The Magic Shaking Can and the Lie of the White Pills

My world is spinning.

One day, I'm curling up with my buds, Ben and Jerry. The next, it's so hot I can't move and there's boxes everywhere. My life is turning into a mess.

I was having a great time at my new home, finally getting along with Ben after weeks of hissing and posturing. I learned about how tasty potato chips and cheerios are. I got to hang out outside on the porch watching birds and squirrels flutter about and watching clouds float lazily by.

Then my two 'owners' (that still sounds so funny. They 'own' me? Ha!) came back. At first it was just like old times - cuddling, petting, treats. Then things went crazy.

A couple days ago (or maybe weeks ago, who knows anymore), I was having a nice sleep. Then I was awaken by the shaking sounds of the magic can. I should have known something was up; it was still dark out.

Next thing I know, I'm accosted and put in this giant 'truck.' All of a sudden everything is shaking and things are moving by at light speed. I couldn't walk 3 feet. It was all I could do not to throw up all over Kimberly. So I did what any sane cat would do - I crawled under the seat into the warm comfort of the dark.

I kept trying to tell them that I was unhappy and was feeling a little green. I told them over and over and over and over and over and over, but they wouldn't listen.

They tried to pacify me with some treats, the normal yummy ones and some new bad tasting white things. Then everything melted. I couldn't stand. My eyes were glued shut. The world was a blur. I couldn't move, or even talk. I was lost.

Every night, we were holed up in a new cheap, sleazy hotel. Every day, I was tricked into another 'treat'-induced stupor by that damn magic can.

I used to be a respectable cat. Look what they've done to me.

Then when the downward spiral finally stopped, we're in a new, weird place. Boxes everywhere. Heat like you've never felt. No mountains to stare at. Chaos all around.

To show my displeasure, I tried to poop on PEter's (again, with that spelling. Enough already, huh?) clothes, but Kimberly caught me in the act. That was awkward. She wasn't so happy with me, but fortunately she didn't force me to have another white treat.

Things have slowly been settling down. These two finally got the heat under control, thank Garfield. My old bed is back, so I've been spending a lot of time sleeping on that. I have a nice big window where I can watch the birds and some big dumb dogs who are tied up outside (although I feel a little bad since they look real hot - I winder why? It's nice and cool in here).

Overall, things are good. Kimberly's been cuddling lots. PEter's been brushing me. I think this place might be ok.

If not, I'll poop on PEter's pillow.

Down With Central Time

You know when you watch TV, and they say: "The Simpsons; Sunday at 8, 7 Central." Know what that means?

It means I miss The Simpsons.

You know why? Because I apparently now live in the Central Time Zone.

I really shouldn't be surprised, since we saw the 'Now Entering Central Time Zone' sign somewhere in the middle of Nebraska. And I've been hearing the old 'This Show on Day at x, x-1 central' spiel ever since I remember (I watched a lot of TV growing up).

But for some reason I never believed them. Why would a show start an hour earlier, just because we live in a different time zone? I mean, on the West Coast, they start all the shows at their normal time (except live things, like sports (but not awards shows, like the Oscars) which are shown live, but early for the local time). And I'm pretty sure it's the same way in the Mountain Time Zone.

In this modern era, with these fancy things called computers, you'd think they could set up some sort of delay so shows are shown at their normal time. I don't want to have to start cooking and eat dinner at 4 so I can be sure to be finished in time to watch a 'Prime Time' show starting at 7. I don't want my '10 o'clock News' to be the '9 o'clock News.'

I'm sure all the locals would argue that they're used to watching their shows an hour early (they would probably argue that I want to watch the shows an hour late, damn logical thinkers). If they changed the program schedules now, the whole midwest would probably go crazy. Imagine, a whole extra hour of free time in the evening, when the temperature is actually not painful to be in. They could double their corn output.

I've been trying to watch less TV, so maybe this confusing time zone TV schedule will help. But I won't go easily.

Although, as with any cloud, there is a silver lining: the Daily Show is on at 10, meaning I might actually be able to watch it live and still wake up in the morning.

So It Begins

Well, we've arrived. We left Portland Monday morning at 5:20 a.m., beat the traffic through downtown, and were on the open road before most people were hitting snooze for the first time. We rolled into Iowa at about 5 p.m. Wednesday.

One thousand, nine hundred, thirty-six and one-half miles; thirty-four hours; seven tanks of gas; endless stretches of good-ol'-American countryside.

There's nothing like driving across country, or half way across country, to make you realize just how big, how empty, and how flat this country really is. Once we hit The Dalles and got out of the Gorge (an hour into the trip, mind you) the landscape went unchanged for huge stretches of time.

Eastern Oregon on one long stretch of high plains desert, with big skies, lots of sage brush, the occasional tumble weed rolling by, and no trees. Having known mostly western Oregon in my time there, I am always amazed at how different the eastern part of the state looks. Billy the Kid could ride by chasing Crazy Horse while Doc Holliday robs a stage coach and I wouldn't be surprised. At least there's some mountains in the distance.

Idaho, Utah, Wyoming - all pretty much the same. Loooooooooooooooong stretches of high plains desert. Except for the mega-metropolis that is Boise. I've heard great things about that City, but I didn't even know we were there until Kimberly told me. Looks like a small town.

Anyways, lots of long stretches where the road doesn't turn and it looks like you're driving to the edge.

There was a stretch when we got on I-80 in Utah, where we went through an amazing canyon with rock outcroppings, and pillars, and beautifulness. Kimberly tells me Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks are even more beautiful, so we'll have to go some day.

So on our first day, we drove for 15 hours and went through 4 states. Four. Back east, they call that your morning commute. But we made it half way to our destination.

Day two: 10 hours, 2 states. All of Wyoming (man, it's big) and half of Nebraska. I think some of these states need to do some dividing. It would make me feel like I was making better progress.
Back when I lived in Seattle, I used to go to Nebraska for work occasionally. Well, I-80 was my old stomping ground, so I was familiar with North Platte, Cozad, Kearney, and all the others on this stretch.

We ended up eating in a small diner in Cozad called the Green Apple. Breakfast, served hot and quick by a 70-year old woman, for $10. Perfect.

Then, Kimberly had her first experience with the Arch Monument in Kearney (actually, located over I-80). She could hardly contain her excitement. I couldn't.

On Day Three, we finished up Nebraska, enduring a closure of I-80 between Lincoln and Omaha because of an overturned truck, and entered Iowa.

It was very anticlimactic. I was expecting bells or fireworks or flashing neon. All we got was a sign.

The past day and a half, we've been settling in to our apartment. It's a little small, and straight out of the 'not aesthetically appealing' school of design, but it's perfectly fine. We met our neighbor, who was very nice and immediately proceeded to give us 4 ears of corn; no joke, the first day we are in Iowa, and we got corn as a gift. You can't make this stuff up.

We met some of Kimberly's 'co-workers' and they were also super nice. Everyone is sncouraging us to go to the State Fair, which started today and is supposed to be the best in the country (even better than the Minnesota fair). We're not sure if we're going; lots of unpacking to do still, and Kimberly is busy all next week. It's also really hot. Really hot. 'No one goes outside' hot.

What was really funny is that all of them, upon hearing that we were from Oregon, and I was originally from Boston, said 'Well, this will be culture shock for you.' Not too encouraging.

But all in all, so far, so good.

To top it off, this is how the sky looked our first night here; not sure if this is beautiful or an approaching tornado. That's probably an important distinction.

Goodbye Oregon

We'll miss you.




The driving begins tomorrow. We'll check in from The Middle.

Shakara

Last night we fell asleep to the soothing voices of the BBC. In that magical time right as your eyes are closing and the sandman is coming to visit, I was awoken by an interesting story.

Today is the 10-year anniversary of the death of Fela Kuti.

I first heard Fela Ransome Kuti and the Africa 70 when I was living in Boston on the wonderful WERS (Emerson College Radio) afternoon show, the Gyroscope (which due to programming changes, they no longer play, which makes me sad). I was immediately captivated by the Afrobeat sounds, which is kind of like 'Big Band Funk.' The often 10-minute long songs have endless beat loops, hypnotic chanting, and lots of dance-cause-you-have-to energy.

The stuff I've read about Fela has always been interesting - he was a polygamist, he never played a song he had previously recorded live in concert, he told Paul McCartney to go fly a kite when he tried to steal Fela's musicians - and always makes me wish I knew more about him. As is usually the case, the most interesting music is made by people with the most interesting back story.

Anyways, I thought I would take this opportunity to let all you out there know about the music of Fela Kuti. I think in the 7 years that I've listened to his music, I've met 3 or 4 other people who knew his name and listened to his music; I think more people should know about him.

If you get a chance to listen to some of his music, I can't give it a high enough recommendation.

it's just like riding a bike

So, it turns out that driving is just like riding a bike, you don't forget. I drove around like crazy today picking up prescriptions, stopping by the drugstore (and yes, these were different places, sigh), and the funnest of all, taking miles to the vet. It seems that his rabies vaccine was due for a booster, and since our new home town requires it, it seemed easier to do it now than to add it to our list of things to do there.

I found out during our travels that indeed, you don't forget how to ride a bike. Twice during our trip we rented bicycles and did our sightseeing on wheels. Our first try was in Lucca (also the site of Peter's illness). Lucca still has its original city wall and it has been turned into a city park. You can rent bikes and ride them around the top of the walls, a 4 or 5 kilometer loop. I was a little nervous about the bikes because, well, I can't actually remember the last time I rode a bike. I'm pretty sure it was sometime BEFORE my freshman year of HIGH SCHOOL (for those doing the math, yes this means 16 years ago). So, I think I was a bit justified in my nervousness. It turns out that yes, I could still ride a bike, I just couldn't balance very well. Once I was up to speed, I was fine, but the slow part, particularly the starting and stopping parts (major parts of bike riding I understand) were a bit more tricky.

We also rented bikes in Munich, Germany through an outfit called Mike's Bike Tours. This time, we actually had a guide and were on city streets (a bit) instead of entirely on paths without cars. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about my starting, stopping, and balancing abilities. Our trip was great, I didn't hit a car or person, and I even managed to stay on my bike after our stop to drink a half liter of beer. So, I'd say that my skills have even improved!

I guess this means that it's time for me to get a bike (I hear that the Middle is nice and flat, so it should be nice to ride around). There's no good reason why I hadn't ridden a bike in so long, it just worked out that way. Now that I've ridden in two foreign countries, I might as well ride in my own.

MILES!!!!! We're home (for now)

Yes indeed, we've ended the flying portion of our trip. We're back in the lovely Rose City (although for some reason it's 90 today!). Miles and I are reunited and there's cat hair everywhere. A few days of seeing family and friends (have we written this post six times already?) and doing errands and then we're off to the Middle.

The current plan is to pack on Sunday (we'll be looking for loading volunteers... hint hint) and then hit the road bright and early Monday morning. We have a place in The Middle lined up, thankfully, and will hopefully arrive Thursday am.

And then the fun begins...

Are We There Yet?

Another day, another long day of travel. We're heading West to pick up our stuff. Then the real adventure begins.

Tell Miles to get the Purrrr-ing machine warmed up, Kimberly's coming and she's looking for snuggles.

Sometimes, I Smell Them

I wonder where they could be? It's been so long. I wonder if they will ever come back?

I think I'm wearing out my welcome here. I even heard 'Mom' tell that other girl that she can't wait to get rid of me. As long as Ben keeps his distance; I wouldn't want to have to take a chunk of his ear.

I hope they come back for me soon. Sometimes I smell them in the other room and I think they're hanging out in there, but every time I make my break for the room, I get cut off at the pass. I hope this isn't some elaborate joke, or weird science experiment; I'm pretty sure they haven't gotten 'Cat Subjects' approval.

I could go for a snack. Shake magic can. Shake.

Music Part 2

Being home, we now get to listen to the radio, as well as listen to our music on our computers and online. Its quite nice. Kimberly really missed NPR. The soothing voices calm her down.

I think this song here, posted by our friend Seth several months ago, feels appropriate as a 'welcome back' song. I don't think I could ever get sick of the Talking Heads.

And as Seth says: David Byrne dancing with a lamp = Genius.

This song is actually good, so check it out.

Music Part 1

One of the things about traveling is that you don't hear too much music. We brought our iPod with us initially, but sent it home after 2 weeks when we realized we weren't listening to it and it just took up space.

For those first 2 weeks in Italy we had a car, so were able to listen to some Italian radio. Then for a weird 2 week period in the middle of the trip, we had a TV and were able to watch Mtv.

Every once in a while we heard a snippet of a song at a restaurant, or in a bar, or at a hotel.

This song above is hands down the most heard song from our trip. On the car radio, on Mtv, in bars, everywhere. I thing we may have heard it on average once a day while traveling.

I don't know if it became popular here in the States, but I can only hope it didn't.

Unfortunately, it kind of became the 'song of the trip.' It's a terrible song. And a terrible video.

If you last through the whole thing, congrats, you just listened to a terrible song.

If you want to pop your ear drums half way through, just think that we heard this song probably almost 60 times.

(I don't think there is anything offensive in the song, except the terribleness of the song itself.)

...And We're Back

We're back in the Boston, relaxing at my mom's. Decompressing. Doing laundry. Unfortunately, the Red Sox are out of town all week.

I think Kimberly is working on downloading some pictures, so you might get some surprises later on. Keep your eyes on this space.

I hope everyone enjoyed some stories of our adventures in Europe. Stay tuned, as the real adventure is about to begin: The Middle beckons.

Auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland...and Europe...

This is a message from the future.


If you are reading this, we are probably somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. Kimberly has probably finished the Harry Potter book and discovered that my theory was correct (I have a whole theory about the ending of the Harry Potter book that I was going to post about here, just so everyone knew I knew, but I ran out of time at the last internet point. After I read the book, I´ll let you know I was right).


I am probably asleep.


Soon we´ll be landing in the USA. Seems strange.

One of the weird things about travelling is that you feel like Austin Powers waking up after sleeping for 30 years - you miss a lot of news. If you want to let us know anything good that happened while we were away, leave it in the comments.

Some pressing questions:
-did we win the war in Iraq yet?
-did Tony Soprano get whacked? (I don´t really want to know, I´ll watch it)
-who won the NBA Championship? Did the Blazers get a good draft pick? How many refs actually fix basketball games?
-are the Red Sox still in first place?
-any good weather? Any tornados in the middle?
-is Paris Hilton still in jail? Has Britney overdosed yet? Lindsay?
-did Jim dump Karen to get together with Pam?

And most importantly, who died in the Harry Potter book? Ron? Hermoine? Did they get Voldemort? Was Dumbledore right about Harry? And what about Neville (the Sam Gamgees of the Potter series, in my opinon)? (I´ll know soon enough)

See you in the new world...

...Guten Tag, Deutschland

We arrived yesterday to reasonable temperatures, cool rain, and orderly lines at the supermarket.

Arrivederci Italia...

Tomorrow, we leave Italy.

After 8 weeks and 3 days of trekking about in this sometimes chaotic, sometimes sublime, but always beautiful country, we present:

Things we´ll miss about Italy:

• Our morning coffee, usually an espresso, followed a few hours later with our mid-morning cappuccino. We´re like coffee-hobbits. Hobbits addicted to caffeine and running around in circles;
• Prosecco: in the US, champagne and other sparking wines are expensive. Here, prosecco flows like water. Just ask Kimberly;
• The abundance of wine, and more specifically, enoteca, which are wine bars. They´re everywhere, and generally pretty inexpensive;
• Trains, for their convenience and relative inexpensiveness;
• Kebab: not an Italian food, but a Middle Eastern thing. But they don´t sell them in the US, so we have to eat our fill of them while overseas;
  
• Never feeling rushed at a restaurant: except for a handful of instances in the more touristed cities, we have never felt rushed at a restaurant in Italy. If you want to sit for hours, savoring the last glass of wine, no problem. The waiter doesn´t even bring the check until you´ve asked for it;
• Food, in general: if you didn´t notice, we eaten pretty well on this trip. More specifically, prosciutto. And the wonderful selections of salami and cheese as we moved from region to region. More to come on the eating in future posts;
  
• Pedestrian-only zones. In pretty much every City in Italy, the central area is pedestrian only, which allows for lots of strolling while eating gelato and wonderful people watching;
  
• Gelato: Italian ice cream. Especially Kimberly;
• Cheap hotels\pensiones, with clean, efficient rooms and friendly staff. We went cheap most of the time, so we could spend our money on eating, and for the most part it worked out well;
• The Italian bar\cafe: if you want an espresso, a beer, a cocktail, a pack of cigarettes, a piece of pizza or a panini, these places do it all. And well, somehow;
• Italians: often warm and friendly;
• Friends and family, old and newly discovered.
  

Things we won´t miss about Italy:

• People smoking, everywhere. I really don´t care if you smoke, but eating dinner while the person next to you blows smoke in your face is something I pleaently forgot about while living in the states. And people throw their cigarette butts on the ground, no matter what, often times still burning. Very strange;
• Weaving while walking: I´m not sure if all Italians have an inner ear infection, but no one here can walk in a straight line. It is physically impossible for them to do so. Walking down the street in Italy is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do;
• Crossing the street, especially in big cities: not only do you need to watch out for cars and buses, none of which slow or stop for you, but also the bikes and mopeds, which are sometimes cars and sometimes pedestrians, depending on the light cycle. Fear is not strong enough of a word for crossing the street in Rome;
• Bike riding in the pedestrian areas: would it kill you to walk your bike through heavily congested pedestrian areas, instead of riding up my ass, over my toes, and grazing my legs;
  
• Sciopero: we´ve said enough about these. But guess what, even though there is less than 24 hours left in Italy for us, the sciopero may rear its ugly head one more time. We´ll let you know;
• Cheap hotels: for their non-air conditioned rooms, hallways smelling of smoke, and shared bathrooms that smell like someone cleaned a salmon in;
  
• Trains, for their un-rigid schedules, lack of signage, and for their sometimes crowdedness;
• Temperatures in the mid to high 30´s in C (90 - 110 in F). Too hot. Sweating constantly. Kind of gross. Makes Kimberly irritable and Peter smell;
  
• Italians: sometimes self-centered and rude
  

And if you think we haven´t posted enough about our travels while over here (thanks, mostly, to the poor quality of internet cafes), stay tuned. We made a list over our morning coffee and we have at least 30 posts waiting to be written, not to mention the hundreds and hundreds of pictures to sort through and post.

And don´t forget, we have 5 more days of wackiness and fun left over here in Europe, so who knows what will happen.

I Guess We Aren´t in Italy Anymore, Maybe?

I´m not sure how it happened, but it appears we left Italy some how. We were in Verona, drinking espresso and saying ciao, when we got on a train to head to north to Bressanone, in the Dolomites. We weren´t planning on leaving for Germany until Saturday.

Then as we went north, we noticed the train station signs were in Italian, with German translations below (usually they are in Italian, with English translations). Then, the signs were in German, with Italian translations. Then the houses looked a little German, and less Italian.

Then we got off the train, and we were in Bressanone, but they call it Brixen. Everyone greets you in German.

Even the keyboard is in German. You can´t see it, but the Y-key ia a Z, and the Z-kez is a Y. And they have umlauts, like this Ö and Ä (I hope those show up). And this, ß, which is double s.
______________________
Bressanone/Brixen actually is in Italy; it was ethnically and culturally Austrian for a many centuries, and somehow Italy ended up with it early in the 20th century, after World War 1. So people here are still very Germanic in their customs and speech.

It´s a good thing we´ve been practicing our Italian the last 2 months, because nothing up here is in English - German first, Italian second.

What We Did Last Night is Illegal in America

Come on, get your mind out of the gutter.

All we did we eat some horse meat, which is fantastic in a red sauce. (The US Congress, in an act of brilliance, outlawed the sale of horse meat after the greatest horse in the history of horses, Barbaro, was hurt in the 2006 Preakness and subsequently euthanized).

After the horse meat, we ate a some ass.

Come on, you´re terrible.

It was just some donkey, which is also a wonderful meat to include in your red sauce.

In the Land of Canals

We made it to Venice. I was worried, sometimes, about going to Venice. I get this way whenever people gush about anything. Will it live up to those crazy expectations? Will it have tarnished or faded?

Venice is a complicated and intense place to visit. It is overwhelmed in parts by massive, crushing crowds. It's confusing, awkward, and expensive.

you can some of the crowd here, as a tour approaches

here, in St Mark's Square (this is actually tame)

and kind of here, if you zoom in along the water (crazyness to the fullest)

But Venice is charming. It's unlike any place I've been. We arrived with the crowds on a train from Parma and stood outside the train station trying to decide which of the many "bus" tickets made sense. We negotiated our way through the crowds and onto our first bus, actually a vaporetto, sort of like a small ferry. And then, we were riding our way down the canals of Venice to our hotel.

Venice is amazing. Our photos won't do it justice, because none can. The water laps at the steps of the first floors of the old mansions. Businesses and hotels have photos inside of the past floods (kinda like in Tillamook, but 3 or 4 feet). There are city maps that plot out the high areas and routes to take to get around during the ever present floods.

But for a city defined by water, Venice is a lot more. On the back alleys (actually alleys, not canals) Venice looks a lot like other old Italian cities. Old buildings, tiny grandmothers, laundry hanging on the line, no tourists. In fact, we liked these areas a lot. We wandered around for most of our 2.5 days and got lost, unlost, and lost again. Luckily I married a compass and he always found our way home.
We were able to see two of the four main sights we set out to. The Peggy Gugenheim museum of modern art and Saint Marks. Saint Marks rates as my favorite big church. Mosaics everyone on the ceiling, with beautiful inlaid floors. We attempted, but will have to visit next time Saint Donato's church in Murano (the island of glass). It's know for having blown glass chandeliers and also the bones of the "dragon" slain by St Donato (possible whale bones...). We also missed the cemetary due to our shopping and the sciopero. Next time.

I can't say I'd recommend Venice to everyone- the crowds are frustrating, the tour groups are enormous, and the prices are high. But Venice is unusual, and if you can summon the patience to elbow your way through people, and avoid the Gucci, Prada, and other fancy stores, Venice is lovely. The last night of our trip we took the vaporetto bus home after dark. Gliding past the mansions, some falling down, others beautifully kept, I saw Venice's magic.

Yet Again

So, we've been in Italy for about 7 weeks now. That's a pretty good long time. On a trip that long, you have to expect some problems, especially in Italy. Maybe a power outage, or some security issues in another European country. Maybe a train strike. Maybe even a gas station strike.

But this is getting ridiculous. (You know what's coming, right?)

As we approached the vaporetto station in Venice (a vaporetto is a boat that is a bus, because in Venice, they don't have cars, or streets, they have canals), we saw this sign:
So, if you have been reading this blog, you kow that sciopero means; strike. And if you look at the date, it is translated as: Friday, 13th of July. HELLOVENEZIA my a$$.

On FRIDAY THE 13TH, the entire local transportation system for Venice (with some exceptions, none of which helped us) shut down for 7 hours in the middle of the day. I have to say that it's a small miracle that Italy is one of the 8 largest economies in the world. With the number of strikes here, I can't believe they get anything done.

Anyways, guess what day we needed to get from our hotel, located on the southern end of Venice, to the train station, located on the northern end. Yup.

So yesterday, on by far the hottest of our three days in Venice, we straped our bags on, heavy with some new acquisitions, and started walked through the narrow alleys and over the canals of Venice. 60 short minutes later, I thought Kimberly was going to pass out as we reached the station.

But we wouldn't let this little setback ruin what was otherwise a great time in Venice. Like true Italians, we just gave a little shrug, and rolled with the flow.

And if you're counting, this is 3 sciopero's that have directly influenced our lives, with a 4th that very much almost did. One strike for every 2 weeks of travel; not a bad ratio.

My Birthday in Italy

While all of you got to celebrate my brithday, and coincidentally the 4th of July, with some nice fireworks, and maybe some burgers and hot dogs over a hot BBQ, I was stuck in this horrible place:
I know, I know, it was rough, but we made it through.

Also, in an earlier post, Miles was kind enough to wish me a happy birthday. Thank you Miles.

However, in her comment, Kimberly stated that I had been making friends with new cats in Italy, behind Miles' back. Well, I provide this picture as proof that she is slandering my name to protect herself:
I'll let him be the final judge.

It's Been A While...

...since we've psoted anything on here. And, unfortunately, this post won't be very good. We've been having trouble finding cheap internet cafes - this one isn't too bad, but we don't have much time. So instead of a real post, some bullet points. Because everyone loves bullet points: concise, easy to read, fun times. OK:

• I think the last time I wrote, I was sick in Bologna. That was a while ago. Since then, I've mostly gotten better. MY throat still hurts on accassion, but I think thats because it's fairly hot here and I'm always dehydrated. Bologna was pretty cool, but much larger than we expected. We mostly just hung out. But we did go to one of the most interesting museums we've been too. It was a zoology museum, and deserves its own post (which I've startd, but refuse to post until I can put up pictures). We also watched an outdoor movie in Italian, and understood probably 75% of it.
  
• We then spent 4 days in Mila, with my cousin Manu and her boyfriend Guido. They were fantastic, letting us stay in his apartment for free, bringing us to very fashionable places where we were grossly out of place. In fact, Kimberly almost got thrown out of a bar because she took a picture. When the bartender said, in perfect english 'you didn't take a picture, right?' and she replied 'I'll take one of you next', his look said that this was no joke. But we really realy liked Milan. Most Italians say Milan is like the US. Well, it kind of is in that it isn't too chaotic or full of people pushing you out of the way to get to the cashier first. It's a big clean city, where people work full days. Its more Western than the rest of Italy, but I wouldn't say American. Maybe German.
• We spent a day on Lake Como, half-an-hour north of Milan, on the border with Switzerland. We walked up and down very steep hills. Our legs hurt. We ate very god food. Although I enjoyed it, I think I would have liked it better had it been sunny, and not raining.
• When Manu asked us where we were going next, and I told her, she made the I'm jealous face. That's because the Cinque Terra is in the Italian Riviera, has lots of sun, and is absolutely beautiful. I'll post more on this roo, if I can upload pictures somewhere, because it is beautiful. It's much more touristy than when I went 7 years ago, but the hiking, sun, and swimming were as great as I remember from back then. We were planning on spending 3 nights here, and ended up with 5, so that should tell you something.
• We are now in Parma, which I can best describe as Milan-lite. Its a small industrial City with no tourists. It is famous for Prosciutto, Parmigiana cheese, Parmalatte milk, and some other industries (I think Pirelli is near here). The food has been exceptional. The people friendly. And we've found an Internet cafe that serves wine. So nice. We are really enjoying our time here, although short. Because tomorrow we go...
• to Venice. Which we are very much looking forward to. It is the last crazy-tourist place we will be visiting on our trip, but it will be great. The Biennale is happening and we will go to the Guggenheim, both of which will hopefully provide some rest from the Renaisance art that dominates Italy. Other than that, we plan on getting lost on the small narrow streets of Venice.

After Venice, we will be heading north to Padua, then the Dolomites and finally on to Germany. We have 2 weeks left in our trip, which is a long time, but seems very short. We're having a great time, and still haven't killed each other yet (although Kimberly's sun burn is hurting).

Not sure how often we'll be able to post - it seems internet is more expensive and harder to find as we move north - but we'll do our best. I imagine a steady stream of 'remember when...' posts once we get back to the states. And we have about 2000 pics to post.

Ciao.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Hi Dad and Mom,

I was wondering what all of the excitement was yesterday and overheard my foster mom and foster sister saying it was your birthday. My birthday was earlier this week.

Well, everyone celebrated YOUR birthday but foster mom just gave me extra treats for MY birthday. I wasn't very impressed with all the noise and smoke and other weird smells. To tell the truth, I hid under the bed for a while. I'm glad everyone likes you and wants to celebrate but next year when we're in Iowa can we be a bit more reserved?

Are you coming home soon?

Miss you. Gotta go, she's home

TMI and a little TLC

I've been fortunate to go on some extended holidays of 2+ months in my relatively short life.

Oddly, everytime it seems I get really sick around the 5th week. Of course, this trip is no different. In the middle of the Lucca time, right after climbing over 400 stairs to see a garden at the top of a tower, then riding 7 miles on a bike on the beautifully paved walls, I got sick. Really sick.

My temp was 39 celcius, which translates to about 102 F. I was hot. I had stomach problems. I think it probably had something to do with the extreme heat we had been experiencing, and the not sleeping so well because of it.

We ended up staying in Lucca an extra night - when Kimberly went to ask the hotel people if they could accomodate us, they got very worried and wanted to call a doctor. So cute.

Kimberly also went to the pharmacy all by herself and bought a thermometer and some medicine for the high temp. I wish I had been there to see those interactions. But she really came through.

I struggled with the sick off and on through our 3 night in Bologna, and am feeling pretty well now that we are in Milan.

It's been really hot here. Even when it's not too hot, I sweat alot. More so than at home. And I drink a lot of water, but maybe not enough. I know I don't drink this much water at home, but I also don't walk this much at home.

We'd like to do some hiking in the Alps and the Dolomites, so hopefully the sick is gone. We'll see.

Our revised, revised agenda

For those following along from home, you've probably noticed that we haven't quite stuck to our "agenda." Yeah, we change our mind a fair bit.

But, we had a meeting of the minds today to hash out our new revised, revised agenda for the last 3 weeks of the trip (only 3 weeks left! ahhhh!).

So, here it is...

4-5 days in Cinqueterra
2 days in Modena
2 days in Venice
a few days somewhere near Venice
a few days somewhere else
2-3 days in Bolzano
head to munich
fly home.

See you all in August!!

What we've been eating

we've been eating our way through Italy, as is only expected. And, I've learned a few things unexpected.

1. Rabbit is a tasty little creature. Who knew? I highly recommend it, especially prepared like we had it in Siena, with pine nuts, rosemary, and pepper. Yum yum.

2. Italian bread seems to need salt. I don't know what it is, but I haven't fallen in love with the bread here. The focaccia, yes, the bread, eh.

3. Breakfast is not the important meal your mom always said it was. In fact, the best, most Italian of breakfasts is espresso and cookies. Not a pastry or something pretending to be "breakfast" food. Flat out cookies. This morning I had basically a twinkie. For breakfast. Crazy.

4. when shopping for fruit at the market, you are NOT allowed to touch the fruit. If at an open farmers' market style booth, you tell the vendor what you want and THEY select the fruit for you. If you are at a grocery store, you have to put on these plastic gloves before selecting your produce. Kinda makes sense when you think about it...

A Belated Birthday

I could write a post about our crazy time in Bologna and the very strange museums we saw there (which I will eventually, because it was too good, but may need to wait til I can upload pictures). Or I could write about coming to Milan and visiting my cousin Emanuela and her boyfriend Guido (which has been wonderful). Or even about what we will be doing over our next 3 weeks here (not really sure, but we think it involves the Dolomites and Venice).

But instead, I'll let you all know that yesterday was Miles' birthday. We don't know that it was actually his birthday, but we adopted him one year ago yesterday. Hopefully he got a treat or goo dpetting in Portland, but we thought it would be weird if we called him for his birthday, as he doesn't talk or anything (and this post is probably weird enough).

So anyways, Happy Birthday cat.

why?

So, lots of Italy makes perfect sense. The siesta is a fanstatic concept, and so what it every store closes from 2-4 every day. That just means you HAVE to take a nap. And the 2 hour lunch? Fantastic! Lunch should be the big meal of the day, and then you get to sleep it off with the siesta. So, in many ways, Italians have got it right.

However... there are a few things that puzzle me about Italy and Italians.

1. change
Apparently, there is some sort of change (ie coinage) shortage in Italy. When presented with a check for say, 13 euro and you try to pay with a 20, you will get a look. Then, they sigh, and ask if you have 3 euro. If not, they sigh again and then laboriously count out your 7 euro change. This is true EVERYWHERE, including the pharmacy, post office, and all manner of businesses. We've been hoarding change for this purpose.

2. "service"
Italians seem to have a different idea of what a job in the service industry requires. Peter and I went looking for a bus ticket to Lucca from Siena during the train sciopero. Seemingly, not a difficult task. We went to the bus station. As the bus systems are independent companies here, there are separate offices depending on where you are heading and which company runs there. We stopped at the first office. "autobus a Lucca?" "no" the woman scoffed. "office over there" So, we went to the second office. "no" the woman scoffed. "over there." "but but but" we protested that we had already been there and they didn't have the tickets. She sighed, and suggested that we try the travel agent office down the street. We wandered around looking for the travel agent. Found the travel agent. No, they were the airline agent, for the bus, we had to go downstairs. Down we go... only to be told by the downstairs agent that they only sold tickets for the train, that the train was on sciopero, and anyway, their computers were down so they couldn't sell us a ticket anyway.

It turns out that the entire time, we were asking the WRONG question. Instead of "bus to Lucca?" we should have asked "what city do I go to to get a bus to Lucca?" Because, there isn't a bus from Siena to Lucca. You have to take the bus to Florence and then change to go to Lucca. All with the same company, of course, and public info we found later online. But since we didn't ask the right question, we didn't get the answer.

So, this is my list in progress, I'm sure to be updated later. The thing that strikes me about this list is the odd similiarity with my experiences in less developed countries (Mexico, Thailand, Cambodia). Sometimes it feels like Italy isn't part of Europe after all.

Roman Holiday

We've been having a crazy fun time in Italy. The chaos has been manageable and the sights have been good. If only the weather would cool down, it would be perfect.

Our second day in Rome was particularly memorable:

It started off like normal, visiting some museums (the Galleria Borhese), sitting in some piazzas (Piazza Quartinile) and generally wandering. Then we ended up near the Trevi Fountain, which was absolutely mobbed at 5 pm; nothing unusual.

After some internet-ing, then some chinese food dinner, we went back over to the Fountain. No only was it still mobbed, it was worse. But the atmosphere was nice, and the weather not too horrendeous.

Then it happened. A commotion in the middle of the fountain. A guy was standing in the fountain, blatantly in violation of the rules, pulling his wife/girlfriend in. As all the Pakistani Rose Sellers descended on the scene, the couple were in the middle of the fountain, moving towards the middle. Then all of a sudden, the guy got on his knee and pulled out a ring. The place exploded. It was surreal.

The cops eventually came over to pull them out, and were trying to arrest/fine them. But the crowd kept getting louder and laùouder, and booing and yelling at the polizia. From what we could tell, the couple only got a slap on the wrist (I guess thos Italian Polizia do have a heart (or bribed)) as they were laughing with the police. They also got some extra harrasement from the rose sellers, who descended like vultures.

After that excitement, we decided to head home. We were going to walk to the Spanish Steps, about 10 minutes away, to check out the cene and hop on the subway.

Once we got to the Steps, we completely missed the subway stop. I'm not really sure how, but we walked right past it. When we discovered this, half way to the next stop, we decided to circle back through some smaller streets to where we thought the station was.

As we walked down an alley, we heard some singing in the distance. As we got closer, we could see a crowd and lights, and could hear some really good music. Great, a little concert for us.

Then, it was clear. Not a concert, a fashion show, complete with runway down the middle of the street and live DJ. It was pretty cool, so we hung out for a while as Kimberly drooled over the pretty dresses.

Since the fashion show blocked the whole street, we needed to double back again to get to the station. When we finally found it, hidden in plain site, our feet were tired. We were glad to hop on the train.

Except the subway was closed.

We were a little confused. We were pretty certain that the subway stayed open until at least 11, if not later. We even checked the guidebooks (which, in all honestly, have been wrong on more than one occassion).

Our frustration mounting, we went to ask a cop what was going on. BeforeI could even get half the question out in my terrible Italian, he said "CHIUSO" very aggressively. At first, I was stunned, so turned to walk away. But I realized we had no way of getting home, so turned back. Anticipating the question, he pointed in the general behind us and said "Autobus."

We went and looked around a little for a bus, but couldn't find a stop. So we decided to walk. According to the map, it didn't look too far - from the Spanish steps to behind Vatican City.

In reality, it took us 1-1/2 hours, and was probably over 3 miles. We were not happy the next morning.

We looked into a sciopero or any news on the subway, but nothing. Just another day in Italy.

________________________________________

We, and I, have been reporting a lot on sciopero's and other nuisances of travelling here in Italy. It's not really that bad, you just need to roll with the punches.

But I wanted to let you know about 2 books we bought in Siena regarding the Italian way of life, including the sciopero and other ways they do things 'differently' over here.

The first is That Fine Italian Hand by Paul Hoffman. It's a fact-based book on Italian history and how it has shaped the people and some of their current institutions. I'm currently in the middle, and am enjoying it.

The other is When In Rome by Robert Hutchinon. This guy moved his family to Rome to invetigate the Vatican City, the smallest country in the world. It' a very funny chrinicle of his adverntures, and while principally about the Vatican, it's really about Rome and the Italian people. I really enjoyed this one.

____________________________________

Finally, I really like this picture I took from inside the Pantheon. The Pantheon may be my favorite thing in Europe - it's absolutely unbelievable to me that such a large, perfectly domed building was built 2,000 years ago. And inside is even cooler. The perfectly spherical dome has a perfectly circular hole in the top, creating some cool lighting and shadows.

This is the shadow that was cast when we were there.

Held Prisoner in an Italian Restaurant

Eating in Italy is one of the better things you can do in life, as we've reported on several occassions in the past. We hear people over here complaining about the food all the time, saying they get better food in San Francisco or New York. These people are idiots and don't know what they're doing. Ordering polenta in Naploli, or Eggplant in Milan probably isn't going to work out well, since most of Italian cuisine in regional. Do some research, eat the local specialties and you'll be fine.


Italian restaurants move at their own pace, often very slow. In this regard, I can understand the frustration with travellers, especially ones with a tight schedule. Fortunately, we have no schedule, so a 2 hour lunch is fine with us.


But there have been 2 notable exceptions.

In our firt go around in Siena, we went to a little hole in the wall place (in Italy, they're all holes in the walls). After getting screwed out an outdoor seat by the hot guy, we got stuck in the back of the restaurant with the other Americans. No big deal. We were hungry and wanted to eat.

So we perused the menu and choose our food. Some rabbit, some pasta, some veal. Then we waited for the waitress to come.

And we waited.

And we waited.

Since Italian service i slow, I didn't want to look like some American who couldn't deal. So we waited some more. It was an on-going discussion as to how long we should wait. We decided 30 minutes was enough.

When I went to talk to the bar, they were shocked, SHOCKED, that we hadn't been helped and he would help us personally. They then proceeded to tell us that half the menu was no longer available.

In the end, the food was good and I got a free glass of Vin Santo (sweet dessert wine) out of it, but it was annoying none the less.

The second instance happened just the other night here in Lucca. We had a great meal, including raviolli, papparadalle, and cutlets milanese.

Once we finished, we asked for the check. And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

At this point, we were trying to do everything we could to get the waitress' attention, including staring, waiving money, etc. She obviously thought it was someone else's reponsibility to get us the check, you know, like the fairy godmother.

After 20 minutes (I learned a little bit from the first time), we finally asked for the check again. The waitres acted like it was the first time we asked and promptly brought the check over.

The problem in both these situations is you can't do anything. We could have left the restaurant without ordering, but on a sleepy Sunday evening, we ran the chance of there being no other available retaurants. And we could have walked out on the check, but really, we couldn't.

We're learning the Italian way, but it has its limits. Next time, maybe we'll only wait 15 minutes.

Vacation in Lucca

The title of this post is both a command and an apt description of what we're up to. YOU should come to Lucca. We are here now, and it's a relaxing, lovely, peaceful place. In fact, we are headed out here in a minute it sit and read on top of the old city wall, from the Roman era.

Lucca is a sleepy, tourist town that seems to have a heavy German tourist popualtion (we seem to find these for some reason). Not too many Americans around. The BEST thing we've done so far is to visit the Museum for the History of the Immigration of Italians. It's a small, free museum, not in any of our travel books that documents the historoy of the Italians leaving Italy starting around 1870 until recently. There are pictures, postcards, old menus from the ships, and other small mementos that show what life was like for these immigrants. And, interestingly enough, the museum ends with a display showing the new immigrants, Asians, Africans, and Latinos and cautions us that °They aren't a problem, they have a problem" which is a nice thing to see.


Well, the sunshine and my book beckon to me. Enjoy your sleepy Sunday, I sure will!

It Happened Again

If you ever decide to come to Italy, you should learn this word: sciopero. It means strike. I've written about it before, regarding the air traffic controllers and then the gas stations.

Well, they've done it again. Starting at 9 pm last night and lasting until 9 tonight (10, depending on what news you read), the trains are on strike.

We were supposed to move on to Lucca today from Siena. But yesterday when we went to the station to look at tickets, we found out about the strike. After frantically trying to get bus reservations, and running straight into the wall that is Italian bureacuracy, we had to change our plans. One extra night here in Siena, the trip to Lucca pushed back a day.

It's a good thing we have flexible plans, otherwise, the Italian train people would be getting one nasty letter.


[We were just checking the national strike website (yes, they have a website devoted solely to strikes) and couldn't find the train strike. Apparently, there are some rumors that the strike didn't happen. Apparently, you can't win with these things.]

View from my bedroom window (Sant' Eufamia della Maiella)

Ah, the village. This is Peter's maternal grandparents village situated high up in the Abruzzo mountains. Basically, everyone in the town appears to be family. I know that this isn't quite true, but when every second person you meet is described as a "cucino" (cousin) you start to see a trend.

We had a lovely time visiting the family here and eating. Lots of eating and lots of talking. This isn't a quiet family :)

Some family photos...

[Peter says: lots of pics here. Flickr uploading is too slow. We will upload pics when we get back to the states. And one of my family members can feel free to print the very last picture and give to Giulio for his upcoming birthday]

Angelina, a nosey neighbor, at the local fountain - water straight from the mountain.

Kimberly with Aunt Antonietta, making pizelles.

Peter, towering over his Aunt Eufamia and Uncle Aldo.

Kimberly and Peter with (L-R) Aunt Elda, Aunt Pierina and Uncle Peter.

Uncle Bruno making fish.

Aunt Elda waiving to the camera.

Kimberly, looking normal sized, with (L-R) Aunt Elda, Uncle Bruno, and Uncle Peter.

Uncle Giulio working the land.

Aunt Antonietta (Middle) with 2 friends, on the Wall.

Kimberly with Aunt Antonietta, on the Wall.

Peter with Mario "Cipolla" - his wife Mary refused to let us take her picture.


Finally, this is Piero, who owns one of the last bars in this small town. He's holding a bottle (of whiskey, I believe) that my other Uncle Giulio drank on his last day in the village. The next morning, there was still a small glass left at the bottom, so Piero and his wife saved the bottle. If you zoom is on the label of the bottle, you may notice the date - 9/5/97 (I left the image big, so you can and I know, it looks like 87, but it's 97 And remember, in Europe, they reverse the day and month). They told me they had a little party last month because it was the 10 year anniversary since my Uncle Giulio left to move back to the US.

The Summer Solstice

So it's really hot over here; the day we left Rome, it was supposed to be around 40 degrees - CELSIUS (divide by 5, multiply by 9, add 32, and you get: 104 degrees Farenheit)!!! I don't know if it actually got that hot, but every day we were there, it felt at least that hot. And our second go around in Siena is more of the same.

At night, it actually cools down a few degress, but with the added humidity, it feels twice as bad.

It's not supposed this hot here, yet. Maybe August, but not June. I would blame Global Warming, but our President says that's a lie. So we suffer with long pants (required for churches) and lots of free water from the many fountains (actually potable, as well).

Additionally, it is almost the summer solstice, either today or tomorrow or the day after. This was reinforced to us at St Peter's Square in Rome.

In the middle of the square, there is a giant obelisk (above)

which is in the center of a perfect ellipse. As we were wandering around the square, we noticed stone markers for the 22nd day of each month in a straight line coming from the obelisk. After a few minutes, the light bulb went off: the square is a giant solar calendar, with the top of the obelisk marking the changing of the zodiac signs. A few minutes later, I realized it was almost the summer solstice, so the shadow would almost hit the first marker at around 1 pm (hour adjustment for daylight savings).

If only I had planned a little bit ahead, I could have been there on the solstice, which would have been totally cool. But this was good enough.

The worst thing was no one else seemed to care about this at all.
_____________________

As a side to the heat, we were planning on going to the Sistine Chapel on Monday morning. We even got up early to get there before it opened at 8:45. When we arrived on the bus, we saw a line that was at least half-a-mile long. Oh great. It turned out to be the line for tourist groups with reservations.

The line for individuals was twice as long.

Since it was already really really really really hot out at 830, we decided not to wait it out and went to St Peters Bascillica instead. Of course, it was beautiful, as was everything else in Rome.

Although a little frustrating that we couldn't get into the Sistine Chapel, Kimberly keeps reminding me that we will be back sometime in the future.

View from my bedroom window (Roma)

I actually didn't take this picture until the morning we were packing our bags and getting ready to leave Rome, after 6 days. The reason is, I didn't look OUT our window until that morning, when I remember that I had a series of posts going on and I should take the picture. And the reason of THAT is the heat wave. Currently, I could care less about the view and more about is there an air conditioner and does it work? The answer to those questions being yes, and sometimes. Our convent/hotel had an AC, but seemed to only turn it on from 4-6, both am and pm. But those were the magically cool hours.

Here you go, the view from my bedroom window in Rome.

The bane of my existence

Ah the beauty of the outdoors. Lush green countryside, beautiful trees, and blossoms everywhere. Do you know what I think when I see this? Crap. I need tissue.

Sigh. Allergies. Apparently I am allergic to Italy. This now adds it to Boston (terrible), San Diego (heavens no), and Portland (oh God, give me a new sinus system please). I suspect however, that I'm not suffering due to the general lushness of Italy.

No, no... it is THIS evil plant that does me in

Scotch Broom

We have seen this plant (which Peter refers to as Gorse) throughout Italy. In fact, when we got to Pompeii, we wandered through the indigeous garden area and found a small bush. "Oh" said I, "look how invasive this stuff is, it's even here in the botanical section." One of the group gently pointed out the sign beneath noting that scotch broom was found here during the pre-eruption days.

Apparently it's all Italy's fault!

Anyway, it has followed me throughout the trip. We found it in the village and now, here in Roma without many plants around, it's in my hotel.

When in Rome, eat Indian?

We've been eating a lot of Italian food on this trip. Shocking, no? I mean, it's not really Italian food as much as it's the-food-people-eat-here-cuz-duh-we're-in-Italy food. And the food, well, it's been amazing. From the seafood extravaganza Peter wrote about below to Zia Nanelle's homemade pasta (please note that the spelling of her name is my own invention, that's just what it sounds like when people say it). Zio Bruno made a fantastic feast of seafood salad (mussels, cute little octopus, squid, olives, peppers, and some other things)

linguini with clams and mussels

and then an ENTIRE trout-like fish (spigola maybe?) for each person.

So full all the time.

We've been eating and eating and eating for days. I don't think I've gained weight, but only because the intense eating has been balanced out by the hills, stairs, and cobblestone roads.

So, Peter and I arrived in Roma Thursday night. Dinner time drew near and we both looked at each other and quietly whispered "do you want to eat, I don't know, not Italian food?" Sighs of relief. Tonight was a night without pasta.

We walked past various promising places, the Chinese looked good, and scouted out an Ethiopian place a bit further away. In the end, though, we ended up at an Indian restaurant.

It was SO GOOD. Well, I'm not exactly sure it was the best Indian food I've had.... but last night, it completely hit the spot. It was spicy (most of our food has been rather mild) and contained multiple green vegetable (which we haven't seen in at least a week). FANTASTIC!

For lunch today, we decided to continue the anti-Italian food trend and stopped at a halal kebab and falafel place near the Termini train station. Falafel and kebab sandwiches, and not a bite of pasta!

And tonight, well, in a few minutes, after we leave this internet point, we're headed for Chinese. Right near the Trevi fountain.

Bella Roma indeed.

I am an Idiot Sometimes

Here's a good story to illustrate my point:

When Mom and Sissy were here, we went to visit a City called Sulmona. I spent many summers of my youth about 50 km away, but the only things I remember are that we went there to buy gold and they make confetti there, which, it turns out, I'm not that fond of. Turns out, its a beautiful little Italian city, where everyone walks throught the City center between 5 and 8, the food is good and cheap, and the people are friendly.

We stayed at the Hotel Italia, just off one of the many piazzas, which turned out to be a friendly place run by a super friendly father-son tandem.

While there, the first time, we took out a bunch of Euro's from the bank, so that we wouldn't have to keep going every couple days. However, we didn't want to carry all that money with us, so I had the brilliant idea of hiding it under the mattress. I figured we were so close to where my grandparents were from, I would use the same method of hiding my money.

As we left the room the first night, I said the fateful words: "Let's make sure we don't forget this."

Fast forward to Fano, our next destination. As I unpack to go for dinner, I ask Kimberly where the money is. She says I have it. I'm convinced she has it. Turns out neither of us have it.

I was in a full panic. I ripped apart both our bags. I called the Hotel Italia, but they couldn't find it. I sulked around beautiful downtown Fano. I was miserable. I just lost almost $1000 in Euros.

As I sulked in the City center, next to the fountain, Sissy came up to me: "Didn't you say something about putting the money under the mattress?" [lightbulbs popping]

Um, yes, yes I did!!! I frantically called the Hotel, trying my hardest to explain to them what happened, where it was. 10 minutes later, they called and found it. They were putting it in the family safe. A great weight lifted from my shoulders.
______________________________
On our way to Sant'Eufamia, we stopped at the Hotel Italia again, and we got our money. All of it was there; I think they may have even added a $100 bill. I tried to give them a reward, but they wouldn't take it, of course not.

We ended up eating a great dinner, buying fabulous pastries for the family in the Village, and getting picked up in Sulmona by an Uncle, rather than trying to navigate the bus system up the mountain.

Sulmona, as it turns out, is a pretty cool place.

quick fix

I added the picture to the post about the gas strike. Much better now. Enjoy again, if you would.

How I Spend My Days

Did you know that baby birds hatch from eggs?

FROM EGGS!!!!

Unbelievable that something so cute and tasty looking could come from something so boring looking and not-tasty. Anyways, while those two 'owners' of mine are out backpacking around Italy, I've found me a new hobby: watching these silly little birds have new chicks under the deck.

Sometimes Ben and Jerry like to come out and watch with me, but they're not as interested; they roll to their own beat.

This is so cool. I can't wait til they try to fly. Who knows what will happen then?!?!?!?!? Maybe they'll fly!?! Maybe they'll fall!?! Maybe we'll get a snack!?! Who knows. All I know is that the anticipation is killing me (Hm, maybe a new saying: 'Anticipation killed the cat.' I'll have to work on that one).

Back to that Ben and Jerry. Turns out they're not so bad. Once Tiger-stripe over here realized I wasn't going to be taking over, he chilled out. Jerry even caught a bird on the deck and brought it inside. He's got cat-like reflexes (hahahahahahahahahahahahaha - I am hysterical).

The woman who lives here came home. She said she saw those other two and they send their love. But she also told me they've been galavanting all over Europe with new and different cats, even threatening to replace me.

I'm not sure if I should believe her, but I'll be sure to give those 2 a good sniffing when they back. I kind of miss them.

Peace out.