Barb, I agree, now that you have us truly hooked, you can't possibly condense! We don't care how long it is, we want, as someone said, all the gory details! I have to go out now but will be checking in later hoping to see more...

I agree, The more details the better, we want the report to be long and drawn out rather than rushed. We might complain about the time it takes to get the full report but that’s just because we love it when a wonderful writer has an ‘interesting trip’. You are certainly falling into that category.

You posted less than 6 hours ago and already have 60+ posts, that in inself should tell you how much we are appreiciating it.

Just think how therapeutic getting it all off your chest will be, saves on the psychotherapy costs :-)

Barb,
This is a great story and eye-opener for me. I am thinking about planning a trip for some friends but this is making me take a long look at that commitment. I can't wait to hear the rest.

I cannot wait to hear more about Eiffel Tower Diva!
Barb, this is so entertaining, thank you SO much :D

OH MY GOSH...Your quote here made me REALLY wish I was in that apt with you:

"I’m leaning out the window watching the activity in the tiny street below and all the young people who are spilling out of the Campo and enjoying a Friday night with their friends and I’m breathing in that special soft Roman air and feeling like I am somehow where I was meant to be. It’s been worth the effort to get here and I am happy."

Brings back very fond memories...

By about 10:30 a.m. N (Eiffel Tower Diva) and P (Ms. Scared to Death) are tired. They want to know about a hop on, hop off bus tour like they took in London a few years back. I told them that I had never taken it, but it was my understanding that it wasn’t that great, wasn’t that cheap and I really didn’t recommend it, but that I didn’t know much about it. They gave me this “look”, which was very similar to the look my teenagers would give me right before they would say “whatever”. They insisted they wanted to try it and I said great, have a good time. As the rest of us are standing there trying to come to some kind of decision about where we (I) would go next, I see N waiving like crazy trying to hail down a taxi. I had told them all earlier that it is next to impossible to hail a taxi on a busy street and that they should try to find a taxi stand. Oh well, they are big girls – off we go to the Jewish Ghetto to my fav little place for lunch – Sora Margherita.

As usual I have the wonderful carciofi, which is done to perfection. The menu is in Italian and is not much more than a handwritten sheet of paper. The food here is divine and very authentic. Not much English is spoken here either. The Divas are now just staring at the menu and not saying much. M looks up and says “How in the world are we supposed to understand this!” I ask them if they had had a chance to look at the sample menus that I had emailed to everyone months ago with the suggestion that they might want to familiarize themselves with some of the Italian words for food and cooking methods and perhaps learn what certain food items were in Italian. No, I guess they didn’t have time. I ask if they need any help. One Diva pointed to what the next table was eating – I ask the waitress what it is and they all decide on that. I order for them. They are quite upset because there is no butter for their bread and M is trying to get the waitress’ attention by waving her arms around - she did get the attention of most of the small restaurant and I think the waitress was purposely ignoring her and I don’t blame her. They are still grumbling about the menu. They admit the food is not bad, just not like the spaghetti they get at home. Hmmmm

When the bill comes I think we should split it, even though my meal was a little different than theirs and I did have vino (for my sanity) and they had dessert, it basically came out the same. No. One Diva whips out her handy dandy little calculator and figures it out down to the euro penny. This is a clue of things to come. Mind you this whole discussion is not done quietly, but between talking pretty loud and lots of giggles. I hope they don’t remember this group and hold it against me the next time I eat here.

We walk over to Trastevere and I show them where I had stayed my last two visits – they say it really looks like a rather depressed area to them, but do enjoy seeing Santa Maria in Trastevere. We stop by Ice Blue for gelato, which I think is the highlight of their day. Back to the Campo – Divas go back to the apt. and I go in search of the restaurant where I will meet SusanP tonight for dinner. I also stop by the cheese shop on the Campo and pick up a few provisions for the apt. For some reason, I can’t find the restaurant – I really need a new map I think. When I get back to the apt. I try calling the restaurant to see if I can get directions – no answer.

At 5:00 the Divas all meet to decide about dinner. I told them about SusanP and the great restaurant where I am meeting her. I now learn that three of the Divas really can’t eat any later than 5:30 or 6:00 otherwise they get headaches or can’t sleep if they eat any later than that!! I try to gently remind them that most Italian eateries do not even open until 7:00 or 7:30. They are also VERY skeptical about not having any choice on what they eat – “eww what if they have squid or octopus or some other revolting thing”. I try calling Ristorante Der Pallaro again and the person who answers does not speak English, I ask if someone there speaks a little English and can give me directions, unfortunately not. By now the Divas are in total chaos trying to decide what to do about dinner. One woman is almost in tears because if she doesn’t eat something really soon, she is going to have a melt down. Finally, it is decided that I will go try to find Der Pallaro one more time. I know it’s not far from the Campo. D wants to come with me, I vant to be alone, so I tell them I’ll be right back.

I have to say, it’s deep breath time. As I walk along I ask myself why am I doing this. I think maybe I need to step back from them for awhile and I am really looking forward to my dinner, hopefully alone with SusanP, a Fodorite, one of us!!

This is GREAT travel writing. Fodors should pay you for it. I hope it's not long before the next installment.

oopsy

By now I am really worried. I am planning a solo trip next year but I have friends trying to meet up with me once in a while. I may just meet one friend who is already planning to join me in Venice. I’ll make sure I take a breather and try to meet a Fodorite, one of us!! Too funny.

Oh my dear, my dear. LOL If I didn't know better I would say you were making up Ms. Eiffle Tower's outfit...you have much courage. I traveled to Paris and London with my brother and SIL a few years ago and paid for my own room, and oh I was sooooooo glad. I love them dearly, but at the end of the day to go back to the quiet of my own room, my own bathroom, have my own closet, read a book, what ever..it was heaven, kept me, and I'm sure them also, sane and they can still come for Christmas. (: I have a friend that I've traveled with for many years, usually to Hawaii and we really do well together. I'm 10 years older than she so "tis good to be the queen". She usually gets up earlier than I in the morning so she lights a candel, puts Adrea Bocelli "Romanza" on the CD player and starts the coffee pot. Works for me!!!!!! I am so very eagerly waiting for the next installment.

Well, I still can’t find it and so I reluctantly walk back to the apt. Eiffel Tower and Scared to Death and M have gone out to get panini for dinner and D J & I decide to just go around the corner to Da Giovanni to eat. I’m feeling bad about SusanP, but I know as a solo traveller, she is probably used to eating alone and she doesn’t know how lucky she is to be eating alone, ha. I order stuffed zuccini blossoms, huge slices of grilled porcini and veal with limone and a mezzo litre vino rosso della casa. I’m feeling like Rachael Rae and even saying yummo!! It is very good. D and J have lasagna I think. It’s a lovely night, the Piazza Farnese is alive - it’s Saturday night. Muscians are playing over by the Statue and the events of the day are starting to fade from my memory. For just a moment I imagine I am sitting here with a handsome, young Italian man, who is holding my hand and looking into my eyes and telling me how much he is in love with me. I am jolted back to reality with D&J complaining how long it is taking the rather rude waiter to bring our bill. When it comes, D & J are shocked to see a 4.60 charge on it for bread – they say the bread was awful, although they ate it. I say, well it’s pretty much a standard charge here and that’s why they don’t need to rely on tips, although I told them I usually leave a small tip too. They are looking at me like I’m nuts. D only has a $50, J is questioning how much she was charged for the lasagna and I say, why don’t I pay it and you can figure out how much you owe and pay me in the morning at breakfast.

When we get back to the apt. D is now wound up. She is talking non-stop, she pours a glass of wine (I had bought a bottle earlier in the day) and then she’s off and running. For the next two hours, she talks, then she pours some wine, then she starts repeating things, then she finally staggers off to bed and I’m shocked. OMG. Who is this woman!

The next morning we are off for Florence. We had decided on this trip before we even got to Rome. P is not going, she’s not feeling well – panini didn’t sit well with her. D is hung over and not moving very fast. J and I seem to be the only ones really looking forward to Florence. Oh well, it’s sunny and warm, what a great way to start out the day.

With all the turmoil of the previous day, I realize I had not made our reservations for Accademia – oh well, how long can the line be on a Sunday in October. HA!

We manage, finally, to all get our tickets and we are waiting to see which binario we are on, oh, after explaining the whole Italian rail system to them. They really didn’t believe me when they didn’t see Florence on the board and I told them that our train’s final destination was Milan and it stopped in Florence. D and M aren’t moving fast and at the very last minute decide they need to visit the loo – just then the binario is posted and we have exactly 5 minutes to find our car and get on. J decides she will wait for D & M and for N and me to go ahead. I am worried – They have given me the tickets to hold for them!! As we climb aboard I’m looking down the platform and I finally see three middle aged women, who are basically gimps, trying to run and dodge people. We get to our seats with a sigh of relief. N tells me all about how they stood trying to hail a cab for 30 min. yesterday and finally gave up and tried to find a taxi stand. They hated the hop on hop off bus tour. They said it was way too much money and they never could understand that recorded tour guide, but they were tired, so they just rode around on it.

I see the snack cart coming – oh no, we are supposed to be in second class – doesn’t the snack cart only come to first class. The Divas are ordering coffee, happy as little kids with their cute little snacks and I am worried. Sure enough the stern looking conductor looks at our tickets and points to the door. Divas are outraged that we have to move. I’m rather embarrassed that I goofed up and that we are walking through car after car trying to find our seats. I am SO glad we are not hauling suitcases too. Just as we get settled again, the snack cart!! Divas are happy and getting tea and more snacks, but then when they figure out they have to pay, they are madly trying to hand him back their snacks. I’m sinking further and further into my seat. Even in second class there is not much loud talking. The Italians even though very expressive when they talk, do so in hushed tones when on trains and in restaurants. The Divas are by this time really whooping it up.

We made it to Florence, but the sky is starting to look rather gray and gloomy. With IRA’s helpful walking directions from the train station to Duomo and points beyond in hand we set out.

Hmmm. Barb, I may need to pop a bowl of popcorn and sit down and read it all at once. You had me at Eiffel Tower Diva. Makes my travel companions from hell pale in comparison.

I have been reading on this forum for a while now - and posted once or twice - but this is the best I have seen. I can't wait for the next episode - Barb this is wonderful!

Eiffel Tower Diva actually turned out to be the best sport and we crowned her the shopping guru. She was the one in the limo on the way to the airport, when asked what the one thing she wanted to do in Italy was and she said "shop" she wasn't kidding. Also, her entire trip wardrobe was varying shade of orange and lime green - I kid you not!

I'm off for home, so I will send the next installment tomorrow a.m. Ciao!

loooking forward to hearing about the good-natured citrus diva.

Keep going Barb. Great story-telling!

Also makes me really reconsider traveling with friends who are not as independent as me.
One friend sounds like one of your divas. She a little clingy and a bit inflexible (can't do anything on her own but claims to be independent, HA!). Since she broke up her BF, she now wants to travel with ME!
Except when traveling with my BF, I'm used to having my own space. This friend won't take this very well - esp since it means she has to pay more for a room. Sigh! I think your story is inspiring me to avoid traveling with this person.

Eagerly waiting for the next installment!

1. This is fascinating reading for any man. We were told women act like this when together. But of course we have never seen it in the flesh. And men don't travel in groups. Someone would have to be boss and that would never do.

2. Dear fellow Canadian Barb: We are a slightly priggish nation. Have you been a tad too ... supervisory... with these ladies, perhaps? Sometimes it is best just to let what happens happen, for good or ill.

3. Great reading though.

You know, your travel companions and my own travel companion from hell are eerily similar.

This is a great read - and yes, a MUST read for anyone contemplating a trip with someone with whom you've never traveled before.

Barb, this is SO funny! This account should really be published somewhere.
I've learned to always travel solo (and I'm quite a bit older than you). Way back, several trips with my teenage daughers weren't so great, so I decided then and there on the solo thing (after they left home!) At this point I have to sneak away for my European trips, as I have 2 women relatives who are dying to go with me. Fortunately, they both live in different states so I've been successful and haven't gotten caught.

Barb,
You will talking about this trip for EVER. Traveling with 1 husband is challenging enough, but 5 women!! I love the report.

Barb - Thank you! You have just made an important decision for me. Next summer neither my husband nor my daughter (my two usual travel companions) can go and I was thinking of asking an old friend who has indicated she is interested in travel. I have now just firmly decided I really do like solo travel and next summer will be a solo trip. so thanks for helping me make up my mind.

By the way, you sound like a real trooper.