Looking forward to your report, especially on Siena, as we'll be there in May.

That's the Prologue. Waiting for Episode 1.

Great start--looking forward to more.

TTT

Looking forward to your report. Will be doing a similar trip with 19 and 20 yr old sons in June.

Ooh, sounds good so far. I'm looking forward to reading more.

t

topping to hear this interesting story.

Great start!

Pre-trip preparation:

1. We decided to work with Verizon to enable two of our cell phones to operate in Italy. DH handled this (his main trip prep task). Despite being told that his Blackberry would work over there, a Verizon technician (the third or fourth one he spoke to) said “absolutely not.” But Verizon sent us two temporary phones that we could use for our trip. This meant deactivating our regular phones and activating the temporary ones – and reversing the process when we returned. This went pretty smoothly and wasn’t much of a hassle (since I didn’t have to deal with it). DH needed access to a phone and email for work, and we wanted DD1 and DD2 to have a phone since I figured they would do some independent exploring.

2. I got each of the girls a VISA travel card from AAA. Even DD3, although I simply reloaded a card I already had. These gave them each some independence and a way to be in control of their spending money. DD3 got a kick out of using her own card at the ATM machine. Although she refused to break the 50 Euro bill she got, and I somehow ended up buying most of her trinkets anyways.

3. My goal was to pack as lightly as possible. I didn’t achieve as much success here as I had hoped. We did keep it to one suitcase each--one large, one med-large, two medium, and one large carry-on (for DD3). That made one bag for each of us plus a daypack for the airplane, day trips, etc. Still, we had more stuff IN the suitcases to start with than I would have liked. This caused a challenge by the time we got to Venice and our suitcases were bursting. We almost bought another suitcase (which would have been easy in Florence as they were selling them everywhere on the street, but were not to be found in Venice when we decided we needed one) – so we did some nifty and careful repacking and managed to squeeze it all in for the trip home.

4. I spent a lot of time thinking about the type of daypack and coat that I wanted to travel with (WAY too much time), but ultimately both choices were superb. I wanted a coat with a lot of pockets so I wouldn’t have to carry a purse, or a daypack, if I didn’t want to. It also had to be suitable for a range a temperatures since we were likely to experience mild weather as well as quite damp and chilly. I toyed for weeks with getting a Scottevest, but in the end, couldn’t bring myself to spend the money and finally settled on a jacket from LLBean that had two deep inside pockets and two zippered outside pockets. It was perfect. And the Healthy Back bag ended up being an impulse buy at the AAA store two days before the trip because I hadn’t found anything else I liked. It worked out great.

5. I asked DH’s doctor to give him a prescription for Xanax. Luckily DH’s doctor is old school and had no problem prescribing medication to his patient on the advice of his wife.

6. We were set to go.

We took a United flight nonstop to Rome (booked through Continental to use all those Amex reward points – one free ticket!!). Normally I wouldn’t go into the flight itself, but as this was the single worst aspect of our entire vacation, I thought I’d mention it. The flight was miserable. Really, really, miserable. Now I know not to expect much in the cattle car, but I felt trapped, claustrophobic, and just plain uncomfortable (and I'm only 5'2"). It’s been a long time since we’ve taken an American carrier across the Atlantic, and it will be a lot longer before we do so again I think. Those few extra inches between seats on British Airways or Virgin Atlantic make a lot of difference!

The timing of the flight also made a difference. It left at 5:00 pm which is rough time slot for crossing the Atlantic if you want to get any sleep. DD3 finally fell asleep an hour before we landed. DD1 managed to sprawl over her tray table and snooze a little. The rest of us were out of luck. In terms of service, though, the United flight attendants were wonderful I have to say. So enough kvetching. We didn’t know it at the time, but we got the very worst part of the trip over with straight away, so that was a good thing. It wasn’t, however, without consequences…..

Next up: First Day in Rome!

Can't wait to read the rest of your report, wayfinder!

We arrived, shattered, but happy. We had arranged with our hotel to be picked up at the airport. There was indeed someone waiting for us, but he wasn’t the driver, rather someone who coordinates these pickups, probably for multiple hotels. We had to wait about 15 minutes or so for the driver with the minivan to arrive. That gave me enough time to grab a cappuccino from the airport bar. Yay! There had been an ATM machine right by our baggage carousel, so we were all set for euros.

Our hotel was excellent – and a terrific value. Villa San Pio on the Aventine Hill caters mostly to Italians and other Europeans, and indeed, I think we were the only Americans there. My husband and I had stayed there on our previous brief trip to Rome and were comfortable with the location since it is in our “old neighborhood.” We had gone to high school on the Aventine many years before – and not a whole lot has changed since then. Many travelers might not like to be off the beaten track, but the hotel (and its sister hotel San Anselmo) as well as the location actually have a lot to offer. Two metro stations are within a ten-minute walk and convenient bus and tram routes go right along Viale Aventino and Via Marmorata. It’s a short walk to the Colosseum (say 15 minutes at a decent pace).

What the hotel has going for it are LARGE, clean, nicely decorated rooms and excellent value. There is a lovely breakfast room with a plentiful assortment of breads, rolls, meats, cheeses, cereals, and fruit. For some reason, the coffee was disappointing – my only complaint about the hotel. We booked and paid in advance and received a 20% discount. We had a triple for the girls (their huge room came with an amazing bathroom) and DH and I had a double with a balcony and pleasant view (and a fine, but Jacuzzi-free bathroom). Fabulous deal for only 200E/night.

The property has a number of orange and lemon trees which add to the atmosphere. And in warmer weather, it must be a real joy to sit out under the trees with a glass of wine. Best of all, just up the hill are two treasures. One is Santa Sabina, one of the oldest Christian basilicas in Rome, built in the early 5th century. The other, I’m reluctant to share…..okay, I will.…. but don’t tell anyone. “Orange Park” is a hidden gem next to Santa Sabina. A symmetrical grove of orange trees, potted plants, and benches, the walled park offers a stunning view of the Tiber and St. Peter’s. And at night, the view through the main gate towards St. Peters is....….worth staying on the Aventine for.

So, it’s no surprise that shortly after checking in, I walked straight up Via San Anselmo to Orange Park, dragging DD3 along with me and leaving everyone else passed out in bed. Now, I’m typically of the opinion that one should simply plow through the jet lag. But after a short time at Orange Park, I began to feel the weight of the aftermath of that dreadful flight and longed to lie down. So back to the hotel for an hour’s nap.

After rousing DH and DD3 (DD1 and DD2 showed no signs of life), we set off to Termini to buy train tickets for the rest of our trip. This was one of the best tips I received from fellow Fodorites. We walked down to the Circo Massimo metro stop on the B line, stopping for DD3’s first gelato. Mmm Mmm. That was a love affair at first bite.

The self-service machines at Termini were a breeze. It certainly helped researching schedules and fares in advance on the Trenitalia website. We bought 2nd class tickets on ES trains for Rome-Florence, Florence-Venice, and Venice-Rome legs of the trip. Like I said, a very wise move as a number of trains sold out.

Back to the hotel to haul DD1 and DD2 out of bed for a walk and meal around Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. As we were making our way down Viale Aventino, we run into DD1’s housemate from college. Yes, her housemate from college. Now, we’d known that this housemate would be in Italy, because DD1 was planning to visit him in Arezzo while we were in Florence, but here, now, on the same sidewalk in Rome?? So DD1 (who’s energy level has suddenly surged) and said housemate go off together (immediately the phone pays off), and we’re down one.

We plan to take the bus to Piazza Venezia in front of the Victor Emmanuel monument and walk to the Trevi Fountain, but we either get on the wrong bus or miss the stop and wind up closer to the Spanish Steps, so we meander there first. Sensing that DD2 feels abandoned by DD1, we let her pick a place to eat. She chooses a cute little trattoria somewhere along the way to the Trevi Fountain. It’s just warm enough to eat out in the street. Yes, the tables take up half the little side street, but the restaurant’s host keeps an eye on the mopeds and occasional car and entertains the girls with over-the-top Italian fawning (in between chatting up and chasing down women as they walk along the other side of the street). The food is fairly decent, the wine less so.

But the meal is fun and we leave in good spirits to find the Trevi Fountain and throw in a coin to make sure we all return (we’ll have to see about DD1 ). As we walk along Via del Corso we’re overcome with exhaustion and decide to catch a cab back to the hotel. Riding down the Corso, DD3 spots the Disney store -- which she obsesses about for the next four days. The lit up “Wedding Cake” and Christmas tree on Piazza Venezia are the perfect images to cap off our first day.

Next up: Pompei?? Really?!?

So good so far!!! We have a 6 and 8 year old we're taking to Rome soon, so looking forward to DD3's reactions!

looking forward to the next part wayfinder!

<<I asked DH’s doctor to give him a prescription for Xanax. Luckily DH’s doctor is old school and had no problem prescribing medication to his patient on the advice of his wife.>>

That's some of the best advice I've seen. I can't imagine DH on a transatlantic flight without Xanax

Great report so far, looking forward to the rest!

We woke up to a cold and rainy day. We had reservations for the Vatican Museum, but the kids were campaigning to go to Pompeii. There had been a lively thread here on the pros/cons of taking a day trip to Pompeii from Rome. There had been compelling arguments made in favor of visiting Ostia Antica instead. But I knew it wasn’t about the quality of the ruins, or even convenience – Pompeii was the destination that evoked the kids’ curiosity and interest. So I was open to taking the day trip, but it never occurred to me to go on our first full day in Italy.

I checked the weather online. It showed rain all day in Rome and partly sunny and 60 degrees in Pompeii. That decided it. I quickly changed our reservations for the Vatican Museum to the next day – you can make one change on-line up to one hour before the reservation time – and off we flew to Termini. DH still thought it was crazy to go all the way to Pompeii, and I had trepidations that this might be a disaster in the making.

Luckily, I had researched the logistics beforehand and had even previewed A_Brit_In_Ischia’s photos showing how to get to the Circumvesuviana platform from the main train station:
http://www.fodors.com/community/europe/through-naples-to-sorrento-or-pompei.cfm

We bought tickets for the next express train to Naples leaving within the hour. Second class was sold out, gulp, so we got first class. We grabbed coffee and water and the girls checked out Termini’s bookstore. DD2 was already fretting that she’d run out of Harry Potter to read before the trip was over. She was already a good way through Book 7 and had only brought along Book 6 as well (she had decided to read them backwards....don’t ask).

First class was nice, but the rest of our trips were in 2nd class and I can’t say there is THAT much difference. There’s a little more room, the bathrooms are a bit cleaner, and you get a square of chocolate and free coffee. Nice, but second class is just fine. The one thing I could never figure out was how the seats were assigned. With the self-service machines, you can pick one seat, then the rest of the seats are assigned based on the first selection (at least I couldn’t figure out any other way to do it). We were always split 3 and 2, or 2, 2, 1; we were never assigned all four seats in a section. And the way the seats are numbered is a real brain teaser. At one point I diagrammed the seat layout and seat numbers on a piece of paper, trying to understand the logic. So it’s easy to end up in the wrong seat and we got involved in several lengthy debates involving half a dozen people in the aisle, all pointing and gesticulating. I think the Italians were just as likely to get it wrong as the tourists. My advice: board early, and stake out and hold your rightful territory.

The train ride to Naples was about an hour and a half with some pretty scenery – all of it encased in dense fog. Where were my partly sunny skies?? Miraculously, just as we pulled into Naples the skies cleared and the sun peaked through. Whew! [I had been ignoring DH’s silent glares as we traveled through the gloomy weather].

Despite Peter’s helpful directions, there was still some bumbling about trying to find the Circumvesuviana line and once we were on the platform, it wasn’t clear when to expect the next train to Sorrento. I was a little worried we would either get on the wrong train or completely miss the right one. After about a 20 minute wait, our train arrived. Duh, it was the one that clearly said “Sorrento.”

I looked at the map on the train and counted at least 10 stops to Pompeii Scavi. I also honed in on an elderly English couple, the only other tourists in sight. Since they were obviously going to Pompeii as well I made a mental note to keep an eye on them as a backup and settled back to relax. But only a few stops later, DD1 says, “Hey, isn’t this what we want?” I look up to see “Pompeii Scavi” on the platform. I glance over to my English tourists – they haven’t moved a muscle. Damn! They must be going to Sorrento. We jump up and off the train. Luckily, we didn't have to chase down stray markers or playing cards, otherwise we would have missed our stop. DD1 saved the day! Lesson noted: following other tourists is not a smart strategy (especially, it turns out, in Venice).

I had read several positive reviews about the tour guides at Pompeii and was open to hiring one. Sure enough, on our approach, we were greeted by an enthusiastic tour guide who earnestly begins negotiations with DH. He's got a receptive audience but doesn't reckon on DD1 and DD2 who are adamently opposed to engaging his services. Not for any particular reason that I can fathom, but I'm still too muddle-headed trying to figure out how I read the train map incorrectly.

This day, at least, their instincts are right. Pompeii is peaceful and it's a true joy to stroll up and down the streets in quiet. It's practically deserted. There can't be more than 30 people in the whole place. Well, maybe 50 -- we ran into about 20 Asian tourists in the Lupanar (mostly men, I'm afraid). There are a few specific spots we want to find, but mostly we just wander and enjoy.

What's most amazing is the freedom you get to explore. The kids had a great time exploring the nooks and crannies -- discovering little gardens and courtyards. They played out tragic scenes and comic scenes and we took a million pictures.

Not long after arriving, DD1 and DD2 run into someone they know from summer camp. How small is this world anyway?! But it was that awkward teen acquaintance thing, so the families chatted a few minutes and then we went our separate ways.

As dusk was settling, we felt so full and happy, but DD3 was still on a mission to find the "dead bodies." And in a fluke we did. They were all locked up, put away for the winter season, I suppose.

There was a festive mood among the small group of people waiting on the platform to head back to Naples -- I think we each felt like we had had Pompeii to ourselves. And that was a very special feeling.

Thanks wayfinder45 for a good trip report. I can't wait to read the rest.

Next up: Naked bodies, blood and gore.

wow this is great! Husband and I are planning a May trip to Italy with 2 -20 year olds!

tt 4 later

Great trip report! Enjoying the reading and looking forward to the next instalment.

loving it! thanks

Great report! Keep it coming! Excellent useful details for fellow travelers!

Thanks!

Really enjoying this.

Glad Pompei worked out.

There was a very funny thread on the Paris forum about taking young kids to art museums in Europe given all the willies and whatnots on display. So I had talked to my 8-year-old daughter about this knowing that we would be going to the Vatican Museum. I had even heard that there was an entire room devoted to willies and I was mildly curious to see how that collection might be displayed. I mentioned this room to my teenage girls as well, to see if they were interested in hunting it down (they thought the idea repulsive – good, just checking!). But I had spent some time talking to DD3 about nudity in art, so that she could get accustomed to the idea and treat it more naturally. I wanted to minimize the arm pulling, finger pointing, and giggling that might ensue.

What I was TOTALLY unprepared to deal with was the violence depicted in much of the art we saw. From epic battle scenes to crucifixions and beheadings, if Renaissance art had a parental rating, it would probably be PG-13 – and R if you factored in the nudity. The worst: the massive “Slaughter of the Innocents” in the Hall of Tapestry. I tried to scoot DD3 by without her seeing it, but no, she stops dead in her tracks and looks straight at it. “What’s that about?” she asks me. Well, there’s really no talking around sharp daggers pressing into the throats of babies.

Now DD3 is not overly sensitive so it wasn’t that I thought she’d be traumatized (although the Slaughter of the Innocents is pretty unsettling). But I wasn’t equipped to help her process what she was seeing. Between the depictions of John the Baptist and Judith and Holofernes, we must have seen at least a dozen decapitated heads. It might have helped to have a little background handy on why Judith beheaded Holofernes, so at least I could have rattled off extraneous details until she got bored. So hone up on your Bible stories!

Traveling with both teens and a young child was an interesting juxtaposition: DH and I could barely throw a fact or two the teens’ way before they knew ALL they needed to know, thank you very much. The little one was a wall of questions, none of which I seemed to have good answers to.

The directors of the Vatican Museum have obviously learned a thing or two from Walt Disney. Queue design for Space Mountain has nothing on those inviting little arrows pointing you to the Sistine Chapel! Every time you think you’ve GOT to be almost there, you turn a corner to face another hall, another staircase, another massive collection. It was all amazing though. From the mummy in the Egyptian room, to the enormous Porphyry bowl in the Round Hall, to Raphael’s rooms and the Hall of Maps, there are some truly astonishing things to see. I could have done without the “modern” section, however – that last gasp before you actually reach the Chapel.

The museum was not at all crowded, and we were able to move about easily. Turns out, that was because everyone was in the Sistine Chapel! It was wall-to-wall packed and that made it difficult to really look at it properly. Disappointing, but we had had enough in any case. Time for a cappuccino and some pizza at the museum café. We were able to snag some outside tables and enjoy a glimpse of the gardens. I was pleased that we’d made it through without anyone having a meltdown and everyone seemed to get something out of it -- if not a little too much!

Great report - lots of fun to read. Keep it coming!

Ah yes, my son loved finding "Slaughter of the Innocents" paintings, decapitations, disembowlments, etc. -- he was just the right age for such blood and gore. I'd love to say he developed an appreciation for great art but at least he found something to keep him interested as the rest of us enjoyed ourselves.

Really, really enjoying your reposrt!

given all the willies and whatnots on display

wayfinder- you had me laughing aloud with this one!

I am LOVING your trip report! Cannot wait to read more. (I'm leaving in one week for my third trip in four years..to Italy. It has become my drug of choice.hahaha)

Thanks for sharing!

Oh yes, those Bible stories aren't for the faint-hearted! People getting slaughtered (and often raped) all over the place. Of course, human history is full of that, too.

More, please.

What a pleasure to read a well-written, thoughtful trip report.

Thanks, wayfinder45!

Thanks to everyone for the great encouragement! This is a lot harder to do than I expected!

Next up: "The Scene".

I'm really enjoying your trip report. Can't wait to hear the rest!

I'm traveling back to Italy this summer with two teens & I'm looking forward to hearing about your experences in Florence and Venice.

Thanks for sharing.

great report - can't wait for the next installment!

Queue design for Space Mountain has nothing on those inviting little arrows pointing you to the Sistine Chapel! Every time you think you’ve GOT to be almost there, you turn a corner to face another hall, another staircase, another massive collection>>

that's how we ended up finding the "willie room", wayfinder. don't tell me you missed it?

don't know why but our kids never got too worried about all the violence depicted; they became obsessed with the ugly babies and flying baby-heads you see in so many paintings. They even had competitions to see who could find the ugliest christ-child. [how come so many great artists suddenly turned into painters by numbers when it came to painting baby Jesus?] so far, the winner is in a painting in a monastery in siena - the baby in it is a corker.

looking forward to more!

Really enjoying your report! We have a 9 year old girl and 13 year old son and we leave for Italy in 10 days - you're preparing me so well for what to expect!

After leaving the Vatican Museum, we catch a bus that dumps us at Piazza Cavour. We then cross the river and walk to Piazza Navona to check out the Christmas Market. There’s a festive, carnival like atmosphere with cotton candy, ciambelle (similar to sugared doughnuts), a band playing American classic rock, and rows and rows of vendors hawking trinkets, Nativity scenes, and of course, La Befana. There’s a merry-go-round which is a great thrill for DD3.

The stalls obliterate the marvelous view of the piazza, but we set up a base by the Four Rivers fountain and DH looks after our stuff while the girls and I wander around. I walk by a cowboy statue as I poke through the stalls. You’d think a little alarm bell would go off at the sight of a cowboy statue in the middle of Piazza Navona, but it isn’t until I’m sitting back at the fountain and see the statue stand up that I realize that I've been looking at a street performer. That guy was GOOD. In fact, there is some real living statue talent on display in Piazza Navona. There’s a lady with a bowl of goldfish on her head, and a mud-covered soldier behind the merry go round ticket booth who goes into an elaborate mime and gives DD3 a lollipop when DH tosses a coin in his bucket.

DD1 buys a squishy balloon head which is essentially a balloon filled with flour and glued on eyes, but it’s an object of fascination until it springs a leak the next day. I would think the girls would want to hang out for a while, but I can tell they’re ready to leave, so we decide to head over to the Pantheon. Just off Piazza Navona, we walk into a wall of police. There are several SWAT-type vehicles as well as police cars and motorcycles. This takes us by surprise as we didn’t see a sign of police presence in the piazza. We figure it’s a precautionary show of force since there had been large student protests the week before. When we get back to the hotel, we discover that bombs had gone off at both the Swiss and Chilean embassies earlier in the day.

After a short stop at the Pantheon – the façade of which is sadly covered in scaffolding – we’re ready for a gelato. DD1 and DD2 want to head back, however, so after making sure they have a map and the phone, they take off for the hotel. We get a gelato and sit in the square in front of the Pantheon listening to street musicians as dusk settles in. I’m not sure why gelato melts so quickly, but in no time, DD3 is covered forehead to elbow in chocolate ice cream.

We meander through the maze of streets, souvenir shopping. DD3 buys a replica of the Colosseum, the start her collection of cheap plaster molds that she picks up everywhere we go for a euro a pop.

After a little down time at the hotel, we all walk to a nameless trattoria on Viale Aventino. It’s a homey, family-run place and the food is very good. We’re passing around the guide book and enjoying some light conversation about what we’ve seen and done that day. And then it starts. The family dynamic that tends to be the most volatile is between DH and DD1. That’s because they are the most alike, but don’t try telling either one of them that. What starts out as a simple conversation about a political issue of singular importance to a college sophomore suddenly turns into a hostile confrontation, followed by tears and accusations of insensitivity. DD1 storms out of the restaurant. After DH’s usual protestations of “What? What did I say?”, DD2 storms out in solidarity. Well, DD3 still has her dessert to go, so we sit for a while as I try to explain just what it was he said.

Mercifully, this is the only ugly scene and, in fact, the rapport between the two remains notably positive throughout the rest of the trip. In thinking back on this, I realize that my oldest must have felt incredibly at home to play that scene out. There are many places you can visit and observe, but Rome is a city that gets in your blood. This may not make much sense, but I think it's the real reason why Rome is called the Eternal City. [DD2 just wanted to get back to her book].

What a well-written report! Look forward to more..do not spare us the family dynamic details!

wayfinder,

You do have a gift for telling the tale. Squishy balloon head! I can just see it

"There are many places you can visit and observe, but Rome is a city that gets in your blood."

Certainly is, wayfinder - thanks for your warm, amusing & interesting report. I'm enjoying it enormously & looking forward to the next chapters.

Wayfinder, you sure have a way to spin a tale. Thanks for an amusing and interesting report.

Hi Wayfinder,

We were actually in Rome at the same time. Have been enjoying your report and it brought back memories of all that was going on at Piazza Navona that time of year!

Excellent, amusing, human, wonderful. More please.

wayfinder, I have to say how nice it felt to read that someone else could "cause a scene" in Rome and I'm not the only one.

My DD#1 (31) and I were in Rome last year. She had been having some medical issues, she missed her kids and her SO and she was not feeling any empathy for anyone else. My DD#2 phoned her, to talk to me (since I did not have my phone with me) and was distraught about a situation with a beloved pet.

After 30 seconds on the phone, DD#1 yells something absurd about, "Remember, this is costing me $1.30/minute" or something like that. (Mind you... I have paid for everything for this trip for DD#1-everything.) I lost it. I started yelling at her right on the street (we were headed back to our apt for a nap after lunch). "You could tell when you answered the phone that your sister was upset about something, and you're going to talk to me about the cost of the call? I'll pay you for the G-D call!! God, you're such a bitch!!!".

I know, who says that to their own daughter? Well, I'd simply met my breaking point with her "it's all about me" attitude which I'd put up with for days. Of course I apologized later, as did she, but it happened.

So glad I'm not the only American to have had a public scene with her kid.

Love your reporting style!

What a great report to find and read on a dreary afternoon! Thanks so much for a very enjoyable read - and for reminding me of my own family adventures in Rome.

Ah yes, mothers and daughters. Don't we just know exactly how to push each other's buttons?!

sarge, I can so relate. My older two are getting to that age when you begin to realize that, yes, this is the product I've created. There's lots of good, but the negative gets harder to justify away!

Wayfinder (and Sarge)

Not proud of it but I remember a tantrum, mine, at age 30, that included slamming doors and unprintable language.

Actually, Way, if that was the trip's low point, you all did well.

We stayed at the Villa San Pio in 2005. What a gem! We were in transit for 24 hours due to delays and lost luggage. I remember wandering down the hill, looking for food and stumbling into a cafeteria which was actually owned by the salumeria next door that had just been featured in Gourmet magazine. I was near a meltdown after having forgotten all Italian that I had learned in my 6 month studies abroad stint in Florence 35 years previously. I heard a snippet of English behind me and asked for help. Turns out the husband was an American and a high ranking official in the WFO and the wife was from Buenos Aires. They took us under their wings and helped us order. My husband is a professor in French, so the men talked history over dinner (and wine) and then, despite being in an almost hallucinogenic state due to lack of sleep, we hopped into their car for a tour of Rome at night! The tour ended at the Maltese Embassy to look through the key hole at the vatican. What a memory!

I'm enjoying your trip report.

It’s Christmas Eve and we have no place to eat. Although I had collected the names of several restaurants that were open for dinner on Christmas Eve from fellow Fodorites, I had not made any reservations. I guess I wanted to wait to have a better sense of where we might be and what we might be doing. Besides, the hotel had a restaurant. Since we were planning to attend midnight mass at Santa Sabina, perhaps that would be the best option.

Well, after the scene, I decide that, yes, a quiet dinner at the hotel will be best for everyone. So I ask the front desk clerk to make a reservation for us. He looks at me sympathetically and regrets to say that the restaurant is closed. In fact, it’s closed all week. How could I not know this?! I give an accusing glance at the leather covered menu on prominent display by the front desk. He graciously pulls out a list of local restaurants and offers to call the ones that have indicated that they’ll be open on Christmas Eve. My relief is fleeting. None of the restaurants will in fact be open (or if they are, he is too kind to tell me I have no chance of getting a reservation – I can’t quite follow the Italian). Time to dig out my list.

Then I have a better idea. I’ll hunt down a grocery store and stock up on provisions – we’ll have a family picnic at the hotel.

So Christmas Eve morning, after making sure a truce has been established, I head out to Via Marmorata in search of a supermarket. The streets are bustling with people running last minute errands to prepare for the holidays. I walk by a shop bursting with meats and cheeses and bottles of vino. There’s a queue out the door. There’s a pasticceria nearby with gorgeous cakes and sweets. I wander further into Rome’s Testaccio neighborhood – there’s a covered flea market, some fish and produce vendors, and a cramped variety store packed floor to ceiling with a stunning array of household items. Cars are parked every which way, and shoppers spill out over the sidewalks into the streets.

I find a supermarket. It’s a fairly large one, with about 5 or 6 aisles. I pick up some packaged prosciutto and cheese, bread, cookies and bags of popcorn. The produce section is intimidating because you have to weigh, bag, and tag loose items yourself, so I stick to pre-packaged bags of Clementines and bananas.

I spend a good long while going up and down the aisles looking for peanut butter and soy milk for DD2 who is vegan. In desperation I put soy baby formula in the cart, before spotting the regular stuff (I had walked by it at least 3 times). I can’t find anything resembling peanut butter – except for Nutella of course – but get her some peanuts and cashews. I buy the most expensive bottle of Pinot Grigio they stock – for 2.5 euros.

It must have poured while I was shopping because I have to navigate around huge puddles that weren’t there before, but at least I don’t have to handle four heavy grocery bags and an umbrella. I’m feeling quite pleased with myself until I idiotically turn up the wrong street and walk up a steep incline that nearly kills me. For some reason, I think backtracking will be worse, and by the time I get to the end of that eternal block, find that I am, indeed, on the wrong street. But I quickly get my bearings and cut down a side street to the hotel.

It occurs to me later (like while I’m writing this) that I’ve spent my first “me” time in Italy grocery shopping. What’s even more pathetic is that I had a great time.

I make it back to the hotel to find a contented lot. DD1 is tackling her Creation of Adam puzzle from the Vatican Museum. She’s so excited about putting it together that I don’t have the heart to explain the futility of trying to put together a 1,000 piece puzzle in two days. DD2 is in the throes of Book 6. DD3 has figured out how to get Hannah Montana on Youtube. DH is just up from a nap.

Unpacking, I tell DH about the great wine and salami shop I saw, and as he eyes the packaged prosciutto and 2.5 euro Pinot Grigio, I can tell what he’s thinking. Sure enough, he suddenly remembers something he needs to go out and get, and it’s my turn to hang out with the kids.

The place is called Volpetti (Via Marmorata 47) and DH is notably impressed with the range and quality of food and wine on offer as well as the quality of service. He comes back with a variety of marvelous olives, two bottles of wine (in the 20 Euro range), some soft cheese, and much better looking prosciutto, I have to admit.

It’s raining again and it would be sooooo easy to just stay in the hotel, but I manage to galvanize the troops (at least some of them). DH and I set off with DD3 to tour the Colosseum. It’s scheduled to close early, so we hustle to the Circo Massimo metro and take it one stop to the Colosseum. We each have an umbrella, but that doesn’t deter the hoard of optimistic umbrella pushers who see no reason why we shouldn’t each have a spare.

As we walk toward the Colosseum, we can see people on the inside, but don’t see the infamous ticket line. We head right and walk all the way around the Colosseum and finally find the entrance – barred. If only we had veered to the left!

No matter. We walk around and look at bits of the Forum. We’re starting to get really soggy so we take the metro back, this time to the Pyramid stop (not sure why) and end up on Via Marmorata yet again (someone must have been having Volpetti visions!) We step inside an inviting bar for a cappucino and hot chocolate. The barista must have taken one look at our wet, bedraggled appearance and thought: Christmas bonus!

Our capuccini arrive in fancy mugs and DD3 is plied with truffles and biscuits. The panini and pastries look great, so we try some of those, and get a little something to take back to the girls. The tab was an astonishing 40 euros, but it had been a VERY pleasant hour.

A few doors down from this café bar is a profumeria. DD3 had been in Italy a mere 24 hours when she came to the conclusion that she just had to have red lipstick. Not cherry lip gloss, mind, but blood red lipstick. It was becoming a challenge to distract her from both this mission and the Disney store. “I bet they have lipstick,” she says. I take one look at the high-end cosmetics and perfume on display and know this isn’t going to end well. “But you said it’s my money,” she states. So I did.

As soon as we enter, a tall, blond, beautiful young sales clerk latches on to us. I figure as soon as she finds out it’s the 8-year old shopping, she’ll detach. But no. She spends a good 15 minutes exclusively with DD3, showing her different products, testing about a dozen colors on the back of her hand. I keep steering the two of them to the back of the store and the product line I figure is the cheapest: L’Oreal. DD3 gets the deepest red she can find (luckily L’Oreal, but it still costs close to 12 euros). DD3 uses her travel card and the sales clerk wraps the lipstick in shiny silver paper and red ribbon. DD3 is beaming.

DH in the meantime has been wandering the sidewalk, and as we come out, he asks us to wait outside as he’s gotten the lovely but misguided idea to get us all a “little something” to open on Christmas. I frantically try to signal that this is not the store for a “little something” but it’s too late. He crosses the threshold and the tall, blond sales clerk swoops in. Now, unless it’s a hardware store, DH is hopeless when it comes to gift shopping –he’s completely at the mercy of the sales staff. He’s the guy who buys the enormous, pre-packaged gift baskets at Bath and Body Works. He and our credit card don’t stand a chance. It doesn’t take long. He comes out with four brilliantly packaged gifts. I dread opening them.

Enjoying and still following along. I like your alone time in the grocery store. I would enjoy that too.

Now wondering what was in the gifts.

You tell a family tale so well. Hanging on every detail here!

I had your Rome hotel on my list for a future trip.

Volpetti might be the most famous food store in Italy; it is certainly the most famous in Rome, and now that you mention that it is near the Villa San Pio, you have sealed the deal for me--you are so fortunate to have had that close by!

Wow! What a wonderful trip report. I am enjoying every word. I have only traveled to Europe twice - the first time with our then 9 and 14 year old daughters - Paris, Switzerland, and Florence and Rome... and have been laughing out loud at times at your stories!

The second time we went to Paris for 10 nights over Christmas and New Years (the only time that worked out as well for us) and we brought back our then 11 and 15 year old daughters as well as our 18 year old son and his friend - it made for an interesting trip to say the least on many levels. I had to smile at your time grocery shopping. We had an apartment in Paris and some of my fondest memories are of me by myself in the markets...

Waiting to see what those gifts are!

Yes! It was Volpetti that had the little cafeteria next door. At the end of our trip to Rome, we went to Volpetti to get provision for the overnight train to Paris. In halting Italian, I asked for help, mumbling something like "picnic...il traino....a Parigi...." Pandemonium ensued with all the men beaming, as our stock pile of salumeria and wine grew. We tasted cheese (and bought some)...we tasted wine (and bought some)...olives (bought).....bread (bought). They thought the night train to Paris was so romantic! We had so much left over that it fed five for lunch the next day!

Great trip report, very well written. You've made me laugh out loud several times...a true indication of a great report. Hurry back, I'm impatient to hear about the rest of the trip!

I have also been truly enjoying your report, especially the sense of humor you bring to your writing. I would probably also have found myself in a grocery store as you did, and actually do like to wander around the markets in towns that we visit. Also looking forward to the unwrapping of the packages.

I can't wait to find out what you all got for Christmas

... loving your report!

thanks for sharing. Really enjoying your report. If you haven't written any books you should consider....as you have a talent.

This is s super well-written report. Worth waiting for, but not too too long, please. Many thanks.

What a cliff-hanger!

What did DH buy???

Your eight year old daughter sounds so cute. I can't wait to find out what your husband got his girls.

Thanks, I am truly enjoying your trip report.

ekscrunchy, I do have to hand it to DH for sussing out the "real deal" when he saw Volpetti's. We had no idea it was such a well-known establishment at the time!

shehof, thanks! I write lots of memos and reports -- never anything as fun as this!

taconictraveler, definitely will have this done before sandy's trip this summer! Promise.

wayfinder: Thank you so much for this trip report. I'm trying to plan a trip for early fall and I'm hung up because I don't know yet when dh will be able to go, so I am lurking and dreaming and making lists galore.

Reading trip reports is better then chocolate, and yours is better then dark chocolate.

Of course, it just leaves me wanting more.

Don't get too ambitious with the side trips! Though you might think of stopping in Ravenna and or Pisa on the way back from Venice. Also a stop in Verona or Padua on the way to Venice. Siena is beautiful, maybe stay in Chianti and drive into Florence and Siena, then you could see other places around Tuscany. Think about nixing the trip to Pompeii though amazing, Rome is a place you can't spend too much time in... check out Ostia Antica instead, it's not Pompeii, but it's close to Rome!

Now, unless it’s a hardware store, DH is hopeless when it comes to gift shopping –he’s completely at the mercy of the sales staff. He’s the guy who buys the enormous, pre-packaged gift baskets at Bath and Body Works. He and our credit card don’t stand a chance. It doesn’t take long. He comes out with four brilliantly packaged gifts. I dread opening them.

lol .. can't wait for more!

ditto on all comments on how great your report is, wayfinder45.

Christmas Day! We wake up on the late side and I know right away that the Pope’s Christmas Day address will be a no go. There’s plenty of time to make it, just not enough momentum. We had gone to Midnight Mass at Santa Sabina the night before -- more out of cultural curiosity than religious obligation. DD1 had been worried that DD3 was going to fuss and fidget and generally carry on (I know, funny isn’t it), lecturing me on the need to keep the little one in line. I'd been more worried about the impression the gaudy red lipstick and pick sparkle handbag might make.

The old church is vast and cold inside, but beautiful in its simplicity. Rows of chairs have been set up for the service. We sit near the back so we can make a quick exit if necessary. Worshippers slowly trickle in. A number of people hover by the doors, positioned to make an even quicker exit.

A large family comes in late and sits in the last row right behind us. There are a couple of young kids, about 10 or 12, and they proceed to generate a continuous stream of whispers and giggles. There’s shoving and chair screeching. DD3 had already started a campaign to leave, but now she sits on my lap facing the kids and watches them, fascinated. It buys us at least 30 minutes of peace. But the ruckus behind us wears thin -- even DH‘s death stare only quiets them for a few moments -- and after the collection, we sneak out of the church. We look at St. Peter’s dome from the gate of Orange Park. I feel oddly vindicated.

So it was a late night, and DH and I let the girls sleep and enjoy a quiet breakfast together. We bring up two trays of food for the girls (we’re quite at home in the hotel by this time...). They breakfast on our bed and we open DH’s gifts. There’s a Clinique gift set for DD1 with cleanser, toner, moisturizer -- the works! DD2 gets a slightly more hip gift set from Clarins that includes “cooling” cream which prevents unsightly after-exercise blotchiness. I get Clarins Lift Anti-Rides Jour. Even DH knows that DD3 is too young for skin care products, so he thinks she might like something for the bath. Beautiful young sales lady thinks “Allure” bath soap from Chanel. I decide to ignore the fact that beautiful young sales lady thinks wife needs extra-firming day cream, and enjoy the most fabulous moisturizer I’ve ever tried (goodbye Boots #7)!

The girls are finally ready to leave the hotel cocoon and we go for a long walk -- to the Baths of Caracalla, to the Colosseum, to the V.E. monument. We make a comical procession of tourists -- a stream of umbrellas flowing down Via dei Fori Imperiali to Piazza Venezia, finally dispersing among the many side streets off Via del Corso. We decide to head to the Pantheon again. There are plenty of places open to eat and we get swept up in a competition between restaurant recruiters, each trying to win our patronage.

Over lunch we ask the girls what they like most about Rome. It’s almost unanimous: the pine trees. DD3 actually votes for the pine tree CONES (she‘s picked up quite a collection by this time). It’s the first time I think about how those trees really do embody the character of Rome. They love the trees. And, of course, the “old stuff.”

wayfarer,

Such a wonderful story! I love the umbrella pines too!

Wayfinder45:
Waiting for more!!! this is really good!
P.S. I am a big fan of Roman umbrella pines.

After raising your daughters, you could certainly consider writing - either for a living or just a pastime. Will have to check back for more.

I'm enjoying your trip and thank you for writing it all up.

I wish I had been to Italy so recently.

Cindy

"I decide to ignore the fact that beautiful young sales lady thinks wife needs extra-firming day cream, and enjoy the most fabulous moisturizer I’ve ever tried (goodbye Boots #7)!"

LOL! Thank you so much for this delightful trip report. DH and I are debating whether to bring our 13 and 15 year old sons to Europe, and this certainly puts it in a realistic perspective! I'm sure it will be a treasured family memory for all of you, and you'll tell the stories for years to come!

What a fabulous report! Can't wait for more

"Reading trip reports is better then chocolate, and yours is better then dark chocolate."
Love that - and I agree.

"I'd been more worried about the impression the gaudy red lipstick and pick sparkle handbag might make. "

We took a morning train to Florence, arriving about noon. The Florence I remembered from 30 years ago was romantic, with just a bit of an edge. The Florence I found in December was picturesque and comfortable. More “spruced up” from what I remembered. We stayed at Hotel Casci and it was a great choice for us. The kids were immediately comfortable in the relaxed, homey accommodations. We had again booked two rooms and while the furnishings were functional rather than fancy, the rooms were spacious and clean. The atmosphere is friendly but the hotel is not charming or romantic by any stretch. It’s a great place for families, and I’d certainly stay there again with kids because it feels comfortable and safe. This is largely due to the hotel staff who are friendly and helpful. However, there is a little rigidity in the diligent operation that may be off-putting to more independent-minded travelers. They ask guests, for instance, to give their room keys to the front desk before going out. They have a strict prohibition against hand washing clothes in the rooms (the better to actively promote their laundry service). Nothing too horrible.

The only real negative we experienced at Hotel Casci was an over-managed breakfast service. While the breakfast itself is quite good – I really enjoyed the soft boiled eggs – the woman who runs that part of the operation is, as my girls nicknamed her, “the Breakfast Nazi.” We somehow got on her wrong side the very first morning when DH and I showed up without the kids. She clearly had planned a table for 5 and was a bit miffed at having to rearrange things. The relationship never recovered. DH and I felt her eyes boring into our backs whenever we got up to help ourselves to seconds. DH nearly had his wrist slapped when he picked up something from a tray without using the proper utensil. While this nice woman – and she really did seem nice – bustled about getting more coffee and making sure everyone had what they needed, we felt a distinct chill when she checked on us. I verified our low status by noticing the freedom she gave to other guests to get their own coffee or boil their own eggs. She was right by my side the moment I ventured over to the egg cooker. After one scolding, DH and I didn’t even dream of touching the coffee machine.

The location is excellent, however, and this may be the best thing going for Hotel Casci. Not only is the Duomo a leisurely 5-minute stroll away, but there are a number of attractions to recommend Via Cavour itself. First, there’s the horror shop/museum. This is where DD1 picked up a bloody finger necklace and a bloody thumb key chain – both quite life-like (or rather, dead-like). There’s a glorious stationery shop where one can watch Florentine paper being made. There’s an international book store where DD2 – thank God – found an English copy of Harry Potter 5. There are a couple of gift stores with an assortment of reasonably priced scarves, gloves, and jewelry. There’s an excellent bar with tasty sandwiches and a bit of a Middle Eastern flair to the menu. There’s a superb wine and olive oil shop with the lowest priced “sexy” pasta we saw in Florence (DD1 and DD2 stocked up – this was the souvenir of choice for their friends back home). The Leonardo di Vinci museum is on this block of Via Cavour and DH reports that this is definitely worth a visit. Finally, the block is anchored by a McDonald’s (and DD3 reports that, in her humble opinion, this is worth a visit as well).

All in all, we enjoyed Hotel Casci. Just don’t get on the wrong side of the breakfast lady.

Love reading your story !

Still loving your report! Thank you for all the shopping tips!

What a joy to walk the streets of Florence at Christmas time! We head straight for Santa Maria del Fiore. We’re unabashed tourists in Florence: we ogle the street artists, eat freshly roasted chestnuts, get snookered into buying a “dancing” Mickey Mouse that is destined never to dance in our possession. We window shop and people watch.

Tourists swarm the piazza in front of the cathedral. Everyone is posing in front of the Duomo, in front of the Baptistery, in front of the gorgeous Christmas tree. I find the cathedral at its most breath-taking viewed from afar, but the massive interior can’t help but impress. We amble through the inside in a rather aimless way, when suddenly there is a booming “Si-len-ci-o!” “SILENCIO!” For a split second, it’s not unreasonable to think it might be the voice of God himself. The murmuring buzz stops instantly. We exit the church just as the sweet bells from the campanile start ringing.

We head down Via dei Calzaioli and walk right by another Disney store. Grrr. The momentum of the crowd keeps us moving forward, thankfully. Just as we’re stepping into a lovely piazza, a young man in a black leather jacket comes barreling through the crowd, glancing over his shoulder. He continues at a full sprint across the piazza. We’ve barely sorted out what we’ve just seen when another man runs through us in pursuit. The chase scene thrills the older girls; but I’m a bit disconcerted as I realize we’ve just entered Piazza della Signoria where poor Miss Honeychurch witnessed a murder in A Room with a View. No such unsettling scene of violence occurs, however. But perhaps Florence still has a bit of an edge, after all.

We get to the Uffizi. We made reservations through the hotel for Tuesday morning, but the bitter cold is starting to take just a teensy bit of the fun out of our ramble through town. A couple of hours in a museum seemed like a good idea. I’m directed to “Door 3” to change the reservation, but alas, I don’t have the reservation number on me. It’s in my useless notebook; or the notebook that I’ve left uselessly at the hotel. So we opt instead to go to a café for a cappuccino, hot chocolate, and a bite to eat. I really wish I knew the name of the place we stopped in, because I would like to tell you all to be sure to avoid it! It was inviting, it even had what appeared to be local customers inside, and the food LOOKED good….but it was truly awful. I didn’t know one could actually get such a thing as inedible pizza anywhere in Italy. I’m pretty sure it was somewhere on Via Lambertesca, so I would avoid any bars on that street, just to be on the safe side (yes, it was that bad). It WAS warm inside, and that was a reprieve, even if the hot chocolate was undrinkable.

After warming up, we continue on to the Ponte Vecchio. Stepping outside, we hear the coolest music – I can’t even describe it – if I could use the word “groovy” I just might. We come upon a slow moving procession – people are dancing, playing drums, singing. It’s like an amoeba, slowing moving, changing shape, this organic flow of people and music. As we make our way to the nucleus, we see it’s a band of Hari Krishnas. They’re scooping people into the dance circle, and DD3 is offered up. Her older sisters think that’s hilarious, and she goes around a few times before I’m able to rescue her. At the Ponte Vecchio, the shops are boarded up, but the view – that timeless treasure – is there for the taking. The wind is biting cold, though, and we don’t linger long.

starrs, what an unfortunate typo on my part. Obviously, it should be "pink" sparkle handbag!

Next up: "I want to go home!"

Shortly after checking in, the folks at Hotel Casci made dinner reservations for us at Trebbio’s -- not really asking our opinion so much as simply asserting that this was the best place to go. The trattoria is on Via delle Belle Donne, a mere 10-minute walk from the hotel. The helpful front desk manager pulled out a map and placed a dot where the hotel was, a dot where the restaurant was, and marked out the route from the one to the other. We set out at 6:45 for our 7:00 reservation. At ten after seven, we concede that we’re hopelessly lost. It’s been a comedy of errors, really, as each of us takes a shot at leading the rest of us in the wrong direction. I’m usually lead map reader, but I’m eventually relieved of my map reading duties by DH, who is soon fired by DD2. As we stand in the middle of a narrow side street pondering our next move, I’m convinced that the map has either left out some key streets, or the restaurant dot is in the wrong place. An American couple walking up the street hears us deliberating and tells us the restaurant is just around the corner; they had eaten there the night before. Ha! The dot IS in the wrong place! I feel at least partly vindicated. Later, I realize that our (ok, my) initial error was assuming that the tiny alleyway we were supposed to walk down couldn’t possibly be the “street” depicted on the map.

We’re 20 minutes late for our reservation, but it’s still early enough in the evening that they graciously seat us. The restaurant has wonderful character and we’re placed at a great table. The food is terrific. Up to now, the girls have stuck to spaghetti al pomodoro as the entrée of choice. Out of the blue, DD2 goes off script tonight and orders ribollita. (Yay! I silently cheer). I have been dreaming of ribollita since following MRand’s lovely account of his stay in Florence; but now, for some reason, I order something else. I suppose I want my daughter to enjoy the discovery on her own. The food is delicious (did I say that already?) and so is the wine.

It’s a fabulous evening – our best so far in Italy -- with lighthearted sparring, jokes, and general goofiness. We’re really enjoying the meal and each other’s company. We’re all laughing – really laughing! Until DD3 starts crying. At first, I think she’s play acting, intentionally being melodramatic. But no, she’s sobbing – really sobbing! “I miss Bubba,” she sputters. Bubba is the cute little giraffe my mother gave to DD3 when she was a baby. Up until now, Bubba has not held any more significance than the 30 other stuffed animals she has. “I miss Bubba,” she sobs. “I want to go home.”

I have no idea what brought this on and it’s completely unexpected. DD3 has got a bit of diva in her (could you guess?) and can be high maintenance at times. But as a traveler, she is very easy going. Any outing is an adventure. She was SO excited about coming to Italy, and we’re at the end of Day 6 and there has been no whining or moaning (from her, that is). I’m surprised now by the depth of her emotion. I had not paid attention to how overwhelming this type of trip must be to a younger child, even if it’s fun and exciting. This evening her sisters come to the rescue – instead of teasing, they join forces and escalate the goofiness until she’s giggling again.

Back at the hotel, I tell the girls the hotel has DVDs they can borrow. They make DD3 go down the hall to the front desk and ask. She comes back with the first Harry Potter movie. She’s never seen Harry Potter, but knows this is something her sisters would like. The three of them climb into one bed and DD3 is introduced to yet another new world.

Oh, wayfarer! How funny! I didn't even see the typo

LOVING it. Didn't imagine it could get better, but it just did. Bubba Sisters This is just magical!

What a great report.

Tom

I'm enjoying your trip report, and I don't even like trip reports. Thank you.

Oh, that sister bonding made me a little teary! Don't we all just have times we have to break down a little? And to be an eight-year-old in a foreign place, well, even if it's incredibly exciting it can surely be overwhelming. What a fun memory for all your girls to have.

The Bubba Incident - so precious! Took me right back to my mom-ing days. (and isn't it always such a delightful thing when the siblings share a little love)?

Just started to read this-will be back to finish what little I've started.

wayfinder,

Yes I have personally encountered inedible pizza twice in Italy! Once was across the street from the Vatican Museum entrance (I knew to expect bad food, but I was still shocked). Frozen, microwave pizza??? Terrible.

The second time was on the main street in Assisi. I watched them unwrap and microwave it. I ate a couple bites and left the rest.

Shame!

Am back and what a wonderful wonderful TR!

"Just don’t get on the wrong side of the breakfast lady." Made me laugh as we got on the wrong side of our hotel's maitre d' when we thought we'd go to dinner at 9 (just like the Italians) and he was ready to get home early since the Americans always eat so early! We made him miss the football game. We made amends by going early another night and he became our best friend!

As long as we asked our breakfast ladies if we could come in, they were fine and said to sit anywhere. If we presumed, they swooped down on us. Very interesting!

Keep it going soon, please. Hope DD3 has a change of heart!

What a great trip report. It reminds me of our 1st trip to Italy. We had our 15 year old son with us. We took a picture of him staying at the hotel sleeping while DH and I left to tour the Vatican (pick your battles). We have a few pictures of me smiling and DS with a 15 year olds "snarl" on his face. He didn't buy my saying "it's all about the adventure". That was in 1997 and we have a good laugh at it now that he is an adult.

Great trip report!!!!

I actually offered to take my DS (11 years old) to Italy with me this coming Fall so I could show him the wonders of Rome, and to visit my BFF in Italy. However, sadly, he does't feel quite ready to let go of the shirttails of DH and wants to stay home. I guess I will have to wait a few more years of going to Italy on my own (oh darn!)

camelbak, as much fun as I had with my family, I think my next trip will be solo!

travel, snarly or not, it's nice to know that they get a lot more out of it than they let on. I tried to preempt some of the resistance by having each person commit to the trip before we bought the tickets. DD2 almost derailed the entire thing saying she did not want to go over the Christmas break. As much as I wanted to rant and rave, I held off, and two days later, she changed her mind. I said that meant NO complaining, and got at least a half-hearted grunt in agreement. I have to say, I was very proud of how positive she stayed throughout the trip (she can be VERY cranky), and we got some great pictures of her smiling (I have precious few of those since she became a teenager). She was sure to point out, however, that on Christmas Day -- her absolute favorite holiday of the year -- she had peanuts for dinner. "Just saying." Well, I let that one slide too.

DH has made himself handy by using the street view on Google Maps to locate the place where we had that horrible food for lunch during our first day in Florence -- it's on the corner of Via Lambertesca and Via Por Santa Maria. It says in large letters: "Self Service" and there is a yellow "Ristorante" sign down the corner of the building. Best to avoid.

Tagging so that I don't miss out on the rest!

Your report is absolutely charming! I've been reading rather than watching the Final Four! I can't wait for more. We are going to Italy in August...you are whetting my appetite.

Today is the day DD1 is going to Arezzo to hang out with her college housemate. I walk her to the train station so she can catch an early train. We walk down Via Cavour, take a right on Via dei Pucci and run smack into the vendors of San Lorenzo who are just starting to set up their leather wares for the day. Wow, I had no idea the market was practically at our doorstep. We make it to the station without a hitch (DD1 was highly skeptical given the fiasco of the night before!) and get her tickets, with a return arriving about 9:30 pm.

The San Lorenzo market is up and running and I take my time making my way back to the hotel. I rouse everyone and decide we should take a poke through the leather market – purely for the girls’ benefit of course. There’s not a set plan for the day, but I figure we’ll take a quick peek through the leather market, head to Santa Maria Novella, then to the Ponte Vecchio, and up to Piazzale Michelangelo. We spend a leisurely hour or so poking through the stalls – DD2 is having a real good time – she buys a leather belt, earrings, a hair clasp, and a silky lavender scarf. DD3 finds cheesy gifts for loved ones back home (a dolphin salt and pepper shaker for her aunt, a kitty coin purse for her best friend). I buy a pair of black leather gloves. At one point DD3 pulls my sleeve and drags me back about 6 stalls to a vendor selling calendars. She surreptitiously shows me a small calendar featuring sculpted willies. She’s both fascinated and puzzled by it. “Who would buy this?” she wants to know. Hmm. Another good question.

We’re finally satiated, ready to move on, when DH mentions that he saw a nice jacket. “Like the suede jacket I used to have.” He means the one from 30 years ago. We walk by the stall and he shows me the jacket. A brown leather bomber jacket. I smile and nod and keep walking. When I realize he’s not following, I stop and turn to see him still pawing the jacket. Oh, no. He’s serious. Thing is, DH is a big guy. There’s no way these nice jackets hanging in the stall are going to fit him. And they are far more hip than anything that he’s worn in say… 30 years. But the vendor has already taken DH under his wing and is promising that he has just the right size in the store down the street. So…..we go to the store. And DH tries on jacket after jacket. None of them are quite right – but now the store owner is involved, and he sends runners to other stores trying to find the right style in the right size. Luckily there is a comfy couch and chair for us girls to lounge on. As 60 and then 90 minutes pass, I’m surprised to find myself remaining quite calm, not frustrated or impatient as our day’s itinerary slips away. I think I am too fascinated wondering “Who is this man?” This man can’t be my DH – the one who HATES shopping for clothes – who REFUSES to try anything on before buying it – who REFUSES in fact to spend more than 10 minutes in any clothing store whatsoever.

To kill time, DD2 starts trying on jackets. She quickly falls in love with a soft black belted jacket. She’s momentarily conflicted about the morality of making such a purchase, but the jacket is so smart she soon overcomes any feelings of remorse. The store owner sees it as an opportunity to sweeten the pot and gives us a huge discount on the jacket. DH buys it for her (sweet indeed). By now though, it’s clear that the options for DH are to either alter an existing jacket or have one custom made. There is much debate and taking of measurements.

The deal is almost clinched, but we’re all starving by now. Promising to return later, we drop off our packages at the hotel and get a quick bite to eat at one of the bars on Via Cavour. The “must do” on the agenda is to get up to Piazzale Michelangelo for that glorious view of Florence. We decide to take the bus, thinking it will be quicker, not realizing that the bus takes the most circuitous route possible from the train station to the piazza. We’re on the bus for a good 45 minutes, but we get some up-close glimpses of the “real” town – as well as some fleeting looks at the beautiful villas and gardens on the way up to the piazza.

Ahhh, that view. This is one of my favorite places to be on the planet. The sun is low in the sky behind the statute of David, casting soft light on the Duomo. Heavenly. But it’s brutally cold and windy up here. We stay as long as we can bear it. The plan is to walk down to the Ponte Vecchio, but first we need to warm up with a cappuccino. There are a couple of little bars set up alongside the piazza, but before we decide what to do, we see a waiting bus and in a rare spontaneous and unanimous motion, we all make a run for it.

Last night I booked our flights to Italy in October. It will be our first trip and I am actually quivering with excitement.

All I can say is......More Please!

Still enjoying your report. And your shopping description fits my DH and my DS as well. (DS has been known to knowingly purchase the wrong size just to get out of the store faster)!

wayfarer- I hope you will take the "breakfast nazi" at face value. She is Karla Lombardi- the owner (with her son, Paulo) of the hotel. She really is an Italian "mama" and treats you like her own. She really does care about the guests and I'm thinking she takes great pride in making sure you get your coffee and eggs the way you like them... and that may mean that SHE likes to fix them for you. hahaha

If I came to breakfast alone, she would ask if my daughter was ok. If I said my DD wasn't feeling well, she would send a tray to our room with tea and toast for DD. But she also chided us for taking the train to Siena instead of the bus, and for taking a taxi to dinner one night when it was only a 10-minute walk (we'd been majorly walked out that day!). But I didn't let that keep me from going back. I just looked at it is if she were my "Italian grandma".

I've stayed three times at Hotel Casci (including last week) and I just can't see staying anywhere else in Florence. I love the spotless rooms, spacious bathrooms, the price, but mostly the personal service. Even the "breakfast nazi", because I know she only does and says things that she thinks would improve our experience/stay. (She knew my daughter liked double espressos and had one made for her before she'd barely sat down at the table every morning.)

Loving your trip report!

We have also stayed at Hotel Casci 3 times. Carla (owner of Casci) wrote us a note for the Accademia on our 1st trip because we had lost our reservations. I felt like I was taking a note from my Mom to school. Her husband, who passed away, was the real "watch dog" of the breakfast area and now I guess she has taken over. She can be as warm as she is tough, I agree. There were many times that she really went out of her way to send us off with free cold drinks or give us a little extra something in the afternoon. I guess she just has a line that can't be crossed DH and I say that there are few rules that need to be followed in Italy...BUT if you break the one that shouldn't be broken, you will have an uzi pointed at you!

Sarge and travel, definitely agree she was more like a "mother hen" figure fussing over her charges. Perhaps she just sensed we could be trouble! Like the type of guest that would take trays of breakfast food to the room....

It’s dinner at Za Za’s tonight. The trattoria has great character and the food is pretty good and reasonably priced. If we had eaten here before Trebbio’s, we would have been even more impressed, I think. There’s a large outdoor seating area that would be lovely in warmer weather and the restaurant opens earlier than many places making it convenient for families with children. All in all, another good recommendation from the folks at Hotel Casci.

On our way to Za Za’s we run into the guy from Raffaello Leather Works. Turns out Za Za’s is at the end of Via Borgo la Noce on Piazza del Mercato Centrale – just a few doors down from the leather shop. Guilt sets in as we haven’t made it back yet. DH is still torn – he really wants the jacket, I can tell, but now that we’re talking custom made, it’s a serious chunk of change. And he’s the kind of guy who thinks spending $40 on a pair of pants is outrageous. By the time we’re finished dinner, it’s too late to deal with it in any case.

DD1 is on her way back from Arezzo so I head to the train station to meet her. I get there two minutes after the train should have arrived, but can’t find her anywhere. I walk around the platform, trying to stay visible. I walk into the cafeteria, into the ticket area, she’s nowhere. She had sent a text saying she was on the train, so where can she be? Stupidly, I’ve left our phone back at the hotel, not dreaming there would be a problem connecting with her in that small station. After 20 minutes of ever more frantic searching, I decide the only thing to do is to go back to the hotel and retrieve the phone. Sure enough, DH helpfully informs me that DD1 has been calling wanting to know where I am. I race back to the station – and still can’t find her! I have to navigate with her on the phone until I’m practically right on top of her. She had been sitting on the floor up against a wall, wearing one of those wooly earflap hats belonging to her housemate – I had probably walked right by her thinking she was some homeless person! She had a super time in Arezzo. I had been sad that she missed the view from Piazzale Michelangelo, but when we download her pictures, I see that she’s experienced some treasures of her own. What countryside! Now I’m jealous.

The next morning, we have our reservations for the Uffizi. The idea is to spend a few hours in the morning at the Uffizi and then catch a train to Pisa and spend the afternoon. We have a day trip to Siena sketched in for the following day. Having been closed on Monday, Tuesday’s crowd at the Uffizi is thick. It’s a 45 minute wait just to get into “Door 3” to pick up our tickets. I forget to ask for the map. This really irritates me, since I had just witnessed a woman who had already gotten her tickets, fight her way back through the crowd, just to claim the map. “I WANT THE MAP!” she screams at her husband who is trying to smooth things over with the people she’s barreled through.

The Uffizi Gallery is lovely. But it’s crowded and that makes the whole looking at the art thing an exhausting competition. Unlike the Vatican Museum, taking photographs is not allowed in the Uffizi, depriving DD3 of her main source of entertainment. She’s tickled to see Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, however. She’s impressed that the museum has the same picture as the one in her hotel room. But the main highlight is a special Caravaggio exhibit – the Medusa is a big hit.

In the gift store, DD2 buys a print of Florentino’s “Angelo musicante” on burlap. DD3 gets a book that catalogues the entire Uffizi collection – and a dress-up David refrigerator magnet. We take turns looking at the book and dressing up David over lunch. By now, it’s getting a bit late to head to Pisa and besides, we still have the leather jacket to sort out. DD1 wants in on the action as well.

Back at Raffaello’s, DH takes the plunge. As measurements and negotiations continue, DD1 takes on a mission of her own – a leather jacket with some edge. Not too much edge, mercifully. There’s one at Raffaello’s she likes (and they offer her a good price), but she’s not quite sold – and having missed the long ordeal of the day before, has no feelings of loyalty to bind her. She and DD2 set off for the other shops and stalls around San Lorenzo. By the time DH wraps up his transaction, DD1 has bargained a respectable 40% off a jacket she likes in another shop (she’s a bit of a hustler herself, so knows how to work it). DH is promised his jacket in four weeks. I’m about 50% confident a jacket will actually arrive. I’m about 10% confident that, should one arrive, it will fit properly.

Pisa is definitely out, so we head back to trusty Via Cavour. DH takes DD1 and DD2 to the Leonardo da Vinci museum featuring reproductions of some of his mechanical inventions. Many of the reproductions are interactive, and everyone seemed to enjoy that aspect the most. There was no eye-rolling from the girls when I asked how they liked it, so I have to assume that it was in fact worth a visit.

I had some mommy time scheduled with DD3. We spent it going to….you guessed it…the Disney Store! DD3 is beyond princesses, so I guess the familiarity of something back home was driving her obsession. I wasn’t thrilled with paying a premium for things we could get back home. It was fun though watching Italian tourists go crazy for a change! DD3 gravitates to the Hannah Montana section. I try to placate her with a notebook that’s on clearance. Nothing doing. She spots a pair of purple sequined and bejeweled Hannah Montana boots with a bit of a heel. And they have her size. She’s already running around Italy with a fuchsia pink sequined backpack and handbag – I’ll have to wear sunglasses just to look at her! Her travel card doesn’t work, so I get stuck paying 34E for a pair of sparkly plastic boots!

We decide to dine at Trebbio’s again. Another great meal! Walking through the streets of Florence at night, the girls coach DD3 on lines from Harry Potter – and she’s got a pretty mean accent to work with. Ringing off the cobblestones, there are cries of: “Me dad’s a muggle, me mum’s a witch, bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out!” and so on. Before we get to the Duomo, we walk into a piazza with a brightly lit carousel. DD3 of course wants a ride. There’s something very surreal about riding a carousel at 10:00 at night in a deserted piazza. In a photo we take, DD3 is leaning back like she’s a cowboy in a rodeo, such that you can see the figure of a demure woman painted on the carousel – the woman has both of her breasts fully exposed – and to the right is a life-sized statue of Santa. It somehow perfectly captures our time in Florence.

Wayfinder45,

Really enjoying your report, I can't wait for the Venice portion of your trip.

Was Rome more beautiful during Christmas?

This is so much fun to read. How did DD3 find the sculpted willies? Funny.

Ah - the "dress up David" refrigerator magnets! Those stayed on our refrigerator for years.

I hope you have pictures of DD3 buying the Hannah Montana boots (something to torture her with later in life).

Love your report! We're looking at taking a Med Cruise next year that departs in Venice and ends in Rome so I'm researching hotels right now.

Also love your "Breakfast Nazi" report. We stayed at a B&B in Napa once where the owner was the same. I preferred the coffee from the single Keurig machine than her home brew. Boy, was she mad about that. Needless to say I was on my best behavior and never touched the Keurig machine if she was around.

What a wonderful report. You have brought back so many memories of our travels to Europe. My girls insisted on the Disney Store as well - but we did not go in Florence but in Rome - and ended up with Mickey sweatshirts from Rome they wore for years.

My youngest of 4 is a horrible traveler over all and still talks about her horrible Christmas in Paris when I MADE her go (she was about 11 as if there was a choice???) - where she "stayed" in the apartment the entire time because she was so sick (she was - we ended up at the American Hospital in Paris!) but alas.. I grinned and grinned at your tales.

Florence is my favorite city in the world... I know many here on Fodors do not care for it - but it was magical for me. I hope to return someday.

MomDDTravel, it's terrible when that kind of thing happens! At least she wasn't yet a teen -- she probably would have really held it as leverage! And at least the trip was memorable for her?

I enjoyed Florence much more than I expected to, to be honest. The historical center was so easily walkable -- compact and flat! The atmosphere was festive with the lights strewn across the narrow streets. And I liked the fact that there were lots of Italians on holiday in the mix. I definitely want to go back and spend more time there -- when it's a wee bit warmer.

Cafegoddess, Rome was indeed beautiful, even in all that rain. Or perhaps, especially in all that rain. There was not a lot of holiday glitz -- Rome is much too dignified for that, I suppose. They put their efforts into the presepi or nativity scenes which are quite intricate and elaborate. We saw many of these inside churches (clearly there is a bit of competition with these things) and I loved the fact that Baby Jesus isn't placed in the manger until Christmas morning!

Thanks wayfinder45. I love nativity scenes!

Is DD3 enjoying her purple sequined and bejeweled Hannah Montana boots?

I have had leather jackets custom made for me in Florence and mailed to me. They did not charge extra saying "we make anyway". The last jacket I bought arrived and the sleeves were too short. I called (not an easy task with the time difference and language barrier) to tell them. I was expecting no help, but they had me remeasure, fax it and they sent me a new jacket (that fit)! They did not want the "mistake" back, so I had the sleeves removed and I have a leather vest that I absolutely love! Hope your husband's coat fits. I always struggle whether to get one, but when you are hard to fit? Do it!

wayfinder - I am addicted to your posts and think your writing style is fantastic. I'm dying to find out if the jacket arrived and if it fit.
My DH and I are off to Italy in 24 days, but who's counting... to celebrate our 30th anniversary. It will be our second trip, so I guess tossing the coin into the Trevi fountain in 2007 paid off. This time we are not bringing any offspring with us however.

Do you remember where you went for the leather jackets? That's the #1 thing on my "to buy" list for my visit to Florence next month.

I'm just beginning to plan my first trip to Italy, so I'm loveing the report - thanks, wayfinder! Can't wait for more

abenedek - have you been there before? There are leather stores all along a shopping area... you cannot go wrong!

Another fan, brings back fond memories!

The place we have gotten our jackets is M & R Moda In Pelle. It is a store in the San Lorenzo market with LOTS of others. While I don't think they have as many choices as they used to, and I thought the salesmen were a bit too pushy, they DID make me an entirely new coat when the custom made one didn't fit! Here's the website: http://modainpelleonline.3dcartstores.com

thanks

Dang! I was going to hold off to the end of the story, but I can't make a shout out to Raffaello Leather Works without saying that just four weeks ago, the leather jacket did indeed arrive (about six weeks later than promised, but not too bad considering the way things tend to work in Italy). It's superbly crafted and fits perfectly!! DH looks quite debonair, I must say. Bellissimo!

Raffaello Leather Works is on Via Borgo la Noce. There is a store with jackets and directly across the street, they have a store with posh looking handbags. My daughter bought a Vera Pelle -- I'm not sure if this is a store or just the make. The shop she got it in is either at the top of, or just off of Via Borgo la Noce near the San Lorenzo Basilica.

Next up: There might be a bomb in that sequined fuchsia backpack!

you going to tell us how much the jacket cost, wayfinder???

I'm thoroughly enjoying your report -- great job!

Crikey, I was hoping not to have to spill the beans on that one! But annhig, since you called me on it, DH's jacket cost 400E including shipping. I thought this was a pretty fair price, given the fact that it was tailor-made in an extra robusto size (and since it actually arrived and looks fantastic!). This was quite a leap for DH -- more than he has probably spent on clothes in the past three years combined!! The jackets for the girls were about 100E each. A way off budget splurge to be sure, but ahhh...Italy can be soooo seductive!

What a great report. You have a great knack for story telling and a wonderfully understated sense of humor.

I bought a leather jacket in Lucca on our last trip to Italy (2002), I think at that time I paid about $100 (euro was worth less then).

To this day, I still wear it and get compliments...it's a great investment

FYI --Vera Pelle means real leather, it's not an actual brand.

wayfarer - that doesn't sound too bad, especially the cost of the jackets for your DDs.

and as owlwoman says, a great investment.

My bad SAB! In my mind I read it "Vera Pella" but that would be too high end. Well, at least it's "real leather!"

I'm brining 4 teenagers -3 sons and a niece - to Italy this summer and would love to hear what your teenagers liked in Rome and Florence. What were the highlights? What lessons did you learn? What might you recommend that you did not do? Thanks so much.

hi Simone,

I am not the OP, but our [then] teenagers loved Rome, and we enjoyed Florence, though not as much.

I would definitely stay in an apartment in a central location; our son, then 15, loved going out in the morning and buying breakfast for us all at a local cafe. Despite his almost complete lack of italian, he came back with the right things every morning! going to the same place every day for breakfast, gelati, an evening drink, so that the staff get to know you, is the sort of thing that the kids love.

as for sights, in Rome, the colosseum was a hit of course, but everything there is fun, and if things start to drag, there's always gelati and shopping. and the great food of course. we also liked our day trips to Tivoli, Ostia Antica, and Orvieto.

in Florence, we enjoyed climbing the campanile, and there's the Dome, the accademia [better than the uffizi]; we also liked our trip up to Fiesole [get the bus from piazza san marco] and the day trip to Siena.

have a great trip!

Whoa, a hundred euro and real leather? I must find this store next month! Thanks wayfinder

Great report...really enjoying it!

Ok, so we faced a dilemma. We had one last day before leaving Florence and two day trips planned. The kids had Pisa high on their list of “must do’s” and I had really wanted to go to Siena (my line in the sand, remember?). So should we go to Pisa or Siena? Well, the choice was obvious….we’d go to Pisa AND Siena. Yes, in one day, because…well, why not!

To be honest, by this point in the trip my “line in the sand” had blurred – I had less of a burning desire to go to Siena specifically, and more of a “gee, it would be nice to go somewhere new.” So I was leaning toward spending the first part of the day in Pisa and then heading to Lucca – a sensible compromise achieving both objectives, with the added benefit of being logistically sane. But DH was adamant (driven largely by guilt at having sucked up so much time in the leather market, I imagine). We have to go to Siena. DD1 provided reinforcement – she had wanted to spend a semester abroad in Siena but had recently changed her mind, deciding instead to spend it in a Spanish-speaking country, given her minor in Spanish and all. She was curious enough, though, to take a look around – if just to see what she would be missing. And we simply couldn’t skip Pisa.

Theoretically, it didn’t seem THAT much of a stretch. We’d managed a successful day trip to Pompeii from Rome after all! I heard that it was better to take a bus into Siena, but I figured we could take the train from Pisa and just catch a bus into town from the station. Piece of cake.

We took the train in the morning (not as early as we should have) and arrived at the Pisa station close to 11. The poor workers in the station’s Tabacchi shop had placed a large sign reading “CROSS THE STREET. TAKE THE RED BUS.” in a vain attempt to reduce the number of times they had to answer the same question from tourists. We bought the bus tickets, crossed the street, and waited for LAM Rosso – the red line bus. After a short and pretty ride, we were at the Field of Miracles. Unlike the Colosseum, where we were greeted by umbrella pushers, here they’re hawking sunglasses. It is finally a mild day, but no sun in sight.

The Field of Miracles is one of those places that looks completely fake. Like some kind of gargantuan movie set. The green, primly trimmed lawn. The tidy wall. The three enormous pieces plopped down in the middle like a giant’s play set. But two of the pieces are pretty banged up. Missing roof tiles, broken stained glass, built up soot and dirt. The bell tower, however, is toothpaste white.

But it costs money to play with these toys. We bought tickets to climb the Leaning Tower (15 euros each) and to tour the Baptistery (5 euros each). The Cathedral was free (in the winter only, for some reason – it usually costs another euro or two). We had about an hour and a half to wait to climb the tower. When I bought the tickets, the kind gentleman gave me a booklet and pointed out a circle on the map, very clearly saying, “This is the meeting point.” Got it.

We went to the Baptistery, which is quite a large structure. I’m not sure why it is so large, in fact, but one gets the sense that someone way back when was a showoff. Inside you can climb half way up and walk around a narrow platform -- the kids did this and I got dizzy just looking up at them. DH and I were saving our energy for the tower. We spent some time in the cathedral. I don’t recall much except that it had a lovely nativity scene with a miniature Piazza dei Miracoli. Very cute.

We decide to get a quick bite to eat at a corner bar close to the tower. DD3 has a hot chocolate – one of those thick, syrupy hot chocolates. This one was gooooood! Not overly sweet, but rich and smooth. She also gets an education in how to use one of those funky toilets with no seats. In a co-ed bathroom at that.

It’s time to head to the meeting spot. It’s several yards past the entrance to the Tower. The girls splay out on the edge of the lawn. There’s no one else congregating here but it’s still about 15 minutes before ticket time. DD3 must have had a massive sugar overdose from the hot chocolate because out of the blue she starts channeling Michael Jackson. She’s humming “Smooth Criminal” doing wicked shoulder moves. This is hysterical so I turn the video camera on. She’s working it for her sisters, but stray tourists also stop to watch. DD1 turns to me and says “If we taught her Thriller, we could MAKE MONEY!” DD3 just says “Oh, yeah” and breaks out a rendition of Thriller that has the girls literally rolling over with laughter. She even does the Vincent Price part, throwing in her own lyrics about the Leaning Tower. It’s priceless.

By now, a crowd has formed at the base of the Tower. How are we the only ones in the wrong spot? We go and join the group and tag onto the end of the line as it snakes into the Tower. Thank God we are at the end of the line, because DH and I realize pretty darn quickly that this is not going to be easy. There’s something about the angle of the staircase that makes climbing the stairs that much harder. Oh, and DH is terrified of heights. I’m still not sure why I even got him a ticket in the first place. But here we are laboriously making our way up, now well behind the girls. We’re having a good time taunting each other with how pathetic we are and it takes us a few moments when we catch up with them to realize something serious is afloat. They are huddled together by the doorway to where the walkway wraps around outside with a formal looking guard who has a walkie talkie pressed to his ear. I figure at first he’s just having them wait until their parents catch up. But no, it’s something about the bags. On page 22 of the booklet the kind gentleman gave me (which I haven’t even glanced at except to analyze the location of the meeting point dot), under Tour of the Tower: Warnings and Precautions, paragraph 7, it says “It is strictly forbidden to carry any bags and/or containers of any kind and shape” -- and we’ve traipsed in with four!

This has caused quite a stir, and the guard is insisting, politely but urgently, that we need to evacuate the tower immediately. He talks frantically into the radio and I begin to realize that the bags were somehow spotted while they were on the outside walkway. DD3’s fuchsia bag!! I naively think that they’re worried this gaudy bright backpack is going to fall on someone’s head, but it gradually dawns on me that this is a bomb threat-type security violation. I’m slow to respond as my brain fights the idea of having to go back down and then climb all the way back up again. But DH quickly assesses the situation and says “I’ll take them.” The guard isn’t quite sure if this is okay, or if he should make us all descend, but DH is already grabbing our bags, “I’ll take them, I’ll take them all” and heading back down the stairs. He is so damn happy to have a reason to get out of there.

At the top, the girls walk around the whole circumference of the tower. I don’t budge more than two feet from the doorway. I’m petrified. The combination of the height, angle and openness is enough get your heart pounding. It makes me really feel my age. But after climbing down, we all feel that mini euphoria you get after doing something that feels risky. The girls take more goofy pictures and get a bigger kick out of watching other people take goofy pictures. We mosey through the cheap souvenir stalls and then head to the bus stop.

Oh and the rest of paragraph 7 says “…these objects must be left at the cloakroom near the meeting point.” That would have been a nice thing for the kind gentleman to add.

I'd forgotten about not taking bags. Is that a recent thing? You guys sound like a lot of fun!

I'm so glad the tower is open again. Personally I'd take Siena over Pisa any day, but doubly so when you couldn't climb the tower.

i don't think that the bag thing is recent. we went about 5 [possibly 6 years] ago and the kind person from whom i picked up our tickets [prebooked on line] not only told us where the meeting point was [at the bottom of the tower by the entrance] but also that we needed to put our bags in the lockers in the room next to the ticket office. anyone with bags waiting to go up was directed to the same place. don't know how you slipped through the net, wayfinder.

looking fwd to how you got from Pisa to siena, and back to florence all in one day!

wayfinder, I had to smile at your description of climbing the Tower. In 1963, my mom guided us three kids (ages 6-16) around Europe for the summer. Lawyers hadn't been invented yet, so the Tower was open to climb without railings or rules about bags, etc. My little sister just took off, and my poor mother's heart stopped every time we were on the down-slope side. She was sure my sister would lose her footing and just sail off the Tower.

Your trip report has been an absolute joy to read. We're headed back to Italy for our second long trip (nearly a month) this Fall. We missed the Leaning Tower on our first trip...and I think I'm going to take a pass again this trip!

Enjoying every bit of your report and, especially, getting a fun picture of DD3. She sounds like quite a character (perhaps similar to my DD at that age), but I also love how all your girls interact. Adorable family.

What a GREAT report. I had other things to do this evening, but got caught up in your trip account and now it's 1.5 hours later. Fascinating, love all the family dynamics (happens in the best of families) and, sometimes you can think back, years later and really laugh at how funny it is. Excellent, keep on going.
Sue

And we’re off to Siena!

We make it back to the Pisa train station shortly before 3:00 pm. There’s a train leaving for Siena in a few minutes. I half want to just go back to Florence and have a quiet afternoon. But we plow ahead – it’s Siena or bust! We have to change trains in Empoli so we don’t arrive in Siena until close to 5:30. Of course, it’s far later than we expected to arrive when we had this brilliant idea the day before. And curiously, it’s dark out….somehow I hadn’t factored that into the equation.

There’s a little sundries shop in the station and I ask the man behind the counter how to get the bus into town. He’s in an irritable mood so he says something quickly and I pretend to understand. We walk outside the station and look around. It’s clear we have no idea what to do, so I go back in and ask someone else. This guy motions to the building across the way. So we cross the square and inside the building, my senses are jarred. It’s a modern mini shopping mall, with a Best Buy type electronics shop and a supermarket – an American-sized supermarket! Not at all how I envisioned my introduction to Siena.

There is at least a sign with a picture of a bus on it. We follow it and it leads us to an elevator. This can’t be right. We walk around a bit aimlessly and finally decide that indeed, we’re supposed to take the elevator. We go down to a parking garage type structure and there’s a ramp from the street that is apparently the bus stop. There is a list of all the busses that come through here and where they are heading. I realize that I have absolutely no idea where we are going SPECIFICALLY. “Center of town” I thought would cover it. There’s not a soul around either. After about 10 minutes a bus arrives. I ask the driver if he’s going to the center of town. He repeats “Piazza Gramsci, Gramsci” a few times. I have no idea if that’s what we want—the map in the guide book is singularly unhelpful. We don’t get on. Finally, a few teenagers arrive from the mall. There’s a girl who’s got half a dozen piercings and pink hair. I ask her which bus goes into town and she says “tutti” – all of them.

So we get on the next bus and DH takes over the communication with the bus driver. There’s a reason he doesn’t normally do this. While a lot of my high school Italian is coming back to me, he never really learned much beyond “Una birra, per favore.” So he’s got that stereotypical way of communicating in Italian that basically involves speaking English slowly, loudly, and repetitively. We ride through the dark, unable to see a thing. We’re making our way uphill, that much is clear. Eventually the bus driver grunts at us. This is where we need to get off. He’s dropped us off at the edge of a large square (the Stadio as I discover in my post mortem) and there is some type of community festival going on.

We’re standing in front of a giant slide (the kind with the dips that you ride using burlap sacks). The girls go on the slide while DH and I try to get our bearings. DH asks one of the men in the ticket booth. No luck. He asks a passer-by – the guy doesn’t even glance down at the map DH is holding. Sorry, can’t help. I’m beginning to think the festival is celebrating the patron saint of “Provide No Assistance to Travelers.” I sense the collective feeling of a people just trying to enjoy their own town in peace for a change. And seriously, you can’t blame them.

DH is really starting to get worked up, however -- this foolhardy adventure may very well destroy the great day we’ve had so far. Suddenly I have a brilliant idea: find a hotel. Hotel staff have to help you, right? Just a block or two ahead we come across the NH Excelsior. I walk in alone (given our experience so far, I should have brought DD3 in for backup). The front desk clerk….and I swear, I’m not projecting…..GRUDGINGLY….gives me directions to the Campo. HA! There’s now an “Us” against “Siena” bravado that salvages the family mood. We simply have to walk across the piazza in front of the hotel (Piazza Gramsci as it turns out) and turn onto Via Montanini which leads right to the Campo. This is a pedestrian-only zone and the high end stores are bustling with shoppers. I don’t see a Disney store, but there’s probably one lurking somewhere.

We make it to the Campo – yay! It’s huge and empty, and pretty much looks like all the pictures I have seen of it (at least the ones where it is lit up at night and without horses running around it). There are a few open restaurants lining the piazza and we set about picking a spot for dinner. There’s one that looks really great – they have a large covered outdoor dining area and it’s packed. No chance of getting seated anytime soon though. There’s another one that has only indoor seating and doesn’t look nearly as busy. We decide to risk it. Small risk, I would say, because this is Italy after all, and the odds of being served really wretched food are small. We just get pizzas here and they are quite yummy.

After dinner, we walk out for a good look at the Campo – it’s still huge and deserted -- then head back into the lanes. There’s pretty much one thing on everyone’s mind – get back to the train station. We take the first cab we find.

So 3 hours later – after essentially going all the way to Siena for dinner (and a slide ride!) – we’re back on the train. Siena was basically a bust, but we salvaged it from becoming a disaster. The kids were real troopers through this fiasco I have to say – one of their favorite things to do in Italy was ride the train, and they got to do that in spades today. And Pisa was a blast. We’re settling back to relax when the conductor comes around ….and I get fined 5 euros for not validating our tickets before getting on the train!

We’re settling back to relax when the conductor comes around ….and I get fined 5 euros for not validating our tickets before getting on the train!≥≥

sounds like the perfect ending to the day, wayfinder. it's shame you didn't have more time for Siena. as well as the campo and its immediate surroundings, [and the cathedral of course, which though massive, is only 1/3 of the size it was meant to be] the rest of the town is also fascinating. in particular, we found another cathedral where as well as a beautiful "presepe" [nativity scene, in this case reproducing medieval siena] they have some miraculous communion wafers that have been preserved intact for about 200 years [allegedly], and a church where one of the paintings won our "ugliest baby" competition, hands down. but you need time to be able to wander around, as well as light by which to read a map!

I like the town hall with the murals that depict "Good Government" and "Bad Government." Someday you'll need to go back to do Siena justice. On our last visit, it was a special day when all the kids rode bikes around the Palio in a parade! I don't have a clue what was going on, but it was really fun.

Annhig, I don't know why we didn't even walk over to see the facade of the cathedral. We were just too numb by that point, I guess! And uhoh, I'm already secretly planning a solo trip to Tuscany and will definitely conduct a proper visit to Siena (and San Gimignano, and Montepulciano, and Cinque Terre...). Of course, it'll probably have to wait until DD3 goes off to college. But then again, you never know what twist of fate may bring me back...

You could have caught the Sita bus to Florence at Piazza Gramsci instead of going back to the train station.
http://www.sitabus.it/sita-toscana/Firenze-Siena06.pdf

What a joy to read such a well-written, well-crafted, well-organized, personalized and humorous report. Thank you.

ky - I wasn't going to tell her that - i didn't want to rub her nose in it!

Since she said she plans to return, I thought she should know that the bus is more convenient than the train (not from Pisa though).

i just thought I'd tell her later!

Dang! Just as well to get all the humiliation over with as quickly as possible! What was so bizarre about that day (even the bag check fiasco in Pisa) is that I don't typically travel like that. Even when I'm "winging it" it's usually based on a solid foundation of research and preparation. I hadn't even read the Blue Guide chapter on Siena while on the train (though in my defense, I was tied up in a marathon game of Crazy 8's with DD3). Just goes to prove that manic trip planning pays off (go Fodorites!!).

Your trip to Siena will probably go down in family lore as "remember when Mom dragged us to Siena?" and you'll all get a big laugh out of it. I'm glad you at least enjoyed the pizza and hope you do get back some day.

Well, wayfinder45, your "disaster" has helped me to decide to take the bus to Siena for sure! I was thinking that just changing trains in Florence (to go to Siena) would be easier. Now I think we might try to find that Florence bus station after all.

Wayfinder45, I thought for sure you were going to tell us you missed the last train back which is what happenned to us on our first trip to Italy. We made the opposite trip and took the train from SanDonato in Tuscany into Florence for the day. We had such a great time visiting the museums and the duomo and then my husband, just like yours, got caught up in a leather shop. He never ever shops at home. Well before you know it all 4 of us are buying leather coats and becoming great friends with the shop keeper Franco. He now wants us to go have dinner at his cousin's place and off we go. They fix us these great steaks, we're having wine and homemade limoncello and just a fun time when someone thinks to look at the train schedule - the last train leaves in 10 minutes. Off we go running to the train station having eaten and drank too much. We get there and we ask the police outside - train to SanDonato and he says gone, gone, gone. Well at the time it wasn't funny, we were in Florence and the car was at the train station in San Donato. We pleaded and begged the taxi drivers to take us back and finally driver #3 had pity on us and said he'd drive us to San Donato. If I remember correctly we paid about 85E plus a big tip. It is now one of our best memories and whenever we are with the other couple we always bring up missing the train in Florence. Also, we all love our coats. They were shipped to us and arrived on schedule.

Now I think we might try to find that Florence bus station after all.>>

nothing easier, once you know where it is!

with your back to the SMN railway station, turn to the right and walk about 100 yards. it's across a little road on your right. the ticket office is at the back on the left.

here's link to the map. you'll see that you have to find the via santa caterina di siena - it will take you longer to say it than it does to find it!

http://maps.google.com/

once you get to siena, you exit the bus and walk straight ahead/slightly to the right up a little incline - follow the crowd and you'll find the centre is about 5 mins walk away. the bus back to Florence goes from exactly the same place.

Thanks, annhig. I've been looking at maps, but just could not get oriented. Now, I think I've got it. Thank you.

elnap - i know. i'd done the same thing before we went and it made no sense at all until we got there!

glad to help - hopefully!

Wonderful story. Going to Italy in July with husband, 16 yr old son, 13 yr old daughter.
Waiting anxiously for insight into Venice and where you stayed. And were you happy with it?
Thanks!

We’ve got a 9:30 am train to Venice. We’re not quite ready to say goodbye to Florence though. We try to squeeze a few more hours in by taking a later train, but no luck -- all the trains to Venice are sold out. The good folks at Hotel Casci call a cab that will take all our suitcases and 4 out of the 5 of us. That’s ok, because I have a plan. I’m going to walk to the train station via San Lorenzo and buy a handbag in the leather market along the way. I’ve got 20 minutes to execute this plan, which I do flawlessly. I may have botched Siena, but I’ve got Florence down pat.

There’s a lot of business to take care of on the train. I’ve booked an apartment through Venice35.com and the agreement stipulates that we need to call Roberta, the owner, two hours in advance to confirm our arrival time. I also need to call to confirm our opera reservations at Musica a Palazzo. I’ve made the reservations on line, but for some reason they want a verbal confirmation by noon of the day of performance – and that’s tonight. It takes about an hour to make these two calls. Our Verizon phone is temperamental and DH has to keep taking the battery out and rebooting. DH has been able to call the States with no problem, but it’s been a battle trying to call numbers in Europe. After yet another stint with Customer Service, we manage to make the calls.

DH’s dad (G) and his dad’s significant other (D) are flying into Venice from the U.K. and we’re supposed to meet them in front of the Frari church at 2:00. The apartment is in the San Paolo neighborhood, on Calle del Mezzo not far from the San Lucia train station. I know exactly where the apartment is because I am prepared. Knowing that getting around Venice is tricky, I’ve studied the map and directions extensively.

What’s so cool about arriving in Venice by train is that all the while you are on the train, and then going through the station, you are in the normal world. And then you walk out through the doors, and there you are in a fairytale. The girls are wowed. DD2 is all smiles – this is photography paradise.

We have to cross the tall picturesque bridge in front of the station (but a killer when you’re lugging heavy suitcases – and our suitcases have gotten a lot heavier since we arrived in Italy!). Then take the third left onto Calle del Bergamaschi. We get to the third left and the “calle” looks barely wide enough for two people to walk down. But I figure if a “street” in Florence can barely accommodate a cinquecento, then a “street” in Venice could certainly be a narrow crevice between buildings. I follow the directions faithfully, but after just a few turns, things get muddled. There are canals where there shouldn’t be, and no streets where there should be. Merely 10 minutes and barely 500 feet into Venice, we’re so turned around my head is spinning. We emerge from a low wide archway onto a small canal with a cute bridge. I pull out the phone and call Roberta. She asks where we are – I try to explain, but really, we could be anywhere! She simply says “cross the bridge, cross another bridge, there is a bar on the corner, go left.” I get the worst sinking feeling in my stomach. Roberta speaks very little English; my Italian is even worse. We’re going to be one of those horror stories, dragging our suitcases up and down, over and around, until nightfall. The whole family is looking at me like, please tell us this is going to end soon. So I say as confidently as I can muster, “we have to cross the bridge, cross another bridge, and when we see a bar on the corner, we take a left and we’re there.” Yeah, like that’s gonna be right.

So we cross the bridge, cross the next bridge, come to a tiny square – there’s a bar on the corner – turn left – and we’re there! Or more precisely, we’re on Calle del Mezzo (the entire street is about 50 paces long). It takes some more noodling to figure out which door to knock on. The street numbers don’t make any sense. Roberta isn’t at the apartment, she has a friend cleaning it (she just told me on the phone that the apartment wouldn’t be ready for another couple of hours – a fact I’ve ignored – we’re unloading these suitcases come hell or aqua alta!).

Let me just say a few words about this apartment. It is billed as sleeping up to 9. I’ve approached that billing with some skepticism as it only has two bedrooms. There will be 7 of us though, so I’m curious to see what the layout is like. It has a washing machine (which I have been eagerly anticipating) and a small patio. I’m not expecting anything fancy – but it’s New Year’s Eve weekend – and I hand over an obscene amount of cash to Roberta’s friend. I have to laugh at the layout. They’ve set up 7 of us in two bedrooms by placing two cots in one room and one cot in the other. I can just see our teen girls sleeping at the foot of our bed, or worse, at the foot of their grandpa’s bed! I guess those cots are technically “twin” beds, but they look more like child cots to me.

We leave the friend to finish up and go to the corner bar to have lunch. There are actually two corner bars. The one Roberta mentioned on the phone becomes our early morning coffee bar. The one across the tiny square that we eat at now becomes our “hang out” bar. It’s more a lunch and drinks place. They serve pasta and pizza-sized bruschetta (which is quite tasty). The owner is very friendly and easy to chat with. It’s clear he’s desperate to attract more tourists (he advertises hot dogs and French fries on a billboard outside) and actually rounds our bill down a few euros.

It’s time to go and collect G&D (they are so quintessentially English, I should really call them G&T!). DH and I leave the girls in the apartment to rest (we’re in Venice, for goodness sakes, who needs to rest!). The Frari church is an easy 10 minute walk from the apartment. We come on it from the back, so have to walk around to the campo in front of the church. G&D are nowhere to be seen. Ah… then I spot them in the window of a bar facing the church. They have staked out prime real estate for people watching. They’re on their second cocktail and having a grand time critiquing the various fur coats promenading through the campo, over the bridge and past the bar. D herself is wearing a full-length animal. We have a round of drinks. DH is keen to try the mulled wine that he saw a local order during lunch. I try a spritz. I’ve been looking forward to a Venetian spritz since reading Peter’s brilliant posts here on the forum. I try a sweet one and it’s very nice indeed. We now have two “hang out” bars.

We head back to the apartment to sort things out. I’m going to make a quick trip to the Co-op supermarket I’ve read about near Piazzale Roma. In a pleasant surprise, DD2 offers to come with me. What a nice treat – we haven’t spent a lot of alone time together (although as I’m writing this I realize she probably just didn’t want to get stuck eating peanuts for dinner again). We find the co-op fairly easily (we only need to ask for help once, which we lamely do in the Tourist Information office in Piazzale Roma). We buy mostly breakfast supplies: coffee, bread, milk (regular and soy), Cheerios, orange juice, and fruit.

In the meantime, DH has pulled the cots into the living room. It’s a living room/dining room combo with two futon-type chairs that become “beds” 8 and 9. He’s put the mattresses on top of these with a cot for DD3 in the middle. So we lose most of the common area, with the dining table as the only place to sit (aside from a small table for two in the kitchen). And although we can see the patio from the kitchen window, there doesn’t seem to be any conceivable way to get to it. Oh well.

We are finally ready to hit the town. We’re going to take the vaporetto around the Grand Canal to San Marco, have dinner somewhere, and then DH and his dad are going to babysit DD3 while the rest of us girls go see La Traviata. I throw a load of laundry in the washing machine and we’re off!

I cannot stand the suspense much longer - I am checking twice a day for the next installment - leaving for Venice SOOON!!!
LOVED the rest - thanks for everything - wonderful stories

hereiam, sooooo sorry!!! Had a forced hiatus due to business travel and then a couple of crazed weekends! Let me get back to this quickly, because I have to tell you about a horrendous restaurant you absolutely must avoid on St. Mark's Square. You've probably heard from other Fodorites saying that it is generally advisable to avoid the restaurants in that area as they are pricey and typically mediocre. Heed that advice.

I'll be back pronto!

Seriously, this is the best trip report I've ever read. Can't wait for the next installment!

We decide to take the vaporetto from Santa Lucia around the Grand Canal to Piazza San Marco. Dusk is descending and the vaporetto is packed, so we’re in it for the transportation this time, not the intriguing views. Arriving at San Marco, I whisper another thank you to the gods for sparing us the high tides that flooded much of Venice in the preceding weeks. The threat of acqua alta had caused me much angst. I’m a fairly intrepid traveler, one who doesn’t require too many creature comforts, but touring Venice while slogging through knee-high water simply wasn’t an appealing prospect. Here we are in San Marco and it’s dry as a bone! At this point, I might have uttered a small curse at having hauled heavy rain boots all over Italy in anticipation of flooded Venetian streets, but as we made good use of them in Rome, I call it even.

I found myself feeling rather irritated walking around San Marco as it is now a disjointed mix of the iconic piazza and something resembling Times Square – huge, sleek lit-up adverts cover swaths of scaffolding. The absurdity of all this is nowhere more apparent than at the Bridge of Sighs. It’s the one time I’ll ever say: Just buy the postcard…it’ll be more satisfying. But never mind. I’m sure the advertising euros from Absolut or Sephora bring much needed revenue to fund restoration.

We walk to the far end of the piazza and there are several enticing restaurants just on the edge of the square (technically Piazzetta dei Leoncini). We should have known better (we did know better!) and kept walking into the narrow alleyways and found something...anything….off the beaten path. But they looked so enticing, right there on the square. We pick Falciani which beckons as a casual pizzeria. I’ve been eagerly awaiting calamari, so that’s what I order. The kids get the usual spaghetti al pomodoro and bruschetta. We order a small carafe of house white, and a small carafe of house red. The food is decidedly mediocre and the wine, not that great. Still, it’s our first meal with G&D and we’re in the glorious city of Venice.

Now comes the delicate task of leaving DD3 with DH and G so we can go on to the opera. There is a fairly robust bout of clinging and whining, but we manage to sufficiently bribe DD3 so she lets me escape. DH is on the hook for one of those glow-in-the-dark twirlie things that the street peddlers so adeptly shoot up in the air (it’s funny how different overpriced trinkets are peddled in different towns – the spaciousness of San Marco lends itself well to this particular gadget -- and how none of them ever seem to work once you’ve bought it!).

The waiter did very well slipping DH the check after we had left. Had D still been there, I can’t imagine the scene. We are charged 48 euros for the wine. For barely drinkable house wine! DH protests the charge and the waiter calmly brings over a wine menu -- which has PENCILED IN prices. We’ve been fleeced…and the scam is so smooth, we’re clearly not the first victims. DH makes a bit of a stink, but ultimately hands over the credit card. D would have called in reinforcements from the British Embassy, the British Navy, the Crown! She would have stood in the middle of the restaurant in her long fur coat, her poofy fur hat, and her sensible handbag, kicking up such a good ol’ English marm fuss the manager would have hastily discovered a little mistake in the calculation.

But D is with me on our way to see La Traviata at Musica a Palazzo not far from Piazza San Marco. In what must be some type of tax avoidance scheme, you technically have to become a member of Musica a Palazzo, with the benefit of being able to watch a performance, rather than purchasing a ticket straight out. And they only take cash. So in addition to the apartment rental, I’ve had to squirrel away another 200 euro for four “memberships” to the opera. Musica a Palazzo clearly caters to tourists, with a rotating program of La Traviata, Barber of Seville, and Love Songs. It is located in Palazzo Barbarigo Minotto and promises an intimate setting in an authentic Venetian palazzo. Less intimidating, I think, than Teatro La Fenice (I couldn’t get tickets there in any case), for introducing DD1 and DD2 to the charms of opera.

The production does live up to the mostly positive reviews I had read. It is less stunning and the setting more awkward than I expected, however. I’m not a connoisseur, but the singing is lovely, quite stellar I would say. But given the size of the audience (50-100 people), it is actually something of a challenge to see. The set up involves rows of folding chairs, so even a few rows back, visibility is blocked. The opera unfolds in three scenes – each in a different room of the palazzo. So after the first scene, there is a scramble as those in the back of the first room try to jostle their way to a better seating arrangement in the second room. We couldn’t see a thing during the first scene, we had a good view during the second scene, and a partially blocked view for the third scene. Too frustrating for me. By the third scene, though, I had decided that the best thing to look at was the cello player (the production included a three-person ensemble) who looked strikingly like a young Hugh Grant. I had excellent views of him during the second and third scenes.

All in all, a lovely girls night out. It is about 11 p.m. and D and I lead the way back to the apartment. There’s no stopping to look at the map or worrying if we’re lost. We simply forge ahead – to the Rialto, through San Polo, past the Frari…home. D and I give no hint that we’re likely walking a route straight out of a Family Circus strip. The city is quiet, deserted, but peaceful and content.

"What’s so cool about arriving in Venice by train is that all the while you are on the train, and then going through the station, you are in the normal world. And then you walk out through the doors, and there you are in a fairytale. "

√So true! That first ride along the Grand Canal was jaw dropping! Hub and I shared many hilarious moments trying to find addresses where there were none posted or with numbers not in sequence. We decided it was a throw back to the old days when, if you didn't know where you were, you were a stranger and they wanted you to be lost!

I wake up feeling deathly ill. It feels like alcohol poisoning although I barely had one full glass of that wretched wine the night before. Maybe it was bad calamari. All I know is I can’t get out of bed, and we’re in Venice. And it’s sunny. I want to cry but I just crawl further under the covers. G is also ill with a worsening cold. D and DH set out with the girls. They are going to repeat the vaporetto ride down the Grand Canal to San Marco and do a proper look around. I hope to drag myself out of bed and meet them around lunchtime at the Rialto Bridge. As it turns out, they board the vaporetto going the wrong direction and wind up going out to where the cruise ships dock and down past the Guidecca, San Giorgio, and then to San Marco. It’s an interesting detour.

I do manage to haul myself out of bed shortly before noon – I simply can’t waste this precious time. G is down for the count however. I walk over to Santa Lucia and catch the vaporetto and take a leisurely ride down the Grand Canal to the Rialto. The fresh, crisp air perks me up a bit.

The Rialto is packed. The crowd is 3 or 4 people deep to catch a glimpse of the canal from the top of the bridge. We are all at the bridge now, but it takes 20 minutes and 3 phone calls to locate each other. Still, it’s nice that a large chunk of the crowd consists of Italians here to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

The kids are hungry so we walk back to “our neighborhood” and find a nice trattoria in San Polo. While DD2 pours over an Italian phrasebook that D has brought, DH tells me about his mission. He went back to Falciani’s and asked for a menu. The one he’s given has properly printed prices for wine, and the price for a carafe is half what he paid last night. He photographs the menu with DD1’s help. I’m not quite sure what he plans to do with this evidence, but it’s clear that justice will be served...if only through TripAdvisor!

We head back to the apartment to check on G. DH has located a supermarket right near the Frari, and G&D make a quick trip there to pick up supplies for dinner. G is a great cook and he’s going to make us dinner before we head out for the New Year’s Eve celebration. DH has more apartment problems to sort out. While we were at the opera the night before, DH was surprised by a persistent knocking on the bathroom window. He opens the window to find a debonair older man, apparently French, standing in the little courtyard that we have been unable to access. DH has no idea who this man is or how he got in the courtyard, but the man asks him if he would be so kind as to turn on the heat. The well-dressed French man has a difficult time explaining to DH who he is or why he has this request. All DH understands is that he wants the heat turned on “to the very best!” Luckily, the French man has a cell phone on him and on the other end is Roberta. The French man is in Roberta’s second apartment and the heating is apparently centrally controlled.

Now the one criticism about the apartment I have (apart from the flimsy beds) is that there is no helpful manual explaining how to operate things, no helpful tips of any kind, but the one thing that is made clear is that we are not supposed to touch the heating/cooling controls. But Roberta gives DH the go-ahead, overlooking the fact that DH has absolutely no idea how to work the controls. And the controls are the antithesis of intuitive. So, here we are, the next afternoon, pouring over an on-line manual of the thermostat control in Italian because the French man still has no heat. And now, we have no heat. Whatever DH did last night has resulted in a complete shutting down of the heating system. This is now a real problem. While our apartment still feels comfortable, with cold radiators, I have no way of drying the laundry I’ve washed.

And we have another challenge: G has the supplies for dinner but we can’t figure out how to turn the stove on. I finally give Roberta a call. G is good, but he’s “old school” and doesn’t view the microwave as a “cooking” appliance. The conversation with Roberta is essentially useless since I can’t effectively communicate the problem or solicit a solution. DH finally figures out that the gas is turned off and is at least happy to have a lead. G&D decide to have a lie down, the girls camp out in bed in front of another Harry Potter movie – I leave DH to his tinkering and walk to the Frari church.

Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari is a lovely church chock full of interesting things to look at, including a Titian masterpiece over the altar, intricate woodcarvings, and impressive choir stalls. It also has Titian himself in a tomb, and the most bizarre looking tomb for guy named Canova. There is even a “bling” room. DD3 needs to see this.

By the time I get back, we have a functioning stove and G is starting his prep work in the kitchen aided by a G&T (medicinal of course). Roberta has also sent around someone to take a look at the heat, presumably, but the guy seems to think the problem is no hot water (we have this problem too, but I don’t realize it until I attempt a bath). DH finally gets him to take a look at the heating controls and there is a fair amount of mucking around. When he leaves, we’re not sure if the problem’s been fixed, or even identified.

DH and I head to the corner drinks bar for a break. The bar is filling with a mostly youthful, local crowd getting primed for the evening ahead. I’m still a bit peaked, but I fortify myself with a spritz and DH and I enjoy some alone time in a packed bar.

oh, what a good tip - make sure that you can get the cooker to work before going out to buy supplies for a 3 course meal! Italian apartments are a real exercise in ingenuity, aren't they?

I love the idea of your DH going out to take a photo of the menu with the right prices on it. We were scammed - not the same one, but similar - in Venice. It is the only time that an italian restaurant has tried it on with us - and similarly we paid up, but in our case it was only an over-priced salad.

can't wait to for more - hope you start to feel better!

Loving your report and can't wait for more!

This is classic, and you are so cool about all the problems, that I am very impressed. I usually freak out at the first problem, and don't see the humor til months later at home... or maybe years later. good for you, it makes great reading!

We're heading to Venice in July. I think I'll take a few close up photo's of the menu when we sit down, that way there is no room for debate. In the past I've occasionally photographed the menu's so we could remember what they offered and how much things were for future travel. It never occured to me to do this for a price dispute.

Wayfinder - this is a wonderful trip report!

I can't wait to hear more on Venice. We're taking our 13 & 16 yr old DSs around Europe for a month this summer & I'm sure we will have our share of highs & lows as well.

Loving your trip report

I think I'll take a few close up photo's of the menu when we sit down, that way there is no room for debate>>

mmm sandy, not sure how that will play in the restaurants you want to eat in.

really, we have only encountered the problem of inflated prices once or twice in years of travelling on what we Brits are still quaintly calling "the continent".

Keep this one coming please!

I can't wait for the continuation of this report. We are going to Italy in late Nov., and I am picking up good advise from our friend Wayfinder 45.

The kids adore grandpa’s cooking, so even with G under the weather, dinner is a hit. It’s G’s classic pasta dish – spaghetti with a divine meat sauce. He does an “al pomodoro” version a well. So even though we’ve had pasta at least once a day for the past 12 days, this meal ranks as one of our top 5 in Italy (it actually comes in at number 3 behind the two meals at Trebbio’s in Florence). After dinner, we play a few rounds of gin rummy while finishing off the wine. Before we know it it’s 10 pm and we need to head to Piazza San Marco for the New Year’s Eve celebration.

From the beginning, I’ve thought that the fireworks display on New Year’s Eve in Venice is going to be everyone’s all time favorite moment of the trip. It’s the reason I agreed to pay an extortionist price to stay in Venice over the holiday. G&D are not up for it, but DD3 is rearing to go. She’s not gone back to a normal sleep schedule since arriving in Rome, so I’m not at all concerned that she will run out of steam before midnight.

Venice is swarming with activity. For some reason, when we head out of the apartment, everyone turns left toward the vaporetto stop. I just assumed that we would cut right through San Polo to the Rialto. But, whatever. Of course when we get to Santa Lucia, there’s a huge line for the vaporetto and it’s running on a reduced schedule. We’ll be lucky to get on a vaporetto within the hour. Instead of backtracking, we keep walking past Santa Lucia and get swept up in a flow of people heading from the train station to San Marco. In the back of my mind, I realize this means we’re committing to walking AROUND the Grand Canal, but the atmosphere is so festive and energetic, I think…what the hell….let’s just go with it. We’ll at least get to walk through parts of Venice that we haven’t seen yet (although to be honest, in the dark, moving in a swarm of people, it all looks pretty much the same).

We’re having fun. Stupid fun. We make a huge scene out of an enormous – ENORMOUS – jar of Nutella in a shop window. DD1 swears she’s coming back to buy it. And DD3 is on a new mission – she wants a mask “on a stick”. She had seen one earlier in the day near the Rialto. We come upon a vendor with a cart of masks –gorgeous affairs – and DD3 picks out a mask with pink feather plumes -- and it’s on a stick. It’s over the top, but now her ensemble is complete: she’s got the pink mask, the purple Hannah Montana boots, and the fuchsia handbag. And she’s got them all on now (and let’s not forget the red lipstick which she’s liberally applied before leaving the apartment!).

DH stops at a vendor selling roasted chestnuts. The girls and I walk ahead and then pause waiting for DH. I take a few pictures of the girls with DD3’s new mask. After a while, I think, hmm, DH should have caught up to us by now. I walk back toward the cart where we left DH. He’s not there. Great. He’s somehow walked past us. We hurry ahead to try to catch up to him. It quickly becomes clear that in this crowd, we don’t have a hope in hell of finding him. Luckily, he has one of the phones and I have the other. For the first time on our trip, we have an “emergency” and it’s because one of the parents is lost. The irony is not lost on the girls. After several phone calls, we find DH resting at the foot of a canal bridge. He’s been racing ahead to catch up with us, not knowing we were behind him! He’s pooped. But we’re still only somewhere in the Cannaregio, so we rejoin the flowing crowd.

That’s when the bombs start going off. Of course, they’re not really bombs…just firecrackers. But they echo off the buildings and water and resonate like bombs. The tempo picks up. They’re not being set off in the flowing crowd, but close – at the edge of piazzas the crowd is streaming through or on the side streets. DD3 is starting to get unnerved. It dawns on me now that I haven’t seen another young kid out. DD1 and DD2 are also a bit shaken. In their hometown, even sparkles are illegal. These random blasts are not their idea of fun. I have to agree. Just past the Rialto Bridge, the lanes narrow and the crowd tightens.

At this point DD1 tells me she’s has a crowd phobia. Really? Nineteen years and this is the first I’ve heard of a crowd phobia. DD2 reasonably chimes in that since there is no way we’re going to actually get into Piazza San Marco, we should just cross the Rialto and head back. DH is about to collapse and DD3 is on the verge of tears because of the firecrackers. Really, people? I want to forge ahead…we’re so close…but deep inside I realize I lost this battle the moment we turned left. Okay, abandon mission, back track to the Rialto. Across the bridge, it’s another world…deserted, desolate. But still, the occasional booming firecracker to make your heart stop. We arrive at the apartment just as the clock strikes twelve. G&D are playing cards enjoying several medicinal G&Ts. We are so happy to be home. DD2 plays a hand and then scoots off with the other girls to huddle over Harry Potter. We open another bottle of wine and begin a gin rummy marathon. Happy 2011!

I have not commented before but I have been happily reading about your family's holiday adventures. Excellent and humerous writing. Happy 2011 to all of you.

As socaltraveler posted I have not commented either but I have so enjoyed your trip report, wayfinder. Especially since we were in Italy for two months when our daughter was 17 years old. That was the best trip to Italy of all! Crowd phobia, I have it and I found out when our daughter was a teenager she does also so I can relate to your girls. I absolutely love your report and I feel like I have travelled along with you and your family while you were in Italy. Thank you so much for sharing your adventures.

For the first time on our trip, we have an “emergency” and it’s because one of the parents is lost.>>

lol, wayfinder. when we were in Venice with our kids, then about 19 & 16, DH and I went out one night for a drink, leaving them in our apartment as they decided they'd rather watch the italian telly. strange!

we then proceeded to get completely lost, and were wandering around till about 1am until we found a kind person to point us in the right direction.

there was no point in phoning them because they would have had no idea where we were so we just kept on until we were rescued by our anonymous samaritan.

they didn't even notice.

loving your report - sad it's coming to an end.

taconictraveler, thank you! I did make an effort to take things in stride, to be sure. However, I did lose my cool once ... on the very last day!

ann, me too! That's why I've been dragging my heels with these last few posts! It's been so much fun reliving the trip!

One thing you notice about Venice is that there is no grass. There’s the odd potted plant on a balcony and tiny courtyards which surely sprout greenery in the spring, but no expanse of grass to lounge on. Now, of course, I didn’t check the entire city of Venice, but let’s just say that if there are stretches of grass, they are rare sightings indeed. There’s pavement stone and water. The streets and squares are barely distinguishable and serve multiple purposes: children’s playground, commuter thoroughfare….doggie park. Still, it was a bit startling to open the front door at 9:00 am on New Year’s Day and find a little terrier doing its “duty” on our front step. The elderly women at the other end of the leash expressed neither embarrassment nor concern. For the most part, I found Venetian streets free of litter, but you do have to watch out for piles of “duties.”

This morning, though, Venice is trashed. The sanitation workers who walk through the streets with pushcarts sweeping up piles of garbage clearly have the day off, or maybe they’re just getting a late start. Litter and broken glass are scattered everywhere.

D and I are heading to San Giorgio Maggiore – I’ve read that there will be a mass involving Benedictine monks and Gregorian chants. This sounds too cool, and I’m looking forward to seeing the view of San Marco from across the water as well. D is 75 and has more energy than my entire family put together, so we leave the rest of the gang sleeping and take the vaporetto to San Marco. I thought we could take a line directly to San Giorgio, but apparently we have to switch piers at San Marco and take another boat across the basin.

The day is cloudy and gray, but fairly mild. However, I long for a crisp blue sky to bring out more vivid colors. The city is hung over this morning…but it’s more than that…Venice seems faded, worn out, crumbling. Venice is still majestic, to be sure, but a melancholy overcomes me as it seems like the city is losing the battle against the elements. And it’s not just the floods, it’s neglect as well. While major renovation projects are underway (witness the ridiculous advert- covered scaffolding), the sheer scale of the need far surpasses the investment being made. In a sense it’s understandable: if my basement was constantly flooding, I wouldn’t worry about painting the house. Still, it saddens me. Faded glory is to be expected, but for the first time, I see ugly as well.

But maybe it’s just the light. Or my mood.

We arrive at San Giorgio Maggiore at 10:15, 15 minutes after the mass should have started – and there’s clearly no mass underway. How disappointing! But up near the altar, lovely Gregorian chanting can be faintly heard. Standing by a roped-off side entrance that must lead down to some private chapel, the soothing sound of Benedictine monks at worship can be heard more clearly. A few others gather with me to listen, but it feels too much like eavesdropping, so I move away.

The bell tower isn’t open but the view from the top must be stunning. Indeed, the view from the campo in front of the basilica is a treat, with a panorama of San Marco and Santa Maria della Salute. The basilica itself is interesting, with a number of paintings by Tintoretto – Jacobo and Domenico. But I was expecting more from the floors I had read so much about. I’m sure this is due to my artistic ignorance. I do enjoy the peek at the courtyard of the monastery that can be seen to the right of the basilica.

D and I could really go for a coffee just about now, but we walk around a bit and don’t find anything promising. A vaporetto is heading to the dock, so we hop on. It’s not going back to San Marco, but down the Giudecca, the long way round to Santa Lucia. That’s just fine with me.

I'm really enjoying your trip, wayfarer. Thank you so much for a wonderful wander around a city that will always have a warm place in my heart.

Your daughter's desire for a mask on a stick reminded me of a lovely night in Venice. Vitti, a friend who'd moved from Milan to work with the restoration/flood abatement department, invited me to dinner before a concert at the Scuola Grande di San Rocco.

Perched on a stool in her kitchen, with a glass of red in hand, chatting & absorbing the wonderful aromas; I glanced out the window when a light came on in an an apartment across the calle.

It was pure magic. The mask maker bent over his bench, with masks in various stages of creation beside him and hanging from hooks on the walls. An exquisite mask of black, gold and turquoise was on the stand in front of him, with glass jars of sequins, feathers, crystals and braids at his side as he re-started work on it. I felt as if I were peering into Aladdin's cave.

The memory of that night is like a little jewel in my memory, with the mask maker;running through winding calle to the Scuola; the concert; Tintoretto's crucifixion painting, Vitti's wonderful dinner and her laughter making up the facets.

Please don't tell me that your adventure is over-I have truly enjoyed your trip. How did it end?

I hope there's more to come.... I've become hopelessly entranced.
(And I had the same reaction at Pisa..... couldn't go more than a few feet before I had to retreat.... and I'm not afraid of heights... must be the angle.)

Things have been busy while D and I were at San Giorgio Maggiore. Shortly after we left, DH roused the kids and threw them out of the apartment: “Go explore!” he commands. “You’re too soft,” he says to me when I get back. “They had a lot of fun.” I’m too soft on you too, I think. Catapulting them out onto the streets of Venice bought him a nice leisurely spell at our corner breakfast bar.

But I have to say, the kids do look happy. The three girls went over to the Rialto and back, taking pictures and shopping. They tried to take a ride on a gondola and negotiated an offer of 70 euros – which was still too rich for their pocketbooks, but I was impressed nonetheless. I've not seen a better price noted on this forum! DD2 bought a lovely fountain pen along with a few small masks for her friends (and one for DD3). DD1 bought a pretty blue glass ring which she enjoys for less than 12 hours, dropping it on the bedroom floor that night and nicking it. DD3 is out of cash, so she gives me a rundown of all the things she saw that she would like to buy. Venice is certainly their favorite shopping destination.

DH has also been busy working on the heating/cooling system with yet another handyman Roberta has sent over. We've stayed pretty comfortable as the apartment has maintained its heat well (only the clothes still haven't dried), and I’ve been the only one so far to attempt a bath in the little pedestal bathtub. It must be the French guy continuing to pester her. DH explains that there are TWO sets of controls – one that he has been fiddling with in the hallway, and another in the kitchen. Fiddling with the hallway controls threw off the kitchen controls making us lose hot water (so DH is the culprit there). This new guy has a handle on the problem but can’t figure out the hallway controls. DH pulls up the online manual he had googled the day before but couldn’t translate (it was a PDF file he wants me to point out). The handyman takes a look at it and light bulbs go off! And the heat and hot water return!

It’s impressive that Roberta has managed to send two different people by on a major holiday to sort things out, but I wonder that she didn’t just take 5 minutes to come by herself and be done with it. I can only speculate that she took the obscene amount of cash that I (and presumably French guy) handed over to her and absconded to Barcelona for the New Year!

We have leftover pasta and other bits and pieces for lunch at the apartment. Then we all stroll over to the Frari church. I want DH and the girls to see it. The entrance fee is waived today which is nice. We take a good, long look around. DD3 gives some change to an old, sad looking, bent over beggar who stands near the door to the church. G tells us that later on he saw the old man stagger shakily around to the side of the church, then stand full up, count the coins in his cup, and walk merrily away.

It’s drinks time – or close enough. We pop into our favorite bar just across the bridge in front of the Frari. It's called L'archivio and as I said before -- this place has a great feel to it. This time I try something else new: prosecco. I’m not a big champagne fan, so I’m a bit skeptical this is going to be a winner for me – but I love it! I’ll have another, thank you very much.

There are some lovely gift shops around the Frari church, so we browse through them looking for a few last gifts to bring loved ones back home. Here’s where I make a really stupid, regrettable mistake. While the girls have been purchasing the cheap, definitely-not-made-in-Murano glass, like a magnet I’m drawn to this gift shop just to the left of the Frari that has authentic articles from Murano. In the window are several exquisite, translucent glass bookmarks. I immediately fall in love. I’m not a big shopper, and haven’t seen many things on the trip that I really had to have….but those bookmarks….I wanted one of those. They were about 30 euros each, but for a special keepsake, I was willing to go there.

But instead of going in the shop, right then and there, I checked the door and noted that they would be open until 5:30. We then went on to another couple of gift shops just off the square near the grocery store we had found. These were filled with the imitation stuff, but I did want to get a glass hair clip that I had seen. About 5:00 we head back to the Frari campo and the store with the bookmarks has disappeared...literally. (This is one disconcerting thing about Venice – the shops don’t just close – they get swallowed up into the walls. This can be a real problem if you’ve used that corner café or shoe shop as your visual cue to find your way home). At first I don’t believe it…but the shop was right on the campo so it’s not like I’ve mixed up the streets. The shopkeeper must have simply decided to close up early. Our train leaves at 8:30 in the morning, so there’s no way to come back. I’m…REALLY…bummed. [My cheap consolation prize – a pretty 5 euro hair clip lasts for exactly one wear – it literally springs apart when I take it off the first time I wear it back home and I still haven’t been able to put it back together].

We’ve made dinner reservations at an ethnic restaurant right next to L'archivio. It’s sort of a Turkish/Lebanese affair and both the atmosphere and the food are fabulous. Only DD3 is unhappy … no spaghetti pomodoro on the menu. No Italian food at all, in fact. It’s a refreshing change of pace -- and really delicious as well. There's a mixed hors d'oeuvres platter with dolmades, falafel, hummus, and some other amazing dips. The Lebanese wine on offer is not great, but we also order a very nice Pinot Grigio. It’s a lovely meal with G&D, marred only by DD3’s escalating whinefest (we're starving her, after all).

It’s an early night. After dinner, we head back to the apartment to tidy up and pack for that 8:30 am train back to Rome.

Great report, thanks for taking the time to write it up. Was fun to read

yes, we've loved being with you on your travels.

incidentally, as well as taking your empty water bottle to filled with red or white wine at those shops that sell it from the barrel, you can buy prosecco from the barrel too!

One of the greatest lessons I ever learned while traveling is--if you see something and you know that you absolutely have to have it, buy it then. You never know if you will find that little shop again, especially in places like Venice. Then again, it gives you another reason to return.

It sounds like you'll just have to make another trip to Venice to purchase that bookmark!

Oh wayfinder, I may be just as sad at seeing your trip report coming to an end as you were having your holiday come to an end.

I've been loving every minute of it and waiting for every installment.

All I can think of to do is go back and read it again, and this time take notes!

Thank you so much for taking the time to share your experiences.

CindyP.

We make the 8:30 train by the skin of our teeth. We’re wiser than we were three days ago and this time cross Ponte di Calatrava from Piazzale Roma over to Santa Lucia station. It’s a large bridge, but the steps are much shallower. Unfortunately, our suitcases are heavier.

We board the train with just a few minutes to spare. Luckily, it is practically empty, so we have no problem finding a place for our luggage. Oddly, we’ve been ticketed in such a way that three of us are sitting separately. By Bologna, though, the train is packed – solving that little mystery.

In four short hours, we’re back in Termini. DH and the girls go in one taxi, the suitcases and I go in another to Hotel Campo dei Fiori. My driver manages to get to the front of the hotel, probably illegally. I feel like I’m in one of those movie scenes where a taxi is crawling through the streets of Phnom Penh surrounded by hoards of people. DH and the girls have been dropped off a couple of blocks away, but since they’re walking at the same pace as my taxi, they make it to the hotel at the same time I do.

We enjoyed Villa San Pio, but for our last day in Rome – knowing that we would arrive mid-day – I wanted to stay close to the action. I got very lucky with Hotel Campo dei Fiori because January 2nd turned out to be their one slow booking night between Christmas and Epiphany. I snagged their “most romantic room” – with a balcony -- for half the price it was going for the day before and the day after. And while “half price” wasn't cheap (about 200E), it was so worth it. The room was one of two on the top floor of the hotel (one flight of stairs above the elevator, giving it a private and exclusive feel). The view from the balcony is simply divine. There is also a rooftop terrace that all the guests have access to which is a real gem. The room is nicely appointed and indeed very romantic. DH is quite pleased.

The girls are in a triple two floors below us. Their room is a bit tight (three beds in a row), but they are happy with the flat screen TV and list of pay-to-view movies (we give the green light for one). Before anyone gets comfortable though, we’re out the door to grab lunch. The front desk clerk recommends a trattoria close by. I’m pretty sure we screw up her recommendation and end up at a different place. We go to La Curia di Bacco which is just across the street from the hotel and incorporates part of an old Roman cave (I think it’s part of Pompey’s Theater). It’s intriguing and we decide to sit in the cave part, but the lighting is actually awful -- it seems like the cave part usually serves as a disco/bar scene. I can see it being a fun place for young people to hang out at night, but it’s not really appealing at lunch time. And the food is pretty bad. Tip: When the staff act surprised when you walk in for lunch, you are in the wrong place.

We still have some business to take care of in Rome. St. Peter’s Square for one. From Campo dei Fiori it is an easy walk over to the Vatican. Walking into Bernini’s piazza is always breathtaking. DH actually manages to get in a two-minute lecture, pointing out salient features of the piazza before the girls wander off to look at the life-size crèche. Then we have our first sightseeing disagreement of the trip: DH and DD3 want to go into St. Peter’s Basilica. The older girls want one last chance to tour the Colosseum. In hindsight, we should have just split up. Instead, looking at the long line waiting to enter the Basilica, I vote for the Colosseum.

We hop in a taxi, but the driver is only able to drop us near the wedding cake and we have to walk the rest of the way. It’s about 3:30 and the Colosseum should be open until 4:00. But the gates are shut again! There are a couple of Caribiniari vans outside the gates and I can only speculate that some bomb threat has prompted an early closing. I get an “I told you so” look from DH which I ignore, but I do feel bad for DD3 who wanted to see “the most important church in the world.”

She is partly mollified by some sweet Asian tourists who stop to take pictures of – and with – her as she walks along a wall striking various glamour poses. This feeds her inner diva to no end.

The older girls are happy to be back among the Roman ruins. Before we know it, we’re back on Viale Aventino. I’m not sure anyone consciously made the decision to walk this way, but we now decide to see if we can get someone to let us into our old high school. We had gone there shortly after arriving in Rome, but no one answered. Like before, we start pushing all the buttons outside the gate and – someone answers! We explain who we are – on our word that we went to school there 30 years ago, they buzz us in. The caretaker (who is vaguely familiar) shows us around and it turns out we do know him – he is the son of the previous caretaker – the last time we saw him he was about 10 years old! Now he and his family live at the school, taking care of the property, and the students, like his mother and father before him. He patiently shows us around, explaining what’s new and how things have changed. He’s genuinely happy to see us, and for some reason, this encounter reaffirms everything that I hold dear about Italy: the sense of continuity, the importance of family and relationships, the sense of connectedness – to the past, to each other.

We may have missed both St. Peter’s Basilica AND the Colosseum, but I wouldn’t trade the feeling of joy and contentment I have now for anything.

Leaving the school, we head to the Bocca della Verita. There’s not a hope in heck that it’s open, but we venture forth anyways. Walking alongside the Circo Massimo we pass a statute (some guy on a horse) that DH’s uncle had a hand in. It’s a minor part – he worked on the frieze at the base – but the girls think this is the coolest thing. We were going to just give it a wave from across the street, but the girls insist on going over, climbing on it, and taking a bunch of pictures to document this bit of family history.

The gates to the Bocca della Verita are indeed closed. But at least they can get a peek at it. By this time, we’re all a bit pooped, so we hop on a bus going along the river. Traffic is jammed, so we don’t reach Campo dei Fiori any quicker, but at least we get a brief respite. Dinner is right on the campo – at a restaurant with the unique name of Campo dei Fiori. We have a really nice dinner, sitting outside under a protective awning to keep the chill off. The grilled scampi is delicious, but pricey (30E!). The risotto with zucchini is lovely, as is the asparagus soup.

I think we might take one last long walk after dinner – maybe head back to the Spanish Steps or Trevi Fountain, but our awesome hotel rooms are just steps away – too tempting to escape. DH and I have a balcony and a bottle of wine calling. And the girls have pay for view. A perfect last night in Italy.

Brava!

Phew!

Postscripts

First, a mea culpa. I ragged quite extensively on the restaurant in Venice that blatantly cheated us out of 24 euros. Unfortunately, I misidentified the restaurant. In my defense, my AMEX bill led me to Falciani’s because it listed the restaurant’s parent company as the entity billing me. Right next door to Falciani’s is the Birreria ai Leoncini which is the place where we were actually ripped off. Now, whoever owns Falciani’s must also own the Birreria; otherwise I’m very confused as to why my AMEX bill says what it says. But my apologies. However, I still stand by the opinion that it’s safest not to order more than a cappuccino from any of the restaurants in Piazza San Marco!

Second, I did mention that I really lost it on the very last day of the trip. That would be when the plane was boarding and my darling DH was nowhere to be found. We had had a hurried departure from the hotel (I didn’t even get a chance to step inside what promised to be a lovely little breakfast room). However, we arrived at the airport in plenty of time to make it through security, stand in a lengthy line for some morning sustenance, and take a quick browse through the duty free shop.

About 10 minutes before the plane was to board, DH went off to take care of some personal business. Well, it seemed like the airline went from “about to board” to “final boarding” in about two minutes. I think because they shuttle people out to the tarmac, the boarding occurs in just a couple of large waves. The PA system could not be heard beyond a few feet of the immediate gate. So wherever DH was, he was not likely to hear these feeble announcements. I start frantically walking around, not wanting to go too far, but somehow knowing he was going to have to be physically tracked down or he was not going to make the flight. The gate attendants were becoming increasingly impatient, so I finally told the kids to get on the plane, and I gave the gate attendants one of those wifely “give me five minutes and I’ll sort my husband out” looks and took off. I find him looking out the window in some kind of reverie clear on the other side of this wing of the terminal. THAT’s when I lose it. I probably nearly gave him a heart attack coming up behind him in full rant. He did jump about a foot in the air. I felt bad about that later. About 10 minutes later, in fact, while he and I were still sitting on the bus to take us to the plane, waiting for ANOTHER passenger to show up. So the plane wasn’t about to taxi down the runway with my children on it, but still. It was a double dose of Xanax on the plane for him (I nearly took one myself!).

Third, it doesn’t seem quite fair, but the one family member who did not throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, will be the first to go back to Italy. DD1 decided to apply for that semester abroad in Siena and snagged the last spot! She’ll be studying for three months at the Scuola Leonardo da Vinci beginning in September. She’ll have intensive Italian language lessons five days a week and her other courses include “Art and Spirituality: Treasures of Florence and Siena,” “Saints and Sinners in Medieval/Renaissance Siena” and a Music History class that will include many concerts at the Palazzo Chigi Saracini. How cool is that!

Thanks to everyone for following along and allowing me to relive the wonderful trip our family had.

Buon viaggi tutti!

Bravissima!

Thanks wayfinder45 Loved your travelling tales and experiences.
We will be in Italy in 3 months and you have given me lots of ideas and enhanced my pre trip excitment....bravo!!

Wonderful! Grazie!

Big sigh for Italy. Again, super report, wayfinder45.

Wayfinder, Grazie Mille!

And I am so jealous of DD1. If I had known then what I know now....sigh.

Oh well, too soon old too late smart.

I will definitely be reading your report again with notebook and pen in hand.

CindyP

Thank you again, wayfinder, for sharing your family trip in Italy with us. I so enjoyed your trip report. And best wishes to your daughter. I knew a couple whose daughter also studied in Siena and she had a fantastic time.

Thank You so much for yuor wonderful trip report, I'm so sorry to see it end. Hope your daughter has a wonderful study trip and that you and the rest of your family will be off on a new adventure soon.

Thanks for your great trip report, and I hope your daughter has a wonderful experience in Siena.

Third, it doesn’t seem quite fair, but the one family member who did not throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, will be the first to go back to Italy. DD1 decided to apply for that semester abroad in Siena and snagged the last spot! She’ll be studying for three months at the Scuola Leonardo da Vinci beginning in September. She’ll have intensive Italian language lessons five days a week and her other courses include “Art and Spirituality: Treasures of Florence and Siena,” “Saints and Sinners in Medieval/Renaissance Siena” and a Music History class that will include many concerts at the Palazzo Chigi Saracini. How cool is that!>>

very cool indeed.

if she wants a taste of what MAY be to come, you could click on my screen name and send my trip report from my week at a language school in Italy to her.

the language school in Siena was highly recommended to me when i was trying to decide which one to pick, so I'm sure she'll have a great time.

Wonderful to reread the whole trip, doubly so gazing over the Bay of Naples at Vesuvio on a perfect late spring afternoon.

wayfinder45 - what a fantastic, evocative report that I've just found here after a few months' break from fodors.com. Thanks for the hat tip to our December 2010 Florence trip report.

Our family's trips together, like yours, are among our most cherished memories. Keep a copy so your daughters -- and their kids -- can read many years from now and smile about the great Italian holiday family trip they took way back in 2010/11.

Write a book about a family traveling to Italy. It will be a best seller. I have read others, your stories are better because they also provide solutions...
While we were in Monte San Savino (Arezzo in Tuscany), we deceided to drive to Florence. It was an hour trip on A1. We parked at the Ikea store right outside of the town and crossed the street (the bus stop is on the same side as Ikea, but across the street). Parking was free all day. The bus gave us insight into Florence neighborhoods. The bus stop is across the street from the train station. Ask where bus stop #27 picks up. (check the number)
The next time we wanted to go to Florence, we drove to Arezzo from Monte San Savino and took the train. It stopped so many times, that it took longer to. Much more relaxing though.

topping his marvelous trip report!