When in Rome....

During our time in Italy, I have constantly had this phrase in my mind. It seems to particularly hold true in Rome, especially if you want to cross the street. In fact, the Lonely Planet guidebook graciously given to us by Marta & Bryan (referred to as M & B from here on out - I've always wanted to write in the older style, "M said..." or "B went to the market") as the book I borrowed from the library only covers Northern Italy and doesn't actually cover any of the areas that we're visiting, instructs that if you're having trouble crossing the street to follow a Roman across the street. The cars don't stop for people and the people don't stop for the cars.

We very quickly discovered that I am allergic to Rome. The dust, car fumes, smoking, dirt, and pollution quickly converted me into a sneezing tourist. Unfortunately, I don't sneeze quietly. I awoke in the middle of our 1st night in our seedy hotel room from dreams of 4000 years of the stench of 'civilized' life coming up through the bathroom sewer pipe and tenement style courtyard. In reality, it was the smell of cigarette smoke somehow creeping into our bathroom during the night, but still not good for my allergies. Over the next 2 days, I sneezed my way around the Colleseum, up the steps of the military monument, into numerous churches, through the Pantheon, and past the multitudes of ruins in Rome. My visions of a gleaming Rome with ruins enshrined in pristine parks was dispelled by the reality of massive tourism, dirt, litter, and pollution.

Our stay in Rome was blessedly short as we took the train north to Grosseto in Tuscany after 2 days to visit a friend of Alex's from Sundance, Lucio and his family, Brunella and son, Fabio (L, B & F for my new writing style). Grosseto is muy bello. (Beware, I may mix Spanish, Italian, and French, so if you are well versed in any of these languages, please forgive me.) In some ways, it is similar to the Oregon coast - coastal towns with vacation homes that are lived in for the 2 month summer holidays that are so expensive that the people who work there can't afford to live there with inland towns where the full-time residents live. It seems to be warmer, though. We spent a sunny day yesterday walking through a market and past an old castle with weather slightly warmer than the warmest day of summer in Netarts. Ah, if only we spoke Italian and could move into a flat in the old section of town. :-) We've passed by olive trees, vineyards, prickly pear cacti.

I am also constantly reminded, having recently read 'Eat, Pray, Love,' that Elizabeth Gilbert spent the 1st third of the book in Italy - eating. I keep questioning, 'Who would come to Italy and not be able to eat pasta or pizza?' (Of course, in Munich, I could have asked, 'Who would go to Munich and not be able to drink beer?') And yet here Alex and I are - he can eat pasta, but I can't, and neither of us can drink beer at the moment. Sigh. However, we are discovering how Elizabeth Gilbert could eat her way through Italy. If one of us orders a 1st course for dinner, we are asked what we want for a 2nd course. If we try to skip the 1st course and go straight for the 2nd, we are asked what we want for the 1st. Last night, we had the audacity to take home pizza (our 2nd course after a large salad for the 1st course), but, as L explained to the waiter, we are Americans. We had dinner at the 1st gluten-free restaurant in Italy last night. It seems that gluten free food is also moving into Europe and we have already learned to recognize the packaging symbol of a stalk of wheat with a circle and slash over it.

Also, doing as the Roman, or Europeans in this case, we are learning to relax over our meals. Meals take time, the waiters don't rush you out and, in fact, expect for you to sit and converse and enjoy your meal - 1st course, 2nd course, dolce, and caffé. What a lovely tradition.

I think I have managed to fix all of my typos in this message. This seems to be the trip of challenging keyboards for me. This time, I'm on an Italian keyboard (yes, this makes sense). The letter keys are in all of the same places, but the punctuation has all moved around. Alex and I have yet to find the 'at' symbol.

Ciao, ciao

kiss, kiss

Good news for Deb

I have failed at washing our clothes in Germany. (Note that the "c" is now working again on the keyboard.) Marta showed me how to use the washer, but it could be that I don't understand most of the words written on the face of it that led to my downfall. Or it could be that the coldest washing temperature that can be selected is 30 degrees. That's Celsius. (For the mathematically inclined, F=(9/5)*C +32, for the not so mathematically inclined, that's 86 deg. F.) What happened to "cold" water for colored clothing?

At any rate, my new Freddies pajamas are now pedal pushers, to put it politely, and other clothes seems just a little short, or a little tight.

Why is this good news for Deb? She inherits the clothing that I shrink in the wash. Could there be a new sweater in her future?

Vacation illness

What do you do when you're sick for your European vacation?

Shortly after we arrived here, the entire household settled in with a cold. The whole family seems to be handling it well, except for us guests from overseas. Marta still get the boys off to Kindergarden, Bryan still goes to Greece, then Romania, then either Poland or Prague next week. Alex & I have been sleeping, and sleeping, and still sleeping. Blame it on the trip on the plane or the rapid transition from spring to winter (although we now have a return to spring), but Alex & I have desended into sneesing, sniffling, blurry eyed misery. Before we stagger out into another day of staggering around museums, we have the endless debate - do we krawl bak into bed? Do we slowly meander through old world shurshes, staring up at pitures of the Holy Mary with snot running out of our noses? With our trip nearly 1/2 over, our time here is slowly tiking away into missed vistas.

"We're pathetik," Alex says, as we sneese simultaneously.

Note: 2 of the keys on this key board don't work (I'll let you guess whikh ones) and the spellshesk is in German, so I've substituted letters in a feeble attempt to get a similar sound. It's astonishing to find out how the Germans seem to use the last letter of the alpabet a lot more than we do.

Hello from Munich

This is our 3rd day in Munich where...it's snowing. Apparently, we missed the 60 degree weather. We requested sun and warm weather, but, alas, were greeted with grey days and cold.

Our plane trip was from Portland straight to Amsterdam, then a short flight into Munich. We left Pdx at 12:40 PM, arriving at Amsterdam 3 movies, 2 meals, and 10 hours later, but already the next morning their time. Having not slept, I was left with the feeling that a night of sleep was stolen from me. Where did it go? How can I reclaim the sleep I was denied? Upon arriving at Marta & Bryan's, we were informed that it was their plan to keep us up until the evening - "for our own good", of course. Between a long walk, moments of falling asleep on our feet, and pleading to go to bed, we somehow made it until 7:30 PM, then slept for 14 hours. It worked - we are now on Munich time, although still going to bed with the children and sleeping 10 or so hours. It's a good thing we're on vacation!

More on the cat

"Just thought I would update you on Larkin. He figured out the day after you left how to get out and in the kitty door by himself. He and Tazz have gotten about 6 inches apart and stared at each other without hitting, just the usual growls. Since he doesn't have the under bed as refuge, he is trying to find other safe areas, which has been interesting. Monday I heard him meow in the bedroom but couldn't find him after a search. I finally found him in the closet, on the yoga mats on a shelf. I guess he didn't like that place because he now has a new one, behind the printer under my desk on a shelf. I moved out some of the stuff so he wouldn't keep kicking off my router and modem, and it looks like he's set. I think he likes it because he's close to me when I'm on the computer and it's warm with all the electronics running. I noticed that they have a routine down in the morning. We open our bedroom door, Tazz comes in and Larkin follows for some pets. I feed Tazz wet food, which he eats half and leaves. Larkin comes over and licks/ eats about half of that and then Tazz comes back and finishes what's left. They are still doing their hissy fits if they surprise each other coming around a corner, but it's mostly gone away."

Courtesy of Dan, who's watching Larkin while we're in Yellowstone.



Am I surprised? No. Larkin is quite possibly the most laid-back cat I've ever known. He's pretty relaxed about Nearly everything, so I wasn't expecting this change of homes to be too traumatic for him.



There's actually a bit of a lesson to be learned from dear Larkin. I once had 2 cats - Larkin plus his brother, Julie. Larkin was always the cool cat - calm under most circumstances, always ready to receive pets, and just an all around laid back guy. Julie, on the other hand, was pretty neurotic. Alex blames it on his having to live with a girls name, but I recently found out that Larkin is also a girls name. Julie would get stressed out by just about anything - the dog, a loud noise, the husband. Alex used to like to tease him just to get him going. Larkin, when rubbed the wrong way, might meow, but then he'd start purring, turn around, and come back for more. Julie got sick and died a couple of years ago. Larkin, on the other hand, is about to celebrate his 17th birthday and is still doing well and is still content. So, the moral of the story: Relax, appreciate the attention that you get, and live a long and happy life.

(This post was delayed due to running out of time on the library computer.)