the rock wall and played basketball. Heck, half the time I burned a gazillion calories just looking for someone -- ANYONE! -- from our group. My brand new FitBit Blaze was singing my praises.

Key West, Florida

Our first stop included a day in Key West, and after getting off the ship we decided to purchase tickets for a trolley tour and an overview of the city. Our tour guide told some really interesting stories, and after stopping for some obligatory photos (Ernest Hemingway's house, the Key West's southernmost tip, Sloppy Joe's Bar) the boys returned to the ship and Joe and I did a little more exploring on foot.


Also, Joe purchased the first souvenir of the trip -- a cigar, when he doesn't even smoke! But with the Penn State Fiesta Bowl the next day he was anticipating a celebratory smoke. Stay tuned ...

My Favorite Thing(s)

Mornings. I am an early riser, and I loved tip-toeing out of the cabin while the others were still sleeping, grabbing a cup of coffee, and finding a quiet place to watch the sun rise over the sea. I'd read, think, and grab another cup of coffee ... along with some yogurt and a delicious pastry. I think breakfast was another favorite thing.

Cozumel, Mexico

Our last day of 2017 was spent snorkeling in Mexico. The night before docking we decided, at the very last minute, to sign up for a shore excursion which included snorkeling, a dune buggy ride along the coast, and swimming at a secluded beach. Best decision ever. After meeting our group leader, we were assigned a bright, green dune buggy -- Joe drove, Nicholas rode shotgun, and Timothy and I had a blast in the back seat. We drove for while along the coast, stopped to snorkel, drove along the coast, stopped to swim, and drove back to the ship. Four hours of adventures. This was my favorite shore excursion ever.

And where was Jonathan? He decided to explore downtown Cozumel with Nonna and Nonno, who took him to a Tequila tasting and bought him a bottle of Tequila (see next entry). My parents are NOT boring.

When Your Sons are Young Men

As a mom, I'm still getting used to the idea of sons who are grown men. With one son living in Arkansas and the other away at college, I don't often get to see them do the things that young adults everywhere do. So, on the cruise I juggled feelings of pride, nostalgia, and amazement when Nonno bought the boys a beer or when I came across the two of them sitting at a Blackjack table :0


But before I thought about it too hard, Timothy would come tell me he entered a paper airplane contest or that he participated in a Mario Kart Super Smash Brothers video game tournament.


So it was all good.

Autism on the Seas

The main reason we chose to sail on Royal Caribbean's Brilliance of the Seas was because they partnered with a wonderful organization called Autism on the Seas, which provides support, respite, one-on-one assistance, and organized activities for children and their families living with autism or other disabilities. As many of you know, my sister's youngest child has autism, and this organization was invaluable in helping her family enjoy a vacation without being overwhelmed with Peter's needs. Some of what they provided included:  an assigned therapist who remained with them for the entire length of the cruise; expedited boarding (no line waiting) and a private muster drill (far removed from the noise and confusion); two 2-hour blocks of respite daily where the family was free to go off on their own; and on Cozumel, special transportation to a private beach with amenities and activities for all.


Most of all, I was so impressed how the volunteers from Autism on the Seas (yes, I said volunteers) were so incredibly giving of their support, smiles, patience, and love.


Here's what I know: you can keep any of the world's leaders, presidents, kings, or authority figures. Put any one of those therapists in charge and the world would be a better place.

The Family Photo

Before we even left home, Nonna made the announcement that on the cruise we would have a family photo taken. Or else. Now, on our last vacation you cannot even begin to imagine what a production the family photo caused: teens complained, kids ran around, the men huffed and puffed, and the photographer was truly overwhelmed.


But we must honor our parents, and as much as we dreaded the very idea of another photo, once we boarded the ship we set a time and coordinated outfits (which was almost foiled by the youngest family member who inexplicably did NOT want to wear pants at the time of the photo, until he was bribed with a piece of gum and all the balloon animals he wanted).


Amazingly (and we didn't know this beforehand), Autism on the Seas provided private photo sessions (as opposed to waiting in line) and I will be forever grateful to their leader Sandy for whipping us all into position, hanging on to our purses and phones, holding the iPad so Peter could see it, and generally turning what is usually torture for all involved into something that was quick and painless.


And we even have the photos to prove it ... Our Family, The Entire Family, Nonna and Nonno with their Grandchildren

These Shoes are Made for Dancing

When we rang in the New Year, we were sailing on the Gulf of Mexico under an almost full moon. There were New Year's Eve parties in the Centrum area and on the pool deck, along with pre-parties and a Broadway show earlier in the evening. And I did all of it wearing my brand new evening dress with the mile-long slit (which I altered to a more modest 3/4-mile slit) and ... sneakers. Yes, you read that right. To be sure, I had a beautiful pair of shoes which coordinated nicely with my dress. I wore them for the photo session and then afterwards to dinner, but by 8 p.m. I knew there was no way I would last the night in those shoes.


And so I went back to the cabin and contemplated my choices: flip flops, hiking shoes (which I brought to tour Mayan ruins), grey Supergas, and a pair of white, converse-like sneakers. I went with the white sneakers and all of a sudden I could MOVE!  With my dress swishing around my ankles, I wore those sneakers to race down five flights and watch the ship's captain count down the minutes, I raced up eight flights of stairs to see the full moon just after midnight, I ran around looking for my people to wish them a Happy New Year! And you know what? People liked my shoes. One woman pointed to my shoes and gave me a thumbs up; another one declared me the smartest woman on the ship; and just before midnight someone tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to my shoes, and complimented me on being able to pair sneakers and an evening dress and actually pull it off! (Note: All the women who mentioned my shoes were carrying their shoes and walking around barefoot.)


Moral of the story? Cinderella didn't need those glass slippers.

Photo Potpourri

In which I look like a tour guide ...

When you are transformed into a superhero in the morning,

this is what you look like by dinnertime ...

Nonno fixing a balloon animal for the superhero in the above photo

(the same superhero who refused to wear pants for the family photo session)...

Can Nonna and Nonno party, or what?

About that cigar ... yes, Penn State won the Fiesta Bowl and, yes,

that's our youngest son doing the honors in lighting his dad's cigar ...

And that's all, folks!

Back to the reality of cold weather and school.

Yuck.

Pizza makes everything feel better

Dear Dad,


~This is a photo of the day we took a train from Naples to Sorrento.

 ~Then we took a boat to the island of Capri.

 ~Capri is a hilly island. You walked up, down, and all around with your bad knee. It was a long day....

 ~By late afternoon we took the boat back to Sorrento.

 ~In Sorrento, you turned left to head back to the train station, we all turned right to explore Sorrento.You did not know this was in the itinerary.

 ~You got a teensy bit grumpy about more walking.

 ~So we planted you at a restaurant and bought you a pizza.

 ~The pizza made your knee feel better.

 ~The end.

You're the best, Dad! Thanks for putting up with all of us! Happy, happy birthday!


Love,
Bia

On the train to Sorrento.

All's Well that Ends Well (And if it Doesn't End Well, Don't Say a Word)

In our ongoing vacation of hitting the road without any definite plans -- and after yesterday's overload of potato chips and chocolate while visiting Herr's Potato Chip Factory, Hershey's Factory, and Hershey Park -- today we decided that something historical was in order. So this afternoon we arrived in Bedford, VA to visit the National D-Day Memorial Museum.

At the welcome center, we learned that admission included an optional 45-minute guided tour. The boys, who are all about museums (insert sarcasm), said NO to the guided tour, but being responsible parents burdened with the awesome task of educating our children, Joe and I ignored them and said YES to the guided tour.

Now, as parents, sometimes we make good decisions; in fact, MOST of the time we make GREAT decisions, but today wasn't one of those days.

Don't misunderstand. The memorial was reflective, symbolic, and extremely moving. Our guide was friendly and informative. But the weather was sweltering, we were standing in an open field, and while the guide was telling lots of great stories that under normal circumstances would be wonderful ... the fact was that the heat melted us into puddles of inattentiveness. 

After just 15 minutes of freely dripping sweat, our entire existence was reduced to a single, solitary thought which dominated all others: "Oh-my-gosh-it's-so-hot!-Oh!-There-is-a-breeze!-Oh!-It-went-away!-Gosh-darn-it!-It's-soooo-hot." 

It was so hot that I did a very tourist-y thing and walked around with my polka dot rain umbrella for the meagre shade it offered.

It was so hot that at one point I stopped to put my hair in a pony tail and happened to notice that our tour guide wasn't even sweating. He was 77 years old and looked fresh as a daisy. I mean, how was that even possible? It was most annoying.

An hour into the tour -- a tour which was SUPPOSED to last 45 minutes but, from the look of things, was destined to last another half hour -- I whispered to Joe, "The boys are going to be so mad at us."

And they were, except by the time we got back to the van they were too hot to say anything except "air conditioner" and "water".

And their inability to string together a coherent sentence was a good thing because Joe and I we were too hot to put up with any smart-aleck remarks.

The National D-Day Memorial is located in Bedford, Virginia — the community suffering the highest per capita D-Day losses in the nation. The Memorial honors the Allied forces that participated in the invasion of Normandy on June 6, 1944 during World War II. With its stylized English Garden, haunting invasion tableau, and striking Victory Plaza, the Memorial stands as a powerful permanent tribute to the valor, fidelity, and sacrifice of D-Day participants.  The Memorial is encompassed by the names of the 4,413 Allied soldiers who died in the invasion, the most complete list of its kind anywhere in the world.

You Should See Me Now

Shortly after these idyllic photos were taken (and I say idyllic because we had the entire beach to ourselves) I had a little bike accident.


Actually, it wasn't so little.


Some loose sand, a sidewalk under construction, and I hit the asphalt in the most spectacular crash.


It was so spectacular that a car pulled over and (to my complete and total embarrassment) four people rushed out to see if I was okay. Everyone agreed it was a miracle I didn't  a) break a bone, or b) need to be carried to the ER for some stitches.


But I was a sight to behold with a shoulder scraped raw, a bloody (and swollen) knee, shin, and left ankle, and a bloody (and puffy) left eyelid.


We're now watching the Masters on television and everyone keeps looking at me and saying things like "gross" and "your shoulder is still bleeding." Niiiice. Anyway, following the tournament we were going to bike to Yo Addiction! for some frozen yogurt, but our plans have changed.


We'll be driving, instead.

A Whole Lotta Nothin' ...

It's a paradoxical expression, but a whole lotta nothin' is exactly what we've been doing while vacationing on Hilton Head.


Well, we're doing something -- 10 mile bike rides, eating, sleeping, exploring, napping -- and technically,  even sitting and breathing is doing something, but ultimately there isn't much to account for our time.


We eat when we're hungry, sleep when we're tired, get up with the sun and go to bed with the moon. We laugh, tease, lounge, talk ... or not talk.


We do nothing except surrender to the sun, sand, and sea breeze ... a whole lotta nothin' that rejuvenates mind, body and spirit.


Which, in the end, is a whole lotta somethin'.

Questions, Questions

Why am I blogging on vacation?


I am an early riser (6 a.m.), and since everyone else is still asleep (zonked!) I'm sitting here with a cup of hot coffee and the window open to watch the sunrise. My favorite time of day.




Why did we go to Wal-Mart last night?


It wasn't because SOMEONE (maybe me, maybe Joe) forgot to pack the beach bag. It was because SOMEONE (definitely not me) forgot to pack necessities (like ... underwear).  So. Wal-Mart. It's no secret that SOMEONE (definitely me) hates Wal-Mart, and after last night EVERYBODY (else) agrees with me.




What is it about a spiral staircase?
Rapunzel. Romeo and Juliet. A Pirate's Lair. Jono and Timo's hideout.

Favorite thing about Hilton Head?


The fact that you can bike for miles and miles and miles ....

Plans for today?


None. We're on vacation (and that includes my hair).

An Open Letter to Disney

Disney World is the magic of being a child again, and that kind of magic is a gift at any age.


There is magic in that ride on the monorail as it whisks you on a journey to imagination and adventure. There is magic in that first glimpse of Cinderella’s castle, in the whimsical landscaping where a bush is never just a bush, and in the oom-pah music and swirling lights of the nighttime parade. There is magic in a toddler’s eyes when he meets his first Disney character, in the smiles of people coming off Space Mountain, and in silly Mickey Mouse hats and Goofy t-shirts.

There is magic in that tired but good feeling at the end of the day.


And then there is this: I have visited the Magic Kingdom as a little girl, as a college student on spring break, as a young bride and, in recent years, as a mother. With each visit I’ve changed in big ways and in little ways … but you haven’t, and there is magic in that, too.


The lamp post on the corner of Main Street, the one that I leaned against while eating my first Itzakadoozie? It's still there. The Venetian gondola at the beginning of It's a Small World? Still there. The Hall of Presidents? Tom Sawyer Island? Liberty Tavern? Those, too, are still there.


The sameness of it all is truly magical.


We live in a world that changes at a breathless pace, so the fact that you are constant through the years is comforting. I like that you are the same now as when I first visited the park at age twelve. I like it that my sons have experienced exactly what I experienced, and that one day they will share this same experience with their children.


So most of all I thank you for the magic of constancy, for with it we are reminded how we  fundamentally stay the same no matter how much we may change.


And sometime soon I look forward to seeing you again under that lamp post on Main Street … I know you'll be there.

The First Step

There is a Dutch proverb that goes like this: He is who outside his door, already has the hard part of his journey behind him. It's a proverb about taking that first step which, without a doubt, is the hardest step of all.


Recently, I was given the opportunity to travel with Joe to California and take a tour of Vandenberg Air Force Base and witness a test launch of an ICBM (intercontinental ballistic missile). It would be an adventure, to be sure, but every time we travel and leave the boys behind, I start getting apprehensive. Anxious, even. To the point that, at the last minute, I almost backed out.


For days I had a mental conversation with myself: Should I go? Yes. Should I stay home? Again, yes. Joe really wants me to go, but what if something happens to us? What if something happens to one of the boys? So no, I'm not going. Besides, what if ... what if ... what if ...


A few days before the trip that I was going on (or not), I was talking to a friend at Bible study about these worries. She politely listened, then pointedly and matter-of-factly said, "Oh no, you need to go."


And she was so right. Life is too short to spend time worrying about all the what ifs. I once heard a speaker who said that when we worry, we become our own false prophet; that worrying is expecting the worse ... which is stealing from the joy that is present now. And for someone who loves to travel, who loves to head into the unknown armed only with a map, some guidebooks, and a spirit of adventure, I was letting fear take over the very essence of who I was.


So this past Sunday, I stood outside our back door at 5 a.m. with my carry on ... and took the first step on what turned out to be a three-day adventure with a capital A.


A picture is worth a thousand words, so I will let the following speak for themselves. Like I said, an adventure with a capital A.





Here is the raw video of the actual test launch we were fortunate to witness. Earlier, we were escorted on a behind-the-scenes 7-hour tour which, among other things, included the actual LCC (launch control center) of that night's missile test launch.

Stopping along the Pacific Ocean during our drive from
Los Angeles to Vandeberg Air Force Base.

Touring Vandenberg Air Force Base. One of the control centers.

Vandenberg Air Force Base

Just up the road from our hotel was the quaint town of Solvang,
established in 1911 by Danish settlers.

Solvang is Danish for "sunny field", and it is a little Copenhagen
in the middle of sunny California.

While in Solvang we had a Danish hamburger
 (with lingonberry sauce) and a Danish pastry. Both were delicious.

Santa Ines Mission, one of the oldest missions in California.

The Way of the Cross at Santa Ines Mission.

Shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe and Juan Diego
at Santa Ines Mission.

Marine layer is a dense, heavy, and wet fog that is common in the area.
It appears at any time, and the mass of rolling, boiling, churning clouds is
very Stephen King-ish. A little creepy.

The Chinese Theater,
Los Angeles.

Hollywood Walk of Fame
Hollywood Boulevard, CA

Um ... guess who I ran into?

The Santa Monica Pier.

Route 66 officially ends at this precise point
in Santa Monica.

Sunset on the Santa Monica Pier.
After this photo we headed to the airport to catch the red-eye back to the East Coast.
The red-eye ... very LA of us, yes?

AFTERWORD: If I had given in to my anxieties, I would have missed out on all the above and what a sad thing that would have been. Instead, I came home with a sense of wonder and awe. There is a great big world out there ... a beautiful world to behold and explore. All you have to do is take that first step.