In Which I Lose My Temper in Rome

Oh, look! I cried. It's the Pantheon! There it is!

The words were no sooner out of my mouth when . . .

Oh, look! cried my husband. It's a McDonald's! There it is!

Oh. my. goodness. Hell hath no fury like a Mom who gets stonewalled when trying to educate her family.

For goodness sakes, you guys! I whispered furiously. We're in Rome. The Eternal City. Surely you're not excited about McDonalds?

But they didn't hear me; in fact, they weren't even listening to me. I was an annoying, pesky fly and it was lunchtime and they were hungry.

As I watched the four of them stroll over toward the Golden Arches, I sat on the edge of the fountain in Piazza della Rotunda with my tour book and my map and my notes in my lap. I was most annoyed.

They returned holding bulging lunch bags and looking a little sheepish, and while they ate I strolled around the piazza taking pictures.

When I took this photo, I sighed. They looked so happy. They looked . . . well, like boys.

Okay. They may not be able to tell you that the oculus in the Pantheon's dome measures 29 feet in diameter, or that Italy's first two kings (Vittore Emanuele II and Umberto I) are buried there . . . but they can tell you where to find a McDonald's in Rome. I guess they learned something.

In Their Own Words

International travel takes a lot of planning.

There are so many details to arrange.

So many decisions to make.

So very many things to think of: rain jackets or umbrellas? One rental van or two rental cars? Pompeii or Herculaneum? Capri or no Capri?

But most of all, we knew we wanted our boys to appreciate and fully grasp what a big deal this trip was by having them chronicle their adventures.

Right away, however, we knew travel journals were out. There was no way my boys would agree to journal daily, so we decided on an idea that worked well for us four years ago on their first trip to Italy: we had them write and send postcards to themselves.

It's really a very simple idea. After a day spent sightseeing, they each select a postcard and record the highlights of the day. A postcard is perfect because it not only is a photo of what they saw, but the limited space keeps the torture -- I mean journaling -- to a minimum.

Now that we've returned home, postcards have been arriving daily in the mail. Rome, Naples, Capri, Sorrento, Verona . . . in short, our Italian vacation in their own words.

Dear Me,
Today we visited the Royal Palace in Caserta. It was beautiful, and it was where they filmed Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Walking the halls, I get shivers every time I think that Jar-Jar Binks was there.
~Nicholas

Dear Me,
St. Peter's is a beautiful church. There is a spot outside that if you stand on it, all the columns behind the front one disappear so you only see the front one. We saw where most of the popes were buried.
~Jonathan

Dear Me,
I love Verona. I went frog hunting with Martha.
~Timothy

Dear Me,
Now we are in Verona, where my Nonna's family lives. This has been my favorite part of the trip. I also bought FIFA '09 for my DS.
~Jonathan

Dear Me,
Rome was rad! The Colosseum was cool, but the Forum was a bunch of old ruins. St. Peter's was the highlight, but the Vatican Museum was excruciatingly painful.
~Nicholas

P.S. To my blogging friend Ellie from IL, who is always so kind to check in with me when I haven't blogged in a while, here . . . a virtual cappuccino for you. Grazie!

What do Gladiators Wear Under their Skirts?

It goes without saying that a trip to Italy means seeing a lot of art.

And art means seeing a lot of nudity.

And that means a lot of giggling from our six-year-old, who is NOT discreet.

At all.

In all fairness, this all started on our spring break trip to Washington D.C. when we dragged (dragged being the operative word) the boys to the Museum of Art where they saw a nude statue and our little one couldn't stop laughing and saying the word pee-pee which, in turn, caused his brothers to laugh.

This started something, I see that now.

So, there we were in Italy. At the Royal Palace of Caserta. Nude statues are everywhere, and our little one had to point out every. single. pee-pee.

Even Nonno laughed.

Then, our 13 year old wondered why all the, well, pee-pees looked like Crayola crayons.

Crayola Crayons.

I'm telling you, I could not make up this stuff.

Then, there was this statue.



You see that it is not a nude statue. Not at all. But as the adults were standing around talking, wouldn't you know that our little one walked all the way over and tried to look up the skirt.

Remind me to never vacation in Scotland . . . you know, kilts and all.

Sunday Hugs

Thanks, Mary!
Hugs,
Bia

16 out of 423

About ten minutes after leaving my relatives' home for the airport in Venice, I realized I left my camera on my aunt's dining room table. Even though we had plenty of time, a glance at my husband (who had just driven through three traffic circles and was merging onto the autostrada) told me that there was no way we were going back. I didn't even mention it; I knew my parents would be following us in a couple of days, and I would just ask them to bring the camera back with them.

When I got it back three days later I was thrilled to finally be able to go through our vacation photos . . . all 600 of them. Now, before you think I am absolutely crazy, let me just say that, with a digital camera, taking 600 photos is all too easy.

But yes, I agree that 600 is too many, so I went through all of the photos and whittled the number down to a more manageable 423.

And since it would take far too long to download all 423 to blogger (thank goodness, you must be thinking), I am featuring only 16 that showcase some of my favorite things about our vacation.


ROME




(La Bocca della Verita'/The Mouth of Truth
Have you seen Roman Holiday w/ Audrey Hepburn?)

POMPEII






(a fresco that survived the destruction of Mt. Vesuvius)

SORRENTO





CAPRI





VERONA




My Mom, Zia Paola, Zia Tizi



DINING AL FRESCO








The End

Home Again

This morning, as I begin the process of unpacking, a folded piece of paper falls out of one of my tour books. It is a receipt for two bottled waters and four gelatos purchased at a gelateria in Piazza Navona. I study the receipt and think: I ate a gelato while walking in Piazza Navona.

This sense of wonderment is something I experienced often during our three weeks in Italy. Standing in the shadow of Mt. Vesuvius, or in the middle of St. Peter's Square, or under the oculus in the Pantheon I wasn't so much struck by the beauty of it all as I was by the fact that I was there . . . physically there.

Then, at night when I reviewed the day's adventures and thought about walking around the ruins of Pompeii, or about all the modes of transportation we took to get to the island of Capri (train, boat, funicular), or about our horse carriage ride through the ancient woods of the Royal Palace in Caserta, I often wondered: Did we really do that?

Traveling in a foreign country is an adventure, and every day we headed into the unknown armed only with a map, some guidebooks, and a spirit of adventure.

I smooth out the receipt and smile. I had a gelato while walking in Piazza Navona.

Checking In

Three days in Rome . . . six days in Naples/Amalfi Coast . . . now, six days in Verona (my favorite city).

La dolce vita, indeed.