She had heard of a commune-style, Christian retreat in the Swiss Alps that she'd alway wanted to visit, so we decided on that. We would fly into Rome, see the sights there, drive to Florence for a day and then head up the Mediterranean coast to Switzerland.
Our trip begins with an unexpected bump up to Business Elite (the international First Class). What a treat! You'd think flying on an airplane is a rarity for me as excited as I am to embark on our nine hour flight.
Caitlin and I yuk it up in our big, comfy seats, sipping on champagne and enjoying every delectable treat that comes down the pike. Unfortunately I watch two stupid movies and can't sleep a wink. I am insanely jealous of Caitlin sleeping soundly next to me, her mouth wide open. I begin to worry about the energy she is going to have after all this hard sleeping (she's even dreaming).
"Of course." I answer.
"When did you learn?" she asks.
"When I was a teenager."
"When was the last time you drove one?"
"When I was a teenager."
When we finally make it out of the parking garage, driving in Rome is not too difficult, despite the lack of traffic lights, stop signs or any discernible rules of the road. We need to see all of Rome in a day because Caitlin plans on having dinner in Florence.
The first few hours of walking around I am doing okay, albeit exhausted. After waiting in line to see St. Peter's Basilica and getting rejected for admission (no visible knees or shoulders are allowed), I begin to feel like I really need to lie down somewhere. I remind Caitlin we don't need to see it all in a day, she can return someday... the only caveat being that I need to be, you know, alive for her to enjoy the benefits of my job. She agrees that I had better listen to my body and lie down for a bit, so after enjoying lunch at a quaint outdoor cafe we head back to our car that is parked in front of a church. I had envisioned myself stretching out on a pew in the cool darkness, but alas the church is locked and so I settle for sitting in our bumper car and closing my eyes for an hour or so.
Caitlin continues her tour of the city and when she comes back suggests we visit the Vatican and then head out for Florence. We dubbed our GPS Tommy-girl (taken from her given name of TomTom). Tommy-girl starts acting up, giving us one crazy bum steer after another in our search for the Vatican. Frustrated with her increasingly ridiculous directions, we finally give up, promising ourselves a return visit. After Tommy-girl gets us safely onto the ever so lovely Italian motor way, we pull into a rest stop and I give Caitlin a quick lesson in driving a stick shift. After a dozen or so "lurch and stalls" she gets the hang of it and drives most of the two and half hour trip to Florence.
Florence is beautiful. We look for one of the hotels that Caitlin has looked up in her guide book. We don't find any of them, but stumble upon Hotel Roma and take a quick tour, we love it but decide to make one more loop around to see if we can find a better deal. We don't find one. Hotel Roma is the ticket. Their rooms have toilet seats. Really, what more could we ask? By this time I have been on the move for over 30 hours. I am tired and hungry. My legs are beginning to ache. The first restaurant we try has a two hour wait. No can do. We stumble upon another one (not nearly as nice) a half a block away but Caitlin wants to continue on to see if we can find one that looks more appetizing. A walk around the entire block ends up being a fruitless "penalty lap." The food is rather bland but it fills the void and we blessedly head back to Hotel Roma where I fall into bed and sleep like a baby.
Our trip begins with an unexpected bump up to Business Elite (the international First Class). What a treat! You'd think flying on an airplane is a rarity for me as excited as I am to embark on our nine hour flight.
Caitlin and I yuk it up in our big, comfy seats, sipping on champagne and enjoying every delectable treat that comes down the pike. Unfortunately I watch two stupid movies and can't sleep a wink. I am insanely jealous of Caitlin sleeping soundly next to me, her mouth wide open. I begin to worry about the energy she is going to have after all this hard sleeping (she's even dreaming).
When we land in Rome about 10:30 a.m. local time I've been awake for more than 20 hours. Standing at the rental car counter I feel an unfamiliar rumbling and cramping in my stomach. I say "unfamiliar" because I usually have just the opposite problem, especially when I'm traveling. As we wait for the car I'd booked for the wrong day (forgetting that we'd be arriving the day after our departure), I start breaking out in a cold sweat. I need to find a restroom, quickly. To my great dismay, I discover none of the toilets have toilet seats. Thinking I must be in the men's room, I go out and recheck the door, but no, the figurine is definitely wearing a skirt. I suffer through my bout without the heretofore vastly under-appreciated toilet seat. Apparently Italians want to ensure people don't linger on the toilet, as all of the restrooms I visit throughout the day are equally ill-equipped.
It has already reached 90 degrees and I am roasting in my black sweat pants and black turtle neck. It is not helping my whole "situation." Caitlin offers to lend me a more comfortable outfit which I describe as a floor length, strapless muumuu. Caitlin describes it as an adorable, flow-ey, floor length sundress. I don't care, it's cool and comfortable. So there I am, wearing my sensible tennis shoes with the floor length, strapless muumuu, made even more attractive worn over my matronly, thick-strapped black bra. Throughout the day Caitlin and I both randomly erupt in laughter at the picture I make...traipsing around Rome in a ridiculous get-up I wouldn't be caught dead in at home...an outfit that is soo not me.
When we locate our car (barely bigger than a bumper car), we realize it's not the requested automatic but a manual. Caitlin asks if I even know how to drive a stick shift.
It has already reached 90 degrees and I am roasting in my black sweat pants and black turtle neck. It is not helping my whole "situation." Caitlin offers to lend me a more comfortable outfit which I describe as a floor length, strapless muumuu. Caitlin describes it as an adorable, flow-ey, floor length sundress. I don't care, it's cool and comfortable. So there I am, wearing my sensible tennis shoes with the floor length, strapless muumuu, made even more attractive worn over my matronly, thick-strapped black bra. Throughout the day Caitlin and I both randomly erupt in laughter at the picture I make...traipsing around Rome in a ridiculous get-up I wouldn't be caught dead in at home...an outfit that is soo not me.
When we locate our car (barely bigger than a bumper car), we realize it's not the requested automatic but a manual. Caitlin asks if I even know how to drive a stick shift.
"Of course." I answer.
"When did you learn?" she asks.
"When I was a teenager."
"When was the last time you drove one?"
"When I was a teenager."
When we finally make it out of the parking garage, driving in Rome is not too difficult, despite the lack of traffic lights, stop signs or any discernible rules of the road. We need to see all of Rome in a day because Caitlin plans on having dinner in Florence.
The first few hours of walking around I am doing okay, albeit exhausted. After waiting in line to see St. Peter's Basilica and getting rejected for admission (no visible knees or shoulders are allowed), I begin to feel like I really need to lie down somewhere. I remind Caitlin we don't need to see it all in a day, she can return someday... the only caveat being that I need to be, you know, alive for her to enjoy the benefits of my job. She agrees that I had better listen to my body and lie down for a bit, so after enjoying lunch at a quaint outdoor cafe we head back to our car that is parked in front of a church. I had envisioned myself stretching out on a pew in the cool darkness, but alas the church is locked and so I settle for sitting in our bumper car and closing my eyes for an hour or so.
Caitlin continues her tour of the city and when she comes back suggests we visit the Vatican and then head out for Florence. We dubbed our GPS Tommy-girl (taken from her given name of TomTom). Tommy-girl starts acting up, giving us one crazy bum steer after another in our search for the Vatican. Frustrated with her increasingly ridiculous directions, we finally give up, promising ourselves a return visit. After Tommy-girl gets us safely onto the ever so lovely Italian motor way, we pull into a rest stop and I give Caitlin a quick lesson in driving a stick shift. After a dozen or so "lurch and stalls" she gets the hang of it and drives most of the two and half hour trip to Florence.
Florence is beautiful. We look for one of the hotels that Caitlin has looked up in her guide book. We don't find any of them, but stumble upon Hotel Roma and take a quick tour, we love it but decide to make one more loop around to see if we can find a better deal. We don't find one. Hotel Roma is the ticket. Their rooms have toilet seats. Really, what more could we ask? By this time I have been on the move for over 30 hours. I am tired and hungry. My legs are beginning to ache. The first restaurant we try has a two hour wait. No can do. We stumble upon another one (not nearly as nice) a half a block away but Caitlin wants to continue on to see if we can find one that looks more appetizing. A walk around the entire block ends up being a fruitless "penalty lap." The food is rather bland but it fills the void and we blessedly head back to Hotel Roma where I fall into bed and sleep like a baby.
1 comment:
Oh, Laurie, this just made my day! As is your usual, I laughed out loud and really felt as those I was part of the journey. You have a gift, my beloved friend!!! I'm eagerly awaiting more:-) Love you and miss you terribly!
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