sarge56

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack! I hope y'all don't get bored reading my trip report. It's hard to know what to keep and what to toss. But do check back when I get to Rome...I guarantee some surprises. hahahah

First, thank you again to all on this website who helped me plan this trip and gave recommendations and information for hotels, restaurants, sites, etc. I really, really could not have done it without you.

Second, brief intro. I am 51 yr old female traveling 1st time to mainland Europe (previous 10-day trip to Great Britain in ’94) with 29 yr old DD.

Since I don’t have a “euro” key on my laptop, please know that I will just use an “E” before my number, (ie “E40” means 40 Euros).

Chapter 1 – Paris
Do you believe in omens?

We arrive CDG on time, but end up waiting 45 mts for our luggage, with some explanation about a broken conveyor belt. We load our luggage onto a cart, as we are aware that it is some distance through another terminal to the Metro station. We each have a backpack, I have a 24” roller, my DD has a 24” roller that is packed, but then it is packed into a 36” empty roller (so that we can bring back olive oil, souvenirs, etc).

We stop and get some Euros at ATM (very easy to use) and pick up our E30 (each) Museum Passes, as we’ve been told this prevents having to stand in line at one of the museums in the city.

We arrive a short time later at an area leading to the Metro ticket counters, but must go down the escalator to get to it. So we decide this is as far as we can go with the luggage cart. DD finds she cannot get handle up on 36” roller and it appears the luggage was damaged in transit.  Try that we might, we cannot get the handle up and feeling through the luggage, feel that the bar is bent or broken. So we now have an added burden.

We get our tickets for Metro and get through the turnstyles to realize we are at the top of a very long set of stairs down to the tracks. Fortunately, a nice man offers help (thank heavens DD is gorgeous :] ) We get on the train (already finding it very easy to use the Paris Metro) and head to our stop at Notre Dame.

Thanks to fodor friends, we head to the final exit toward the back of the train, where we can catch the escalators all the way up to the street. However, we discover at level 3, the escalator is out of order, and must hall our luggage up the remaining two sets of stairs. We are already tired! But, we are renewed upon reaching the top of the stairs… as we step out onto the street, we are standing 20 feet in front of Notre Dame’s “front porch”.  We rest a moment and take in the sites.

We notice an ambulance a few feet away and realize we are right where we need to be, at the Hotel Hospitel Dieu!  We are directed past a beautiful courtyard and up a flight of stairs to the 2nd floor elevator. It just barely holds us and our luggage, but we squeeze in and head to the 6th floor. We head into the hotel door and are met by the most wonderful hostess, Maria. She was very nice and verified that we had reserved a double. We explained that no, we had reserved two twins. No problem. She takes us to room #7. It is small, about 10x10, but we don’t need more. The bathroom is huge, by European standards. It has a full tub, with removable shower head/sprayer, and is probably half the size of our bedroom.  We are pleased. We find the remote for the window and shutter (the “window” is really in the ceiling) and have fun opening the window and get up on a chair to look out at Paris.

A short while later, we are on the street looking for a spot for lunch. We find a place nearby and the crepes look good, so we go in and sit down. Crepes with nutella and water. Tasty, but nothing really special.

It is quite cold out and since we are dressing up for dinner and I don’t have a “dress up” coat to wear, we head over to the BHV store on Rue de Rivoli, but find nothing that I like. Heading back, DD sees a really cute little wool coat in the KN’L Store on Rue de Renard (I think) and buys it. Back over the bridge, we find a street vendor who has some scarves we like, so I buy one of those that matches my evening outfit, as well as some other little souvenirs. It is very cold out and quite overcast, and a drizzle has started. We discuss our planned 6pm Seine cruise. We decide to do it the next day, as if the weather is the same, no loss. But weather might be better tomorrow, so we decide to put it off. (We were planning 6pm to take advantage of the sunset, but there was no sun to be seen.) So we decide to head back to hotel for nap before dinner.

At 7:30, we are up and out and down to the Metro ticket counter to head to our dinner at Les Ombres. The ticket agent does not speak more than a word or two of English, but he seems to understand that we want to go to the Eiffel Tower. However, we end up on the wrong train and do not realize it until we have gone several stops. We look at the map and the line we are on, and decide we need to get off at Franklin D. Roosevelt and get on another train to Alma Marceau. We do so and come up out of the Metro right at the Pont de Alma bridge across the Seine from the Quai Branly. We are but 5 mts now to Les Ombres.

We are 20 mts late for our reservation, but they have no problem with this, as the restaurant is only about 20% full at this point. It is only 8:20pm. The table has a lovely view of the Eiffel Tower and we spend the next hour enjoying the view.

Dinner is very good, but nothing to write home about. We pay our E154 bill and depart for the Eiffel. It is a very short walk, and just as we get there, the strobes go off again and DD gets busy with her camera. A very nice (and might I add, gorgeous) young man offers to take our picture for us. We walk around the grounds taking in all the angles and when I ask DD if she wants to go up, she says she has had far too much wine to do so. 

We walk toward the Eiffel Metro stop and DD has first (and thankfully, only) experience with the public toilets in Paris. She gets her dress hiked up and accidentally opens the door. Fortunately, nobody looking and she is able to drop the dress before anyone sees her and manages to close the door again. We laugh all the way down the stairs to the train.

When we arrive back at the hotel, it is about midnight. We realize both cellphones are dead and we have no power convertor. DD wonders how we will get up in the morning without an alarm clock (front desk empty after 10pm). I tell her that I’ve read in other trip reports that the bells of Notre Dame will wake us up at 8am. And we have no other option. (We could leave a note at the reception desk, but there is no guarantee that it will be seen.)

Indeed, the bells awaken us at 8am!  We get up and stop by our receptionist to ask about the best route to the Louvre. She tells us there is a transit strike today and there is only one Metro line running, few buses and a taxi if we can find one. She tells us the Louvre is attainable by walking, maybe 20-25 mts. So we head out toward the Louvre.

It is sunny, but quite cold. We stop at the nearby boulangerie (sorry, did not get the name, but it is on the Rue de Arcole, just before you cross the Pont de Arcole)for breakfast and DD’s French comes flooding back to her. She has the crepes with Nutella and I have a chocolate croissant. You’ve got to love any country that will serve you chocolate for breakfast! As we are finishing up, we have reached the Hotel de Ville and see 3 buses parked out front. Each indicates in signage that they stop at the Louvre. We ask one of the drivers and he states that though they are on strike, these buses to Louvre are running and best of all, they are free today because of the strike. (Bonus!) So we hop on and are at the Louvre entrance in short order.

We look on our maps and quickly find the entrance for Museum Passes. Why is the line so short? Where is the ticket taker? What does that sign say??? It tells us that due to the strike, museum workers cannot get to work and so all Paris museums are closed today.  I am angry and upset and insist on crying for 10 mts, as this is our whole day and our only day possible for museums (we leave tonight for Venice). DD lets me cry for my 10 mts, then we move on. (As we have pre-mindset suggested by others… don’t let it ruin your vacation!)

DD states that according to info she has, we have to pick up a return bus on Voie Georges Pompidou. So we head that way. We wait 5 mts and no buses, so we decide to start walking back, along the lovely Seine. We are approached twice with the “gold ring scam” and both times are adamant in waiving them off and we keep walking. We see some Parisian firemen doing some kind of training down by the riverside and DD takes some pics for her BIL, who is a firefighter back home. She is getting some lovely shots of the Conciergerie when we realize we are almost at Pont Neuf. We remember that we have open-ended tickets for the Seine cruise and decide to take it now. It is still cold, but very sunny and not a cloud in the sky.

We are cold from the walk, so decide to stop at the little eatery on the dock to get some coffee. Then DD has to use the restroom. By this time, the top of the boat has filled up and we are forced to take an “indoor” seat. It’s ok, as DD has the freedom to move from one side of the boat to the other and gets some fabulous pics. We love the cruise and are in a good mood when we depart about an hour later.


Since the museums are closed, and it is on our way back to the hotel, we decide to try to see St. Chapelle, as it was also near the top of my list. But we are hungry for lunch, and so find a little café, the Leusoliel D’Or Brasserie, on the corner of Boulevard du Palais and Quai du Marche Neuf . Though it is cool, we take a seat outside. Our waiter is delightful and helps us with our French. (We are trying hard to get through one entire meal speaking nothing but French.) I order another bottle of still water and our waiter compliments me and corrects me that I used the male form of “one” when bottle is feminine, and so pronounces the nuanced difference in the phrases. We are laughing and having a good time and he is a wonderful sport.

DD and I decide on the same thing for lunch. We both have onion soup (quite delicious) and the Salad Nicoise (not impressive, but just ok). Water and wine and sunshine and just watching the Parisians going about their day. It was a very nice respite. Total E46.

We ask our waiter which way to St. Chappelle, and he points right across the street around the corner. Unfortunately, it is apparent that everyone else knows the museums are closed and so are visiting the churches. The line is horrendously long and we are told there is no advantage to having a museum pass here. Same line. We are in line 15 mts and realize it is not moving at all. We have limited time to pack up and get out to Orly, and may have difficulty getting a cab due to strike. Our other option is to drag the luggage back down to the Metro and take a train to the Gare de Lyon stop, where we can catch the Air France bus. We decide we cannot wait in this line any longer and so head back to hotel.

We realize we have not yet seen the inside of Notre Dame and we decide we have time, especially since there is no line, whatsoever. We spend about ½ hour and as with most churches, cathedrals and basilicas, we find much to love and add a lot to our digital photo card. I light a few candles for family and friends and we head across the street to hotel.

We pack up, pay our bill and head out to the taxi stand in front of the hospital. There are about 6 people in front of us. But there appears to be a cab every 5 mts or so, so we feel we are o.k. At one point, another foreigner (we think he is German maybe) keeps trying to get into the next cab, though he is at least 4 people behind us. Everyone in line is getting annoyed and his partner seems very embarrassed. She, too, is telling him to stop- that this is a queue and he needs to wait his turn. Maybe it doesn’t work that way in his country, but he just couldn’t seem to get the picture.

When we are at the front of the line, a cab pulls up and stops way down at the end of the queue to let out his current passengers. The foreign ignoramus again approaches our cab and DD heads him off, explaining in her broken French that WE are at the front of the queue and this man is attempting to hijack our spot. The driver understands and waives off the man and pulls up to load me, DD and luggage. We get to Orly in plenty of time for our flight to Venice. Good thing—the line is very long for check in. I am extremely concerned about the weight restriction. I know DD’s luggage is way over the limit. She is aware that it is E10 per 2.2 lbs over. I remind her that when I’m standing on my home scale, if I stand more to one side, than in the center, my weight appears to be a lot less. So, using this theory, we try to set the heavy suitcase on the very edge of the conveyor. Seems to work somewhat. (We know her suitcase weighed 49.5 lbs at DFW check-in and would only be heavier with her Paris souvenirs.) Limit is about 35 lbs. They charge us E50 for overage and I vow to get this back from DD (but never do!) I think they were nice or we got away with the scale thing, as we should have been closer to E80 for weight overage.

We get down to the gate 27 and sit. We have an hour before departure. As time draws closer to departure, we see no plane at gate and no agent at gate and guess that our plane is delayed. When agent does arrive, we overhear her tell another passenger that our flight was moved to gate 19! So we pick up our gear and run back to 19. It is flashing “delay”. We are not there more than 2 mts when an agent gets on the loudspeaker and announces something in French, but no English translation. However, we assume it can’t be good, because there are at least 3 collective “groans” from the rest of the passengers. DD goes up to agent and finds out our flight is delayed at least 2 hours—grounds crew has gone on strike, in sympathy with the transit workers!!! We are moved again, this time to gate 23.

At this point, we decide that we should contact our B&B in Venice and let them know we are going to be very late. They had already made special arrangements for us to arrive after 10, but now we will not be there until at least midnight. I try to use the pay phone, but it just will not take the country code and though some recorded message comes on the line, it is in French. DD cannot understand it, either, as it is spoken too quickly for her to catch what is being said. So we try the cellphone. No luck. The phone is answered by some man who speaks only Italian. We finally resort to calling my sister in Colorado Springs. She gets ahold of our B&B from the States, no problem.

We finally get off the ground around 9:15 and arrive in Venice just after 11pm. We get our luggage and a phone call from my sister who says the B&B owner thinks we may have missed the last vaporetto and will have to pay big bucks for a water taxi. I already know this may be the case, as I’ve done my Fodors research. But we leave the secure area with our luggage and see the vaporetto window is still open. The clerk speaks quite good English and sells us a ticket for the 11:40 bus to Piazzale Roma and one for the last vaporetto, departing at 12:15am.

sarge56

PS There are NO refunds for unused Museum Passes...the fine print says so (including strikes!) The first of several dollars we seemed to have just chucked for nothin'.

ellenem

A great beginning . . . waiting for more!

sarge56

Chapter 2 – Venice
Everything happens for a reason…

We arrive in the steady drizzle at the vaporetto dock with our luggage, but are having trouble deciphering whether or not we can get to where we need to go. An elderly Italian woman appears and tells us that if we speak very slowly, she should be able to assist us. We are grateful. We show her the map we have received from Corte 1321 B&B and she tells us to get on the arriving vaporetto with her and her husband. We do so. She tells us that this last vaporetto will not stop at San Silvestro where our map indicates we should depart. But that we should go one more to San Toma. We sit and she and her husband sit a few rows away. As we are studying our map, we are thinking it looks not so cut-and-dried to get to our B&B from San Toma as it does from the Rialto Bridge, the stop before San Silvestro. The nice woman reappears and states that she and her husband have discussed our situation further, and believe we will have an easier time finding our B&B from Rialto than San Toma!  Too funny. She says the only problem is that we will have to carry our luggage over the Rialto Bridge. We’re in agreement.

We get off the boat and drag our luggage to the top of the Rialto where we meet up with the four jolly 30-something Italian men who have been watching us the entire time. They offer to help us get it down the other side. We say “grazie” as if they were sincere, but we know they are playing with us. We have no problem getting it down the other side. Based on our map, we feel the best course is to stay on the street that runs along the canal, as it appears to go all the way to the San Silvestro stop. This will make it easier for us to follow the map. However, we also (based on the legend) think this might take us upwards of 20 mts. We are wrong. We have walked to the San Silvestro stop in about 2 mts. When we head “in”, DD is a little unnerved about the quiet and deserted streets, also taking in the graffiti. I assure her that Venice is quite safe. Two different young men pass us up and she seems to be even more on edge. (It is past 12:30 am now.) It is only about 4 mts before we find the street we need and our B&B. (Corte 1321 is at San Polo 1321, Ca’Bernardi.)

We ring the buzzer and are buzzed through the front door, then the courtyard gate, then the front door. DD takes in the pretty marble steps up to the 2nd floor and is instantly relieved. (I think she thought I booked us at some low-rent apartment. Hahaha) We find our room and are totally delighted. Not only does it look just like the pictures on their web page, it is huge. We have two twin beds, and a full day bed, too. Very spacious room, table and two chairs, large canvas wardrobe and two large French windows that open wide and look down onto the beautiful green courtyard. Beds are very comfortable. Bathroom is large and roomy, with shower, bidet and also very large French windows that open out onto a canal. They’ve left a nice basket with soaps, shampoo and hair dryer, as well as fluffy washcloth. Indeed, the towels are “American” towels…big and fluffy!

We set alarm for 9:45, as breakfast ends at 10am. We get up and open the window to see breakfast being served in the courtyard and a bright sunny sky! We quickly put on some clothes and shoes and head down. We notice the computer table for guest use is right outside our door- a bonus! We have a seat outside. Another country that will serve you chocolate for breakfast! I have the chocolate croissant and DD takes the apricot one, thinking it is plain. She smothers it in the Nutella from our full basket of spreads. We drink our OJ and coffee and take in the fresh morning air. Lovely. We are in love with this B&B already!

Back in our room, we hear a knock and meet Debra, our hostess. She needs our passports for check-in. We then chat for a few minutes and hear the story of how she and her DD, Amelia, have come to own/operate this B&B. It is a bittersweet story and you’ll just have to go to hear it. We will definitely stay here on our next visit!

We shower and dress and head out to the vaporetto that will take us to San Marco. We decide to buy the 24-hour unlimited ticket for E15 each. Upon arrival at San Marco, DD notes that her camera batteries apparently did not charge overnight as she had thought, and she has no power. So our first goal is to find batteries. I see a large souvenir vendor and suggest that is our best and closest option. Indeed, they do have them and we pick up 8 batteries for about E6.50. A little expensive, but we are in need.

I am like a kid in a candy store with all the Murano glass I see in each shop. We make our way into the square and decide we must do the whole pigeon thing. We buy corn from the vendor and DD gets some pics of me and me of her and we immediately get out the hand sanitizer when done. We head over to the Basilica and the line is not long at all. Upon leaving St. Mark’s, I see some beautiful Murano in a shop window nearby and tell DD I want to look. Each piece is more fabulous than the last and after 20 mts, I am no closer to deciding what I want than when I came in. So we take a card and plan on coming back at the end of the day. They close at 7pm (it is Friday).

We are hungry by now and decide to eat somewhere near the Frari Church, our next destination. So onto the vaporetto and off at San Toma. We spy the Frari and see a small outdoor café next door and decide to eat there, as it appears there are several locals here (always a good sign). DD orders the soup and glass of white wine and I have spaghetti with pomodoro (tomatoes). Both are delicious and I order my first “diet Coke” in Europe. It is “Coke Light” and tastes more like Coke One than diet Coke. But it goes down nicely, either way. I have another and DD orders her first double espresso in Italy. She says it is the best she has ever had. We finish up and head into the Frari.

This becomes one of our favorite sites on our trip. There are so many things to see in here, but our favorite is in the upper right chapel. The Altar of the Relics is adorned with three bas-reliefs in Carrara marble representing the Crucifixation, the Deposition and the Entombing of Jesus Christ. The works are by the Venetian Francesco Penso, known as Cabianca. These are so incredibly moving, DD and I both find ourselves in tears. We love this church. (The incredible carved wooden choir stalls are phenomenal, also.)

We stop at little shop across the way where DD has spotted some silk ties for sale. Perfect gift for her businessman hubby, who must don a tie daily. So she picks out two she likes and we head down the road to our first gelato in Italy. We both order pistachio and are sadly disappointed. Not very good at all. Of all the gelato places in all the world, we hit a bad one first time out! Alas, we know we are only around the corner from another go at it!

We arrive back at hotel for short nap before our planned “pub crawl”. We decide to depart early enough to get back to St. Mark’s so that I can purchase my Murano. Unfortunately, it is sunset when we board and we are both distracted by the amazing sky and we end up on the vaparetto to San Marcuola instead of San Marco. By the time we figure out we are on the wrong vaparetto, we are past Ca’D’Oro. We look at our watch and figure there is really no way to get back to St. Mark’s before 7pm. I tell my daughter I am not upset… that everything happens for a reason. We can try to get to St. Mark’s in the morning, before our 10:50 train to Florence. If we are standing at the shop when they open at 9:30am, we should be able to shop and make our train.

We take a vaporetto back to Rialto to start our pub crawl. Unfortunately, it is now close to 7:30 and we find the selection of cicchetti at the first two stops to be quite picked over by now. We cannot find the Cantina do Mori pub, which is first on our list. We stop and ask directions, but still cannot find it. After awhile, we decide we are tired and hungry and will just find a place for dinner. As we are searching for a restaurant, we look down a particular small street and then see the sign for it, and realize it is the first place we’d been looking for. So off we go and find the pub, Cantina Do Mori, and find the place fairly crowded. But there is some standing room and the cicchetti look very appetizing, so we decide to go for it. Artichoke, crab spread, cheeses all very good. Though DD does have to discreetly spit out a small whole squid. Cold squid apparently does not go over well. We finish our wine and head out to find a place for dinner.

At this point, DD gets a phone call from her 3-yr-old daughter (stupid SIL lets her call her mommy in Italy, when she knows exactly what the 3-yr-old will say) and immediately my granddaughter starts repeatedly sobbing, “I want my mommy.” DD has a near-nervous breakdown. She has experienced “panic attacks” in the past when away from her children. The doctor has given her Xanax for just this reason. I ask her if we need to go back to room to get it. She says no, just give her a minute. It is more like 20. But she recovers and we find an outdoor restaurant set up in Campo Sant Aponal (didn’t note the name) and decide to eat there.

DD orders fish soup at recommendation of our waiter. I order a pizza with artichoke, mushrooms, olives and tomatoes. DD likes soup except for one particular type of fish she has identified in it. Pizza is so-so. We are seated next to cute Japanese couple who polish off what seems like 5 courses, including a very large plate of spaghetti in squid ink. Then, all of we restaurant patrons are surprised by an impromptu serenade by a table of 8 German women who apparently belong to some kind of singing group. They sing a couple of lovely songs, in beautiful harmony and it is a nice surprise for the staff, too.

We have just about finished when DD is surprised by waiter who has gone out to flower vendor and purchased a rose for her. (I told you…she is very pretty girl! And charming, to boot.) We pay and head out for a good night’s sleep.

As hard as I had tried to drill into DD that she needed to limit the amount of hair and facial product she packed, she apparently brought the whole drugstore anyway. So in the morning, I am showered, dressed and packed in about 45 mts. DD, on the other hand, takes an hour and 20 mts and we are now too late to head to St. Marks and get back in time for train. DD states that there were several shops nearby selling Murano, and we have ½ hour left to go look. I acquiesce and we head out.

I had remembered seeing a good-sized shop off the Campo Sant Aponal where we had dinner. Alas, they are not open yet and I’m bummed because they have some really unique and beautiful glass in the window. But onward we go. And find a shop called Colombina at San Polo 1070 – Ruga Rialto, that we simply had not noticed before (probably because it is surrounded by leather, clothing and food specialty stores). DD spots in the window one of the exact pieces I had loved in the store off San Marco square. We pop in and, indeed, I am thrilled to find several pieces I love and they are at least 25% less than the same pieces in the other shop! I buy two lovely blue and green vases and am very happy. Everything happens for a reason. DD picks up some masks, I pick up some pretty glass earrings for me and other DD at home, and we are off.

We arrive Venice train station too late to catch the 10:50 to Florence, but knew there was another Express at 11:23. So we purchase tickets (E30 each) and do some last-minute shopping at the two gift stores in the station. Perfect time to write postcards, too, so we buy stamps at the Tobacci shop and get several done before our train comes. When our train does arrive, we head out down the track and easily find our car and seats. We are THRILLED with the train. Lots of room for our luggage, huge overhead bins, tray tables, foot rests, hooks to hang our purse/coat on and a food car. And this is 2nd class? Excellent! We purchase two “lunch” speacials in the meal car (E7 each), but first bite makes me ill. I think it is te bread. I polish off the Pringles and soda and I’m fine. We leave sunny Venice and arrive about 3 hours later in overcast, cold drizzly Florence.

sarge56

Chapter 3 – Florence
Our own personal mall.

We follow the signs to the taxi stand and are 3rd in line, and it moves quickly. Our hotel is just minutes away, but it is raining and we just don’t want to haul our luggage any more. It is under E10 to the Hotel Casci at Via Cavour 13. We are met at the taxi by a young man who offers to carry our luggage for us. We waive him off and carry our luggage to front door of hotel entrance. It is then that he tells us he works for Hotel Casci and we all laugh as he carries our bags to the elevator. We immediately realize the elevator will not hold all of us and luggage. So DD and hotel employee ride up with luggage and they send the elevator back down for me.

Upon walking into the hotel lobby, we are met with very warm greetings by Pierpaulo, who is behind the reception desk. He is so cute and charming and speaks perfect English (but with that adorable Italian accent), DD states later that she wonders if she can fit his 6’5” frame into her suitcase, so she can take him home. On one side of the reception desk is a small sitting room with a long bench and a couple of tables w/ chairs. There is also a computer set up at one of the tables, and a glass-door fridge with bottled waters/sodas, etc. (Internet 24 hrs, free to guests.) The other side of the reception desk is the breakfast room, decked out in beautiful colors and pretty table settings.

Pier goes over the rules of the hotel, room, etc and we are taken back to Room #6. It is larger than we expect, with much room for unpacking suitcases and very large wardrobe. Bath is very small, but will do. Has sink, bidet, toilet and shower. Upon opening bathroom door, I’m greeted by an instant sinus headache and a sickeningly sweet smell. (As stated in previous posts, I am very sensitive to certain scents and this one is rose.) I find a rose-scented deodorizer on top of the medicine chest/mirror and am able to close it all the way down. (There are a few times during our stay where I think it needs to be opened [I'm guessing sewer gases], but I decide the scented thing is the worse of two evils. The sewer gas smell may be bad, but it doesn't give me an instant sinus headache. And it is intermittent and confined to the bathroom.) We are pretty tired and decide to take a nap before dinner.

We’re up at 6:45 and get dressed for dinner. Pier has made us reservations at Semidivino, Via S. Gallo 22/R. It is drizzling and cold, but the walk only takes us about 10 minutes. The restaurant is small, but only one other patron appears to be seated when we come in. The atmosphere is great. Very warm, but modern. Lighting is low and we really like the ambience. We are seated and note the wine specials on the board on the front wall.

We decide to split everything we order. Up first is beef carpaccio. It is delicious. DD and I note how extremely well the beef is balanced by the arugula and pecorina it is served on. Just wonderful. Next, we order up little pasta packages that are filled with gorgonzola and pears. This is served over a cream and balsamic vinegar sauce and sprinkled with pine nuts. On the side, radicchio. Again, the balance of the plate is phenomenal. The bitterness of the radicchio marries perfectly with the sweetness of the pear/gorgonzola/balsamic sauce. This is my absolutely favorite dish of the entire trip.

Next up is steak w/porcini and shaved black truffle. All I can say is, “Yummy!”. We polish that off in short order and decide to each order a piece of cheesecake for dessert. This turns out to be the only mistake of the evening. Don’t get me wrong…it is delicious. But it is way too rich for either of us, and DD is disappointed, as she was expecting something more creamy like NY style cheesecake. With ½ liter of house white, a glass of Chianti, a glass of Brunello and 2 bottles of water, our bill comes to E69.

Just before dessert is served, a charming British couple is seated next to us and we start a conversation. They are headed after dinner down to an Irish pub on this same street, to watch the Rugby finals between Britain and South Africa. They invite us to come along and we think it sounds like fun. Since they have just started eating when we depart, we head down to the pub on our own. It is now raining a little harder outside. At Finnegan’s, we find standing-room only and I tell DD I am not up for standing for the next 2 hours to watch rugby. She tries to talk me into it, but no, we’ve been on our feet all day. No seats…no rugby!

We head back to the hotel and stop at Semidivino to let Derek and Jenny know the score, and that we will not be joining them. Back on Via Cavour, we stop in Istambul Kebab, a little fast-food eatery just a couple doors down from hotel. We want to eat in here sometime because it always smells fantastic. But, tonight, just water. Until DD says she’d really like some more wine. I see several bottles of red wine right next to the beer and water. She pulls one out and says, “I wonder if they’ll open it for us?” (I would have totally not thought about that until we were in the room!) Not only do they open it for us, they offer us cups, too. Chocolate for breakfast, wine on the street..yep, we like this place! We drink our wine and watch the South Africans beat up on the British on the telly, then sleep.

We are up early, as we have a 9:15am appt at the Uffizi. Breakfast is better than we expect, with hard- and soft-boiled eggs, a good selection of bread, croissants, cereal, yogurt and fresh fruit. DD has her usual double espresso, I have tea. And off we go.

It is bitterly cold and windy today, but drizzle is random and very light. Glad we have appt, as line w/o is very long at Uffizi. We spend an hour, but truth be told, we are underwhelmed. Probably no return visit here if we come back to Florence.

We make our way over to the outdoor market at the Piazza della Repubblica. I buy a hat and gloves (it IS cold!) and DD purchases a very large cashmere scarf that becomes her everyday attire for the rest of our trip. We then head over to Santa Croce. On the way, I see a purse vendor and we look at several options. The vendor is very helpful when I say, “too big”, “too small”, “not wide enough”, etc. He finally produces a beautiful low and long caramel-colored purse that is perfect. I fall in love and must have it. He wants E45, I talk him down to E25 and we are both happy. He tries to find one for DD, but she is much more picky than I and we leave with only my purchase.

We are surprised and excited to see several food item vendors set up in Piazza Santa Croce. We sample dozens of olive oils and pestos, honey, etc. While I find no good aged balsamic vinegar (my great desire), we do leave with olive oil, organic vegetable pestos, saffron and chestnut honey. Mmmmm.

Since we are loaded down with goodies and getting hungry for lunch, we decide to head back to hotel and drop off our purchases and then head to lunch. We had noticed a number of eateries along Via S. Gallo the day before, so we head that way. We walk down some ways before we realize it is Sunday and many places are simply not open. We find a little restaurant back at Via San Gallo 37/R (Il Ristorante Cardellino). DD orders bruschetta Toscano, not realizing it is a meat paste and not good, she says. I have ordered the vegetable soup and it is very good with chunks of cabbage and kale, potatoes and carrots. I then order a pasta gorgonzola and she a pasta margherita. When our orders come, I think the gorgonzola is way too strong, and DD finds her pasta not to her liking. We trade and are very happy. I see someone else order the tiramisu and decide to go for it. Best decision of the day. It was very, very good. With wine and water, bill comes to E40.

Since we missed our reservation at the Accademia yesterday, due to missing our first train out of Venice, we decide to try again after lunch. So we head over and see the line is long, but appears to be moving pretty quickly. We are chatted up by an American behind us in line, she is touring with her mom and a church group. Time flies and we are in. We see immediate reason to like this place! Michelangelo’s work is awe-inspiring, as expected. We cannot get enough of the David. DD cannot understand why we cannot take flashless pics. But the guards are adamant and relentless. We buy lots of postcards.

DD is feeling totally dragged out and I want to head to the Duomo. We talk about it and decide we will have time to do it in the AM before we head to Rome. We get back to hotel and DD calls home and I check email. We then nap.

Pier has made reservations tonight for us at Trattoria Za Za (Piazza del Mercato Centrale, 26r). We arrive about 8 and are seated in the cozy basement. We cannot agree on a first course, so I have the soup sampler and she has a salad with shrimp. She enjoys her salad, but I can only eat one of the 3 soups, as the Tuscan bean seems to have sage in it (I’m allergic) and the tomato bread soup has a texture I just don’t care for. Next, order a pasta with tomatoes and a steak and plan to split them. But steak turns up very rare when we asked for medium. No matter, DD prefers rare and I am feeling full. So I have a little pasta and DD eats the entire steak. With wine, water and some hot tea for me, bill comes to E55.

After dinner, we decide to walk down to Santa Maria Novella Stazzione and pick up our train tickets for tomorrow morning’s trip to Rome. On our way, we find a gelateria open and decide to give it another go. DD has pistachio and I have chocolate and vanilla. The pistachio is outrageously good, as is the chocolate. But the vanilla is pretty bland. We are at the train station in about 15 mts and am surprised by the dozens and dozens of homeless that appear to be sleeping up against the side of the station wall. We quickly buy our tickets and head back to the hotel and get tucked in for the night.

In the morning, we are up early, eat breakfast and head out to the Duomo. Don’t know what I was thinking. Did not check my guidebook and we find the Duomo does not open until 10am. But we see an entrance of some kind on the side and realize it is for the Cupola and it opens at 8:30, so we wait the ten minutes and are 2nd folks in. I make it up the first 200 or so stairs with just a couple of quick breathers. But after the first landing, the stairwell becomes a very tight spiral and quickly brings on claustrophobia. I tell DD I cannot go any further. She goes up, I go down, and E6 down the tubes. But I have to giggle at the two other women I see come out shortly after entry. One was a British mom I saw head in with her DH and two DDs. She had one word when she came out: “Claustrophobia”. I just laughed and nodded in agreement.

DD was able to get some great video and pics and in the meantime, I’d walked across the street to a little shop and picked up a couple of hot chocolates. It was again bitterly cold this day in Florence. We then headed over to the San Lorenzo outdoor market and made some last-minute purchases of scarves, gloves and purses. We check out of Hotel Casci and are sad that Pier is not yet on duty when we have to depart. But his dear sweet mama gives us a nice calendar for 2008 with pics of Florence and Tuscany. We will miss this hotel and will not stay anywhere else upon our return!

Now that we are lugging three suitcases (one full of souvenirs and food products), we decide to take a taxi to the station. It is a lot more crowded than we expected on a Monday morning. We can see that several trains are late, but ours does not even have a track number up yet. We are here an hour early.

I need to find a bathroom, but cannot see any signs to that effect. I’m looking for “bagno” or “toilette”, but see none. I finally ask a station worker and she points toward the side of the tracks. I head over and see a line with men and women in it, so assume that this cannot be it. I keep going, but have to turn around because I am not seeing any bathroom. As I’m going back by the mixed line, I notice that they are all trying to go through turnstile-type doors, similar to what we saw in the Paris Metro train stations. On the other side of those, I see the doors to the restrooms. I get in line.

Upon getting up to the “turnstiles”, I see that it is E0.70 to get through the doors. As I’m digging for change, I see three elderly British women next to me trying to get in, also. I cannot help but giggle, as this is a real droll comedy taking place. One puts her coins in the far left turnstile, but is standing in the second left gateway. The doors open on the far left, briefly, and she stands waiting for the ones in front of her to open. Her friend tells her she’s done it wrong. When they get that worked out, one puts her coins in and is expecting change, but as she waits for the change, the doors open and close and she is still on the wrong side. I feel like I should be sympathetic, but I’m just laughing too hard on the inside.

Now it’s my turn. I have E1.60. So I try the E1 coin and I hear a clink, but the doors do not open. I feel in the coin return and find my E1 coin. It must take only exact change. For whatever reason, I feel the coin return again and, serendipity--- there is a 10-cent Euro coin in there, too! So now I have E0.70. Having learned from everyone else, you better be ready to go through the doors as soon as that last coin is loaded! I do and finally can use the restroom!

Back to DD and we are hungry now and don’t want to wait for eating on train. We have two choices in the station. One is serving those sandwiches with meat/cheese and the other is McDonald’s. We are not ashamed…we went for the known quality and had the McD’s.

We notice the station is packed now with standing-room-only folk and believe most are waiting for our Rome train. When our track number pops up, DD sees it and tells me to follow her. We get on train and realize we are at the “wrong end” of the car…the “big luggage” bin is at the other end. We make our way through the car slowly, and when we arrive at our seats, it appears mine is empty, but someone is in DD’s seat. They compare tickets and indeed car and seat are same. I sit, she goes to put up big luggage and find ticket taker. I’ve just sat down after putting my luggage up in overhead when I hear DD yell from end of car--- We are on the wrong train! This one is going to Milan, not Rome! Aggghhh!! DD sweetly asks young man sitting across from me if he will assist me with my luggage off the train. He quickly agrees. (The Italians are SO nice and we think [sorry to say] much nicer than the French.) We get off just as the train starts moving and in time to see our Rome train has already pulled away.

DD apologizes profusely and I assure her it is not a problem, and I easily could have done the same thing. She knew we were supposed to be at Track 10, but she took us to 11. No problem. Another Express train is departing in 20 mts. We head back down track to station and see the Trenitalia office in front of us. The line is pretty long. I tell DD she can stand in line with our unused ticket to see if we can get a refund. She has better idea. “Let’s buy our tickets for the next train from the machines, and that way if the train comes and I’m still in line, we can get on the train and attempt refund in Rome.” Good idea. We buy our tickets and DD gets in line. 10 mts later, she has not moved much and our track number comes up. I motion to her and she jumps out of line and heads down track with me. There is one thing we’ve learned from last mishap- head to back of arriving car to put on big luggage. We do so and are off to Rome in short order.

cafegoddess

sarge56,

Great report! I can't wait to read the rest.

cheribob

I am really enjoying your trip report.

Thank you for writing it.

StLgrrl

Great report! It is getting me excited for our trip in February/March! Thanks for sharing.

Katie_H

Great report so far sarge (I've just read the Paris portion). Seems like you sailed through what sounds like a frustrating experience with a good attitude. Have you traveled with your DD before?

I can't believe the ring thing happened to you..so strange how frequent that seems to happen judging from posts here. I was in Paris last spring for the first time and was ready for something similar thanks to the numerous warnings.

A quick question about the hotel---is it actually in the hospital? Did you like the location?

I might have missed it, but did you purchase your museum passes before you left?

Thanks for coming back to report---looking forward to the rest.

Andrew

I'm enjoying your trip report in part because I was in Venice and Florence the week before you guys! I did miss the rain though, but we may have rubbed shoulders in Rome where it was just cold. I'm working on my own report (and still sorting through hundreds of pictures) but I doubt it will be as colorful as yours. Looking forward to the next installment!

Marit77

bookmarking

LCBoniti

I don't have time to do this justice just now so I'm saving it for later. But the beginning sounds very promising.

Had to LOL at your daughter in the public toilette

sarge56

Katie,

We purchased our Paris Museum Passes at CDG airport upon our arrival. Big mistake. Never got to use them at all because of transit strike.

We very much liked our stay at the Hotel Hospitel Dieu! And YES- It is IN the hospital. Top floor. We saw many doctors in the "outdoor" or "courtyard" hallways. They are unique from American docs, as here they all wear short lab coats. In this hospital, all the docs had on really long lab coats that came to mid-shin on them. We also got off the elevator one day and saw some woman being wheeled through the elevator lobby, between two hallways, and it appeared she had just had surgery! So if that kind of stuff would give you the willies, then you might not want to stay there. But we were fine with it. You cannot beat the location or the price! 110E per night and it is on the Isle de la Cite and, literally, across the street from Notre Dame! And there is a Metro station right outside the hospital's front door, as well as a taxi stand! We'd stay again, in a heartbeat!

sarge56

My Rome report is longer, so I'm going to post in two installments. You will no doubt make note of the teaser and be back for Part II.

<b>Finale-Rome, Part I
5 Polizia, 4 Questionable X-rays, 3 butterfly stitches, 2 ancient Roman hospitals and a partridge in a pear treeeeeeeeeeeeeee….</b>

We arrive Rome and find the Florence weather has arrived here, too. We were expecting 70+ and clear skies. Weather forecasters- bah!

I swear the wind is just like Chicago’s (where I grew up). It is bitterly cold today. And pouring rain. When we arrive Termini, there are exactly two taxis at the taxi stand… and they are both empty. No drivers. Are they at lunch? Who knows? We wait 20 mts. Still no taxis. We suspect (and it is later confirmed by our hotel receptionist) that actual Romans are tying up all the taxis today. (We have totally forgotten about seeing if we can get a refund for our unused tickets!)

We decide we have three choices: 1) lug our baggage the 2 miles in the cold and rain to our hotel, 2) wait as long as it takes for a taxi to appear (there are others waiting also) or 3) barter with the “unlicensed” “taxi” drivers that keep approaching us. DD and I discuss. Time is a-wasting. We opt for 3. We barter from E50 down to E25 and we can’t get anyone to agree to take us for less. So we finally agree to E25 and the 2 men grab our luggage and take us to a very nice new van, very comfortable. 15 mts we are in front of our hotel and out we go and they get their E25. We’re all happy.

We head up to the 2nd floor (3rd floor in US) where our Hotel Giardino is located. Receptionist on duty, Serge, is very nice and wonders how we got a cab today. We have room #24, it is the first room down the hall. It is small, but has a large wardrobe and a window that looks out into a large courtyard. The bathroom is nice size and has toilet, bidet, sink and small shower.

We freshen up and decide to head out to the Colisseum (it is about 3:00). We are only a 20-mt walk from there, according to Serge. We head out, hang a left, go 1/2 block, then another 1/2 block, down a long stairway between two buildings and we are standing in front of Trajan’s Column! We are in awe. AND though it is still cold with a bitterly cold wind… it has STOPPED RAINING! Woohoo!!!

We walk a few dozen feet toward the Via Dei Fori Imperiali and DD sees the Forum of Caesar. She says loudly, “Mom- look! It looks just like Ceasars Palace in Vegas, only it’s bigger!” I cannot stop laughing. I guess it’s all relative! We head through the traffic circle to the front of the Forum and must spend 1/2 hour here just trying to take it all in. As we walk down this main street to the Colisseum, each step leaves us in more awe and are brains are in overload already. It is all so beautiful and historical and incredible. This walk leads me to start thinking about what it must have been like to live in these times. DD reminds me that I’m a Catholic and I might want to rethink that sentiment. Again we laugh. But you cannot be immersed in all this archeology and NOT think about it!

We finally arrive at the Colisseum and now the sun is peaking out here and there. But neither the cold nor the wind dispense. DD notes the wind is worse in the Colisseum because of the tunnels. She is probably right. The line is relatively short, surely because of the weather. We spend over an hour here, DD getting some marvelous pics and video. (She is a very good amateur photog bug and I try to tell her she could sell some of her work, it is that good. But she does it for her own pleasure.) We are in awe of this place and it’s history. We could spend more time here, but DD (though she is wearing at least 6 layers) is chilled to the bone and wants to head back to hotel.

On the way back, we take in Trajan’s Market and the Torre della Milizie, and all the other archeology on the north side of Via Dei Fori Imperiali. I simply cannot get enough of it! I will be back to Rome soon, I decide. And for no fewer than 10 days!

We arrive at hotel and room is cold. New desk clerk. Thomas. Very nice. DD asks if heat can be turned on. Thomas says it is against the law to turn on until November 4th. (DD was told something similar in Florence.) Then, we cannot get television to work, so DD back out to desk and Thomas comes in and shows her the remote is just difficult to press buttons and we are good. We ask for dinner suggestion and he recommends a place just a couple blocks away, La Lanterna.

We head out at 7:30 and find “The Lantern” restaurant just fine. The outdoor seating is empty (duh…it is cold!), but we see the inside tables are all full. We were told that Romans eat later, but are not sure now, because this place is packed! But we are met quickly by a young man who points behind us to a stairwell and and up we go. At the top of the stairs, we walk out into a room that can only be described as a grand ballroom. There are a couple dozen tables set up with lovely white linens. About 7-8 of them have patrons at them. At first, we think we might be underdressed, as we are very casual and we can see at least one big top (a table that seats 6-8) filled with very well-dressed gentlemen. But then we see some diners in jeans and sweatshirts and we don’t feel bad. DD also notes the well-dressed businessmen are eating pizza.

We are seated and again decide to order several courses and split all of them. It is more than 10 mts before the waiter appears. He is immediately distracted by another staff member. Each sentence of ours is interrupted by the waiter yelling something to this other guy. It takes about 9 tries to get our order placed and we are not even sure the right stuff will show up. This is about the rudest behavior we’ve encountered anywhere on our trip yet.

When the first two items we order end up on our table 20+ minutes later, we realize that the waiter never heard our request for “uno per due”. We do not get any extra plates. Another strange circumstance, as it turns out I do not care for the carpaccio of sea bass and salmon that has been placed in front of DD, but do love the polenta smothered in 4 cheeses that is placed in front of me. DD loves the carpaccio. She has a few bites of the polenta, but polishes off the carpaccio while I finish the polenta.

The next round shows up in the same fashion. Both together and no extra plates. This time, we both love the scrumptious veal scaloppini in lemon sauce and the gnocchi with baby shrimp and asparagus. The asparagus is fresh and the saffron-colored sauce is delicious. We manage to split the dishes up with the plates they’ve come on. The service may be poor, the food is excellent. These will be my 2nd and 3rd favorite dishes on the trip.

We finish our meal and wine (1/2 liter again shared) and ask for our check. (“Il Conto, per favore”.) It is E51 and I have no change, only an E50 and an E20. So I enclose one of each in the checkholder the waiter has left. He comes by and picks it up and asks if I want change. “Si”. A few minutes later, he drops it back on the table and I open it to find an E10 bill. Ummm..shouldn’t there be E19 in there? Oh, so sorry. I ask again for “change”, but he brings back another E10 and leaves it. I’m so frustrated at this point, I tell DD he’s not getting any extra tip and we get up to leave. It is then that I actually notice at the top of the ticket that they have not charged us the service fee that we usually see applied when dining in Italy. Servicio- 0.00. I decide I must leave him a tip, so DD and I dig through all our pockets and all of our purse pockets and finally come up with E7 in change. We leave that. As we look up, he smiles. We decide he is just having a bad day, and we don’t recall seeing any other waiter on the entire floor, so busy as well. We have had an excellent meal and hope on our next visit, the wait staff will be more accessible. We head home and early to bed, as we have a 9:15 Scavi Tour in the morning.

We are up and showered/dressed by 8. Breakfast is served in the small dining room adjacent to the front desk area. A server brings me hot tea and DD her double espresso, as well as croissants and hard roles. There is yogurt and OJ and cereal also. We have the front desk call us a taxi and it is there by the time we get to the bottom of the stairs and out the front door! It is a beautiful sunny day in Rome!

We arrive at the Vatican at about 8:30am. We find the Swiss guard through the right-side colonnade and they tell us we must enter on the other side. We easily find the Swiss guard on the other side and they tell us they can let us through at 9. So we take some pictures all around the square and head back at 9 to the Scavi tour. We find the Scavi office and get our tickets for the tour. There are about 10 of us. Our guide appears, a middle-aged Italian woman with a cute Italian accent but who speaks perfect English. She is very soft-spoken and we must, several times during the tour, try to get closer to hear her.

There really are no words for this tour. I encourage anyone going to Rome to request this tour, months in advance if you can. The tombs, encryptions, history is unbelievable. I am moved to tears upon arrival at the area where the church firmly believes St. Peter has been crucified. They have opened up one side of the tombstone they believe is Peter’s to read, written in Greek, on the inside of the tombstone, “here lies Peter”. All of the “circumstantial” evidence is enough to convince the church, and me, that this is indeed the burial site of, and bones of, St. Peter. Again, I am teary-eyed and overcome and not the only one, thankfully. Apparently, our guide has seen this reaction before as she smiles at me and the other 3 people I see with tears in their eyes. The tour is phenomenal and we depart the tour at the entrance to the 2nd level directly under the Basilica. We view the tombs of many Popes and dignitaries, including the most recently-departed Pope John Paul II.

Upon exiting this level, we have the option of departing through the fence into St. Peter’s square or we can go right up the steps into the Basilica, no waiting. We opt for the latter, as we have to squeeze this in before our 1:30 scheduled Context Rome tour of the Vatican museums. It is now just 10:15.

The Basilica, as it should be, is awe-inspiring. We are like star-struck teenagers. We are like kids at our first circus. This IS the bigtop, and we cannot decide where to start. Well, the most-anticipated of course is Michelangelo’s Pieta. So off we head. We are so depressed that a decades-old act of vandalism has now locked away this beautiful piece behind glass, and some distance from the viewer. DD gets some excellent photos. (We later have the good fortune to see more detailed photos in the possession of our Context Rome guide. I marvel that this then-25-yr-old man could know how to carve both grief and resolution, as well as grace and love in this sculpture. How could this man have enough life-experience at 25 to know these emotions so well that he could carve them in stone? Simply amazing!)

DD probably takes over 200 pictures in here. (Thank heavens, in the evenings she goes through them all and deletes blurry ones and duplicates and ends up with less than 1/2 of what she started with. It is a really smart thing to do, instead of waiting until she gets home.) We spend an hour + in here and each domed ceiling is more beautiful than the last one. We are enamored and wonder how incredible it would be to actually attend mass here one day.

We are at the exit, but want to go up top, but DD needs a restroom. So, she heads over to the restrooms to the left of the Basilica where there is also the Vatican library book store and the Vatican post office. After waiting 10 mts, I head out to the front stairs and see DD waving furiously at me. She meets me at the fence and tells me they will not let her back in- that she must go all the way around the square and wait in line at the regular entrance to get back in. No amount of talking and the fact that I’m holding her camera, coat, hat and bag will move the guard to let her back in. We are about resigned (though I’m pretty angry, as common sense does not seem to be apparent here, especially because there is NO SIGN that says you cannot get back in if you depart for the restroom), and lo and behold- a changing of the gate guard. DD asks new guard and he non-chalantly turns his back and waves her in behind him.

We get in line for the trip up to the dome, but it is very long and moving slowly. We realize that if we stay, we will probably not have time for lunch and, indeed, might be cutting it close to meet our guide from Context Rome. Since we will be back at Vatican tomorrow for Papal audience, we decide we will do the Dome tomorrow.

As we are leaving Basilica, we see three guards chatting and ask for recommendation for casual and quick lunch place nearby. One of the guards sends us to “The Colonnade” just a few feet off the square, he tells us his cousin works there. We find it easily and realize it is a self-service buffet type restaurant. We really wanted to be served, but we are hungry and have limited time. We each get the lasagna (really very good), split a salad and water. I think the total was about E23. When we are done, we decide to try the gelato. I have strawberry on a cone and DD has a cup with pistachio and lemon. As usual, we let each other sample what we’ve got. All of them are delicious, the best gelato we’ve had so far!

We then head off under the bright sunny skies to the other side of Vatican city to meet our Context Rome guide across the street from the entrance to the museums. We do not wait long when Hillary appears. We are expecting Ursula, but there is a last-minute switch. We like Hillary right away. She is British and reminds us of Juliette Mills, who played on that old show, “The Nanny and the Professor”. She is very enthusiastic and our group is small. We are expecting to see a fellow Fodorite in our group, but alas, he is not there. Besides DD and I, there is an American east-coast mother and her 20-something son and daughter. The son is apparently an artist and has completed a degree in art. Throughout our tour, I must admit, I start to get a little, well, peeved I guess, as he is, even if unconsciously, monopolizing the guide. I paid a good sum of money for DD and I to be on this tour and want to make sure we get my money’s worth, too. But, what is one to say? The kid is obviously enthused by art, but there is only so much time on the tour to ask questions and see what we want to see.

Before heading into the Sistine Chapel, Hillary finds a nice spot for us in the courtyard where we all sit and look at her pictures of the ceiling panels. She explains several things regarding the politics and the fresco itself, as well as the “Last Judgement” which Michelangelo painted so many years later. When Hillary talks about the artists whose works we see throughout the museums, she is so animated, you’d think she knew them each personally! We really like this about her. It has now warmed up considerably in Rome, and is about 70 degrees! We leave the courtyard and head toward the chapel.

Hillary points out several more works on our way to the chapel, including some absolutely amazing paintings that are one-dimensional, but appear to be 3-D. Just superb. These appear on the ceiling of one of the halls leading up to the chapel. In addition, there is a large tapestry in the same hall which also seems to have a 3-D effect. Just the coolest thing!

We finally arrive in the Sistine chapel and it is packed wall-to-wall with people. But thanks to Hillary’s “pre-visit” “class”, we know what we are looking at and she points out different items she has peviously discussed. We do not get to stay long, as it is closing. We have about 10-15 minutes total in the Chapel. Unlike some posters here, I actually find the Chapel to be <i>bigger</i> than anticipated. The only thing I am unhappy about is the lighting. It is not lit well and difficult to really see the detail. But, we are in the Sistine Chapel! And that is never bad!

We end up out in front of the Basilica and we are taking in St. Peter’s square and all the chairs set up for tomorrow’s Papal audience. We mention to Hillary that we will be in attendance for that, and she points out exactly where we should try to sit; that if the Pope is going to walk and shake hands at all, it will be in that area. We thank her and as the rest of the group departs into the Basilica, she walks us down the steps toward the Vatican post office. We give her a E20 tip and she thanks us profusely. We hare really enjoyed our day here at the Vatican.

We have been on our feet all day, and so decide to get a taxi back to hotel for a short nap before dinner. We are heading for the spot where our taxi dropped us off this morning. Though there is no official taxi sign, there is a queue of people. However, we are not quite there yet, when a taxi pulls up right in front of us and drops someone off and we ask if he is available. He waves us in. We do make sure he has a “taxi” sign on the top of his car and a “Roma” taxi sticker and number on his car door. We get in and he immediately asks us where we are from. We say USA. He starts asking us if we have any “yellow Euros”. We are confused at first. Yes we have Euros. “Do you have yellow Euros?” Huh? I show him an E10 (which is blue, by the way) and he stops two blocks from the Vatican, in front of a bank, and tells us that it is 200Euro to Santa Susanna (our destination). We waste no Italian, but tell him in 4-letter word English that he is out of his friggin’ mind. We get out of the cab and he is driving off before we can close the door or write down his cab number. I’m not sure what the police would have done anyway. We heard from the American couple in Florence that when they were robbed in Rome last week, the police seemed totally disinterested.

We walk back to the Vatican and note the side street/alley where we are has dozens and dozens of the cutest little outdoor cafes. We make a note of it. We find our way back to the unofficial taxi queue and only wait about 10 mts for a cab. He takes us to Santa Susanna the long way (explaining something about rush-hour traffic and one-way streets.) We are not sure we are buying it, as it really does seem that he’s gone the long way around. It is E14.5 and I give him E16 and out we go. We walk in and pick up our tickets for the Papal audience. We then look in my DK travel guide and realize we are almost straight-shot back to our hotel from here, and it should be about 20-mt walk.

We head down the Via XX Settembre, which changes names to the Via Del Quirinale and then when it turns south at the Piazza del Quirinale, finally becomes the Via XXIV Maggio. Hotel Giardino is at #51. It is just about 20 mts. We also get some great views inside the gates of the Palazzo del Quirinale and the Presidential Palace just off the square. Beautiful- not to mention this is a high hill in the city and we can see the Vatican and St. Peter’s from here (the Piazza). We are back in the hotel and down for a nap.

Upon awakening, we look at our DK guide and it appears we are only 10 mts from the Trevi Fountain. So we head down that way to find a place for dinner. Back uphill to the Piazza del Quirinale where we can see just how beautiful St. Peter’s looks at night. DD gets in some fabulous shots from this hill and the moon is full tonight. Just lovely. Not only that, but we find the evening is warmer than even the daylight hours today. Which is a great relief, as just yesterday it was quite bitterly cold!

We are at the Trevi quickly and again, are just stunned by its incredible beauty. The underlighting is so perfect for highlighting each detail of the fountain. There are lots of people here, but it is not so overcrowded as to be uncomfortable. We throw our coins and take pictures of each other doing it, of course. We ARE tourists, you know! Hahahaha. We sit and take it all in. We see dozens and dozens of families and couples taking each others’ pictures.

DD sees cute Japanese couple doing the pic of each other thing and offers to take their picture together. Yes, they would like that very much. DD takes great pics. She continues to offer as each family/couple appear and do the same bit. She LOVES this, as she is “checking out” each different camera that ends up in her hands! She makes note of her favorites, especially one produced by a French couple. She sees a 10-yr-old boy attempting to take a pic of his parents in front of the fountain, but every time he does, they seem not too overjoyed by the result. DD interjects (as rude American), that he has flash on, and pic is much better without flash on. They seem to understand (they are German) and their DS takes another with flash off and they are thrilled with result. My DD then offers to take pic of them all, and they call down three other sons we had not seen sitting behind us! They are happy, it seems, to have a nice picture of their whole family in front of the Trevi.

We are off down the Via Del Lavatore for some dinner. We spot a little caf&eacute; at #35, “Paradise Food Service”. (The waiter tells us this restaurant is closing and will be moved down the way to Via Rasella, #52 and new name of “Ristorante Albrecht”. He writes this down for us so we can be sure to find him on our next visit. However, salad and pasta is just so-so, so we are not sure we’ll return. We find a little gelateria/bar on the corner back near the Trevi and order a couple of limoncellos. We note these are only cool, and not ice cold as some tell us it is served best. We must agree. Not so great. I decide to follow mine up with a blackberry gelato from the same place. It is the best gelato yet. Unbelievable! YUM!!! We head back to our hotel under the full moonlight and head to bed, exhausted and with another early start tomorrow.

kappa

Have read so far only a bit of Paris and Venice but like your report very much. I was so happy to read you were rewarded by a great hotel in Venice after all the delay and troubles.

petitepois

Ahhh! A cliffhanger!! Don't leave us hanging too long... really enjoying your report!

annhig

ttt

Anna1013

Sarge56,

I've just spent about 1.5 hours reading your trip report - thank's so much for posting it! Although I hope you will be back soon for the rest

Sorry about the strikes - although I never had to go through any, I can imagine how heartbroken you must have been to not go to any museums! Although as many people say here, it's just another reason to go back to Paris! In your Italy section, you mentioned that you thought the Italians were friendlier than the French...you didn't mention have any bad experiences did you?

My DS and I took along bags that were about the same size and weight as your daughters! We almost had to pay a $315 fine(even before leaving the US!), and we decided to mail home some items to lighten our load.

All our hotels seemed great...isn't it wonderful when you spend all this time researching places to stay, and they turn out even better than you predicted!

Had to LOL about your train incident, although you were much more level headed than I would be in your situation...I've always worried that I would end up on a train going in the wrong direction!

By the way, the cab driver was crazy! So glad you were able to get out without things getting worse...can't wait for the finish of your rome report!

By the way, did you and your DD have a favorite place from your 4 destinations?

Anna1013

sorry, my last post should have read &quot;all your hotels&quot;...your post made me reminisce too much about our trips!

sarge56

<b>Finale-Rome Part II</b>

We are again up early so we can get to Vatican in time enough to get a good seat for the Papal audience. Our taxi drops us in front of St. Peter’s at about 9am. (Audience is at 10:30.) The security line is very long and we are glad we arrived by 9, as Hillary had suggested the day before. We spend the 15 mts in line with a large group of young German teenagers, mostly boys, from a Catholic high school. I see one snarfing down some kind of candy bar and a Coke. I ask him if this is his breakfast. He understands and says yes. I tell him his Mom would not be happy. It takes him a minute to get it, but his friends all laugh and he then blushes a little. (I surely didn’t mean to embarrass him.) When we get up to the actual guards with their metal wands, my DD comments to me that the guard wanding our line is extremely cute. After he wands her, and he is wanding me, I tell him in sign language that my DD thinks he is cute. He blushes and gets a huge smile on his face. The American women in the next line over rat me out and tell DD what I’ve said. DD makes some comment about how being wanded by this guy is like getting to 2nd base and we all bust out laughing. It is apparent he does not speak enough English to understand. But we giggle about this for several more minutes.

We get through the security just in front of several tour groups and they start to overrun us trying to get to the front of the “red ticket” section. I quickly walk up the side along the fence and grab us two seats, about 10 rows back. (The square is divided into two sections, separated by a 10’ “aisle” that allows the Pope’s vehicle to pass inbetween the two sections. The “red ticket” holders are seated in the back section, the “blue ticket” holders are seated up in the front section.)

It is now 9:15 and DD remarks that she needs to use the restroom. (This comes, no doubt, from drinking those double espressos all the time!) I sit with our stuff and off she goes toward the restroom she used yesterday, to the left of the Basilica. Five minutes later she is back and says Swiss guard has that area blocked off and she is directed to a restroom way on the other side of the square, and through the right-hand colonnade. Off she goes.

There is a lovely Irish woman seated next to me and the tour guide she is with sees that I have the two seats on the fence. He wants to know if we will, after taking our pics of Pope, make room for some people from their group. Well, we’ll certainly see if we can squeeze everyone in. Bridget tells me she is mother of 5 and they are on first trip to Rome. Tells me of poor woman in their group who on first day in Rome, stepped off the bus wrong and broke her ankle. She is behind us several rows in a wheelchair. Poor dear. We notice that it is warming up beautifully and is a bright sunny day for the event. We are thankful!

As I’m chatting, I notice the clock moving. 9:30, 9:45, 10:00, 10:15 and DD is not yet back! I’m really getting worried. The place is packed, now. Perhaps she had to leave the grounds and go back through security? Based on yesterday’s fiasco, that would not surprise me. Finally, at 10:20 she appears! Thank heavens. She says line for bathroom was that long, and that 20 mts before reaching it, she was near tears because she had to go so bad. She tells story of two 7-months pregnant women in front of her who also waited that hour. She then tells me that you don’t have to be bilingual to understand what is being said in 9 different languages when someone tries to cut in line up ahead of them! This happens a couple of times, but she says the “line cutters” are quickly departed when they hear threats in nine languages!

The Pope appears at 10:30 in his open automobile. He rides around the square and up along the side of the fence where DD is standing. She has “saved” enough room for Bridget, our Irish friend, and Bridget squeezes in to get some pics. I stand behind DD and attempt to catch some pics “over her head”. She gets awesome video and pics. Pope is just five or six feet from us as he rides by.

Throughout the audience, we are very impressed with the Pope’s reading, and apparent comprehension of, so many languages. (Italian, German, English, Spanish, French and Polish.) We are really enjoying seeing the different groups from around the world being acknowledged by the Pope. Many, especially from Germany and Poland, have big banners and little flags they wave when their church/group is called out. This is very heart-warming and groups are represented from every part of the world.

The police are very strict about security here. You are not allowed to stand on your chair at any time, especially when the Pope is near. There is a man in the front section who keeps standing for long periods of time to take pictures. The policeman in front of us asks him to sit down. Then a second time 10 minutes later. The third time, you can see how harsh the words are- we’re thinking he’s going to be taken out of the seating area if he cannot comply with the command to sit down. He finally does.

At noon, the audience is finally concluded. I tell DD that I now need a restroom, but there is no way we are getting to one quickly. The standard route out of this chair area is at the back. There are no side or front exits, you just have to all file out the back fence exit. Then we see several folks just hopping the fence up front. The guards don’t stop them, so DD and I are up and over, too. (And as an older white version of Queen Latifah, I do not embarrass my DD but get over just as if I was my old 130-lb.,15-year-old self. I actually get over it more adeptly than my 29-yr-old DD!!!)

We want to take the elevator to the top of the Basilica, but know the lines will be long. So we opt to go get some lunch first. We recall that long alley/street of outdoor cafes just a block away and head over that way. DD needs batteries again, and so we stop in a souvenir shop directly across from the Vatican and pick some up. Then off under the arches to find some lunch.

As we come out onto Via Del Mascherino, we need to go to the right on Borgo Pio. But at the corner, there is restaurant caf&eacute; taking up all the sidewalk space, and in the street in front of it, plywood construction area and several cars parked at an angle to the walkway. So, we have to move further out into the street. Here there are two cars that appear to be double-parked (they are parked straight on the street behind the cars parked at angles). There are two police officers at the front of the first car. One has his back to me, the other officer is facing him. They seem to be very animatedly discussing the double-parked cars. DD steps behind officer facing away from us and I follow. As I get one foot past him, the officer steps back and his foot interrupts my forward-moving rear foot. Basically, he unintentionally trips me, but he is moving backward.

That was all she wrote. I had no control over where or how I fell, as I was already in forward motion. It was just that my foot could not follow through. I ended up face first on the lovely, uneven, very hard cobblestone street. Unfortunately, the left side of my face took about 80% of the impact and my left knee and shin, the rest. I had thrown my right hand up, but it landed after my face did.

There is immediate and intense pain, busted glasses (which I just got in August) and I think I have a recollection that I thought I loosened some teeth. I am rolled over by who knows; in short order both police officers are stooped down, my daughter is at my side telling me I will be fine and then I hear a young Italian woman in broken English telling me it will be fine.

I cannot see. I wish it was just because I am no longer wearing my glasses. But it is because my cheek and forehead have immediately swollen to such huge proportions, they have forced my eye closed. (DD later reflects that I looked just like Bill Bixby turning into the Hulk. And that my modeling career is over. I tell her my first thought was that she pushed me, but then recall she was already in front of me when I fell. )

The policeman who tripped me looks all of 12 years old and I suspect is apologizing, but he speaks no English and I, little Italian. I’m obviously just a touch disoriented. The Italian girl speaking broken English now comes into view of my good eye and tells me it will all be ok. She is an off-duty police officer and she knows some English because she is a big Elvis fan and goes to Graceland once a year to pay her respects. She sits me up and I start to lean back. She and DD grasp my hand and the Italian woman stands behind me to hold me up. But she asks me not to stand, due to possible head injury. Ya think?

Fortunately, at this point, someone from the sidewalk caf&eacute; has run out with a blue checkered tablecloth filled with ice. (The first ice, no kidding, that we have seen in all of Italy.) DD tries to hold it to my face, but I take it from her, as the pain is very intense and I think I can hold it better. The Italian girl asks if my head hurts. I say no, only my face. (I can see my DD holding back the old childhood reply of “well, it’s killing me!”) She asks if I can see her ok. I tell her if I had my glasses on, probably --—no blurred or double vision that I can tell. It is hard, though, as I am very nearsighted. Everything looks blurry to me when I don’t have my glasses on!

I hear an ambulance approaching and it stops right next to me. A cute little blonde girl hops out and holds up my chin. In broken English, we go through the same routine of whether or not my head hurts and can I see her. After confirming that it is not likely I’ve a concussion, she hops back into the ambulance and drives away. I can’t get out my thoughts before DD tells me this was not <i>my</i> ambulance, but on its way to another accident. But since they were going right past, they would quickly evaluate.

<i>My</i> ambulance arrives and the two police officers haul me up off the street, no doubt wishing I was not the older white version of Queen Latifah. It is now that I realize I’ve got something caked all over the side of my hair and I pull the iced tablecloth away to see blood. Oh, geez, I didn’t even realize I was also bleeding!

Well, let me tell you folks, ambulances are not the same there as here. The staff only have rudimentary first aid and don’t even appear to have any equipment. It is a car and a bed, and that is all. DD and I get in back of ambulance and sit in chairs while the ambulance guy tries to write some notes on a clipboard. All we can get out is nationality before we pull up at Sancto Spirito. Out I go, into a wheelchair. A really old wheelchair.

DD and I arrive at a desk and the girl behind it asks for my passport. Thankfully, we have them with us, as we had already checked out of our hotel and they were just holding our luggage in their breakfast room. DD had sense enough to not only immediately pick up my shoulder bag, but also my eyeglasses and the lense to my eyeglasses that popped out upon meeting the cobblestones. So we produce the passport, the clerk types a couple things into the computer and the ambulance guy leaves.

The female clerk pushes me into a hallway and leaves me and DD there. No word. Not in Italian or English. My DD is not happy. I tell her it is fine, that this is probably just like ER at home and I am waiting my turn (there appear to be only 2 other people in this “waiting area”). She asks if she should call my sister, the nurse (one of my sisters who happens to be married to an ER doctor). I say no, let’s wait to see what they say. I keep apologizing to DD about ruining our last day in Rome and she shushes me, as she should, I guess. But I am pretty upset, obviously, on several levels. I am holding the ice on my face, and also trying to hold a Kleenex over the gash near my eyebrow. After 20 minutes, I finally get the bleeding to stop on the gash.

After another 20 or so minutes, someone appears and calls “Signora XX” and my DD raises her hand. This man wheels me toward a door and waves DD to sit down. She says she wants to go with, he says no. It is the x-ray room. And as bare as any x-ray room I’ve ever seen. He first takes a picture of my face while I’m standing. He then waves me to a table. He wants me to lay down on my back. I do. He then motions for me to scooch backwards until my head is hanging all the way off the table! He then approaches and tries to turn my head and chin to the angle he needs. He tells me to hold still and off he goes to take the pic. In the meantime, with my head hanging upside down, the blood rushes to it and I start gushing blood again from my wound.

When he helps me up off the table, he has nothing for me to cover the blood with, so I use my hand to try to put pressure on the gash again. Back into chair and out to waiting area. We are out there about another 15 minutes when I finally get the bleeding to stop. Another 15 mts goes by and DD says she has to use the restroom. (Now, mind you, I have not yet used the restroom I said I needed as we were departing the Vatican!) There is one right off the waiting area. I tell her to go, I will be here when she gets back.

Of course, as soon as she closes the door, the x-ray man comes back out and calls my name again. By now, there are about 18-20 people in this waiting area. I ask loudly if anyone speaks English. A young college-age girl speaks up and says she will tell my DD where I have gone. (The Italians are soooo nice!)

I am back in the x-ray room and again on my back with my head hanging off the table. (Can this be a good sign? I don’t think so.) Two x-rays later and again, the blood has rushed to my head and I am bleeding all over the x-ray room. The attendant still has nothing to hand me for my forehead. Sigh…

After 30 more minutes, my name is called and I am wheeled to an ER-type examining room with three beds/curtains in it. Again, they will not let DD come in with me. They ask if I speak Italian. I say no. I hear someone mention getting the English-speaking doctor. Then a male nurse starts rolling up my sleeve. I must have had an immediate look of alarm on my face because he suddenly pipes up “blood-a pressure”. When he is done, he tells me very cheerfully that my BP is just fine.

A nurse comes in and takes the very wet tablecloth from me and looks at my gash. At this point, the “English speaking doctor” comes in and says in his very limited and broken English, “no broken bones”. I am thrilled, I think. He starts to leave the room and the nurse next to me yells something at him when he is already out of my view. I can tell from her attitude and voice that she is yelling at him about the cut over my eye. Like, “Hey, this lady is bleeding. What are you going to do about it???” I almost smile at this, as I speak no Italian, but can tell what she is “saying”. Doctor yells something back and the nurse proceeds to clean up the wound with something that stings a little. She then places three steristrips (commonly referred to by my R.N. mother as “butterfly stitches” when I was a kid, because they resembled butterflies and were to take the place of actual thread stitches) over the wound and in broken English tells me not to get them wet and to leave on for 5-6 days.

As I leave the examining room, the doctor is standing there with something written on a sheet of paper. “Ospitel Oftalmico”. He tells me I need to go have my eye examined at a second hospital. This does not make me happy, but in a weird way is some small relief because I’ve already wondered why they haven’t spent any time looking at my eye. Well, apparently, this is not really a fully-staffed hospital. I ask if this can wait until I get back to America. No, I need to have it checked out before I fly anywhere. Sigh… I ask about the bill, and he says no charge and hands me the paperwork from this hospital and the paper with the other hospital name on it.

When I find DD and tell her this, I can see she becomes even more stressed. We are close to the time where we would need to go back and get our luggage and head to airport if we are to catch our plane to Paris. She asks me what I want to do. I know she just wants to go home now. But I tell her that we must go to the other hospital, as I am not taking any chances with my eyesight or blowing out my socket with airplane pressure, if that is the issue. I tell her not to worry, we will get home on time, even if we have to pay more for it.

We eventually find someone who speaks some English and he tells us there is a taxi stand out front. I’m lookin’ reaaaaalllll ugly about now and tell DD that nobody is going to pick us up if they see my face. So I turn my back to the curb as she tries to hail a taxi. About 5 minutes later, someone stops. DD gets in and then I get in. He is the first of many people in the next 48 hours that do a “double take” when they see me. It is almost funny, it looks just like something written into a comedy sketch. Only nobody is smiling. Some seem totally repulsed and one looks like she is going to hurl.

We give the taxi driver the paper with the name of the new hospital on it. He says OK and like a train wreck, he looks at me a few more times in the mirror as we’re driving. I have not yet seen my face. I tell DD I cannot look, as I’ve seen the way other people react to it. But she assures me that both my upper and lower eyelids look like marshmallows--- purple marshmallows. And that the entire left side of my face looks like some George Lucas special effects gone awry; from my lip to my forehead, I am already turning every color of the rainbow. She says to picture Greg Kinnear in “As Good as it Gets” after he’s been beaten up by his muse…and then multiply by 10. I’m sure she is exaggerating. I <i>hope</i> she is exaggerating.

At the eye hospital, we walk in and see four “information” desks, like tellers at a bank. (I say “we” though I cannot see a thing—remember, I don’t have my glasses on and can’t see a thing without ‘em!) The first is on the phone, the second is reading her book and waves us off. She won’t answer any questions. The third is empty. The fourth box, thank heavens, has a body in it and one person in line in front of us. When we get up to the man, he is immediately sympathetic and we are trying to explain to him why we are here; that we have been to Sancto Spirito and they have referred us here. He seems to understand after a few more attempts. He points us down a hallway and in broken English tells us to make a right and another right. We thank him and head off down the hall.

We are immediately lost. We don’t seem to be able to see the sign he mentioned we’d see. No matter. In 10 seconds, he is standing behind us. He then walks us directly to where we need to go. (Have I mentioned how nice the Italians are???) He then goes further to find the doctor and explain what is going on. At the same time, a nice woman from behind a glass-enclosed desk comes out and speaks pretty good broken English. The original man comes out and tells her what is going on. My DD asks if she knows how long we might be here, as we have a plane to catch. She is very sympathetic and tells us it will probably be at least an hour, as they will want to dilate my eye, and that alone will take a half hour to take effect. DD is stressed. Nice lady tells us she will see if she can get us in quicker. In the meantime, we are to take a number from the ticket machine, just like at our bakery back home.

I sit in the waiting area with the ticket (#083) and DD goes outside to get a cell signal. I tell her to call my sister now and find out if they can look into alternative methods for us to get home sooner. Unbenownst to me at the time, DD is very panicked about my injuries and us getting home. My nurse sister says we need to get home as soon as possible. Of course, this only stresses DD out further. Sister at home is on her way into work and calls second sister to see if she can contact American Airlines and get us home on a direct flight from Rome, instead of us going to Paris for one night as planned and leaving from there.

I break down crying again in the waiting room. Not that it mattered. Everyone was trying not to stare at me, but now it was apparent they had mixed emotions. Do they comfort me or look away? Such nice Italians. The waiting room is full, by the way. Had to be at least 20 people in this little room. #080 is up on the board. Then number 081 comes up. 20 minutes has elapsed. Then I hear my name called to what I suspect is examining room #2 (I understand “due”.) DD arrives same time and we head off to exam room #2. Doctor has me sit at one of those eye things with the chin rest. He has to pry my eyelids apart to see my actual eye. He looks for about 10 seconds, has me move my eye to the right and up and down. He says no blood, I can fly home. Whew. We wait for paperwork and again are told no charge. Off to find another innocent taxi driver.

At the taxi stand out front, I again wait with my back turned and eventually a taxi pulls up. It is a female driver and as soon as I get in, she does the “ooh, if I look at that again, I’m going to lose my lunch” look. She seems relatively knew to taxi driving and punches in our hotel name on the GPS. She finds it and heads off. We tell her that our bags are there and we need to go on to Ciampino airport, can she take us all the way? She agrees. We are very happy.

We pull up at the hotel and I wait in the car while DD runs in to get our luggage. Serge is on duty and after hearing what has happened, very graciously assists DD down the stairs with our 3 suitcases and two backpacks. As he is helping the driver load them into the trunk, he looks at me and says he is so sorry for my accident. How sweet.

We arrive Ciampino in plenty of time before our flight and I am happily surprised by meter reading. We’d been told E30-E40 from our hotel to Ciampino, but this was all the way from West of the Vatican (as we passed the Castle Sant’Angelo on the way) to center of Rome and then to airport. The meter only read E33. I gave her a E10 tip. She protested that it was too much. I told her that she earned it. And into the airport we went.

It is only now we realize that I have again made a big boo-boo and read our departure time wrong. I was reading check-in time. DD is miffed a little, I can tell, but in the long run, she is happy we are way early than way late. She sets me and luggage down and heads over to the check-in counter where she sees two people and no lines. She comes back in quick order and tells me that we do not need to wait for check-in time, they will check us in now. I help her drag luggage over. We indicate that we had paid for a 3rd bag online when we purchased our plane tickets. The EasyJet agent speaks perfect English and he says no problem when DD’s bag is over the EasyJet weight limit (which is more generous than the MyAir limits.) She is only about 6 lbs over. He can see I am in obvious distress. DD asks if they have any tape so she can attempt to repair my eyeglasses while we wait. Agent produces some green and white tape they use on luggage. It will do. DD repairs my glasses so that I can at least see out of the right eye. The geek factor is null and void when one looks like Frankenstein anyway!

We are pretty hungry now, as we were headed to lunch when all this began. There is only one place to eat in the Ciampino airport. You can get the quick sandwiches or do a buffet. We opt for salads and paninis, Pringles and Cokes. After we finish, we have a little time to do some last-minute shopping in the small gift store.

Now, there is really nothing but books, candy and mostly-cheap souvenirs in this store. I see a woman stocking the candy shelf and something catches my eye. It is a fishbowl on the floor with a lid. DD and I look, and, YES, it IS superglue! Crazy. Just crazy! We buy some and are able to put my glasses back together without the green and white luggage tape! This is a good sign, right?

We make our flight to Paris and take a taxi from Orly to our overnight hotel, the Alixia in Antony. This was suggested as being affordable and relatively close to airport. Both are true. But we won’t stay here again. Couple of reasons. The hotel seemed dingy and the hallways were totally dark (apparently supposed to be operating on a motion-detector, but it did not turn on until we found our room, not when we exited the elevator. Additionally, the shower had mold in several places, though the cleaning person wanted us to know they’d cleaned the toilet, as there was a plastic sleeve over it. Breakfast was not close to being worth the E9 we paid each. We saw several hotels closer to the airport and if there is a next time where we just need an overnighter near Orly, we’ll stay at the Hilton.

In the morning, we took a taxi back to Orly and then paid the E16 each for the Air France bus to CDG. We had about E100 left and decided to spend it in the duty-free shop just before boarding our flight for Boston. Flight back was a nightmare for the most part as the totally obnoxious couple sitting in the EXIT ROW in front of us, with literally 2 feet of space in front of them, still insisted on having their seatbacks fully reclined for the entire trip!!! While they were eating and reading- no sleeping. It was totally aggravating. The finale to the trip was the young French woman sitting across the aisle from DD and I who, after 7-1/2 hour trip across the Atlantic, upon touchdown, spews. Big time. (Actually, I’m kind of glad she didn’t do it inflight, as we’d have had to smell that til we landed.)

DD has large jar of Dijon mustard confiscated at check in for DFW flight, as I’d forgotten to tell her she’d have to pack it in the checked bags once we landed in Boston. Se la vie. She is on the way home to her own DDs and we have no other events before arriving home.

-The End-

Epilogue- I did see my own doc the first morning home. He took his own x-rays, just to be sure. I’ll live and should have no permanent damage. Friends and family kidding me that my face has all the colors of “fall”. Get it? Fall? Hahahah! Hey- I didn’t need any make-up on Halloween when I took my 4-yr-old granddaughter trick-or-treating!

Things I learned on this trip:

1) Don’t buy your Paris Museum Pass until the morning you are going to your first museum, as you will already know if the transit workers are on strike.
2) Check your luggage handle pull-ups before you leave the baggage claim area.
3) Always have a few Euro coins in your pocket. (Good for tips and toilets.)
4) Don’t trust the European weather forecasters any more than you trust the US ones.
5) DO make reservations for Uffizi and Accademia in Florence. The E3 is well worth it, as, even in cold rainy weather, we found the lines long.
6) Check your travel guide when you get to each city, to see what the “Emergency” section says. Don’t wait until you are injured to read it.
7) We definitely agree with those here who state that the French and Italian peoples are happy to serve you if you try to speak their language. And you should learn some rudimentary phrases, at the very least. Being in Italy for 8 days, I probably used one phrase more often than “grazie” or “per favore”. It was “mi dispiace” (I’m sorry). People were very kind when we tried to speak the language. It also felt really good to get through an entire meal without having to use our English.
8) Check with the site personnel if buying tickets to climb a cupola, dome or tower. Find out if it is just tall, or if there is “close quarters”. If you have claustrophobia, this could be important.
9) Again, at the advice of other Fodorites… no trip will be perfect. Things will go wrong. MOVE ON!! Don’t let it ruin the rest of your vacation.
10) A smile goes a long way!