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Tom, thanks for getting us another terrific installment.
My husband was just complaining that he didn't have anything to read on the plane on Friday and I told him that I have one of the BEST reads of the year all printed out for him: your <i>great</i> report. I can't wait to hear about Rome...(no pressure, really!) |
I'm not a big Trevor fan, Tom, so I don't really care what they do. I think he's long past his best and they need a closer who actually closes. [email protected] for more detailed discussion!
This report is really taking longer than the trip. I thought you were just joking! Keep going, and when you're finished, it'll be time for your next trip! |
More please!!
SOON..... |
Yes please -- we're asking nicely ;)
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<b> DAY 19 - MEN OF ACCADEMIA, THE TINY SHIP WAS TOSSED, SINGING IN THE RAIN AND WHOSE PEN LEAKED ON THE SPAGHETTI? </b>
Over the years, Kim and I have had many a “Boys night out;” sporting events, bars, gambling and clubs that provide, ahem, adult entertainment. However, we had never had a “Boys morning out.” Today was going to be that day. But instead of clubbing, we were going to a museum. Yes, we are now officially old. The afternoon before we had spotted a long line at Galleria dell’ Accademia, which we had wanted to see. “I wonder if there is a long line at the opening?” I pondered. Kim said he would give it a try if I wanted to get up early. It seemed like a much better idea the previous day when I awoke a little after seven. The combination of Campari, vino and Singing Gondoliers were still dancing in my head when I rang Kim’s room. “Let’s go for it,” he said. I forget if it opened at 8 or 8:15, but Kim and I were a few minutes early, nonetheless. There was one guy in line, so we ducked in a nearby cafe for a cappuccino, and were back in line for the opening. To avoid lines here, come early. The Accademia was well worth the visit, and the audio guide covers the big-ticket paintings. It took us a little less than 90 minutes to go through the museum. Kim had taken a liking to the paintings of Bellini, but all I could think of when I saw his name was a peach drink, and that didn’t sound too good at 9 am. We were done by 9:30, meaning that if we hustled we could still catch breakfast at La Calcina, and you know we couldn’t miss breakfast. Tracy and Mary were already seated when we rushed in for cappuccino and a sweet roll. We had decided we were going to take the little-more-than-an-hour trip to Burano, the lace island. As we stepped outside, the skies opened and it began pouring. Unfortunately, the previous evening after dinner, Tracy decided to give away one of our umbrellas to one of the Brits after dinner (obviously, those Singing Gondoliers caused a feeling of generosity). Luckily, the hotel has spares for their guests who over-imbibe and give away their worldly possessions. We sloshed down to the Vaporetto stop, as water came up on the walkway. Yes, the weather started getting rough. A few years ago, on a trip to Catalina, Mary and Kim found out that strong seas and their stomachs’ don’t mesh very well. As we stood on the platform waiting for the Vaporetto, I looked at Mary’s face. It looked whiter than one of those Venetian masks, and I had a feeling Burano was not in the cards for our friends. I think if we had gone on the Vaporetto, more than the tiny ship would have been tossed. So much for the fearless crew of the Minnow and our three-hour tour of Burano. For me, the rougher, the better (boat rides, of course). However, it did seem kind of dumb to take a one hour-plus boat ride when all you could see was a driving rain, so Burano will have to wait for another visit. The Professor and Ginger then headed for Piazza San Marco, while yours truly, Gilligan, and Mary Ann decided to go back to San Polo. It is a fact; Venice is a blast in the rain. As we headed on the Vaporetto toward the Rialto Bridge, we noticed that the Ca Rezzonico, that we had visited the day before, was impossible to get to due to high water. We window-shopped for a while, but hunger once again set in (hey, I only had one sweet roll for breakfast). I had read about a place called Cantina do Mori, which has been a bacari since the mid 1400s, so Tracy and I decided we’d eat there. It is said that Casanova hung out here, but I do not know if he said, "This vino rosso is better than sex." We were the only Americans who occupied the place along with a bunch of Italians and a few Germans. This is one of those places where you eat cicchetti, which is basically a bunch of finger food that you have to eat a lot of to get full. But it was really good finger food. We devoured some bruschetta pomodero, a wedge (or two) of pecorino, deep-fried, breaded eggplant, smoked salmon crostini, a crab claw (not a pretty sight), a potato/dried tomato skewer, crostini with zucchini and shrimp, along with salt cod mashed with olio and pepper on a crostini. We each had a glass of prosecco and a glass of vino rosso. There were no seats, so we occupied a position at the back bar. Interestingly, all the Italians paid when they bought each item, while they just kept serving us different things as we ordered, which was often. I told you we were hungry! I guess I had an honest face. Finally, we were ready to pay the bill, and I had no idea how much this going to be, but I thought it would be a lot because, as you can see, we didn’t skimp on drinks or food. Amazingly, the entire bill was only 26 Euros, which I felt was a bargain. The atmosphere of this tiny place was also terrific. One of the guys behind the counter was going to be married soon, and the locals who came in kept buying him glasses of wine and giving him grief (as a once-future husband, you can tell what they’re talking about, no matter what the language). We then started the soggy walk back toward Dorsoduro. Tracy bought some jewelry for friends, and then we stopped to look at a window of a cool, little shop that had a beautiful (I can’t believe what I am about to write) cat puppet. I can’t even blame it on the vino, because it looked so similar to our little orange tabby, that we immediately decided we had to buy it. Ok, maybe it was the vino. Thankfully, we still liked it when we unpacked it upon returning home. Tracy and I had a great day walking in the rain, and experiencing Venice in that way is pretty enthralling. I think Venice is one of the few spots in the world where a rainy day can be just as fun, or even more fun, than a nice day. Kim and Mary also had fun walking the streets and alleys of Venice. They had lunch at the Cantine del Vino Schiavi near our hotel, which they said was good. They also had a surprise for us. They invited us to their room at the appointed 6 pm cocktail hour. There on their table was a Party-In-A-Box. Cheese, Campari, vino and pre-made Bellinis were all within our grasp. Afterward, there was only one more thing to do…go out to dinner. We had made early reservations for Taverna San Trovaso. There are actually two of these restaurants. The more familiar one on the little canal was closed on Monday, but its sister restaurant was open. It was communal seating, and this place was packed at just a little past 7 pm. The table next to us had ordered a little before us, and we were not sure where they were from, so when they got their multi-colored pasta dish with lobster, they didn’t look happy. She called the waiter over, and we could tell she wanted to send the plate back because it looked bad. Fortunately, Tracy’s multi-colored pasta dish arrived about the same time, so once the woman realized that it was supposed to look that way, everything was fine. Mary decided to be bold and went for the spaghetti in squid ink. It was not the most appetizing looking dish, I must say. Actually, it did look like a ballpoint pen had squirted black ink everywhere on the plate. It was at this moment, I was glad I ordered the veal limone. Tracy and I ordered a round of Singing Gondoliers after dinner. The waiter, not knowing the name of this local drink had been changed, said, “How about a Sgroppino?” They’ll get used to our new name for it some day, I’m sure. The Singing Gondoliers here were frothier than La Calcina’s…and better (we are making a batch and bringing them down to Kim and Mary’s house on Thanksgiving…see I told you we still like each other). When we got our bill, there was a little card saying you could pay in your local currency. After reading the boards, I know this was not what we wanted to do. The waiter never pushed it (and they had been very helpful and nice all evening long), so I didn’t say anything and we paid in Euros. When we got back to the hotel, there was a little bottle of Campari and soda that had still not been opened. Knowing we did not want to pack it, I took one for the team and forced it down. Yeah, I didn’t think you’d buy that. <b> TOMORROW – STRANGERS ON A TRAIN AND THE SHERPA, MAY I BUTT IN, “SORRY, BUT THE TAXI IS BROKEN,” THE GLORIOUS GALLERIA, THE FAKE TERRORIST ATTACK, AND NOT THE NINA OR THE PINTA BUT THE…. </b> ((H)) |
Tom, squid ink pasta is an absolute taste sensation - really! It's delicious! I first had it in a tiny little tratt. at the end of Zattere pier - squid in it's ink with rigattoni. Discovered it only because I asked the waiter to surprise me & give me whatever they were having for their own lunch. Do try it next time you're in Italy :)
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Thank you for continuing. I love the report, and will use it when we visit Tuscany.
Now, will you share your measures for the "singing gondoliers?" Sounds like a perfect Thanksgiving drink! cw |
maitaitom,
I'm loving your report and howled at the cat puppet purchase. I think we need to see a photo! |
I'm glad you people know what appeals to me. No one has said, "Oh Tom, it's so wonderful you loved Venice in the rain." Nope, you guys want drink recipes and pictures of Cat puppets! Purrfect.
I will take a picture of the cat puppet and put it on my blog once I finish the three Rome installments. As for the Singing Gondolier, I will post below what I found online, and I have done some tweaking to it. Singing Gondolier (aka Sgroppino) 2 cups (16 oz) lemon sorbet, softened 2 Tbsp vodka 1/3 cupProsecco 4 Tbsp cream or half-and-half Here is what I have done. I can't just put two Tbsp of vodka in anything. You don't want the vodka to overpower either. I used four Tbsps. and one more tblspoon of cream (if not a vodka person, it is not mandatory to put it in). You really shouldn't taste vodka anyway (I just like knowing it is there) Melt the lemon sorbet until soft, and put ingredientsl in a blender. Blend until it becomes somewhat liquidy (I don't think that's a word, but who cares). Then comes the maitaitom method to make it frothy. As it blends, open the little top of the blender and add the white of one egg as it continues to blend. Blend a little longer. Pour immediately after blending or the mixture will separate. Drink perfection is an ongoing process, so should anyone have a better recipe, I am open to ideas. It is a perfect after dinner, stomach soothing drink. OK, enough of this, I have to go back and look at my Rome notes. ((H)) |
I want to write to you about Pitigliano. I own three small books by Edda Servi Machlin. "Servi" is the Italian word for "slaves". Her ancestors were among the Jewish slaves forced from Jerusalem in 70 AD when the Hebrew temple was destroyed by the Romans. Servi-Machlin has written 3 books, one is a memoir, "Child of the Ghetto, and two are cookbooks: "The Classic Cuisine of the Italian Jews I and II." She was born in the ancient Jewish quarter of Pitigliano where her father was the chief Rabbi. Pitigliano was known in Italy as "Little Jerusalem." She spent 1943-1944, during the Nazi period in hiding as a partisan and emigrated to the USA where she now lives in NYC. I highly recommend the books because they are filled with the little known history of Pitigliano during this wartime period. She writes about these Italian Jews who had 2000 years of Italian history before they faced the Nazis. This is a fascinating period of history and I know of no other American writer who has experienced it first hand from her unique Tuscan background.
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Maitaitom: you are the best travel writer ever. - it kills me cuz I try to do the same for our local rag. However, Kudoes to you - I and my DH are just back from Italy, mostly Montecatini and 9 days in Rome, so can't wait for the rest of your tour.
I have spent LOTS of time in the val d'Orcia, and love it. Iris Origo's daughter, Benedetta still runs La Foce, just across the valley from San Quirico, and the gardens there are spectacular. Too bad you didn't know to take Tracy there. SeaUrchin is right , they rent villas and apts. at La Foce, a great way to spend time in the val d'Orcia. We've done it three times, try it sometime. Next May, Venice, so I'm printing out your wonderful report. Many thanks. Keep it up. We also spend some time every winter in Coronado, so do you have any great restaurants in San Diego to talk about? maybe on a different thread? also how do we get to your Blog with your photos??? |
I'm entraced with this report. My hubby would not bother to write one.
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Great report!! Just discovered it via the Fodor's newsletter and read it all this morning (couldn't stop!) We visit Italy often, including many of the places you went. I smiled in recognition and also laughed out loud more than once. I love your attitude. Can't wait to hear about Rome.
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ttt
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That's funny that it would be under the heading
Travel Horror Stories since the trip was not a horror at all (well except for that pesky gas thing). Maybe they want to highlight that when little (or big) things do go array on vacation, a little bit of humor goes a long way in making them no big deal. betsys, the blog will be at http://travelswithmaitaitom.typepad.com/travels/ (takes about 30 seconds for all pictures to load) Right now, my 2003 trip (with photos, including the lovely Tracy) to France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy is up. Once I finish Rome and end this report (hopefully soon), I will clean up the spelling and post this report and pictures at the above site. Thanks for all the comments. ((H)) |
Wow - why haven't I read this before today? Your trip report is great!
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<b> DAY 20 – STRANGERS ON A TRAIN AND THE SHERPA, MAY I BUTT IN, “SORRY, BUT THE TAXI IS BROKEN,” THE GLORIOUS GALLERIA, THE FAKE TERRORIST ATTACK, AND NOT THE NINA OR THE PINTA BUT THE…. </b>
When the phone rang a little after 4:30 am, I turned on the light and gazed at my wife, who even though she had her eyes closed, was giving me the look. “Why did you book such an early train?” she asked. There are no good answers at 4:30 am. The four of us showered (not all together, this is a family post), and were ready for the water taxi at 5:45 am (I need a long shower at 4:30 in the morning). The water taxi from La Calcina to the train station takes about 15 minutes, and, with tip, was about 70 euros. The skies were clearing, and we saw a few people taking early morning strolls. We guessed they had just arrived and their body clocks were off, but maybe they were just enjoying the incredible Venetian serenity of early morning. Once again, I had purchased first class e-tickets for our train ride to Rome (via Florence). We left at 6:30 and were scheduled to arrive in Rome a little after 11. Tracy and I sat across from each other, and seated next to us were a couple of very good looking young women with bare midriffs (not that I noticed). Once again, Tracy gave me the look, which set a new European record of two “looks” before 7 am. Across the aisle, Kim and Mary just laughed. Although I love driving in Europe, I do enjoy train travel. It was a good place to catch up on my notes, get in some reading and occasionally ogle the women next to me. The best part was that my three traveling companions were not in the mood for coffee, so they all ordered espressos for me. By the time we hit the Rome Termini station (4 1/2 hours and seven espressos later), I don’t believe I was able to blink. Next, I made a husbandly faux pas of planetary proportion. As I was getting our luggage down from the rack, I saw my new girlfriends were in need of help. I started loading Tracy up with our luggage, and then gallantly took the girls’ luggage off the rack and handed each of them their suitcase. I then turned to Tracy who had two suitcases hanging around her neck and shoulders, and one in each hand, and she did not look too pleased with me. She said, “What am I, your Sherpa?” I thought about doing a little Tenzing Norgay humor, bit immediately thought better of it. We headed to the taxi stand and waited for a cab to drive us to the hotel Santa Maria in Trastevere. We were first in line when the taxi pulled up, and a couple proceeded to butt in front of us giving us a tale of woe in Italian (he looked like a student saying the dog ate his homework). I was about to get in a “discussion” with the gentleman when the taxi driver got out of his car and started yelling at the guy, who departed immediately. The journey wound through the streets of Rome, and when we hit Trastevere, we were a little concerned. As I was to find out, Trastevere is similar to Campari, as it is also an acquired taste. There was tons of graffiti and it is not the cleanest place in the world. “What have I booked?” I thought. We wound through alleys that didn’t seem able to accommodate two bicycles, much less one taxicab. Yet, in a few moments, we were at the gate of our new oasis, the Hotel Santa Maria. We loved this hotel, too, and there is no doubt that it caters to an American clientele. The afternoon spread, put out about 5:30 pm is fantastic, the breakfast includes eggs and the people at the desk are more than helpful. The rooms are set up around a courtyard, and there was a bar for those who partake in wine, Campari and Prosecco drinking. The hotel recommended a little place in the tiny square around the corner, and we had a nice lunch (it had been our first day without breakfast, except for my seven espressos). When we got back to the hotel, they called a taxi for us, because I had booked online 3 pm reservations for the Galleria Borghese. This is one of those places they tell you to get to early to show your reservation so you can pick up your tickets. As usual, I gave us extra time, since I hate being late. As we drove down a Rome street, the taxi abruptly stopped. “Sorry, the taxi is broken,” our cabby said. “”You must get out and find another cab.” This is why you leave early. Luckily for us, a taxi deposited someone only ten feet behind us, so we started to climb in. He wasn’t going to let us in, because he thought we were bypassing the taxi in front of us. When I told him the taxi was broken, he smiled and let us in. We still arrived there in plenty of time, received our tickets and went to the entrance. We were first in line, and although many reports say to go upstairs to the paintings first, we did not. Tracy said she could have spent the entire time in the first room, with its incredible ceilings and walls. There are some incredible sculptures on the first floor, my favorite being Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, but I was completely blown away by many of them. As usual, the audio guide, to me, is a must. Although you have two hours to go through the museum, it took us a little less than 90 minutes to see both floors. We then walked through the park, down a street to the Spanish Steps to the Trevi Fountain and finally to the Pantheon (nothing but net). That tired us out, so we stopped at the Campo de’ Fiore for cocktails (sometimes this seemed like a trip perfect for The Thin Man). We walked back to the Hotel Santa Maria, and Dan and Linda greeted us at the hotel bar (I know you’re shocked). It was Happy Hour, Roman-style. Per Tracy’s notes: “It is a lovely presentation. The spread includes, bruschetta with pomodoro, mushroom pastries, a bowl of olives, pecorino with chili peppers, pizza bread with dried tomatoes and anchovies, caprese salad and much more.” During Happy Hour Dan and Linda told us about their journey to the hotel the previous day. When they told the taxi driver at Termini Station they needed to get to the Hotel Santa Maria, the guy said he could not take them there. “Terrorist drill,” he said. It seemed the day Dan and Linda arrived, Rome was preparing for a terrorist attack at various venues in the city, so it was difficult for taxis to navigate the streets of Rom (like other days are a piece of cake). They were told to take a bus that dropped them off in Trastevere, which they did. Unfortunately they did not have a map to the hotel, so it was sort of hit and miss on where to go. Then, it started pouring, and they ducked into an enoteca (any port or sherry in a storm), and started cursing Tuscan Tom’s Tours. “Where has he put us?” they asked. “What kind of area is this?” A little digression. Kim, Mary, Tracy and I had been to Rome before, so we thought about Dan and Linda arriving in Trastevere the day before (although we did not know the entire story, of course). We even said, “Boy, this might be a little different for someone who had never seen the city before. They are probably wondering why we booked a hotel in this area.” Turned out, we were right. Fortunately for Dan and Linda, someone knew where the hotel was, lead them to it, and they loved the hotel. Dan and Linda walked all over Rome later that day and said they had a great time. They also liked the Trastevere area. They also raved about the enoteca where they sat out the storm and said we had to go there later. It turned out that this little enoteca had the best dessert I tasted on the trip (more later). Kim and I went to the desk at the hotel to get a restaurant recommendation, and the girl behind the desk was stunningly beautiful. I had already accumulated enough wives (and trouble) on the trip, so Kim said she could be his new wife. When I told Tracy (still not quite over the Sherpa episode), she said, “Great maybe Kim can have a double wedding with you and the Piccolo Oliveta girl, but remember, Mary and I get all the property.” Nothing like a wife to spoil a perfectly good middle-aged man’s fantasy. We had a good, but not spectacular dinner. Tracy and Mary then called it a night. The rest of us went to Dan and Linda’s wine place, the Enoteca Trastevere, and sat outside enjoying vino and the most spectacular dessert on earth. The enoteca had a chocolate, cinnamon dessert that is hard to describe except to say I nearly licked the plate clean to get every last morsel. I knew it was bad when Dan said, “Tom, you have chocolate on your nose.” We headed back to the hotel, bid farewell to Linda, and the three boys went off on our own. We had one cocktail (I made the mistake of ordering a brave bull that nearly killed me), and we started back toward the hotel. It was after midnight when we hit the happening Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere. There were fire dancers and other street people doing their thing around the fountain. After nearly a day here (more for Dan and Linda), we decided we really liked Trastevere, warts and all. Kim and I had rooms next to each, and Tracy answered my knock immediately. Mary, on the other hand, did not answer Kim’s knock on the door. The window was open, and we tried to get her up, but not wanting to be loud for those nested in their beds, we could not roust Mary from her deep sleep. Could it be another Ambien and wine episode? Fortunately, it was not. She just happened to be out colder than Robert Downey Jr. on a drug binge. Finally, Tracy called Mary’s room, and after numerous rings, a very tired voice answered, and Kim had a place to sleep for the night. No matter what happens during the day, we also end up with the correct wives. <b> TOMORROW – TOM’S TOURS HITS A SNAG, IS NERO NEAR, A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY THROUGH THE FORUM, A COLOSSEO SHORT CUT, THE DEAD POPE, NEARLY A DEAD HUSBAND, AND A MIME IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE (ALTHOUGH I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO) </b> ((H)) |
Nice to read your notes on the Hotel Santa Maria in Trastevere. We have reservations there for our "Visit the Daughter in Siena in April" tour. I think we got the last room for that weekend, booking last month.
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Tom, I am still loving your report, I hate to see it nearing the end, can't you make up a few more weeks?
Thank you for taking the time to add your own special humor too. |
I still say he fell in the canal :) lol
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"We guessed they had just arrived and their body clocks were off, but maybe they were just enjoying the incredible Venetian serenity of early morning."
I was one of these crazies. I have only spent one day in Venice in all my life, and half of it I spent under the effects of "ALL the vino!" But I'm so glad I had that one day, because when I return to Venice on a longer trip, I know I will purposely get up early early early in the morning to experience Venice during that time. In my opinion, it's the best time of day in this city. Anyway, the main reason for this posting, Tom, was to yell at you for giving us your blog site, because now I have your other trip to sidetrack me at work!!! :) Love the report! |
Report still great and I'm still interested in you, maitaitom, even with that nasty midriff-ogling episode (Tracy rules!)
Was the mime in the Piazza Navona? Reading this is soooo much better than actually getting any work done! Yay! |
annabelle, It was actually a sort of pseudomime, and no, it was in Trastevere's Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere.
ceb, The only bad thing about the early morning in Venice is that it's...early. It was beautiful, however. Only two days to go in the report. After writing this, I want to go back even more. ((H)) |
Thanks for the drink recipe. Sounds like a new Thanksgiving tradition in the making.
I too will go with the 4 T of vodka--any less seems dull or frugal. I don't want this report to end. Thanks. cw |
topping for Doug.
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Tom:
I just signed up for Fodor's so I could write a note to let you know I've spent the last 2 hours reading your posts and am enthralled! Planning my 1st in-depth trip to Italy May '06 and you hit on all the places I want to go, so a huge THANK YOU for sharing your adventures with all of us! Question: do you do husband training? Mine never seems to understand "the look" nor find it humourous when I [inevitably] trip or lose the hotel key or forget the directions.... I think you would do him a world of good before we hit the road for a month. May I drop him off sometime? |
topping to finish reading later -- hysterical!
((c)) |
"Mine never seems to understand "the look" nor find it humourous when I [inevitably] trip or lose the hotel key or forget the directions...."
Unfortunately, it is usually me that loses something or takes a tumble. As for "the look", I think most husbands don't understand it, but we certainly expect it. The reason I find Tracy's " the look" so humorous is because she really has that Spock eyebrow movement down pat. ((H)) |
Hi mtt, Really enjoying your report and hate to see it end. You inspired me to ask my DH if he is afraid of me-seems he is-or pretends to be anyway! Does Tracy know the true extents of her powers??!
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"Does Tracy know the true extent of her powers?"
Yes, but thankfully she uses them for good, not evil. ((H)) |
<b> DAY 21 - TOM’S TOURS HITS A SNAG, IS NERO NEAR, A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY THROUGH THE FORUM, A COLOSSEO SHORT CUT, THE DEAD POPE (AND NEARLY A DEAD HUSBAND), THE MYSTERY INSTRUMENT AND A MIME IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE </b>
As stated earlier in this report (when, I don’t know, because it has taken me too damn long to write it), I don’t like being late, so it was with trepidation that I asked the hotel for a taxi pick up about 50 minutes before our scheduled Domus Aurea (Nero’s Golden House) tour. I had pre-reserved the tickets and had my print-out to take to the ticket office. Right before we left the room, Tracy said, “Do you have the print out?” “Of course,” I answered confidently. We were supposed to arrive a half hour early, and the hotel said it wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes to get there, so I thought the only thing that could go wrong would be the taxi breaking (as it had the day before). Kim and Mary were feeling chipper, so they decided to walk (about 45 minutes from the hotel, they were told). Dan, Linda, Tracy and I were waiting for the taxi when the guy at the Hotel Santa Maria desk came outside to tell us that the taxis were very busy that day, and we had better walk down to the taxi stand to get one. OK, now panic was beginning to creep into my brain. For most of the trip, the leader of Tom’s Tuscan Tours had been in control, with no problems. Now, I felt that control going away as we walked the five to ten minutes to the taxi. We were going to be late, and I was not happy. I walked ahead of the other three, talking to myself like an idiot, and I think it was here that Dan and Linda began thinking that I had lost my mind. As Al Jolson would have said (if he were still alive), “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” We got to the taxi stand, and were fourth in line, but there were no taxis. OK, now I’m officially worried. Not only were there no taxis, when I reached in my pocket, I discovered there were no printed reservations, either. Yes, yours truly had left the paper on the bed after telling Tracy, “Of course.” I didn’t even turn around, because I could feel “the look” coming from Tracy, not to mention Dan and Linda. “Damn,” I said (although I might have used a more descriptive expletive at that point). “Have the taxi meet me at the hotel,” I said. I then started running back to the Santa Maria. For those of you who have seen the movie “Damn Yankees,” I must have looked like Shoeless Joe Hardy running for the fly ball after the Devil had turned him back into an old man. The citizens of Trastevere could only look in awe at me running slower than the slow motion scenes in Chariots of Fire. When I eventually reached the room, I was sweating more than I was when I couldn’t get the car in reverse at the rental car exit. I got the reservation form, the taxi met us, and we were off. Linda said, “Tom, I’ve never seen you like that!” Tracy, quicker than a Muhammad Ali jab, answered, “Oh, I have…often.” She doesn’t get a lot of punch lines, but she nails them when she does. We were 20 minutes from our tour time, when the taxi driver gave me another bit of bad news. “What is the Domus Aurea?” I repeated the mantra, “Attitude is Everything! Attitude is Everything!” As he drove the busy streets of Rome, I was showing him where it was on the map, and he kept alternately kept switching his look from the road to the map as he was winding through the streets, pedestrians hurtling their bodies out of harm’s way. I told the rest of the crew, “I guess we’ll get there or die trying.” He drove past the Colosseum, let us out and said something like, “I think you’re close,” which did not give me a lot of reassurance. We were just about five minutes from tour time. Nearby was a horde of police giving one guy a traffic ticket. One bored policewoman (who was standing and looking at the officer writing out the ticket) must have noticed my sad countenance and said, “May I help you?” She obviously knew the look of a confused American. She pointed me in the right direction, and I went into full gallop, old man style. Tracy, Dan and Linda followed, but I got so far ahead of them again, that they also had to ask for directions. As I got to within 50 feet of the ticket office, I saw two familiar faces walking toward me in the sunlight. It was Kim and Mary. Kim said, “How come you’re sweating? We’re the ones that walked.” Oh, the trials and tribulations of a tour leader. I got to the ticket window, and the very nice woman at the counter, noticing the beads of sweat on my face, smiled and said, “Don’t worry, you still have a few minutes until the tour.” We enjoyed the tour of Nero’s House (audio guide a must) and since there is not a lot intact to see, you need to use your imagination to know what it must have been like back in the day of the crazed emperor. Afterward, we all walked through the Foro Romano, which Dan and Linda visited the first day, and where Kim, Mary, Tracy and I had visited in 2001. We wanted to show Dan and Linda the Carcero Mamertino underneath the Church of St. Joseph of the Carpenters near the Foro Romano, where Peter and Paul had been imprisoned 2,000 years ago. We walked down the winding stairs from the first floor and saw the small room where Peter and Paul were kept before being executed. We were going to go to the Colosseum, but since Dan and Linda had already been there, they went off on their own, and the four of us walked back through the Forum. Before they left, Dan gave us this piece of sage advice. “Get your ticket to the Colosseum on the combo Palatine Hill ticket. Go to the second ticket office.” This information garnered Dan the Tip of The Trip Award. As we walked through the Forum, Tracy and Mary stopped at the House of the Vestal Virgins (well, what’s left of it), where they immediately went into a chorus of A Whiter Shade of Pale. “One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast” resonated through the Forum, and since neither was really a virgin, Kim and I thought about burying them alive like they did to virgins who strayed in the old days, but we decided against it. We got our combo ticket and went up to Palatine Hill. Words do not do justice to the view of the Forum that day from Palatine Hill. The blue skies and amazing cloud patterns made for some remarkable photo opportunities. I think it was at this point that Tracy first said she was hungry. Then, it was on to the Colosseum. Dan had told us not to wait in the long line, which stretched forever. Instead, he told us to go into the guided tour line, which we did. At first, the guard said we could not go in this line, but when we showed him the ticket, he waved us through. That little tip saved us more than hour of wait time. We took the elevator up. On top, as I was reading about the Colosseum from the guide I had put prepared before the trip, a young couple stood nearby. We thought we might be blocking their view, but when we asked if they wanted us to move, the guy said, “No, I was just enjoying the comments from the tour guide.” It had taken a few hours, but Tom’s Tuscan Tours was back in business (although it was now called Tom’s Roman Tours). Afterward, Kim and Mary took the subway to Circus Maximus, while I continued to deprive Tracy of sustenance as we headed on the subway toward the Vatican. I told Tracy there was a method to my madness for wanting to go to the Vatican. We had 9:15 am Scavi Tickets for the following day, and I wanted to know exactly where we should go. Plus, both Tracy and I wanted to see St. Peter’s again. We asked the Swiss Guard where the Excavations office was, and soon we found ourselves in a surreal takeoff of the famed Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” routine. “Where is the Excavations Office?” I asked. “Do you have reservations?” “Yes, for tomorrow, but I just wanted to make sure where to go.” “Come back tomorrow.” “Yes, I know, but is this where I go?” “Do you have reservations?” “Yes, for tomorrow.” “Then come back tomorrow. Ok?” “I don’t know…Third Base.” Anyway, I did ascertain (finally) that this was the place to go the following morning. We saw a long line stretching through the Vatican, and I was going to ask the Swiss Guard what the line was for, but realized we had to be back at the hotel in a couple of hours for cocktails. Instead. I asked someone else. “Oh, that’s the line to see the tomb of John Paul II.” We went inside St. Peters and spent a good deal of time wandering. We then saw another line that was going past another dead Pope. “Who’s that?” I asked. “Pope John XXIII,” was the answer. He was lying in state because he was on the fast track to sainthood. The line was short, so we got in. People were taking pictures of the pope as they moved through, and although it seemed a little sacrilegious, I took one, too. Tracy’s hunger pangs were evident, but we were now in the dreaded Bermuda Triangle time of in-between lunch and dinner, so she said she’d just wait until the Santa Maria Happy Hour. Since we had been on our feet for more than six hours, we could have taken a taxi back to the hotel, but we had not had a lot of luck with taxis, so we walked the 20 minutes back to the hotel along the Tiber. When we arrived at our room, Tracy said, “OK. My feet are now officially broken.” She was too tired to even give me the look at this point. We met up with our friends at the Santa Maria Happy Hour, and it seemed like “Broken Feet Syndrome” was running (well, walking) rampant in our group. However, there is nothing like Campari, Prosecco, Vino and a nice spread to rejuvenate the spirit, if not the feet. We chatted with other guests until it was time for dinner. Eating hors d’oeuvres can certainly make one hungry. At eight that evening, we walked the (thankfully) short distance to the Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere. Dan and I walked over to a restaurant called Sabatini, and he turned toward me and the others, his face white as a ghost. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong until we glanced at the menu that said their fish was priced by the gram. Dan was having a Venice flashback, so we hurried over to the Ristorante Galeassi on the piazza and got an outside table. As we dined, I kept looking out on the square at a guy dressed as King Tut, or at least that’s what I thought he looked like. He kept staring at our table and suddenly I couldn’t get that Steve Martin tune out of my head. Thankfully, he finally had to go back to his condo made of stona or somewhere, and we ate without his constant stare. Then came the piazza’s musical entertainment. Two youngsters “playing” accordion regaled the crowd, but something seemed amiss. Linda said, “They’re not really playing. I think the music is recorded.” We all agreed, except for Kim, who steadfastly said the boys were live, not Memorex. Well, we went back and forth until we all chipped for a handsome tip and had Linda go pose with the boys. She swears that when she got close up to the boys, the kid on the left was just faking playing the instrument. She maintains, that there was some sort of tape recorder inside the accordion. Looking back, she could have requested a song to see if they were really playing, but it was more fun to just argue the point. We decided to go back to the Enoteca Trastevere for dessert. NOTE: Tracy found our notes and the dessert’s name is Il Saraceno and besides chocolate, it has cinnamon and some sort of hot, candied peppers or Red Hots. Once again, this chocolate masterpiece was terrific. We chatted with one of the owners who said it (the enoteca, not the dessert) has been in the family for 60 years, and she lived upstairs. We had a great glass of a 1998 Brume Rosse Reserva and also a glass of Rosso Moio. We liked the atmosphere so much, that we made reservations for dinner for the following evening. For us, we were sad because that was going to be the final night for all of us in Italy. For you, it’s good news, because this report is almost finally over. <b> TOMORROW – UNDER AND ABOVE ST. PETERS, SHORTCUT TO A DEAD POPE, THE INCREDIBLE GARLIC BREAD AND THE LAST SUPPER (ROMAN STYLE) </b> ((H)) |
Well, I may be a sicko but I for one don't want your report to end. Besides being fun and funny, it is full of good tips and makes me anxious to plan my next trip.
Add me to the list of goofy baby boomers who just HAD to sing a chorus of "Whiter Shade of Pale" at the remnants of the vestal virgins' abode...(that song still makes little sense to me, though.) Thanks again (I sadly have yet to actually finish a trip report, but then my writing is not as witty as yours!) |
"that song still makes little sense to me.."
Yes, but it seems our vacation could be summed by these lyrics to the song: "When we called out for another drink, the waiter brought a tray." Last chapter (Finally) this afternoon. ((H)) |
Tom,Tom, Tom...You lied to us. It is now nearly 10pm on the Left Coast and still no final chapter!!! LOL(Just kidding...just hoping to read the last part of this GREAT report before I turn in)
Tom |
<b> DAY 22 - UNDER AND ABOVE ST. PETERS, SHORTCUT TO A DEAD POPE, LINDA BUYS A RESTAURANT, THE INCREDIBLE GARLIC BREAD AND THE LAST SUPPER (ROMAN STYLE) </b>
In an effort to not recreate the trials and tribulations of the day before, the crew was ready to roll by 8 am, and we all walked to St. Peters (no taxis today, thank you). Before we left, Tracy said, “Do you have the printout for our tour under St. Peters?” “Of course,” I replied. As we left the room, Tracy asked again. I reached in my pocket and, unbelievably, it was not there. Then, in a Siegfried and Roy moment (without the carnivorous tiger), she whipped out the paper from behind her back. Tracy held the reservations over her head. “You left it on the bed again,” she said incredulously, all the while giving me the look at the same time. I was beginning to worry that she had given me so many looks recently her eyebrows might freeze in that Spock-like position. Fascinating. At 9 am, we walked into the Excavations office, and in 15 minutes a group of 13 were on the Necropolis Tour underneath the Vatican. We were a little surprised that we were allowed to keep our daypacks on and that they were not searched. For anyone who has any doubts about this tour…take it! We were very lucky to have a terrific English-speaking guide who also had a sly sense of humor. As we entered the chapel near the end of the tour, the sounds of chants and hymns filtered down from above. We found out later they were inducting priests on this day, and the sound of music we heard in the bowels of St. Peter’s made the experience quite surreal and spectacular. We saw the tomb of St. Peter and what they think are his bones. Winding through the streets of the necropolis were also memorable. The tour more than lived up to its advanced billing. Earlier. Tracy and I had told Dan and Linda about being able to stand in line for Pope John Paul II’s tomb. Their flight the next day was in the afternoon, so they thought they would wake up early and get over to St. Peters at 7 am, when it opened to beat the lines. As the tour ended, the guide said, “You can exit to the right, but just to let you know, if you walk about 25 feet to your left you can see the tomb of Pope John-Paul II. I’m not supposed to let you go that way, but I might look the other way if you decide to go left,” which, of course, we all did. Dan and Linda could now sleep in tomorrow and, truthfully, I would have been disappointed had I waited in line for it. After the tour, it was time to walk and soak in the majesty of St. Peter’s, and then I told the group that Tom’s Tours had one more climb left in it. After a slight bit of cajoling the group, we all decided to go to the top of St. Peter’s Basilica. I gave the crew a slight break, and we took the elevator first, which saves nearly 200 steps. The view down of the inside of St. Peter’s Basilica is amazing and not for those who have a distinct fear of heights. I then gave the group the sad tale, “There are more than 300 steps to go to the top.” The stairs that wind to the top have a weird tilt. I felt like it was Leaning Tower II. It was all worth it for the views over the roofs of Rome. But by now, the group only had one thing on its mind…food! I had picked out a restaurant near the Piazza Navona, so we made the walk from Vatican City. We finally found the restaurant on a narrow street and looked at the menu. As a tour director, you have to be cognizant of what the group wants, and they definitely did not want this restaurant. How do I know that? I turned around and Mary and Linda were already looking at a little pizzeria across the street, where we eventually wound up eating. As they say on the Miller Lite commercials, “Good call.” The name of the ristorante is Pasquino, which not coincidentally is located on the Piazza Pasquino. First of all, we had a wise-guy waiter who was really funny. Linda tried her best Italian to order a pizza, and the guy shoots back with, “What? You want to buy our pizzeria. Do you have the money?” The rest of us quickly ordered in English. The food was really good including the Caesar salad, a Greek salad, spaghetti with bacon, tomato and hot pepper sauce, the four cheese gnocchi and a vegetable lasagna with eggplant, zucchini and capers. But the best item on the menu was the garlic bread. We all agreed it was tremendous, but obviously Mary had taken a look at how much they had spent on the trip, because when Kim was about ready to order another piece, she said, “I don’t think it was worth money, honey.” In a surprise turnaround, which shocked wives and husbands in the general vicinity, Kim gave Mary “the look.” He then said, “Whatever,” and ordered another one. Husbands throughout the land rejoiced. After lunch, we all went our separate ways for the final afternoon in Rome, but a heavy downpour had all of us back at the hotel for our final Happy Hour. That evening, we had a good dinner at the Enoteca Trastevere, and I had TWO of the great chocolate dessert. TRACY INTERVENTION: She looked at my description of the dessert that I wrote in Day 21 and said, it was NOT hot peppers or Red Hots that gave it the distinctive taste. It was a red cayenne pepper or a facsimile thereof. No matter what it was, by the time the evening ended, I was once again wiping chocolate off my nose after cleaning the plate. I have to get that recipe! To no one’s surprise, we had consumed a good amount of vino at dinner, so there were hugs galore because Tracy and I would be up before the crack of dawn to catch to our flight, and Kim and Mary would not be far behind. Linda smiled, knowing she could sleep in AND have the good breakfast. We were recounting all our adventures when Kim reminded us of going to the Monte Oliveto Maggiore while wearing his short pants. “I guess I made a mockery of the monkery,” he stated. Believe me, after a few bottles of wine, that sounded pretty funny. Tom’s Tuscan Venetian Roman Tour was done, and I, as usual, was very sad to leave. <b> DAY 23 – HOMEWARD BOUND AND IS THE PILOT BAKING COOKIES? </b> We had an early flight, so the hotel rang us before 5 am. I quietly got the luggage to the Happy Hour Room. The Santa Maria was another fantastico hotel, which I would definitely recommend. I liked Trastevere more than Tracy (although she loved the hotel). It’s hard to describe, but I just liked the vibe. For some reason, it felt real, and the walking distances to most major venues are not bad, at all. I can see that Trastevere is not for everybody, but I would stay here again. The guy called a taxi, and we chatted while I waited. He made Tracy and me one final, delectable cappuccino. “I hate leaving Italy,” I said. We first flew to London where I checked my e-mail one last time: NOTE: I used mail2web.com to check my e-mail throughout the trip. This way I was able to keep up with the thousands of offers of Viagra and how to find dates with desperate housewives (coincidence, I think not!). Mail2web is an easy way to check your e-mail, however, and I was already married to a desperate housewife…desperate to get home and see our cats. It was first class again, baby, and we took full advantage of the perks. Non-stop vino, steak, pizza and caramel Sundays were all digested with gusto. A few hours from landing, the smell of fresh, baked cookies wafted through the first class cabin of American Airlines. I was afraid that if the passengers in steerage also smelled these cookies, we could have a riot on our hands. Then out came fresh, baked, sensational, warm chocolate cookies. They were more than delicious. I told Tracy I wanted to stand up and yell to the folks in the back, “Let them eat peanuts!” She gently reminded me that we would be those peons again for the next ten years until we accumulated enough frequent flyer miles, so I stood down. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Tracy’s friend met us at the airport, and in the car were about eight tacos. I somehow found the appetite to eat my fair share. We picked up the cats, paid the bill (I’m glad we love them) and got home. In the near future, I will go to my blog site and put this monster report (sans typos and grammatical errors) up with our photos. I’ll also include a “Best Of” from the trip. It was another incredible trip to Italia. Everyone got along, the sights were amazing, the food was delicious, the wine divine (and cheap), the memories are indelibly etched in our memories and the people of Italy could not have been nicer. From Pecorino Ravioli to Pumpkin Risotto to Singing Gondoliers to Mystery Chocolate dessert on my nose, we could not have asked for any more (well, maybe a few napkins). Yes, there were a couple of stumbling blocks (and gas tanks) along the way, but they were only minor inconveniences in the scheme of things that we can easily laugh about now (although it was only recently that I could utter the word Diesel without pain). Where we go to next is still up in the air, but I guarantee that whether it is Tom’s Eastern European Exodus or Tom’s France Foray or Tom’s Spain Swing, we will maintain the two most important facets of any vacation: <b> Enjoy the Journey! Attitude is Everything! </b> ((H)) |
Tom:
What an amazing report! Thanks for recommendations, laughs, and delicious food details! Italy is next on my list of places to go and you gave me some awesome ideas. Even though it was a sweat filled adventure, I thank you for sharing the "where is the reverse gear" episode. I'm heading back to France in March/April and will now ask how to put the car in reverse, pop the trunk, and other things! I'm sorry to see this end. However, I'm looking forward to seeing photos on your blog. Happy Thanksgiving! TR |
THank you Tom for such an addictive, enthusiastic, wonderful report! I have really enjoyed reading the installments and like a favourite soap opera, awaiting the next episode. Now I too shall have to partake in some vino...to drown my sorrows..no more report!
Thank you again! |
Tom: Bravo - this was just a delightful trip report. I really like your traveling style. It was great to hear your take on Trastevere too. From my apt. window I could see that wonderful enoteca.
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MaiTaiTom: I'm torn between feeling bereft and feeling thankful that your trip report is finito. I found myself desperately waiting for the next chapter each time, and usually stayed up late at night in hope. Well at least now I can get to bed early. I lost a lot of sleep laughing all by myself at the computer, with my husband determining that I had gone daft. Many thanks for a FABULOUSLY funny, and FABULOUSLY educational report. Even tho' I think I'm a val d'Orcia maven, you really topped me on several things. Happy Thanksgiving to all.
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Bravissimo! What an amazing trip report! You should seriously consider writing proffessionally.
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