I Left My Kids and Indulged in a Week of Pizza and Polizia: A Trip Report to Rome and Florence
Sep 2nd, 2008, 01:00 PM
#121
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Mebe, your sons are precious pumpkins! Thank you for sharing their photo with us. They are adorable. And I can see how they keep you busy, lol.
I am sorry your hotel room was not too pleasant but you were in a handy location. Mebe, I too get overwhelmed in Florence. The last few visits I have gone with friends to a residential area where they live. Ah the peace and quiet. There is a charming hotel and although the single rooms are small they are quite comfortable. But not an area that the typical tourist would want to stay in of course as it is to far from the historical center. I don't envy my friends however regarding parking their cars. Their lovely and large apartments do not have garages. They often have to park blocks away which can be a real nuisance especially in real hot weather or bad winter weather.
Looking forward to your next installment!
I am sorry your hotel room was not too pleasant but you were in a handy location. Mebe, I too get overwhelmed in Florence. The last few visits I have gone with friends to a residential area where they live. Ah the peace and quiet. There is a charming hotel and although the single rooms are small they are quite comfortable. But not an area that the typical tourist would want to stay in of course as it is to far from the historical center. I don't envy my friends however regarding parking their cars. Their lovely and large apartments do not have garages. They often have to park blocks away which can be a real nuisance especially in real hot weather or bad winter weather.
Looking forward to your next installment!
Sep 2nd, 2008, 01:14 PM
#122
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Mebe, I am so excited to be reading about your adventures in Italy! My first time there was with my mom and sister four years ago. Then I went to Venice with my husband on our honeymoon... and now we have a 2 month old and I'm deathly afraid that I won't ever get another trip out there! However, your trip report is giving me hope!... and an idea of how I'm going to get my husband to give me a solo trip too! ;-) LOL Can't wait to read about the rest of your trip!
Sep 2nd, 2008, 01:40 PM
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mebe, I remember your previous Italy report and have been immensely enjoying this one too. I'm pleased you have now arrived in Florence as I may have a home exchange there next June, in the Oltrarno, so I'm reading everything I can about Florence.
I was encouraged to discover that Sandra, who visits Florence regulary, recommends the Oltrarno and that LoveItaly chooses a residential area too as I was wondering whether it would be a handicap to stay away from the centre.
I was encouraged to discover that Sandra, who visits Florence regulary, recommends the Oltrarno and that LoveItaly chooses a residential area too as I was wondering whether it would be a handicap to stay away from the centre.
Sep 2nd, 2008, 07:39 PM
#124
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wehearttravel -- I'm so pleased I'm giving you hope!
Congrats on being a Mom. And yes, you will travel again. I remember what you are feeling and I too was terribly afraid my traveling life was over. But I read about other Moms taking their kids to Europe and began planning my own trip when my daughter was four months. She was 16 months when we went to Italy for two weeks. And we made amazing memories. She doesn't remember a moment of it -- but I do!
Traveling with kids is different but also special.
Traveling alone is also different but special in its own way.
Our next trip is to Greece, with the whole family, lol. But that is about five years in the future, and hopefully they'll settle down by then.
Loveitaly -- they are precious, thank you. That picture was taken by my Mom while I was in Italy. You can see they missed me.
moolyn -- yes, I think I would also recommend staying outside of the center. I'm assuming you are following laartista's adventures? She would probably be an excellent source of information.
To all -- thanks for reading and posting your kind comments, it's keeping me going till the end.
~Mebe
Congrats on being a Mom. And yes, you will travel again. I remember what you are feeling and I too was terribly afraid my traveling life was over. But I read about other Moms taking their kids to Europe and began planning my own trip when my daughter was four months. She was 16 months when we went to Italy for two weeks. And we made amazing memories. She doesn't remember a moment of it -- but I do!
Traveling with kids is different but also special.
Traveling alone is also different but special in its own way.
Our next trip is to Greece, with the whole family, lol. But that is about five years in the future, and hopefully they'll settle down by then.
Loveitaly -- they are precious, thank you. That picture was taken by my Mom while I was in Italy. You can see they missed me.
moolyn -- yes, I think I would also recommend staying outside of the center. I'm assuming you are following laartista's adventures? She would probably be an excellent source of information.
To all -- thanks for reading and posting your kind comments, it's keeping me going till the end.
~Mebe
Sep 3rd, 2008, 07:38 AM
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I was fortunate to go to Florence in the off-season and I absolutely loved it! However, I can imagine that high-season crowds would make it feel very claustrophobic.
mebe, your boys are adorable! I have just returned from spending time with my new grandson and I am in love with little boys . . .
mebe, your boys are adorable! I have just returned from spending time with my new grandson and I am in love with little boys . . .
Sep 3rd, 2008, 10:24 AM
#126
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Thanks LC.
And the trip continues...
I was in the breakfast room by 7:35. It was empty except for one woman reading the paper -- another solo traveler – yeah! I got my cappuccino, cornetto, little pizza thing, and a piece of dry orange cake and sat with my friend the guide book and pretended to feel completely confident eating alone. At least I wasn’t the only one – oh dang it, here comes her husband.
Within fifteen minutes, people filled most of the tables, sitting together in happy bunches. And there was me, sitting alone. I read captivating passages and scrutinized maps in my guidebook. I wrote in my journal as if I was a serious and influential travel writer. But nothing worked. I felt awkward in my aloneness. Knowing I looked uncomfortable compounded my discomfort. I gulped my cappuccino and swallowed down the dry cake – I was done eating with other people. I sent a quick email to my family (internet access was a big bonus to hotel) and stepped out into a quiet, rainy morning to climb the Campanile.
In the past, climbing narrow, spiral staircases aggravated my mild claustrophobia and intensified my fear of falling. Those sweaty crowds always pushed me into the minuscule center of the stair; I’d seize the smooth, inner wall for dear life. Thankfully, the Campanile steps were mostly straight up, and I was joined by only two other couples. We took turns resting and passing each other up those 256ft; encouraging one another to keep going: “you can do it! Almost there!”
At Campanile’s peak, you are enclosed in a cage (to prevent jumpers?). Yet it doesn’t inhibit the magnificent view of the massive tiled Duomo, red roofs of Florence and the green hills of Tuscany dotted with villas. The morning sun shined between lingering ribbons of rain clouds and the streets were wet and fresh. People slowly gathered below, perusing the Duomo’s exterior and to climb its dome. They looked like ants up there and I was content that I skipped those extra stairs.
Once again at the bottom with my shaky knees, I walked by an indignant woman who stood at the closed entrance, with her arms crossed, weight on one foot and an absolute pout on her face. Her pout dared anyone to question her motives. Wow, the lines must be horrendous for her to willingly wait an hour before it opens; or she was a die-hard fan of Brunelleschi's and wanted that dome to herself.
By the time I returned (after recharging my battery at the hotel) the typical line formed, several people thick, wrapping around the piazza. I guess that pouty woman knew what she was doing, I thought, as I joined in, and prepared for the long haul. A friendly couple from Seattle chatted with me and went into detail about their three week tour of Italy, with a schedule that reminded me of many Fodorite’s posts. Talking to them awoke my social self and I was sad to see the line move so fast, and our connection end. I was in line for five minutes, by the way. And that woman waited at least an hour.
As I alluded to previously, the interior of the cathedral does not compete with the outside. It is rather plain; the only decoration is within the dome, which was roped off that day. I watched a little French girl light a candle with the help of her Mother and Grandmother and it pulled my maternal heartstrings. I wanted to call out – “I’m a Mom too! I also have a little girl!” But instead I lit my own candle and dedicated it to my own little “sweet pea,” and left.
As I approached Piazza della Signoria I heard megaphones and people clapping. In the middle of the piazza was a Polizia helicopter. Well, this is promising…
Today was the polizia’s 156 anniversary. And they were having a party. A gigantic TV screen flashed images of them during their finest moments: they ran in slow motion across a beach, guns drawn; they swaggered through the airport wearing slick sunglasses, crisp uniforms and a bad-ass grin to match their bad-ass German Sheppard. Hip, techno music pumped through streets and celebrating polizia were e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e… What luck do I have!
I wiped the saliva off my chin and pressed on to Santa Croce. They would still be here when I returned, and oh yes, I will be back.
And the trip continues...
I was in the breakfast room by 7:35. It was empty except for one woman reading the paper -- another solo traveler – yeah! I got my cappuccino, cornetto, little pizza thing, and a piece of dry orange cake and sat with my friend the guide book and pretended to feel completely confident eating alone. At least I wasn’t the only one – oh dang it, here comes her husband.
Within fifteen minutes, people filled most of the tables, sitting together in happy bunches. And there was me, sitting alone. I read captivating passages and scrutinized maps in my guidebook. I wrote in my journal as if I was a serious and influential travel writer. But nothing worked. I felt awkward in my aloneness. Knowing I looked uncomfortable compounded my discomfort. I gulped my cappuccino and swallowed down the dry cake – I was done eating with other people. I sent a quick email to my family (internet access was a big bonus to hotel) and stepped out into a quiet, rainy morning to climb the Campanile.
In the past, climbing narrow, spiral staircases aggravated my mild claustrophobia and intensified my fear of falling. Those sweaty crowds always pushed me into the minuscule center of the stair; I’d seize the smooth, inner wall for dear life. Thankfully, the Campanile steps were mostly straight up, and I was joined by only two other couples. We took turns resting and passing each other up those 256ft; encouraging one another to keep going: “you can do it! Almost there!”
At Campanile’s peak, you are enclosed in a cage (to prevent jumpers?). Yet it doesn’t inhibit the magnificent view of the massive tiled Duomo, red roofs of Florence and the green hills of Tuscany dotted with villas. The morning sun shined between lingering ribbons of rain clouds and the streets were wet and fresh. People slowly gathered below, perusing the Duomo’s exterior and to climb its dome. They looked like ants up there and I was content that I skipped those extra stairs.
Once again at the bottom with my shaky knees, I walked by an indignant woman who stood at the closed entrance, with her arms crossed, weight on one foot and an absolute pout on her face. Her pout dared anyone to question her motives. Wow, the lines must be horrendous for her to willingly wait an hour before it opens; or she was a die-hard fan of Brunelleschi's and wanted that dome to herself.
By the time I returned (after recharging my battery at the hotel) the typical line formed, several people thick, wrapping around the piazza. I guess that pouty woman knew what she was doing, I thought, as I joined in, and prepared for the long haul. A friendly couple from Seattle chatted with me and went into detail about their three week tour of Italy, with a schedule that reminded me of many Fodorite’s posts. Talking to them awoke my social self and I was sad to see the line move so fast, and our connection end. I was in line for five minutes, by the way. And that woman waited at least an hour.
As I alluded to previously, the interior of the cathedral does not compete with the outside. It is rather plain; the only decoration is within the dome, which was roped off that day. I watched a little French girl light a candle with the help of her Mother and Grandmother and it pulled my maternal heartstrings. I wanted to call out – “I’m a Mom too! I also have a little girl!” But instead I lit my own candle and dedicated it to my own little “sweet pea,” and left.
As I approached Piazza della Signoria I heard megaphones and people clapping. In the middle of the piazza was a Polizia helicopter. Well, this is promising…
Today was the polizia’s 156 anniversary. And they were having a party. A gigantic TV screen flashed images of them during their finest moments: they ran in slow motion across a beach, guns drawn; they swaggered through the airport wearing slick sunglasses, crisp uniforms and a bad-ass grin to match their bad-ass German Sheppard. Hip, techno music pumped through streets and celebrating polizia were e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e… What luck do I have!
I wiped the saliva off my chin and pressed on to Santa Croce. They would still be here when I returned, and oh yes, I will be back.
Sep 4th, 2008, 10:04 AM
#129
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Looking forward to hearing more! I've taken trips without my dh too - I get the oddest comments & looks. And my dh & I adore each other - and enjoy traveling together. Sometimes there is a window of opportunity where I could do something and he can't - and that's OK. Good for you going on your own!
Tell me more!
Jenny
Tell me more!
Jenny
Sep 15th, 2008, 07:22 PM
#130
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To the faithful few still out there, here is a bit more...sorry for the delay.
Santa Croce was another highlight. Along with its artistic beauty and the tombs of Dante and Michelangelo – it also felt peaceful, especially outside in the courtyard. I sat with one other woman and we enjoyed listening to the chirping birds and gazing at the garden filled with yellow, pink and red roses.
The paintings in Museo dell'Opera, especially the “Tree of Life,” caught my attention and quieted my mind, a difficult deed. And the silence of the empty room was sweet. Yet short, once a group of Germans joined me. Nothing kills quiet like a German baritone (no offence meant to my German ancestors). Leaving Santa Croce, the clocks struck twelve, and I witnessed the mad swinging of those massive, breathtaking bells.
I found a stationary shop and indulged in a few prints of wild flowers to adorn my living room walls. Thankfully, cheering crowds pulled me out of that shop before I started in on the pens and stationary. While I was touring the cloisters of Santa Croce, the piazza filled with antique polizia cars, along with modern day motorcycles Kids took turns playing on the massive BMW bikes while their parents took pictures.
An American (or Canadian) woman climbed on and beckoned an officer close, while her friend took her picture. A thought seeped in “I want a picture of me on that bike.” The cautious me quickly dismissed it: “that woman looked like an idiot, and so will you.” And I walked away. Aaron popped into my head and playfully taunted me:
Come on - go back!
No way, I’ll look dumb.
Who cares – you’re surrounded by strangers!
No, I can’t.
Come on! It’ll be a great picture! Do it!
I don’t know…
YOU’LL ALWAYS REGRET WALKING AWAY
oh….all right... I’ll go back.
I circled the piazza, creeping closer to the motorcycles where the kids continued climbing on and off. My moment arrived and I motioned to officer #1 to take my picture. He nodded yes. I nervously dropped my posters and threw my leg over the bike. The motorcycle felt powerful and I liked it.
I gestured to officer #2 to stand next to me. They loved this. Officer #1 burst into a mischievous smile and said something to officer #2, who responded with a chuckle and a few more words while he PUT HIS ARM AROUND MY WAIST and pulled me against him. (He didn’t do that for the other lady… ) I can only imagine their conversation, but I’m sure it included “lonely foreign woman straddling large bike.” I felt his Armani uniform and his hand and responded “SI! SI!” to their sweet Italian. Explicit, or not, I was too thrilled to care.
I floated through the piazza, reveling every second of a five minute moment. I may have looked foolish but I felt special. I was elated. The moment was perfect. The picture, as I soon discovered, was not. My eyes were closed. Oh damn. It’s time for some wine.
I settled on a touristy restaurant on Piazza de Republica. I sipped white wine and my eating alone worries flitted away. I ordered my favorite antipasti of prosciutto (very salty) and melon (super sweet) creating an ideal combination. Next was pasta with zucchini, peppercorns and mascarpone sauce. Each peppercorn burst in my mouth with an instant zesty, spicy, lemony flavor.
The afternoon was a blend of eating expensive gelato (6E for a double scoop) visiting Santa Maria Novella Cathedral (more frescos) and their Farmacia (smelled great but too pricey to buy). I flirted with visiting Fiesole until I noticed the majority of Florence in line for that bus. I settled on visiting Ponte Vecchio Bridge.
Warm rain, people and umbrellas don’t mix well. Cars grew impatient with the dominating crowds and revved their engines, lurching forward, threatening to run people down. I hoped they would; just a few to make room for the rest of us. The bridge was as I imagined and glittered beautifully with gold. But again, the crowds overwhelmed me and I needed air. Thankfully, across the bridge and to the left of the Pitti Palace, I found the Florence I wanted.
The rain lightened into a pleasant sprinkle. The river sparkled; orange buildings contrasted with grassy river banks. Less people meant more room to enjoy the artistic and historical character of the city. This last night in Florence I found my creepy, quiet streets and a bit of Renaissance in the details of the buildings.
While crossing a different bridge back over the river, I met a young man from Sicily. He asked for directions to Santa Croce (this is sounding familiar…) It’s across the bridge and take a right – good luck! Then he asked where I was from, here for business or vacation, and if I had been to Pizzale Michelgiglio. (Umm… isn’t that in the opposite direction of Santa Croce…) No I haven’t. Would you like to go? I hear it has beautiful views. Just walk and talk? (Oh…I get it. Yes, let’s talk about my husband and three children…) I politely declined his offer and continued back to my hotel to pack.
Santa Croce was another highlight. Along with its artistic beauty and the tombs of Dante and Michelangelo – it also felt peaceful, especially outside in the courtyard. I sat with one other woman and we enjoyed listening to the chirping birds and gazing at the garden filled with yellow, pink and red roses.
The paintings in Museo dell'Opera, especially the “Tree of Life,” caught my attention and quieted my mind, a difficult deed. And the silence of the empty room was sweet. Yet short, once a group of Germans joined me. Nothing kills quiet like a German baritone (no offence meant to my German ancestors). Leaving Santa Croce, the clocks struck twelve, and I witnessed the mad swinging of those massive, breathtaking bells.
I found a stationary shop and indulged in a few prints of wild flowers to adorn my living room walls. Thankfully, cheering crowds pulled me out of that shop before I started in on the pens and stationary. While I was touring the cloisters of Santa Croce, the piazza filled with antique polizia cars, along with modern day motorcycles Kids took turns playing on the massive BMW bikes while their parents took pictures.
An American (or Canadian) woman climbed on and beckoned an officer close, while her friend took her picture. A thought seeped in “I want a picture of me on that bike.” The cautious me quickly dismissed it: “that woman looked like an idiot, and so will you.” And I walked away. Aaron popped into my head and playfully taunted me:
Come on - go back!
No way, I’ll look dumb.
Who cares – you’re surrounded by strangers!
No, I can’t.
Come on! It’ll be a great picture! Do it!
I don’t know…
YOU’LL ALWAYS REGRET WALKING AWAY
oh….all right... I’ll go back.
I circled the piazza, creeping closer to the motorcycles where the kids continued climbing on and off. My moment arrived and I motioned to officer #1 to take my picture. He nodded yes. I nervously dropped my posters and threw my leg over the bike. The motorcycle felt powerful and I liked it.
I gestured to officer #2 to stand next to me. They loved this. Officer #1 burst into a mischievous smile and said something to officer #2, who responded with a chuckle and a few more words while he PUT HIS ARM AROUND MY WAIST and pulled me against him. (He didn’t do that for the other lady…
) I can only imagine their conversation, but I’m sure it included “lonely foreign woman straddling large bike.” I felt his Armani uniform and his hand and responded “SI! SI!” to their sweet Italian. Explicit, or not, I was too thrilled to care. I floated through the piazza, reveling every second of a five minute moment. I may have looked foolish but I felt special. I was elated. The moment was perfect. The picture, as I soon discovered, was not. My eyes were closed. Oh damn. It’s time for some wine.
I settled on a touristy restaurant on Piazza de Republica. I sipped white wine and my eating alone worries flitted away. I ordered my favorite antipasti of prosciutto (very salty) and melon (super sweet) creating an ideal combination. Next was pasta with zucchini, peppercorns and mascarpone sauce. Each peppercorn burst in my mouth with an instant zesty, spicy, lemony flavor.
The afternoon was a blend of eating expensive gelato (6E for a double scoop) visiting Santa Maria Novella Cathedral (more frescos) and their Farmacia (smelled great but too pricey to buy). I flirted with visiting Fiesole until I noticed the majority of Florence in line for that bus. I settled on visiting Ponte Vecchio Bridge.
Warm rain, people and umbrellas don’t mix well. Cars grew impatient with the dominating crowds and revved their engines, lurching forward, threatening to run people down. I hoped they would; just a few to make room for the rest of us. The bridge was as I imagined and glittered beautifully with gold. But again, the crowds overwhelmed me and I needed air. Thankfully, across the bridge and to the left of the Pitti Palace, I found the Florence I wanted.
The rain lightened into a pleasant sprinkle. The river sparkled; orange buildings contrasted with grassy river banks. Less people meant more room to enjoy the artistic and historical character of the city. This last night in Florence I found my creepy, quiet streets and a bit of Renaissance in the details of the buildings.
While crossing a different bridge back over the river, I met a young man from Sicily. He asked for directions to Santa Croce (this is sounding familiar…) It’s across the bridge and take a right – good luck! Then he asked where I was from, here for business or vacation, and if I had been to Pizzale Michelgiglio. (Umm… isn’t that in the opposite direction of Santa Croce…) No I haven’t. Would you like to go? I hear it has beautiful views. Just walk and talk? (Oh…I get it. Yes, let’s talk about my husband and three children…) I politely declined his offer and continued back to my hotel to pack.
Sep 16th, 2008, 06:48 AM
#132
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Thanks bfrac -- I think its you and my Mom at this point
After my final awkward breakfast, I stepped into a crisp, rainy morning to complete my final goal: David. I had an 8:30 reservation but they let me in at 8:15. I shared the museum with approximately 20 people and no tour groups. The hall is lined with unfinished works, people trapped in marble, pleading for attention. I’ll get to you in a second, I told them. I have a date with David.
I circled him and studied him from all angles. I stared at his toes and fingernails, needing to study every detail. I overhead a man remark to his wife “I thought David was Jewish…” and wondered how many times a day that clever remark is whispered. And really, let’s be honest that “bit” of David is a bit overrated.
I found the perfect seat: in front and to the right. I contemplated his captivating face; his determined stare and furrowed brow. His torso pleaded for an embrace and I needed a cuddle. I missed my husband but sitting there, it hit me: I wasn’t lonely. Almost a week later, and I still liked being alone. And for that, I was grateful. I thanked David, and left.
Other than sit in the wrong seat and have a woman from Naples tell me so, the train ride to Rome was a snap. I grabbed a taxi, handed him my hotel’s card, and watched him drive with his face buried in a street atlas, his knees steering the car, his hands flipped the pages. The talents of a Roman taxi driver. He still couldn’t find via Teatro Pace, and quietly muttered once we entered the street labyrinth near Piazza Navona. I said “Piazza Navona is okay” thinking he’d get me close and drop me off. Instead he said “okay” and stopped the car in the middle of the street.
My bag rattled over the cobbled stones as I proudly navigated myself to the hotel and back up into the same little room. I shut the door, dropped my bags, and flung open the windows. All of my senses absorbed my slice of Rome. I’d come full circle. I was home. I ran to the bathroom mirror and said “See! You did it! Didn’t I tell you? Remember your first night? Remember how worried and scared you were? I knew you could do it.” My nervous energy transformed into bravery. I was back in Rome.
Walking to my favorite pizza shop, I felt her run through my veins like a shot of adrenaline. Florence was lovely but Rome is my city. I strutted into my pizza shop and ordered “due etto, per favore!” of a juicy, greasy tomato, ham and eggplant pizza. I smiled between each bite.
After my final awkward breakfast, I stepped into a crisp, rainy morning to complete my final goal: David. I had an 8:30 reservation but they let me in at 8:15. I shared the museum with approximately 20 people and no tour groups. The hall is lined with unfinished works, people trapped in marble, pleading for attention. I’ll get to you in a second, I told them. I have a date with David.
I circled him and studied him from all angles. I stared at his toes and fingernails, needing to study every detail. I overhead a man remark to his wife “I thought David was Jewish…” and wondered how many times a day that clever remark is whispered. And really, let’s be honest that “bit” of David is a bit overrated.
I found the perfect seat: in front and to the right. I contemplated his captivating face; his determined stare and furrowed brow. His torso pleaded for an embrace and I needed a cuddle. I missed my husband but sitting there, it hit me: I wasn’t lonely. Almost a week later, and I still liked being alone. And for that, I was grateful. I thanked David, and left.
Other than sit in the wrong seat and have a woman from Naples tell me so, the train ride to Rome was a snap. I grabbed a taxi, handed him my hotel’s card, and watched him drive with his face buried in a street atlas, his knees steering the car, his hands flipped the pages. The talents of a Roman taxi driver. He still couldn’t find via Teatro Pace, and quietly muttered once we entered the street labyrinth near Piazza Navona. I said “Piazza Navona is okay” thinking he’d get me close and drop me off. Instead he said “okay” and stopped the car in the middle of the street.
My bag rattled over the cobbled stones as I proudly navigated myself to the hotel and back up into the same little room. I shut the door, dropped my bags, and flung open the windows. All of my senses absorbed my slice of Rome. I’d come full circle. I was home. I ran to the bathroom mirror and said “See! You did it! Didn’t I tell you? Remember your first night? Remember how worried and scared you were? I knew you could do it.” My nervous energy transformed into bravery. I was back in Rome.
Walking to my favorite pizza shop, I felt her run through my veins like a shot of adrenaline. Florence was lovely but Rome is my city. I strutted into my pizza shop and ordered “due etto, per favore!” of a juicy, greasy tomato, ham and eggplant pizza. I smiled between each bite.
Sep 16th, 2008, 09:37 AM
#134
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Oh, I'm so glad you found the time in your busy life to post some more... I'd been wondering whether you'd manage to finish with all you've got going on!
It is lovely reading your experiences, and I have enjoyed it all. I am definitely going back to Florence in the not to distant future!
BTW did you ever get my recent couple of emails?
It is lovely reading your experiences, and I have enjoyed it all. I am definitely going back to Florence in the not to distant future!
BTW did you ever get my recent couple of emails?
Sep 16th, 2008, 10:12 AM
#135
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Julia -- no I haven't received any emails...did you recieve the one I sent?
I'm almost done with this thing! Yes, we've been busy, with what, I'm not sure. Daily life, I suppose.
But the boys are asleep, my coffee is warm and I shall type along till the end. Or until they wake up.
~Mebe
I'm almost done with this thing! Yes, we've been busy, with what, I'm not sure. Daily life, I suppose.
But the boys are asleep, my coffee is warm and I shall type along till the end. Or until they wake up.
~Mebe
Sep 16th, 2008, 10:19 AM
#136
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Julia -- I just emailed you again.
You can also try this email address:
[email protected]
Take Care
Myra
You can also try this email address:
[email protected]
Take Care
Myra
Sep 16th, 2008, 03:06 PM
#138
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There are plenty of us still reading! I had missed some of the middle due to working a lot of overtime, so I was glad to see it again and catch up.
I know just what you mean about Rome. It has it's own energy. I always feel it the moment I arrive!
I know just what you mean about Rome. It has it's own energy. I always feel it the moment I arrive!
Sep 17th, 2008, 07:13 AM
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Yay, I'm so glad to read these two installments I feel the same way about Rome. Venice and Florence are lovely places, brimming with art and high culture. But I'm always drawn to the energy of Rome and Naples more somehow.
I feel the same way about Rome. Venice and Florence are lovely places, brimming with art and high culture. But I'm always drawn to the energy of Rome and Naples more somehow.
